by James Swain
“You’re the devil, aren’t you?”
The words stung more than he would have liked.
“I’m whatever you want me to be,” he said.
THIRTY-TWO
Getting rid of Travis was proving trickier than Cory and Morris had anticipated. They’d stowed his body in their rented storage unit at night when no one was around. Now, in broad daylight, the facility was swarming with people, and they couldn’t move him without being seen. Certain criminal acts you could talk your way out of. Unloading a corpse wasn’t one of them.
Cory sat behind the wheel of the SUV. He’d placed a call to Billy and was waiting for a call back. Billy was the champ at fixing messes and would know how to dispose of Travis. Before coming to Vegas, Billy had worked for a gangster, and he knew all sorts of valuable stuff.
While he waited, Cory watched horse racing from Santa Anita on his cell phone using an app called BetAmerica. His account with BetAmerica also let him place wagers. He also had accounts with sites with catchy names like Twin Spires and Horse Races Now.
The horses exploded out of the gate and galloped around the track. A ringer named Sally Boy pulled ahead and never looked back. It won at odds of ten-to-one. Cory had bet $500 on Sally Boy, which put him ahead five grand. He’d also bet $500 on a nag, which finished dead last. The racing sites monitored their customers’ action and would become suspicious if a customer won too much, too often. By purposely betting on a losing nag in the same race as a ringer, he was avoiding any unnecessary scrutiny.
Morris climbed in and took the passenger seat. Morris hadn’t slept and looked like death warmed over. The shock of having shot Travis was slow to wear off.
“Any word from Billy?” Morris asked.
“Not yet.” They fell silent. The car’s interior was suffocating. Morris held his hands in his lap. His fingers were trembling as if he had palsy. Cory had read that when a cop was forced to shoot and kill a suspect, the cop was put on leave for several weeks. Cory had thought this was an administrative thing but now realized otherwise. The cop needed to heal.
“So where are we going to hide out?” Morris asked.
“Billy suggested we head down to Mexico.”
“Refresh my memory. What’s in Mexico?”
“Billy owns a beachfront condo in Cancun that he hustled off a rich sucker with the newspaper scam. We’ll hang there and drink piña coladas and look at pretty girls.”
“Sounds good. What’s the newspaper scam?”
“I never told you about this? It’s beautiful.”
“Lay it on me. I could use some cheering up.”
“It’s done at a hotel pool. The cheat and the sucker play high-stakes gin rummy. At the next table sits the cheat’s partner smoking a cigar and reading the newspaper with a slit in it. The partner peeks through the slit at the sucker’s cards and signals their value by coughing.”
“The sucker doesn’t notice?”
“Guys who smoke cigars cough a lot. It flies right by the sucker.”
“We should try it in Cancun. Who’s going to feed the fish while we’re gone?”
Cory started to say, “Travis,” but stopped the word from leaving his mouth.
“You think Gabe will do it?” Morris asked.
“The way Gabe feels about me these days, he’ll probably poison them.”
“You really in love with his daughter?”
“It’s starting to feel that way. I’ll find out when I’m in Cancun, see how long it lasts when we’re apart. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Yeah, right.”
Morris suddenly punched the dashboard and yelped in pain.
“Why did you do that?” Cory asked.
“I never should have shot Travis. I should have just let him shoot his mouth off and he would have left. Killing him proved nothing.”
“Travis had it coming. If I’d gotten my hands on the gun, I would have shot him. That asshole was destined to die in our house, so stop flogging yourself.”
More silence. They both were craving a joint. Getting high was how they calmed themselves down. But they’d sworn off the dope, and neither wanted to be the first to bend.
“What are we going to do in Mexico besides get sexually transmitted diseases?”
“A couple of weeks ago, Travis told me about a project he was working on for Billy,” Cory said. “I’m going to ask Billy if we can take it over. It will give us something to do.”
“What kind of project?”
