The Casino Switcheroo

by Michael P. King

  While he was finishing up the paint job on the wall repair in room 836, his smartphone rang. It was Anders. He set the paint roller on the edge of the pan. “Yeah?”

  “Mister. I’ve got what you need. Gear, boat, clean car, safe house, storage locker.”

  “Where’s the car placed?”

  “When it’s time, it will be up at the state beach north of town.”

  “Great.”

  “Where do I bring the boat?”

  “I’m still sorting that out. I’ll get back with you. Just be ready.”

  “Okeydokey.”

  He put away his phone and picked up the paint roller. He was getting that good feeling about this job. Not the feeling that they would make a successful hijack, but the feeling that their process was the correct one—that no matter what happened, they were as ready as they could be. He scrutinized his paint job—the coverage was good—and then feathered in the edges to blend with the rest of the wall. Once the paint was dry, the repair would be invisible. That was the way he always liked to work.

  He went back down to the maintenance shop, put away the painting supplies, and washed out the roller and the brush. After he dried his hands, he left the shop, swiped his employee card through the time clock at the end of the hall, changed into street clothes, and walked out of the service entrance. Kelly Jo was already outside, sitting on a bench, playing a game on her smartphone. He sat down beside her. “Lulu came on to me.”

  Kelly Jo put her phone away. “She texted me a selfie from behind your back.”

  “I must be slipping. I didn’t notice. You sure it was me?”

  “I’d know that ass anywhere. Text said you were gentle and sweet.”

  “That’s definitely a provocation. How did you respond?”

  “What do you think?”

  “You went with the fake Glad you had a good time.”

  “Just enough irritation in the response to make her think I’m trying to cover up how pissed off I am. Next time we’re with them I’m going to be crabby.”

  “So they’re finally trying to play us.”

  “Not very good at it, are they?”

  He chuckled. “No, they’re not.”

  “Think they planted the transmitters?”

  “It was half-assed enough to be them, but no, I don’t think so. I still think Koenig is trying to mindfuck us. This could just be more of his plan. Let’s walk.”

  They started down the path toward the employee break area by the landscapers’ garages. “Anders checked in. He’s good to go. But we still need to find a place for him to land on Saturday. A place without any traffic.”

  “The block of rooms for the birthday party on Saturday has been confirmed. There’s not that many of them.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. They’ve reserved a wing, but they’re only using six rooms thus far. That’s all.”

  “Then one team would be plenty to take the safes,” Max said.

  “I know.”

  “Good thing we have a backup plan. What time is the birthday party?”

  “Reservation in a private room at two o’clock.”

  No one was sitting at the employee picnic tables by the landscapers’ garages. They continued around the back of the garages. A dirt path switchbacked down the hill. At the bottom was a rocky beach at a tiny cove. Old fishing line hung in a bush, and a few weathered beer cans littered the gravel. The marina was invisible to the west.

  Max skipped a rock across the surf. “No footprints on the path. No recent trash down here.”

  “It’s not ideal, but I think it’s the best we’re going to find,” Kelly Jo said.

  Max took her hand. “So we’re all ready. If they’re robbing the money laundry drop-off, we’ll hijack it. If there’s some other target, we’ll go after it. And either way, we’ve got Anders and our getaway plan.”

  “When you first brought this up, I thought we were screwed for sure,” Kelly Jo said. “The snake in the Garden of Eden. But I’ve got to admit, we are set tight.”

  He kissed her hand. “Have I ever let you down?”

  She laughed. “As long as we’ve been together? You don’t even want to go there.”

  Friday morning, Koenig drove two hours down the freeway to Chester Falls, made his way into a rundown neighborhood of townhouses next to an old shopping mall, and parked in front of a two-chair barber shop that sat on a corner across from a closed-up mom and pop grocery. The white paint on the outside of the shop was peeling, and the windows were dirty, but the glass barber pole sign was brightly lit. Inside, two barbers sat in their barber chairs reading magazines, one a skinny old bald man, the other one a stout man with thinning hair who appeared to be his son. The younger man put down his Sports Illustrated.

  Koenig shifted his satchel from one hand to the other. “No business?”

  The old man glanced over the top of Guns & Ammo. “It’ll pick up around lunchtime.”

  “You got what I came for?”

  The younger one got out of his chair. “Who are you?”

  “Jackie Robinson.”

  “Really? You don’t look a bit like him.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Come on back.”

  They walked into the storeroom. There was a toilet and sink, cleaning supplies, and a stack of boxes. “One and one-quarter million is a lot of paper. Took us a while to pull it together.”

  “But you’ve got it?”

  “Have you got the ten percent?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Koenig replied. He opened the satchel so that the barber could see inside and then handed it to him.

  The barber counted twelve banded bundles of one-hundred dollar bills plus a half bundle, and then pulled one bill at random. He examined it closely, and shined a UV penlight on it. The security thread on the left side glowed pink. “Can’t be too careful.”

