“Damn, it’s cold in here,” Alex said quietly. The frigid air of the casino was a jolt to his system this early in the morning. Still, he knew the cargo shorts he was wearing were a necessity if they planned on walking outside in the desert heat. Looking at his watch, he saw that Cindy was not due to meet them for another twenty minutes. He palmed a fifty-dollar bill onto the table, figuring that should be more than enough to occupy his time until she arrived.
After fifteen minutes of playing, Alex’s good fortune still stood intact and he gave his friend a look of confidence just before the dealer busted again, making his hand of thirteen a winner. The dealer placed another thirty dollars worth of chips in front of him. Years of playing blackjack had taught him to ignore his hunches and follow the percentages no matter what he tried to talk himself into. It did not always pay off. It was gambling after all, however he found that if you randomly made decisions, your odds grew progressively worse. A quick accounting of his stack showed that he was ahead another ninety dollars since they sat down at the table. The weekend seemed destined to be a profitable one.
A waitress dressed in a skimpy version of a Japanese kimono brought him out of his contemplation as she sat a Diet Coke in front of him. He took a sip and looked up from the table to hand her a five-dollar tip when he caught the familiar face. Sitting at a blackjack table to their left was the same short, stocky man who was at their craps table the night before. The man sat at the far end of his table, and he had a perfect view of Alex’s table. He studied the stranger for a few seconds before turning his attention back to his game. He was the same man sitting near them eating breakfast, Alex suddenly realized.
Could it be coincidence? He admitted it could, but now that he had seen him three times in less than twelve hours, his first guess was that the fat man was somehow connected with the woman. Alex stole a glance at him again, keeping his gaze on the man until the set of tired eyes came up from the table, locking with Alex’s for a brief moment. They quickly returned their focus to the hand being dealt. Did the eyes turn away a little too quickly? There was something odd about the way he looked, but Alex could not place what it was. As the dealer finishing shuffling the deck of cards Alex eyed the man one more time, implanting his image in his mind. His short height was given away by his feet, which were dangling in mid-air as he sat at the table. The man’s obese physique, along with his glistening hair reminded Alex of the stereotypical gangster character. The man had the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his face, and the bags under his eyes betrayed a lack of sleep. Alex involuntarily shivered as he realized what was so odd about him. The stranger was wearing the same suit as the night before.
“Hey boys, how’s it going?” Cindy snuck up, slapping them each on the back with one hand. The dealer immediately turned up a natural twenty-one and swept everyone’s money off the table. Alex wondered if she was bad luck.
“Ready, Alex? I think that last hand may be a hint to get out of here,” Michael suggested.
“That’s fine, let’s go.” They both cashed their small chips in for larger denominations, and Alex downed the last of his drink before flipping the dealer a ten-dollar tip for his services. A few seconds later they pushed through the front doors of the hotel, and stepped out into the desert heat, heading towards the South end of Las Vegas Blvd. It only took a couple more minutes before the drastic rise in temperature began creating sweat beads on the men’s foreheads. Alex’s mind raced with the thought of the man at the other table. He admitted it still could be a coincidence. The man could easily have a gambling problem. There was no shortage of those here after all.
The crowd on the sidewalk already was large as the weekend was officially under way. They headed south down Las Vegas Boulevard at a brisk pace. Alex turned around to see if they were being followed. The morning sun obstructed his vision, and he squinted as he tried to spot the large man. Unable to see anything he turned his attention back to his friends.
Chapter 11
“Yeah?” Aman’s gravely voice at the other end of the cell phone sounded agitated.
“It’s me.” Despite his boss’s constant assurances, Solomon did not like using the phone given to him. Aman insisted numerous times that they were encrypted; a small gift from a friend in Washington. Aman swore the phones could not be detected, tapped, or bugged in any fashion. Solomon still thought it best to keep his conversation short, to the point, and as cryptic as possible.
“Oh, how’s our situation?” Aman did not expect a call so soon. The blaring of his phone had caused him to slice a drive out of bounds and into the rock strewn desert surrounding the fairway. His mind quickly diverted roads, and he motioned to Zach to go back to the cart.
“The woman has been spotted several times this morning. She slipped away though. I told you that you should have let me hire my own guys.” Solomon warned Aman several times about his lax security personnel, but he was always rebuffed. He still questioned what most of the “protection” was really for. They were lousy at surveillance and none of them were proficient fighters. Solomon thought there was a strong possibility that they were secretly being trained for some sort of suicide mission in the States or somewhere abroad. He was constantly keeping his eyes and ears open for any strange behavior patterns from them. If he came across any solid evidence he could always take it to the U.S. government and bargain with them.
“Enough. They do their jobs honorably,” Aman said in a rather annoyed voice. “They come from poor families in Cairo. They would never get a chance to work here and get a good education were it not for this opportunity.” Aman paused briefly before getting back to the business at hand. “What do you have? I’m assuming you didn’t call me to vent.”
“I thought you wanted to be kept in the loop. Also, we’ve found one of the groups we’re looking for. Do you want me to handle it personally?” Solomon asked.
