Wild Card

by Luke Murphy

  Jimmy leaned back in his chair and let out his breath, in thought. “Fitzgerald? The casino sued him and won. So what?”

  “Right, Fitzgerald. Not only that, but didn’t the state also charge him for defaulting on his marker and threaten him with prison time?”

  Jimmy looked at Dale as if catching on. “That’s a pretty solid motive to pay it off. Imagine a prison guard doing time in general population?”

  “Let’s go.”

  ♣

  They badged their way into the Royal Rose Casino and met a pit boss down on the games floor. He looked to be in his sixties, had a broad nose and thick hair parted to the side—a burly man with a strong cleft chin.

  He stuck out his hand. “Max Donaldson, head daytime pit boss. What can I do for you, Gentlemen?”

  They showed their badges again and Dale pulled out a picture of Steve Sullivan and handed it to Donaldson.

  “We have some questions about this guy.”

  Donaldson took the photo and looked at it. “Steve Sullivan. Haven’t seen Steve in a few days.”

  “When’s the last time he was in?” Jimmy asked.

  The man thought about it. “We can check the video feed, but probably three or four days ago. I believe he was playing blackjack.”

  “Our sources tell us that Sullivan has a lofty unpaid casino marker here,” Dale said.

  Donaldson shook his head. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I just oversee the daytime operation on the floor. Any accounts payable is handled by someone else.”

  Dale sighed audibly. “Do you think you could lead us to that person?”

  “Check with the cage.” He pointed to the cash cage where gamblers cashed-in and cashed-out their chips.

  They went over and identified themselves.

  “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  The woman behind a steel cage looked nervous. She had red hair with white roots and over-plucked eyebrows, too much makeup, long dangly earrings and thumb rings.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “How does one go about getting a marker?” Jimmy said.

  She smacked on some gum. “Customers who want to take out markers must fill out a credit line application first.”

  “So, they pay you the money?”

  “I take anything less than $10,000. If it’s more than that, someone else handles the account.”

  “What if they don’t pay up?”

  “If a marker isn’t paid on time, then we notify them about the outstanding debt. If payment is still not made, the state may then prosecute and issue an arrest warrant.” She sounded like she was reading from the manual.

  Dale showed her Sullivan’s picture. “Do you know this guy?”

  She looked at the picture and shook her head.

  “His name is Steve Sullivan. Does the name ring a bell?” Jimmy said.

  She shook her head again.

  “We’d like to know how much Sullivan owes.”

  “That is confidential information. I’m not allowed to give that out.”

  Dale blew air from his cheeks and shook his head. “Who can?”

  She picked up the phone and made a call. “I have two detectives here looking for information on a marker.” She listened and then said, “Steve Sullivan.” She listened some more. “Okay.” The cash girl hung up and looked at them. “My boss is on his way down.”

  “Thank you,” Jimmy said.

  Minutes later a young man in a tailored suit and designer glasses walked towards them with his hand outstretched.

  “Mark Sterling, what can I do for you, Detectives?

  “We’d like to ask you about Steve Sullivan.”

  “Steve hasn’t been in for days. You are welcome to check our security cameras to verify.”

  “That’s okay, I believe you. We’d like to talk to you about his unpaid marker.”

  “Come to my office.”

  He led Dale and Jimmy to the back of the casino, followed a long hallway and entered a capacious room that looked to be an executive boardroom filled with Oriental furniture—very corporate chic.

  “Have a seat.”

  Jimmy sat down but Dale remained standing.

  “I’m not sure who your sources are,” he said. “But Steve Sullivan does not have an unpaid marker with this casino. Are you sure it’s this casino?”

  “Positive,” Jimmy said.

  “How reliable are your sources?”

  “Rock solid,” Jimmy didn’t hesitate.

  “Did Sullivan ever owe the casino money?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, he did recently have an unpaid marker. But he paid it off days ago.”

  “Really?” Dale stepped closer. “How much did he owe?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  “What difference does it make now? It’s been paid off.”

  “I’m always willing to cooperate with the local law, Detectives, but our client privacy is important to us.”

  “More than a grand?”

  The man didn’t respond.

  “Five grand?”

  Sterling leaned back in his chair, his posture radiating boredom. “Look, Detectives, you can keep calling out numbers to me like we were at a Bingo hall, but I’m not saying anything unless you have a warrant to get that information.”

  Dale’s cellphone rang.

  “Excuse me,” he said, then left the office and walked out into the hallway. He answered the phone. “Dayton.”

  “The search warrant for Sullivan’s home is here,” the sergeant said.

  “Perfect. Thanks.” He hung up and re-entered the office. “Who did Sullivan pay?”

  “Me.”

  “He came in here and gave you the payment directly?”

  “That’s right.”

  Dale smiled. “So, you just told us that he owed at least ten-thousand dollars. Thanks.”

  The man’s face paled, looking ashen, like he might be sick.

  “How did he pay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he pay cash, check, wire transfer, pesos?”

  “Cash.”

  “Cash?”

  “That’s right. He gave me a bag of cash. I counted it, and it was all there.”

