Wild Card

Chapter 5

Valentine’s Sicilian grandmother had a favorite expression. He doesn’t know that he doesn’t know that he doesn’t know. She liked to use it when describing really stupid people. Valentine had never thought it applied to him. But it did apply to Mickey Wright. Mickey was a fixture in Atlantic City, and for years had worked as a concierge at hotels around the island. When Resorts opened, Mickey had pulled some strings, and wound up running the casino’s surveillance department. The fact that Mickey had no casino experience hadn’t fazed the people running Resorts. Mickey was their man.

Mickey had shown Doyle and Valentine the basics of casino surveillance. He taught them how to operate a VCR, how to start the Time/Generator machine so each video tape was properly certified, and how to fill out Incident Activity Reports.

Mickey also liked to play on the job. He used surveillance cameras to pick up hairpieces and patchwork suits, and watch pretty girls wearing red clothes, which became invisible under the camera’s invasive eye. And, he was into games. Find the prettiest girl in the casino was one. Find the ugliest guy another. Mickey loved to have fun.

One afternoon, Mickey got a call from Sergeant Banko. The chief was bringing Bill Higgins, the Nevada Gaming Control Board special agent, to the casino, and wanted Mickey, Doyle and Valentine to meet him. Mickey hung up the phone shaking his head.

“What the hell am I gonna learn from this guy?” Mickey said aloud.

They met in one of the hotel’s swanky conference rooms. Bill Higgins was a lean, unusually handsome Native American with a mop of black hair that touched the collar of his shirt. He wore cowboy boots and a suit that had gone out of style years ago, yet still looked good on him. He came around the table where Mickey, Doyle and Valentine were sitting, and shook their hands. Valentine noticed Higgins was holding a video tape in his other hand, and wondered what it was.

“Bill is in town helping us prosecute a crooked blackjack dealer, ” Banko said. “I asked him to give us some pointers on catching casino cheaters. Take it away, Bill.”

Higgins faced the three men. There was a tension in his movements, like the news he was about to give them wasn’t so good. “I’d like to start with a question,” he said. “How much experience policing casinos do you guys have?”

“None,” Mickey said brightly.

“That’s what I thought.” Higgins crossed the room to where a TV with a VCR sat, and inserted the tape into the machine. The TV came to life, and he paused the tape.

“Do any of you know what a candy store is?” he asked.

Mickey, Valentine and Doyle shook their heads.

“A candy store is a casino that’s wide open to cheating. It means the people running things are clueless. It’s what you have here in Atlantic City.”

“Hey — watch it!” Mickey exclaimed.

Valentine knew there were problems in the casino — with so much money flowing in, it was hard to imagine there wouldn’t be — but he hadn’t expected Higgins to waltz in, and call them morons. He decided to take the high road, and said, “You sure about that?”

“Yes, I am,” Higgins said.

“How recently did you see this cheating?”

“About an hour ago.”

Exactly one hour ago, Valentine and Doyle had canvassed the casino floor — all thirty thousand square feet — and seen nothing to indicate they were being swindled.

“I think you’re wrong,” Valentine said.

Higgins pressed the Play button on the VCR. “See for yourself.”

“This tape is of a blackjack game in your casino,” Higgins explained. “Sergeant Banko had one of your techs video tape the table for me.”

The tape was in grainy black & white. Six people — one woman, five men — were playing blackjack with a mustachioed dealer. In the lower right corner of the tape was the date and time. The tape had been made sixty minutes before.

Valentine watched in silence. He wasn’t seeing a single bad thing happening at the table. He glanced at Doyle, then Mickey. They weren’t seeing anything unusual, either. Sensing their discomfort, Higgins shut the VCR off.

“Had enough?” he asked.

“What are we missing?” Valentine said.

Higgins used the chalkboard to draw a blackjack table. He assigned the players numbers, then turned the VCR on, and let them watch the action while he explained the scene-behind-the-scene. He was low-key, and would have made a good teacher.

“Six players and a dealer. Each player is doing something dishonest.”

“All of them are cheating?” Mickey said.

“Afraid so. Let’s start with the sweet little lady at spot #1. If you watched her all night, you probably wouldn’t catch what she’s doing. Hustlers call her scam ‘Excuse me!’ At the start of each round, she puts a hundred dollar chip in the betting circle. Only the chip isn’t completely inside the circle. That’s on purpose. The dealer deals her a card, which is face up. If the card is a Ten, or an Ace, she doesn’t say anything. Know why?”

Valentine had been reading a book on casino games, and was halfway through the section on blackjack. “Because high-valued cards increase her chances of winning,” he guessed.

“Correct. With a Ten, she has a 12 % advantage over the house. With an Ace, a 50 % advantage. What happens if her first card isn’t one of those cards?”

The answer seemed obvious, only no one knew what it was. Valentine took a stab in the dark. “She asks for change for her hundred dollar chip?”

“Very good. If the dealer balks, she’ll say, ‘Excuse me, but I thought you knew I wanted change!’ Chances are, the dealer won’t challenge her. She’ll take her change, and put down a minimum bet.”

Mickey was fuming. “Come on. Is that really cheating? I mean, she can only do it once a night without it being obvious.”

“It certainly is cheating,” Higgins said. “Casinos rotate dealers every fifteen minutes. She can scam four dealers, wait until a shift change, and scam four more.”