“Travis called it the Same Key project. It’s based upon the principle that companies will cut corners by putting out duplicates under the belief that no one will know. Ford did it years ago when they only put out four keys for their station wagons. Word eventually got out, and Ford got in trouble, but it still goes on.”
“In the casino business, too?”
“Especially in the casino business. Back in the old days, each slot machine needed a key to open it. Several manufacturers cut corners by having a skeleton key that could open all their machines. It worked great, until a gang of cheats made a copy and went around rigging jackpots. The casinos lost a bundle.”
“But that can’t happen now,” Morris said. “Can it?”
“Billy thinks it can. There are more than a hundred thousand slot machines in Vegas and another fifty thousand video poker machines. By law, each machine is required to have its own source code embedded in the EPROM chip that keeps the game from getting corrupted. Billy thinks there are machines out there that share the same codes.”
“These machines would be made by the same company.”
“Correct. It would save them a fortune by sharing codes. The machines would be vulnerable, but they’re banking on the belief that no one will realize what they’ve done.”
“Like Ford.”
“Exactly. Just like Ford.”
Morris was feeling more like himself and sucked on his swollen knuckle. “So how are we going to figure this out while we’re sitting on the beach in Mexico?”
“That’s the fun part. The companies that manufacture the games are publicly held. We look at their quarterly reports and see if any have been reporting unusually high profits. If one is making more money than the others, they’re probably cutting corners and sharing codes.”
“Stock reports,” Morris said.
“You don’t believe me.”
“It sounds far-fetched.”
“Travis said this was the way Lumber Liquidators got caught.”
“Those were the guys who put embalming fluid in the flooring.”
“Right again. A hedge-fund manager analyzed their stock report and didn’t understand why profits were so high. He investigated and found they were putting bad chemicals in their products. Stop sucking your hand. It makes you look like a baby.”
“What happens if we find a company that’s making more money than the others?”
“Billy will buy two of their machines and have Gabe pull out their EPROM chips and see if the codes match. If they do, it’s off to the races, my friend.”
It all sounded fine and dandy, but it didn’t explain how they were going to dispose of Travis without being spotted and going to prison. They were in a heap of trouble if Billy didn’t come to their rescue.
Cory’s cell phone chirped. “It’s Billy,” he said.
Morris tried to eavesdrop, and Cory pushed him away. The call was a short one. Cory hung up and started the car.
“Lock the unit,” Cory said. “Billy’s come up with a plan.”
THIRTY-THREE
Gabe’s home in Silverado Lakes was the crew’s unofficial meeting place. The neighborhood was sleepy, and the nearby pizza joint delivered.
After his wife split, Gabe had chosen to redecorate with expensive grown-up toys. An elaborate train set filled the living room; a slate pool table was in the den; and Ping-Pong, foosball, and pinball were in the family room. It was the perfect man cave, and his crew usually enjoyed a few games before getting down to business.
&nb
sp; Not today. They sat at the kitchen table, as still as an oil painting. It was weird without Travis. The big man was the life of the party, and his loss left a void. Wanting to lift the mood, Billy said, “Show us the gaffed coin you created for the Super Bowl coin flip.”
Gabe produced a gold coin from his shirt pocket. The size of a silver dollar, it had the Vince Lombardi Trophy on one side, the participating teams’ helmets on the other. Gabe explained how the coin’s extra thickness had allowed him to insert a capsule of mercury and a micro-transmitter in its center. On Gabe’s iPhone was a special app with two buttons. The red for tails, the green for heads. Pepper was given the honors and flipped the coin into the air.
“Heads,” Billy said.
Gabe pressed the green button. The coin hit the table showing heads. “I’ve tested it a thousand times. The micro-transmitter shifts the mercury to the opposite side, producing the desired result. It never fails.”
“How far away can Cory and Morris be with your iPhone to make it work?”
“Three hundred feet max. If they sit in the first few rows of the stadium, no problem.”