“Yes. I want you to handle any problems personally if it becomes necessary. I don’t want anyone else knowing the extent of our little problem.”
Solomon closed the cell phone and locked his private office at the Desert Dust Inn. He had to get over to the New York, New York hotel as quickly as possible.
***
Aman pounded his thousand-dollar driver into the ground in frustration before tossing it in Zach’s general direction to pick up. He decided to walk up to the area where his ball disappeared. It would give him a chance to blow off some steam. The President-Elect’s overactive sex drive was the one thing Aman blamed himself for. In his weaker moments he wished he gave Zachariah a few more opportunities to have fun when he was younger, but deep down he knew that the strict discipline he imposed on his protégé was an absolute necessity. They would not have reached this point were it not for their laser like focus on their goal. At least they now had the Secret Service to help keep his sexual forays hidden.
He yanked off his glove and motioned to Zach to drive the cart. Maybe he was being too hard on his adoptive son. After all, the former Senator from Nevada already did the hard part, getting himself elected the President of the United States. He certainly could put on a show for the cameras, and when it came down to it that was what the media really wanted; a good story to sell to the public.
Zach’s interesting story became irresistible once his wife died tragically. It also inoculated him from much of the mudslinging that occurred during the primary battle. It did not prevent him however, from continuing to use his own scorched earth policy to get the nomination. The main election proved an easier victory. The sitting President saddled himself with an unpopular war and this combined with his bunker mentality allowed Zachariah to win the election with relative ease.
The past year had gone remarkably smoothly up until this point. Now he had an unfolding problem that was beyond even the best political manipulation. It needed to be solved quickly and permanently, or Zachariah would become the fastest lame duck president in history; and that would be the best-case scenario. Aman would never allow this to happ
en. He had come too far to have things fall apart now. He did not like the idea of ordering murders, but his top intelligence officer was telling him it may be an absolute necessity. Despite his initial misgivings, he trusted Solomon’s vast experience. The idea that Solomon was pursuing his own agenda was far-fetched and ridiculous, and Aman knew it was only a product of his own fear and paranoia. Solomon would be a complete fool to botch a job like this. He would have nothing to gain from it. No intelligence agency or individual could afford the salary that he was paying the former member of the French DGSE.
Aman watched as Zachariah drove the golf cart into the middle of the fairway a hundred yards in front of him and stopped and stepped out. Zach yanked a fairway driver out of his bag, sauntered up to his ball, and blasted a drive that screamed towards the flag until it skidded to a stop just a few yards short of the green. The President-Elect was causing him enough trouble with his blatant womanizing, and now he was taking his money on the golf course.
“Nice shot, you son-of-a bitch. You know you shot out of turn!” Aman motioned for the corporate CEOs in the other cart to head towards their shots. When Aman drew closer to Zachariah, he whispered quietly to him, “Solomon is working a lead. Hopefully he will end this quickly.”
“Sorry. I’ll be more careful from here on out. I’ve learned my lesson,” Zachariah said contritely.
“Good.” Aman headed towards the rocky desert to find his ball.
Chapter 12
“I would love to know who the hell came up with that idea,” Michael commented as he, Alex, and Cindy watched the massive roller coaster that surrounded the New York, New York hotel go through a series of loops and corkscrews.
“Only in Vegas, Michael. I’ve got to give the people here credit. The coaster was definitely an original idea.” Alex continued to scan the crowds since they left the hotel, but so far the man from the casino still did not appear to be following them.
“Let’s take a look guys. It could be fun,” Cindy suggested.
“That’s fine. We haven’t been in it yet. Maybe check out their tables to,” Michael responded.
“Alex?” Cindy asked.
“No complaints here. Let’s get a move on.” Alex led the way down the crowded sidewalks.
***
Shakir glanced at his watch before looking up in disgust. The three people he had been tracking were nowhere to be seen, and after a desperate five-minute search, he knew he would not find them except by blind luck. Making up his mind he decided to head north towards downtown Vegas, hoping to spot them along the way. After a meticulous thirty-minute vigil, he found himself at the Stardust Hotel. They were nowhere to be found so he walked back to the middle of the strip. He stopped in front of Caesar’s Palace and doubled over, his chest heaving in exhaustion as his suit clung to him from a combination of sweat and the previous days filth. He watched a group of tourists riding the long, covered moving sidewalk into the heart of Caesar’s, hoping to get lucky and reacquire his lost targets. Solomon would not be pleased if he phoned in that he lost them.
His eyes involuntarily fluttered, and he realized he was in desperate need of some sleep. He grabbed his phone and began punching in the number for Gregor. Like a child going to the more pliable parent, he knew Gregor would be more sympathetic. Several minutes of complaining worked, and Gregor promised to get someone to replace him within the hour.
