Sin City

by Harold Robbins

  I knew what she meant. My internal Geiger counter was screaming.

  Back at the table I rejected the six decks of cards the croupier pulled out.

  “Mr. Wan, to make sure we use clean decks, you can pick the decks from our supply cabinet in the gaming area. And a new shoe.”

  He cackled again. I hated that sound.

  “No need. Choose any decks, any sabot.”

  I sent Moody for six fresh decks and a shoe and gave the cards to the croupier. While the automatic shuffler was going, I examined the new shoe and passed it to Wan. He brushed it aside. He seemed to be greatly amused at my precautions.

  “Sorry to be so cautious, Mr. Wan, but I want to make sure you get a fair break. I know how important this match must be to you.”

  “Oh, no, no, Mr. Riordan, you are incorrect. This match is not of great import to me. You see, I am just here because of money. You have mine and I want it back. You are here because of pride. If you lose, your fall will be much greater than mine had I proved the loser.”

  “You know, ever since I met you, you’ve been giving me those cute little Oriental pearls of wisdom. How about if you shove the next one up your ass.”

  “Mr. Riordan, there is no necessity for you to be uncivilized.”

  “You’re right, but I was just thinking about A-Ma. It’s your deal. Hopefully, you’ll get what’s coming to you during this game and I won’t have to wait for you to burn in hell.”

  “I did not cause the death of A-Ma. For some people, living is more painful than dying.”

  He won again. And again. What luck the bastard was having.

  “You know, of course, that you will never really win,” I said. “I don’t give a damn how this game goes. I’d sooner burn the place down before I’d let you have it.”

  He won again. He never seemed to deal himself anything less than a six-point count.

  Moody gave me a grim look. He bent down and whispered, “You can call this stupid match off anytime.”

  “Too late. I’m down millions.”

  My voice carried loud enough so Wan caught the gist of what I said.

  “Yes, it is too late.”

  “There’s an old American expression you can add to your Eastern pearls: ‘Don’t count your chickens before they hatch’.”

  I finally won a hand. The tension was crawling up my back and tying the muscles in my neck. I leaned back and stretched, staring up at the mirrored ceiling. I froze in mid-stretch as I saw a familiar face in the group of onlookers behind the cordoned-off playing zone. It gave me a hell of a jolt.

  Windell.

  He grinned at me, exposing the gap between the front teeth my fist had left. He had false teeth there last time I saw him, and I got the hint—it was payback time for me busting his chops and sending him off to jail.

  “Taking five.” I got up from the table and went over to the drink table and poured myself another Jack Coke. Windell. Going for the money, of course, that’s what Windell always did. And Forbidden City was the biggest jackpot in the world.

  Windell. Wan. There had to be a connection. A gimmick. It all added up. But what it totaled was still beyond me.

  The house phone rang. Moody answered it and gave it to me.

  “What’s going on?” Morgan asked.

  “Windell’s here.”

  “Windell? Your computer nerd buddy? Jesus, do you think he’d help Wan?”

  “Do chickens have lips? Windell would sell his mother for a nickel jackpot. Besides, he doesn’t cheat for the money. He cheats to cheat.”

  “But Wan wouldn’t be stupid enough—”

  “To let Windell parade through here? You’re right, but Windell’s dumb enough to do it. You can always trust Windell to screw you—and shoot himself in the foot doing it. Don’t you remember how your old man caught on to my act?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Punt.”

  “Punt?”

  “It’s what you do when it’s fourth down and your back is to the wall.”

  I returned to the table. As I sat down, it suddenly struck me. It was just a process of elimination. I had clued in on every possible way that the gimmick could be done, from the cards, croupier, shoe, and Wan. I left out just one thing, and so that had to be it.

  The croupier passed me the deck. As I reached for it, I turned to say something to Moody and “accidentally” pushed the shoe off the table.

  “Hell, sorry about that. We’ll need new decks and a new shuffle.”

  Wan’s eyes immediately went to the automatic shuffler and back to me. It was the first tipoff that he had given.

  The shuffler had to be the gimmick, of course. Windell had bugged it so it stacked the deck—but only when fresh decks were used. Fresh decks came in a set order of suits and value. Windell would have bugged the shuffler based on that order, and maybe only for the first dozen or so hands, because that’s how Wan was winning, hand after hand after shuffling fresh decks for about ten of fifteen hands, and then the play started evening out between us.

  That’s why he dropped the shoe, to force a new shuffle and new decks when it was his turn to deal. Now it was my deal—and I had fresh decks. I had no idea how Windell could bug a shuffler. But if it could be done, that perverted twerp would be the one who could do it. They say the good Lord acts in mysterious ways. So does electronics.

  I dealt myself a natural nine first time out the gate. I grinned at Wan. “I guess Lady Luck is finally turning my way. Want to get this over quick? How about we play one hand for table stakes? Winner take all.”