“Call a scalper and buy two front-row seats on the fifty-yard line,” Billy said to Cory. “You and Morris are going to the Super Bowl next Sunday.”
“Not Mexico?” Cory asked.
“No. I came up with a way to dispose of Travis’s body that will leave you and Morris in the clear.”
“Cool,” Cory said.
The words cast a pall over the others. Billy studied their faces before speaking again. “Travis was a dumb bastard, but that doesn’t change the fact that we all liked him. If you have something you’d like to get off your chest, do it now.”
“I just don’t understand why Travis broke bad on us,” Misty said. “We were his friends. His situation was different having a wife and kids, and we went out of our way for him.”
“I know you did,” Billy said.
“And we covered for him,” Pepper added. “Remember that time at Harrah’s when Travis threw the dice down the table, and the palmed pair hidden in his hand fell on his chips? I pulled my titties out of my blouse and swung them in the employees’ faces to give Travis a distraction so he could clean up. I don’t pull my titties out for just anybody, you know.”
“You saved his ass,” Billy said.
“Damn straight I did. So why did Travis turn on us? I know Travis told Cory it was because you criticized him, but hell, we all criticized him. That wasn’t the real reason Travis screwed us. It had to be something else.”
Billy didn’t see the point in kicking a dead horse. Travis should have been happy with his deal. The big man had run with Billy the longest, had made the most money, lived in a nice house, had two new cars, and took his family on great vacations. But Travis had a dark side that the others hadn’t seen. He had frequented hookers and picked fights in bars with strangers. And the big man had stolen from every casino he had worked for. Nothing had ever been good enough for him. Travis had been destined to blow himself up; it was simply a matter of when.
“Some dogs just like to roll in shit,” Billy said.
His crew nodded agreement. Vegas was filled with self-destructive people. The catch was that none of them had recognized this flaw in Travis.
Billy was glad to have that out of the way, and he got down to the business at hand.
“I’ve got a plan to get rid of the body, save Leon, and also put the screws to that little rat bastard Broken Tooth,” he said. “Call it killing three birds with one stone. It will work a little differently than our casino heists. Cory and Morris will pair up, as will Pepper and Misty, while Gabe will run solo. I’m not going to share your roles with the others, in case one of us gets busted by the gaming board.”
“The gaming board is involved in your plan?” Cory asked.
“That’s correct.”
“But I thought you were on their Most Wanted list.”
“I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get them to help us. I have something the gaming board wants, and they should be willing to work with me.”
“Why are you keeping us in the dark?” Gabe asked.
“It’s for your own protection. If you don’t know what the others are doing, you can’t give up the information if you get hauled in.”
“Got it,” Gabe said.
“Didn’t I see this in a movie once?” Misty asked.
“Reservoir Dogs,” Pepper said. “Will we have aliases like Mr. Pink and Mr. Brown?”
“Not this time,” he said. “I want each of you to pack a suitcase. Once Leon is out of danger, you’ll need to hightail it out of town. Cory and Morris will head to Phoenix to get ready for the Super Bowl scam. Gabe, I suggest you go with them in case your trick coin malfunctions before the game and needs fixing. Pepper and Misty, you can go wherever your hearts desire.”
“We can stay with my girlfriend in LA,” Pepper said.
“That works. There’s one more thing. I live by the cheater’s code, and I expect you to as well. People think it’s funny that criminals would follow a code, but it’s what keeps the profession alive. You’ve got to have rules, even if you’re in the business of breaking the law.
“One of the most important rules is that a cheat should never put another cheat in a compromising situation. If a cheat gets caught, he should never rat out his partners. And a cheat should never intentionally screw up another cheat’s score. Those two things are forbidden. In the old days, you’d get a bullet in your head for breaking these rules.”
He paused to let the words sink in, then continued. “I should have killed Travis the moment I figured out he’d betrayed us. Travis put all of us in harm’s way, not just Leon. But I loved the big guy, so I held back. That was my mistake, and I’m sorry.” He looked at Morris. “And I owe you an apology.”