***
Solomon cursed to himself as he battled his way through the throng of people in the New York, New York casino. He slid his cell phone back onto his belt clip. The news from Gregor that one of the groups under surveillance disappeared did nothing to help his already foul mood. At least he caught up with this group. He replaced one of Aman’s men twenty minutes earlier, and he was now tracking one of the threesomes from the airport, or at least two-thirds of one. It was a couple in their early forties who were bickering. The other man traveling with them had returned to his own room to retrieve some more spending money. The thug Solomon just replaced did do one good thing; he pick-pocketed the man earlier in the day, and now Solomon knew his target’s name. The wallet also contained one of the flat plastic keys that all large hotels on the strip used for their rooms.
The target’s name was Dan Stevens, and his driver’s license stated that he lived in Florida. The rest of the wallet revealed nothing significant, only a few credit cards and twenty-six dollars in cash. Along with the cash were receipts from the casino ATM machines showing that he already had withdrawn two hundred dollars on four different occasions. It was obvious he was either a poor gambler or in the middle of a string of horrendous luck. Considering he just arrived in Vegas the night before, Solomon guessed the former. He kept his distance as he saw the man’s lady friend stop and disappear into the restroom.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, he placed a call to his men and gave quick instructions for them to find out which room Mr. Stevens was occupying. Mr. Steven’s significant other re-appeared from the bathroom just as Solomon pushed the “end” button on his phone. The couple continued their trek through the casino. They caught an escalator up to a second level gaming area where numerous video games kept children busy.
The second floor also housed the entrance to the roller coaster. Solomon politely excused himself as he gently pushed his way through the crowded escalator. The couple stepped off at the second floor. Now only a few feet behind them, he began to visualize possible scenarios. Solomon’s years in the intelligence business could be noticed by no one. He looked like any other Las Vegas tourist, his eyes giving off the outward appearance of being awestruck by the gaudiness around him, hiding the analytical mind that was whirling away. The couple stopped again, and he meandered over to the railing, pretending to watch the action in the casino below. They were still fighting. He strained to hear them over the sounds of the casino.
“I can’t believe you lost your wallet. First you get drunk and gamble away a thousand dollars and now you lose your wallet with the hotel key and all your credit cards!” She glared at him while jamming her ATM card into the machine to withdraw some money.
“I swear it had to have been stolen.” The husband’s face showed a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment.
“Yeah, honey. Whatever. Well, let’s forget about it for now. I have my debit card and one credit card, so that should be enough to get us through the next couple of days. Come on. We’re going to do something I want to for a change.”
“Mary, I don’t think getting on that roller coaster is the best thing I can do for myself right now. I haven’t gotten all of those drinks from last night out of my system.”
“Stop whining. It’s your own fault you can’t control your drinking. Besides, this will be fun and it will be the first time you get something in return for your money.” The comment was accompanied by a smile. “You won’t even notice the headache as soon as we head down that first big hill.” She took him by the hand as if he were an uncooperative child, dragging him towards the ticket line.
Solomon dialed the appropriate number on his cellular phone while continuing to follow them. His idea to get someone from his team working on the roller coaster full time looked like it was going to pay off. He thought at the time he was probably being overly cautious, and would never have to use it for a job. His intuition was paying off now, and he was pleased that his paranoid tendencies had not been swallowed by the easy living of the past few years. The cozy American lifestyle could quickly eat away at your discipline if you were not careful.
The line rang once before being answered with a curt, “Here, sir.”
“Augustine, I need to use the coaster for a job. I’ll be sitting in the seat behind the subject to make sure everything goes smoothly. Follow our normal procedures.” Augustine was one of the few men Solomon trusted to do a job properly. The young man was lured away from another casino owner, and was not part of Aman’s little party of Middle Eastern malcontents. Solomon made one more quick call to one of the women in the organizati
on before slipping the phone back into his pocket. He immediately purchased two tickets and sidestepped some teenagers debating whether or not they should ride. He slipped in behind Dan Stevens and his wife just as they stepped into the long line for the roller coaster.
Now that he was in behind them he relaxed a little, but his paranoid nature would not let him rest. He began to look for the woman he had called and he made two more calls before she finally appeared after twenty long minutes.
“Darling! I’m over here,” Solomon shouted as he waved his arms in the air. As soon as she was close enough he grabbed her by the arm. “Just stay close to me and be quiet, I just need you to stand here and look pretty,” he whispered in her ear. Everything was now in place.
Two of Aman’s employees who were also security guards for the hotel were already in place at street level, ready to be the first ones on the scene. They would confirm the deaths, quarantine the area, and discreetly confiscate any cell phones belonging to the deceased. An operation out in the open was very risk but Solomon was willing to chance it. If it could be pulled off properly, it would look like a freak accident to the public, and a freak accident focused attention on things like the hotel’s safety measures. Solomon’s companion was a showgirl. She was not particularly bright and did not ask questions. Her only concern was how much they paid her. This made her easy to control. She was also physically exquisite, with lustrous blonde hair and long legs that attracted admiring looks from many of the men, and glares from most of the women. She fit perfectly into Solomon’s plan. No one around them would remember his face because of the attention drawn to her. Solomon turned his own attention back to his quarry. He could tell the argument was over, and the man was now beginning to focus on his fear of the roller coaster.
Agent of Influence: A Thriller Page 6