  Dale cocked his head. “So, a known gambler who has been in debt his whole life, who has an average paying job at a prison, comes in here and gives you more than ten-grand in cash, and you never question it?”

  Sterling shrugged his shoulders. “I never knew what he did for a living. We got paid, and it was real money. Why would I question it? I don’t care if he won the lottery, won the money at another casino, borrowed it from someone, or robbed a bank. We got paid.”

  Sullivan’s bank account showed no large sums deposited or withdrawn from his account. He had to have received the money directly from Alexandrov, to pay off his debt.

  They thanked the manager and left the casino.

  When they were in the car, Jimmy eyed Dale. “What are you thinking?”

  “Alexandrov paid off Sullivan’s debt in return for sneaking out Sanders.”

  “What’s our next move?”

  “I’m meeting Betty tonight. But first thing tomorrow, we’re going to the Sullivan house and getting inside. Steve Sullivan just went from ‘suspect’ to ‘active suspect’.”

  Chapter 14

  Dale and Jimmy were in Dale’s apartment bedroom with the TV set to CNN. On the screen was a report from Manaus, the action that had gone down earlier outside Calvin’s hotel.

  An on-scene reporter documented the casualties and the damage done. But then it broke to a video recording that someone had taken from their iPhone, during the action. It was powerful footage.

  They caught a quick glimpse of Calvin, but he wouldn’t have been recognizable to anyone who wasn’t already looking for him. He wouldn’t be ID’d from the iPhone recording.

  There was no mention of Calvin, or any American, being amongst the three people killed and four others injured.

  �
��Dale, would you stop pacing. You’re making me nervous.”

  Dale stopped and looked at Jimmy. “How can you not be worried? Calvin was supposed to have called this afternoon. It’s now,” he checked his watch. “6:00 p.m., which means it’s 10:00 p.m. in Brazil. He’s four hours late with his check-in.”

  Jimmy got up and whispered, “Keep your voice down. Rachel’s in the next room. Do you want her to know something is wrong?”

  “I know, I’m sorry. But you know the kind of danger we sent him into. Colombians, Brazilians, Russians, and the Amazon Rainforest. It’s a war zone over there.”

  “We sent him in with Baxter last year, and he proved he can handle himself with the pros. Baxter is a trained killer and Calvin came out on top.”

  “This is different. Calvin is in unchartered waters, unfriendly territory. We didn’t have a plan for him nor gave him any real time to prepare.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I know you’re doubting yourself, and second-guessing your decision, but we had no choice. We didn’t have time to wait. Why don’t you call him?”

  “I thought about that. But what if he’s in hiding and someone is chasing him? I don’t want to give away his position by having his phone ring.”

  “So why did you call me over?”

  Dale shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I needed to vent and hear a voice of reason. I certainly can’t talk to Rachel about this. With Baxter running loose, she has enough to think about. I don’t need her worrying that Calvin’s in serious trouble.”

  “You think he’s in serious trouble?”

  “Why else hasn’t he called?”

  Jimmy was quiet for a moment. He looked down at the suitcases on the floor. “Are you ever going to unpack?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “This is temporary”

  “You really think Betty will change her mind?”

  “I have to believe that.”

  Jimmy sighed. “So, are we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?”

  Dale looked at Jimmy. He wasn’t sure what his partner was talking about. “What do you mean?”

  “With Josie.”

  Dale’s pulse quickened. “What do you think happened with Josie?”

  “Come on, Dale, open your eyes.”

  “What are you talking about? My former partner stopped by the department to work on a case.”

  “Yeah, like that couldn’t have been done over the phone or a skyped teleconferencing session on the computer. I wonder why she made the trip?”

  “Maybe she was already in the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “Never mind. Is everything set on Baxter?”

  Dale knew Jimmy was trying to change the subject, keep his mind off Calvin, and it was probably a good idea.

  Dale nodded. “I think so. Looks like the Colonel is preparing for a war. Next time I talk to Calvin I’m to give him the coordinates. I think that—”

  “Is everything okay?”

  Dale and Jimmy turned to find Rachel standing in the doorway. How long had she been there and how much had she overheard?

  Dale smiled. “Yeah, we’re just discussing a case we’re working on. You didn’t walk by the window, did you?”

  Rachel rolled her eyes perceptibly. “No, I’m staying away from the windows.”

  “He’s a top-tier sniper, Rachel, who can hit his mark from a mile away.”

  “I know. I remember.” She turned and walked away.

  Jimmy looked at Dale. “Call him.”

  Dale picked up the phone and dialed Calvin’s satellite phone. He listened and waited. After five rings, he hung up.

  “No answer.”

  “You need to talk to Rachel. I can tell she’s worried.”

  Dale nodded and left the room. He found Rachel in the small living room, sitting on the couch where he now slept, channel surfing but not really paying attention to anything that was playing.

  This wasn’t exactly his thing. Although Dale’s record as a cop was impressive, he usually fell short with his attempts at sincerity, as Betty could attest to. He wasn’t the easiest person to talk to and that had been part of the problem in his marriage. But he knew he had to comfort Rachel in some way. The detective sat down beside her, but not close.

