The Prince's Gamble

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “How large is your staff?” Kathleen wondered aloud.

  “We can discuss that in my office,” he said, and launched into a description of what his people were doing at the various stations, from watching the assorted gaming tables, general casino areas, hotel corridors, and employee areas, to the periphery of the building outside. Except for the private accommodations and spa areas, virtually every inch of the casino was under surveillance.

  After their tour, Jim led her into his office, but not before she caught a glimpse of a back locker room as well as a cabinet containing a small arsenal of weaponry and tactical gear. At her raised eyebrows, Jim quickly explained, “All legal, and all just in case of an attempted robbery or terrorist attack.”

  Considering the millions of dollars available on a regular basis within the walls of the casino and the huge number of soft targets that could potentially be injured, the arsenal made sense.

  Once they were behind closed doors, Jim walked over to a coffee machine where he slipped in a pod and made himself a cup.

  “Would you like some?” he said and raised his mug.

  “I’m a tea person myself.”

  “Just like the boss. The tea can be arranged if you’d like.” He strode to his desk where a large pile of papers sat beside a couple of thumb drives. He smiled as he saw them.

  “I think you’ll be pleased with this.” He pushed forward the papers and one thumb drive in her direction.

  She lifted the thumb drive questioningly, and he said, “Video surveillance of the various women cashing in chips. About two week’s worth, because that’s all we normally keep.”

  “Can we push that to a month from now on?”

  Jim nodded and sat down. He took a sip of the coffee before saying, “I’ve already arranged for that.”

  Kathleen eased onto a chair, as well, grateful for the rest for her feet, even if she knew it was only temporary. She wanted to hit the gaming floors herself and see how they worked, from the slots and tables to the cashier areas.

  “The USB drive also has all the reports we gave to your boss on the transfers made to bank accounts by the cashiers as well as the checks we’ve cut. I figure a bean counter like you will know what to do with it.”

  Normally, she might have been upset with his term for her, but an underlying thread of humor tangled in his tone and made her wonder what he thought was so funny. “Do I amuse you, Mr. Reynolds?”

  “Jim, please. Not at all. I’m actually glad you’re here. I’m an action kind of guy and hate the paperwork.”

  “So the last thing you want to do is read through all this.” She riffled the edges of the paper the way a dealer might a deck of cards.

  “Damn straight,” he confirmed with all the gusto of his military background.

  She chuckled and rose. “I think I’ll drop this off in my room before I meander along the casino floor.”

  Jim nodded, opened his desk drawer and extracted a security badge, room key, earwig, and transmitter. “You have my level security clearance with the badge, and the earpiece will keep you connected to me and my staff at all times. If you need to reach someone, just push the top of the transmitter to signal us. As for your room, it’s on the twenty-second floor penthouse level—”

  She snapped her hand into the air to silence him. “Isn’t Prince Alexander’s office on that floor?”

  “The prince and princess both have offices and living quarters on the penthouse floor. You’ll be in one of the two guest rooms. If you need me, I’m on the floor below you. Both floors can only be accessed with these special key cards.”

  “The princess?” She didn’t recollect reading anything about Ivanov having a wife.

  “His sister. Princess Tatiana. She’s in school in Philly and comes to stay fairly regularly. You’ll get to meet her tonight at dinner,” Jim explained.

  She gathered the materials together and slipped in the earpiece. Wonderful. She got to deal with two spoiled royals tonight.

  If she decided to attend the dinner.

  Jim perceptively registered her vibes. “They’re not what you think. As for tonight, it’s not a command performance.”

  “But you’d recommend I attend,” she guessed.

  Jim rose, as well, and jammed his hands in his pockets, narrowing his eyes as he studied her with greater scrutiny. “I’m no fool, Special Agent Martinez.”

  “Kathleen,” she offered, recalling his earlier courtesy.

  “Kathleen,” he said with an appreciative nod. “If I were you, I’d no doubt be wondering if Alexander was blowing smoke up my ass to hide his own shenanigans.”

  Nothing if not direct.

  “And if you were me, you’d definitely attend, to find out all you could. So I guess I’ll see you at seven.”

  “Seven it is. If you need anything in the meantime, just buzz me.”

  “I will. And thanks for your cooperation,” she said. But Jim quickly shot back, “Thank Prince Alexander. He’s the one who arranged for everything.”