  He nodded. “That will be satisfactory.”

  That surprised the hell out of me.

  “You have miscalculated me, Mr. Riordan. To your detriment, you have failed to prepare yourself for the battle.”

  “Funny thing, Mr. Wan, I did get around to reading Sun Tzu, but I’m finding out that what I learned from a couple of old-time Nevada gambling men comes in more handy than your ancient general’s advice.”

  “You may have read Sun Tzu, but like many of your culture, you have failed to understand what he is saying, even after I pointed you in the correct direction.”

  “Maybe I’m a little dense.” I dealt the cards. Wan left his sitting untouched, as I did mine. “Maybe you can tell me how Sun Tzu is going to give you a winning hand.”

  He cackled, goddamn, just like a hen. The sound was like fingernails on a blackboard.

  “You still do not understand, Mr. Riordan. I told you that Sun Tzu taught that one must take from the enemy that which the enemy holds dearest.”

  “And we’ll know if you succeeded when we turn the cards over.”

  He shook his head and grinned, toothy, a little foolishly, like he was enjoying a private joke. Then the smile went off his face and I met those dark pools where his eyes belonged.

  “You still do not comprehend, Mr. Riordan. I have already won. I have taken what you hold dearest.”

  I repeated his words in my mind: I have taken what you hold dearest . Hold dearest. The phrase vibrated between my ears. Forbidden City was everything I had. I closed my eyes. I suddenly realized what a fool I was. I had been wrong. My heart began racing.

  Moody handed me the phone. I didn’t even hear it ring.

  “Zack. Zack!” Morgan screamed.

  The line went dead. I held the phone to my ear, listening to the dial tone. I was unable to move, to even flinch, my spine was cold at the bone. I lifted my head to look up at Moody. A little twinge of guilt swept across his face. And shame. Then his features turned mean. I should have seen it coming. Moody always had his hand out. Everything he did for me cost an arm and a leg and he wanted more. He had not wanted to get paid for nailing Ricketts; he wanted to get rich. I turned him down and Wan had met his price. The two men he sent to guard Morgan and the kids had obviously kidnapped them.

  I handed him back the phone. “You’re dead,” I whispered.

  “Fuck you,” Moody said.

  I took a de
ep breath and let it out slowly. The croupier and ladderman both stared at me.

  “Zack—” the croupier said. His hand was on the security call buzzer.

  “Don’t touch it,” I said.

  I looked up at the ladderman and pulled my right ear.

  My cards were still facedown in front of me. I wondered where they had taken Morgan and the kids. They couldn’t have had much time to get them out of the place. Most likely they were still in the casino. If they touched her or the kids …

  I shook my head at Wan. “No, I’m afraid your Chinese general failed you on this one. I won’t let you win this way. I’m going to play my cards the way I want to. When I get a call and know they’re safely out on the street, I’ll play my cards.”

  “And how will you play the cards?” Wan asked.

  Before I could reply, four men shoved through the crowd and stepped into the baccarat area. Anthony DeCicco was right behind them.

  The Chinese may have had thousands of years to refine the triads and tongs into killers, but the Mafia made up for it by being just plain innovatively brutal. Wan’s two triad gangsters looked like rabbits to these four sheep-killing dogs.

  “Like I said, I’ll pay the cards the way I want to,” I told Wan. My voice was low, not because I was trying to keep my voice down, but because I was so angry, I had to control myself from leaping across the table and ripping out Wan’s throat.

  Wan and I stared at each other. Yeah, he was one smart son of a bitch. I had to run to keep up with him and make up for some of it by being just plain stubborn. I kept up a tough front, but my heart was still pounding. The fuckers had my wife and kids. My anger was turning black and ugly. I gripped the table with both hands. I wanted to get up and kill these bastards.

  Wan was no fool, he read the murder in my face. His death.

  “You have a call to make,” I said.

  He nodded to Moody. Moody got back on the phone. I could see that the ex-homicide dick had shrunk a little at the sight of DeCicco and the thugs. He had been around the town long enough to know DeCicco was connected.

  No clock was in sight and I didn’t look at my watch. After Moody hung up, the seconds ticked off in my mind. The tension built up around the baccarat area. The croupier, the ladderman, no one knew what was going on, but they could feel the tension filling the area like a Miami heat wave. The people in the audience were quiet, too. I looked back to catch Windell’s eye. He saw the rage in my eyes and ran, shoving his way through the crowd.

  The phone rang. I didn’t flinch but my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Moody listened and handed the phone to me.

  “Zack, we’re on the street. We’re safe. I’m not leaving, Zack. I want us to be a family, a real family, and I want the kids to know their father.”

  A sudden longing came into me, one that I never felt before.

  “So do I,” I said softly.

  I handed Moody back the phone. He was looking at DeCicco’s boys, and not liking the looks he got back. I grinned at him. With my lips, not my eyes.