Mickey ran his fingers through his oily pompadour. “Oh.”

Higgins pointed at the chalkboard. “Player #2 is a hustler from Las Vegas called The Wheel. Supposedly, he’s missing a couple of spokes. That’s a little Western humor. The Wheel is adding chips to his bet after he’s seen his cards. Hustlers call this capping. Any time the Wheel gets good cards, he adds a chip. I’ll give you a hint. It’s palmed in his right hand.”

They watched The Wheel do his thing. Each time he brought his right hand over his bet, his bet magically grew in size.

“Players 3, 4 and 5 are a team of card counters,” Higgins went on. “Card counting isn’t illegal, except if you’re getting help, which these players are. They’re using a Hewlett Packard 59 computer. Tell me if you can guess which one’s operating it.”

An excruciatingly long minute passed as the three men stared at the mute images on the screen. Players 3, 4 and 5 were smoking cigars and drinking beer and having a swell time. They were not paying attention to the cards, yet winning every hand.

“None of them,” Valentine said.

“Good call. Any idea who is?”

“The chubby guy standing behind them,” Valentine said. “It’s in the bag he’s holding. He’s punching in the values of the cards as they’re dealt.”

“How did you know it was him?”

“His eyes. He keeps staring at the cards on the table.”

“Right again.” Higgins pointed at the blackboard. “Player #6 poses the biggest threat to the game. The scam he’s doing is called Playing the Anchor, and it involves the dealer.”

“The dealer’s cheating too?” Mickey said in astonishment.

“That’s right. You know him?”

“Shit, I hired him,” Mickey said.

“Dealer/player scams are the worst; they can bleed casinos for huge sums before they’re discovered,” Higgins said. “Playing the Anchor is pretty straightforward. The dealer flashes his hole card to Player #6 each time he slips it under his face card. It’s impossible to see from a surveillance camera. However, the scam does have a tell. Player #6 will sometimes do strange things, like stand on a weak hand, or split a strong pair when the dealer is showing an Ace.”

“You have any idea what he’s talking about,” Doyle whispered.

Valentine had stopped listening to Higgins, and was staring at the screen. Behind the blackjack table, he’d spotted a hooker he’d once arrested, an Hispanic girl with a body that could stop traffic. She was talking to a john, and Valentine watched her take the john’s arm, and walk away. Jack and Jill going up the hill to have a little intercourse, he thought. Then, something strange happened. Out of the john’s back pocket popped a silver flask. The john anxiously shoved the flask back into his pocket. He seemed desperate to hide it, and looked panicked. The hooker didn’t see the flask, and a look of normalcy returned to the john’s face. They disappeared from the picture.

Valentine lifted his eyes from the TV. Higgins had returned to the chalkboard, and was explaining how to detect each of the scams. He put the incident on the tape out of his mind, and focused his attention on their guest.

They wrapped up an hour later. Higgins was leaving for Las Vegas that night, and Valentine walked him downstairs to Resorts valet area to pick up his rental. The line of cars stretched around the block, and Higgins handed the uniformed attendant his stub.

“So, how do we learn this stuff?” Valentine asked.

“You mean the scams and hustles?” Higgins said.

“Yeah. Before Resorts gets robbed blind.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. You’ve got a unique situation here. Ever hear the expression ‘Why slaughter the cow, when you can milk it?’ That’s true with your casino. Resorts is making so much money that smart cheaters will milk it for as long as they can.”

“That’s encouraging.”

He laughed. “Okay, here’s what I’d suggest. Start with the basics. Learn how the games are played, and the odds. I’ve been in Atlantic City two days, and seen two people win hundred thousand dollar jackpots at slot machines. Know what happens in Las Vegas if two people win back-to-back jackpots?”

“What — you throw a party?”

“Far from it. There would be an investigation, and the jackpots would be withheld from the winners until the investigation was completed.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because of the odds,” Higgins said. “Any idea what they are?”

“Of a person winning a jackpot? I don’t know, a million to one?”

“Try seventeen million to one. The same as a person getting struck by lightning twice in the same day. Odds of that happening two days in a row? Not very likely.”

Valentine found himself nodding. If he was going to police the games, he needed to understand how they worked, no different than working vice or narcotics.

“Got it.”

“Mind if I ask you a question? You got fixated on something on the surveillance tape I showed you earlier. What was it?”

“I saw a john picking up a hooker inside the casino,” Valentine said.

“Is that unusual?”

“He hid something from her. Something about his body language didn’t feel right. We’ve had three women killed on the island in the past month, and every cop is on the lookout. I’ve always had this ability to dissect a crowd, and pick out the scum bag.”

“Grift sense.”

“Is that what it’s called?”

Higgins nodded. “It’s an old hustler’s expression. You have the ability to pick out what’s wrong in a situation. It should help you police Resorts’ casino.”

Valentine wasn’t so sure. He’d been on the job for a week, and hadn’t nabbed a single thief. “Would you mind if I called you if I had any questions?”

“Not at all.” Higgins took out a business card, and wrote a number on the back. “That’s my home number. Call me anytime. Good luck.”

His rental had come up. They shook hands, and Higgins got into his car, and drove out of the crowded valet area. Valentine took out his wallet and stuck the card into the billfold. Something told him be talking to Higgins often, and he didn’t want to lose the gaming agent’s number.