“You do?” Morris asked.
“I owe you an apology because I didn’t do my job. If I’d handled this differently, you wouldn’t have had to shoot Travis. That was my responsibility, and I’m sorry, man.”
“Thanks, Billy. That means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go rescue Leon and set things right.”
THIRTY-FOUR
“Frank, you know how badly I want you to get my job,” Bill “Trixie” Tricaricco, director of field agents for the Nevada Gaming Control Board, said. “You’ve paid your dues, my friend. But I can’t just hand it to you like a baton at a relay race. You have to earn it.”
Grimes went stiff in his chair. What the hell had Trixie just said? Grimes had arrested more casino cheats than any of his peers. If the report card was graded based upon number of busts, then Grimes got nothing but straight As. And then there was the matter of Trixie and Grimes having murdered a contract killer named Wilmer Haney and his despicable son and burning the Haneys’ house down to hide the crime. Didn’t that count for something?
“But I’ve earned it,” Grimes protested a little too loudly.
“But what have you done for us lately?” Trixie said. “I know that sounds trite, but it’s the truth, Frank, and you haven’t had a bust in a while. That’s not like you.”
“I thought I was a shoo-in. You said so yourself.”
“I did. But that was before Little Miss Debbie Do Good stole your thunder. That young lady is a force to be reckoned with.”
“Debbie’s only been here three years. I’ve put in ten.”
“The boys upstairs like her. She’s made some busts, and she’s got great legs.”
Special Agent Debbie Goodman had a horseshoe stuck up her ass. Do Good had made several solid busts, the most recent a Strip casino laundering cash using an intricate series of wire transfers. The Strip casino had paid a huge fine, and Debbie’s stock had risen in the department. This was the first time Grimes had heard she was vying for Trixie’s job, and it galled him.
“When will your replacement be announced?” Grimes asked.
“A few days before I retire,” Trixie said.
“Which is when?”
“I’m blowing out of here in two weeks. I’m still waiting for the paperwork to get processed. Folks in Carson City don’t know the meaning of fast.”
“So I still have time,” Grimes said.
“For what?”
“To bust the Gypsies and get your job.”
“I thought you told me the Gypsies slipped town and left a cold trail.”
“I haven’t given up yet.”
“You’ve got a lead on them?”
“Yes. And I plan to work it until I find them.”
“That’s the spirit, Frank.”
Trixie unscrewed a bottled water and took a long swallow. There was an ugly rumor swirling around that Trixie would soon be in the employ of Pearl Gaming, which owned four casinos in town. There was nothing wrong with Trixie entering the private sector; government employees did it every day. The problem was with Pearl. A month did not go by when one of their casinos wasn’t getting fined for running games that did not pay out the advertised rate of return. Pearl’s management didn’t care, and they simply paid the fines and continued to break the law. Only the threat of the gaming board revoking Pearl’s gambling license would change things, but the gaming board hadn’t yanked a casino’s license in forty years.
Hearing a knock on the door, Trixie barked, and a timid secretary stuck her head in. “There’s a man on the phone who needs to speak to Frank.”
“Take his number, and Frank will call him back,” Trixie said.
“I tried, and he refused to give it to me. He said it’s urgent.”
“Maybe that’s your lead on the Gypsies,” Trixie said.
Grimes’s cheeks burned. Trixie, his boss and friend, was telling him to leave. The shelves behind Trixie’s desk were bare, the mementos boxed away. Trixie already had one foot out the door, his days of dealing with field agents a thing of the past.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Grimes said.
“You do that, Frank. And good luck.”
He was going to need it.
Grimes parked his burly frame into the chair in his cramped cubicle. He had a number of snitches on his payroll, and it wasn’t uncommon for one to call needing money to bail his sorry ass out of jail. Grimes yanked the phone out of its receiver and said, “This is Special Agent Grimes. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