  He slid the satchel under the sink before he pulled a large box out of the stack, set it on the floor, and took out two paper grocery bags. Koenig reached into one and took out a bundle of well-used one-hundred dollar bills. He also pulled one at random and examined it. “Nice work. Very precise. And the aging is excellent. How did you get the raised ink?”

  “Trade secret.”

  “And the paper?”

  “Not paper. It will pass the ink pen test, but it won’t pass the UV light test.”

  “This is the one and a quarter million?”

  “Count the bundles. People always think a million dollars is going to take up more space that it does.”

  Koenig picked up the bags. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

  That evening at the Bathsheba Fish House, Koenig and Raymond sat together after dinner drinking coffee. Two couples at the table across from them were cracking open crabs on the white paper tablecloth, and two youngsters wearing pirate hats were running toward the front door.

  “This is a great fish restaurant,” Koenig said.

  Raymond shrugged. “If you like fish.”

  “It’s important to have a good meal right before a job. It’s a good omen. Gets you ready for what’s ahead.”

  Raymond sipped his coffee and watched the front door.

  “Have you briefed everyone?”

  “Yeah, all the guys know when and where they need to be in place.”

  “Even Max?”

  “Yes.”

  “Review it for me.”

  “We get geared up at the east dock; JB will doublecheck the camera. Hernandez’s crew hits the Casino exactly at two thirty. JB, Lulu, Max, and Kelly Jo start on the rooms then.”

  “That leaves you and your team.”

  “So where are we going? What are we taking?”

  Koenig grinned. “There’s no money laundry drop-off on Saturday. Not with Smithson and his family there. But there is a birthday party.”

  “So what are we stealing? What’s so valuable?”

  “We’re kidnapping Smithson’s grandson.”

  Raymond glanced
around as if he were afraid they’d been overheard. “The grandson?”

  “No one will expect it.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “You snatch the boy, flash out of there, we ransom him back for two million. It all happens within forty-eight hours.”

  “So that’s what the basement room is for.”

  “The kid won’t see anything.”

  “Will forty-eight hours be enough time for them to pull the money together?”

  “They’re not going to the bank.”

  “It’ll be all-out war.”

  “I hope so. While they’re blaming their competitors and each other, we’ll be getting away. The key is to move fast. You grab the boy, get to the helicopter. By two forty-five you should be in the air. By three o’clock, Hernandez’s crew should be out of the casino and blending in with the guests.”

  “When do I tell JB and Lulu?”

  “You don’t. I’m leaving them with Max and Kelly Jo.”

  “You sure?”

  “They’ve been working there for almost two months. Too many people know their faces. But if they’re smart enough to make their way off the island, we’ll cut them in.” Koenig put some cash on the table. “That will take care of the bill. We’ll talk through the details first thing in the morning.” He got up from the table.

  Raymond watched him walk away. Had Koenig planned this from the very beginning—setting the score so he couldn’t be hijacked? Raymond sipped his coffee. He couldn’t run with the kid and ransom him himself. With Koenig and Smithson both after him, he’d be dead within days. So he was going to have to bide his time. Wait for the next opportunity. When they traded the kid for the money, he could pull a grab and dash. He’d have to split the score with Hernandez, if he was still alive after tomorrow, but Koenig hadn’t exaggerated. This was the score of a lifetime. Half would be plenty.

  5

  The Heist

  On Saturday at 11:00 a.m., Hernandez sat on a bench in front of the casino hotel, watching the security checkpoint at the ferry dock. He wore military boots, khaki pants, a loose-fitting jacket, and dark sunglasses. He looked like he was reading something on his phone and enjoying the sun, maybe waiting for his family to join him, but he was counting off his and Raymond’s crew members as they passed through security and disappeared into the throng of vacationers and day guests. So far, so good. After he spotted their final man coming up the hill, he turned toward Raymond, who was standing outside the Caffeination coffee shop, and gave him a quick nod. Then he strolled off toward the east path that led down to the deserted cabins at the old dock.

  Raymond, dark suit, no tie, meandered into the hotel lobby. Lulu and Kelly Jo were working the reception counter, where several guests stood in line to check in. He turned into the restaurant, where the buffet brunch was still being served. He’d received the hotel plans from JB, but there really wasn’t any substitute for walking off the ground yourself. He wandered through the tables as if he were looking for friends, then cut out a side exit into the hallway where the party rooms were located. He stopped in front of the room marked “Smithson Birthday.” One table, eight chairs, eight place settings. Lulu and Kelly Jo’s info appeared to be correct. He continued down the hall to the double doors that led to the kitchen and peeked through the window. Prep tables, cooking stations, back door at the far end. He strolled back to the lobby and out the rear of the hotel to a patio restaurant. Umbrella tables, outside bar, table service. He noted the exit from the kitchen on his right. No surprises. Everything just as it should be.

  He rented a golf cart and drove back through the dunes to the derelict cabins. Hernandez and three of the men were already there. One stood guard at the corner of the cabin closest to the golf cart path, a short-barrel Colt M4 assault rifle in his hands. Farther in, Hernandez was opening the boxes of gear on the weedy turf behind the cabin where they’d been stored. The other two men were checking and loading assault rifles and Glock pistols.