  “How are you holding up?”

  Rachel wiped her eyes. She met his concerned gaze and he saw how much Rachel really loved and missed Calvin.

  “Okay.”

  He tried to keep his face as wooden as possible. “Calvin’s fine.”

  “You talked to him?”

  He couldn’t lie. “Not yet, but we’re expecting his call any time now.”

  “So, then you don’t know if he’s okay.”

  “Rachel, I know that I don’t know Calvin as well as you do, but from what I’ve seen, he’s a fighter and a winner. I’ve never seen him lose at anything he’s done. Have you?”

  She shook her head.

  “He’s a survivor and I have faith in him. And I know you do too.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know you are, and that’s okay. It means you care. As soon as I find out more, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, Dale. I’m glad you and Jimmy are here.”

  Rachel moved closer and hugged Dale. He awkwardly squeezed her back. Glancing over her shoulder, he noticed a stack of textbooks on the table.

  He pulled away from her. “How’s school going?”

  “I didn’t think online courses would be so demanding.”

  “Well, the College of Southern Nevada is a great choice. So, you stick with it. What are you taking?”

  “I’m almost done a two-year psychology program. But now that I’m working full-time for Calvin, I’m not sure why I bother.”

  Dale nodded but didn’t comment. “Well, Jimmy and I think it’s great, you going back to school and all. Good luck.” He stood up.

  Rachel smiled for the first time since she’d arrived at Dale’s tiny apartment.

  “Thanks. So, you really think everything is okay?”

  Although he didn’t feel it in his gut, he lied by nodding. “Absolutely. You really care for him, don’t you?”

  “More than you can imagine. Did Calvin ever tell you about the first time we met?”

  Dale shook his head and sat back down. It looked like Rachel needed to talk to get her mind off of their predicament.

  “He was running an errand for his boss.”

  “Pitt?”

  Rachel nodded, but looked sad. “I’m not proud of the life I lived. There are a few years where I was lost, and wasn’t thinking clearly. And I know that Calvin isn’t proud of some of the things he’s done either.”

  Dale knew Rachel had been a prostitute and had probably met Calvin on the streets. But he let her continue.

  “Calvin was new to the city, and didn’t know his way around. He wound up on my street asking for directions so I gave them to him. After he left, I was confronted by a man.”

  Dale didn’t ask who. He knew what Rachel had been doing on the street and what the man had probably wanted. There was no need to bring that up.

  “The man grabbed my arm aggressively, yanking on it, pulling me towards his car. Out of nowhere Calvin reappeared. I thought he’d left, but he was there.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Protected me.” A tear slipped down Rachel’s cheek. “He pulled the man off me and escorted him to his car.”

  Dale could imagine, knowing Calvin’s reputation back then, what “escort” meant.

  “This man, Calvin Watters, rescued me from who knows what. He didn’t have to do that. I never asked him to. He didn’t even know me. Most people who saw it, would have just turned, walked away and not thought twice about it. But not this man. That’s when I knew Calvin was different.”

  Dale was quiet, imaginin
g the scene in his head.

  Rachel put a hand on Dale’s. “Thanks for listening.”

  He nodded and got up, joining Jimmy in the bedroom and shutting the door.

  “How’d it go?”

  “I think she’ll be okay, but I really hope Calvin calls soon.”

  ♣

  Calvin woke up groggy and light-headed. The blood rushed to his skull and a migraine needled at the back of his scalp.

  He opened his eyes, squinted hard, and allowed them time to adjust. It was dark, which meant night had come. How long had he been out?

  When his head finally cleared, Calvin realized he was strapped upside down, hanging from some sort of metal contraption. He could feel the tension of the wire cutting into the skin around his ankles. His hands were tied behind his back and his shirt, socks and boots had been removed.

  Calvin tried to gather his bearings and find a way out. He surveyed his situation.

  He was outside. A bonfire burned about five feet from where he hung. He could feel its blistering heat on his skin. He was in an opening of the forest, surrounded by trees, bushes and plants. But he could hear the rush of the river, so he couldn’t be too far from the shoreline. The smell of marijuana hung in the air.

  The last thing he remembered was being in the boat with Luiz, drinking water and getting drowsy.

  No, drugged. Luiz had double-crossed him.

  He could hear voices behind him, in the distance, speaking Portuguese. Who were they and how many? What did they want? The last words he remembered was Luiz saying something about he and Chantal being a scout team. What did that mean?

  He tried to twist his body around to scope the area. What could he use for a weapon? How could he escape and kill these bastards in the process?

  Using the abdominal muscles he’d been building for the last three years, Calvin performed an upside-down crunch to check out his restraints. He grunted and extended.

  He was tied to a metal, big-game hoist with winch lift gambrel. The kind used by hunters to skin their kills. The rope secured around his ankles was thick nylon and wire.

  He looked around the area for any sign that other prisoners were being held there. Was Sanders here? If so, where would they be keeping him? Calvin saw no indications from where he hung.