  “You look a little pale, Moody, something you ate?”

  I lifted up my cards and took a peek. A queen and a nine—a natural nine. Moody was behind me. I knew he saw the cards when I heard the disappointed grunt. Like someone had punched him.

  I met Wan’s eyes again. His lids had come down, half shading the bottomless black pits. Taking what you hold dearest. The words kind of waltzed around my head, doing a little dance. Smart bastard. He had seen what I almost didn’t see myself. What I had almost lost. I had been so preoccupied with the club, I lost sight of what was important in my life. I had lost Betty and A-Ma. I loved both of them, but it was Morgan and the kids that I wanted in my life. I wanted the same thing Morgan wanted—a family.

  I threw the cards across the table, facedown.

  “You win.”

  Wan gaped. I laughed. I had finally broken through that stoic mask.

  “By the way, meet Mr. DeCicco, the club’s new general manager. He represents some out-of-town interests who have bought the club.”

  “Bought the club?” Wan stared down at the shimmy table like the words had fallen there and he needed to examine them.

  “Yeah, I sold my interest, Mr. Wan. You know how it is, casinos are so much trouble nowadays, so much paperwork, all those government regulations and snoops. I’m getting away from the business … for my health.”

  “My money—”

  “Oh yeah, congratulations, you won whatever interest I still have in the casino. Mr. DeCicco will be discussing that situation with you.”

  I got up to walk away and brushed against Moody.

  “Sorry, pal,” Moody said.

  I turned, cocking my fist, and went straight across his jaw, throwing my shoulder into it, giving it everything I had. I heard his teeth shatter as his mouth slammed shut. He went backward, spraying blood. I wasn’t finished with him. I could’ve given him more, but my hand hurt like hell.

  I left the club, walked out the front doors, out the gate beneath the Great Wall, and across the drawbridge. Behind me the Red Dragon roller coaster came around again, breathing fire.

  I could never have won by myself with Wan because he was a one-hundred-percenter. He would go all the way to win, no matter what it took. In my own mind, I think I was tougher than Wan in most ways, maybe even smarter, but he was willing to go all the way. All the way meant doing anything to win. He would think nothing of sending back my wife and kids in pieces.

  Sitting there at the shimmy table, my family in one hand, the club in the other, a casino didn’t seem that important to me. Hell, there were lots of other casinos. I knew how to make money. Nothing was impossible. You just did it. You don’t stop living. You go on to bigger and better things.

  I walked outside to the Strip. A strange thought hit me and I started laughing. Maybe I had been wrong all this time. Maybe God didn’t live on the Strip. Maybe the devil did.

  A horn honked and a taxi pulled up to the curb alongside me. The back door opened and Morgan got out.

  “I stopped a squad car to send them back to the club to get you. They told me you left. They said you walked away from a natural nine.”

  “I knew a rumor like that would start. Must be one of those urban legends, alien rape and that sort of thing. I had snake eyes.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “You didn’t have to do it. I told you we were safe.”

  “I did it because I wanted to do it. Besides, I’m tired of that place.”

  “What about Wan—”

  “You might as well start using the past tense when referring to him. There’s a guy name Vinnie the Ax who hates having partners. I suspect Mr. Wan will soon be coyote bait.”

  “You let gangsters take over your dream?”

  “No, I just let them borrow it. I sold Vinnie the joint in return for him paying off the notes to Halliday’s. We own the old club free and clear. The gaming commission and feds will turn DeCicco inside out and revoke the license in a year. By then, Vinnie will have laundered a billion bucks and be smiling. He’ll sell me back the place if I want it, but I don’t know, with the new place and all …”

  “New place?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? I’m going to build a bigger and better club. I already know exactly how I’m going to do it, with volcanos exploding, lava pouring, and—and, hey, knights in shining armor, a medieval castle, maybe even a moat full of pirate ships—”

  “How many places are you going to build?”

  I looked up and down the Strip.

  “How many do you think it will hold?”

  Then she was in my arms and held me tight.

  “Zack, promise me you won’t ever leave me.”

  “I promise.”

  We held each other as lovers long apart. We must have put some real heat out because the cars up and down the Strip started honking their horns and yelling out cat calls. I didn’t care.

  I finally figured out what was important to me.
r />   Harold Robbins left behind a rich heritage of novel ideas

  and works in progress when he passed away in 1997.

  Harold Robbins’s estate and his editor worked with a

  carefully selected writer to organize and complete Harold

  Robbins’s ideas to create this novel, inspired by his storytelling

  brilliance, in a manner faithful to the Robbins style.

  FORGE BOOKS BY HAROLD ROBBINS

  Never Enough

  Never Leave Me

  The Predators

  The Secret

  Sin City

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

  SIN CITY

  Copyright © 2002 by Jann Robbins

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  A Forge Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

  175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY 10010

  Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  eISBN 9781429956857

  First eBook Edition : April 2011