  Hernandez turned to Raymond, a Kevlar vest in his hands. “The boss splurged on the equipment.”

  “You know what he says: the best equipment plus the best men equals the best result.”

  Raymond took off his jacket and his shirt and put on the Kevlar vest over his t-shirt. Then he put his shirt and jacket back on. “How does it look?”

  “Can’t see it at all. But you’ll need to switch to one of these oversize jackets if you’re going to hide the M4 on your back.” Hernandez glanced at the other men, then whispered, “So what’s the job?”

  Raymond took a step closer. “Kidnapping.”

  “Who?” Hernandez asked.

  “Smithson’s grandson.”

  Hernandez’s eyes lit up. “The boss has got some balls on him.”

  “He always plays for keeps.”

  “So everything about this score is by the book until after the ransom.”

  “Unfortunately. Makes it tougher for us, but so it goes. See you on the other side.”

  O’Brian walked around behind the hotel reception counter and stood next to Lulu while she finished helping a group of middle-aged women check in for their gal pal weekend. As the last one turned to go, he pushed a piece of paper to her. “Here’s the final registration details for the Smithsons. I’ll take the keycards.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “They’re right here. Twelfth floor, west wing.”

  “All of the rooms?”

  “Yes, sir. Complete privacy as you requested.”

  “Thank you, Lulu.”

  As he walked away, she smiled, held up a finger at the next couple in line, and then picked up the desk phone and input Raymond’s cell number.

  “Yeah?”

  “They’re all checked in. It’s a definite go.”

  “Good luck.”

  At noon, JB, Lulu, Max, and Kelly Jo were gathering for lunch at a round table on the employees’ patio by the landscapers’ garage. Kelly Jo was doing her best full-on jealous rage, as if Max had just done something new to stir her up. She crashed her tray down in the spot between Max and Lulu, gave him the evil eye, and tore off the wrapper on her sandwich. After the first bite, she said. “God, I picked up the wrong sandwich. I hate egg salad.”

  “Can I go get you something else, honey?” Max asked.

  “Fuck you,” she muttered.

  Lulu covered her smirk with her napkin.

  JB smiled. “Here, have half of this roast beef.”

  “Why, thank you, JB,” Kelly Jo said.

  Max shook his head and sighed.

  Kelly Jo turned on him. “What have you got to sigh about?”

  “Do we have to do this here?”

  “Anywhere you’re flirting with little bitches. That’s where we’ve got to do this. You think I can’t see?”

  Max rolled his eyes and held up his hands in surrender.

  JB swallowed his bite of sandwich and took a drink of Coke. “You guys all set for two o’clock?”

  “Yeah,” Max said. “I tucked the pistols in under the stack of sheets on the bottom shelf of the service closet.”

  “We’re not going to need them,” Lulu said.

  “Better have them and not need them, than need them and not have them.”

  Kelly Jo muttered, “You’re so full of it.”

  JB stood up from the table. “Okay then, I’ll meet you up there. I’ve got to get back to the shop. Crier’s been after me for taking too long at lunch.”

  “I’ve got to get back, too,” Lulu said.

  “Then we’ll see you on the twelfth floor,” Max said.

  They watched Lulu and JB walk back up the hill toward the hotel. Kelly Jo set her half-eaten sandwich on her tray. “Do you think I overplayed it?”

  “You did fine. It was all they could do to keep from laughing at me. They’re going up to the twelfth floor, and they’re expecting us to join them. God knows what they’re planning, but it doesn’t matter because we won’t be there.”

  “We’ve got all our pieces
on the board,” she said.

  “I hope they’re the right pieces. So? Stay or go?”

  “We run now, we’ll never know if we could have taken the whole score.”

  “We won’t even know what the score was.”

  “It’s worth the risk to stay for the show,” she said. “Koenig is going to steal something, and I want to know what it is.”

  Shortly after 1:00 p.m., Max and Kelly Jo were jogging down the switchback behind the landscapers’ garages. Max was carrying their go bag, just in case they couldn’t go back to the motel. The morning haze had lifted, giving them a view all the way to the mainland. Down below, Anders was waiting in an open motor boat with padded lockers running down each side, a captain’s hat pulled down over his eyes.

  “Can you get any closer?” Max yelled.

  Anders shook his head. “No can do. I’m about to bottom out.”

  Max and Kelly Jo waded thigh deep out in the water. Anders helped them climb up the stern ladder. Water ran off their pants legs into the bottom of the boat.

  “Where’s the gear?” Max asked.

  “Under the benches.”

  Max lifted the padded seat on the nearest locker, pulled out a white Kevlar vest, and passed it to Kelly Jo. “It looks more or less like a life jacket.”

  She put it on. He brought out another one for himself.

  “Where to?” Anders asked.

  “Move around to where we can watch for any boats headed into the VIP marina. We want to be able to cut them off.”