  Including the reams of paper, mounds of data, and hours of video, which might be just as Jim said—smoke blowing up her ass.

  Tucking the papers under her arm and the thumb drive into her jacket pocket, she hurried to the elevator banks, inserted her key, and pushed the button for her floor.

  Ivanov’s posh penthouse retreat.

  This particular elevator was reserved for staff use, and with the exception of one maid who got off and on between floors in the hotel area, Kathleen rode to the penthouse level by herself. As she exited, a discreet sign guided her in the direction of the guest rooms.

  When she entered, it was impossible to ignore the floor to ceiling windows which provided a glittering view of the Atlantic City environs. Before her, the rebuilt boardwalk stretched for miles until the very small tip still under construction. Beside the still pale beige of fresh wood planks was a sea turned indigo by the last hints of dusk. She dropped the papers on a desk in the living room area, and stood by the windows, watching daylight fade and night erupt along with the lights from the casinos lining the strip.

  A beautiful and hopeful sight, she thought, kicking off her shoes and allowing herself to just breathe and relax for a few minutes. When night had fully fallen, she yanked off her jacket and settled down in a chair that was just way too comfortable. It made her want to curl into the chair with a good book, but time was precious. Especially for Ivanov’s missing hostess.

  She called her ADIC and when he answered, reported on what she had seen so far and what awaited her.

  “Sounds like Ivanov is being cooperative,” ADIC Roberts noted.

  “So far. Do you have any new leads on the hostess?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “As discussed, my cover is that I’m part of Ivanov’s security staff. That’ll let me visit the restaurant tonight and see if any of the staff remembers anything out of the ordinary. Hopefully something will pop.”

  “Hopefully,” he replied, although both understood the realities all too well. Survival rates for missing women dropped off sharply after twenty-four hours.

  Kathleen ended the call and laid out the papers on the desk. After a cursory look at them, she got her laptop running. Since the data was in spreadsheets, she could crunch it in a number of ways to try to see some kind of pattern. She itched to get to it, but as she darted a look at her watch, she realized it was almost time for her meeting with Ivanov and then dinner.

  She hoped they didn’t dress formally for the meal because she had no time to change. Which was just as well, because she wasn’t the girlie type, always checking a mirror to make sure everything was just so. Fussing with her appearance didn’t rank high on her list of things to do.

  Slipping her shoes and suit jacket back on, she hurried to Ivanov’s office where she found his security chief already waiting in the anteroom. He rose as she entered, but a second later, the prince’s assistant was inviting them into his office.

  Ivanov ended a call and slip
ped the phone back into its cradle as they came in, but didn’t rise. With an imperial kind of wave, he invited them to take a seat. He reclined in his leather chair, his posture deceptively relaxed.

  “I trust Jim has given you a tour of our operations as well as the information we’ve collected about the case.”

  “Jim has been very helpful. I’m looking forward to going through the data you provided. I also plan on visiting the restaurant later to see what the staff may be able to report.”

  “We don’t video the interior of the restaurant, but there’s a gaming area nearby.” Ivanov glanced at Jim. “Could the cameras record anything of use?”

  “Possibly. I’ll check it out, boss.”

  With a commanding nod, Ivanov surged from his chair. He straightened his jacket and held his arm out in the direction of his office door. “Shall we retire to dinner?”

  So formal and princely, she thought, but bit back her desire to smile at his stick-up-the-butt correctness.

  They walked into the anteroom. A door on one far wall opened into a nice-sized dining area. Inside was a large glass and chrome table that matched the modern décor in the prince’s office area. A wet bar was tucked into an alcove while a wall of windows on the opposite side again provided splendid views of the city and the Atlantic.

  The table had been set for eight, making Kathleen wonder who else would be joining them besides Ivanov’s sister. As if on cue, Ivanov’s assistant, Tabitha, came to the door and announced the arrival of the prince’s guests.

  Ivanov smiled in greeting. The action transformed his face. Gone were the taciturn and stern features as two couples entered, one young and one middle-aged. He walked over and greeted them and then turned to face her and Jim.

  “This is Jim Reynolds, my head of security and Ms. Kathleen Martinez, a new hire for our security staff. You’ll see Jim showing her around so she can get a feel for the place,” he said, and then continued.

  “Kathleen, we have a tradition here of honoring exceptional service from our Russian Nights staff every Friday night. Mary is in housekeeping, and this is her fiancé Robert. Edgar is one of our croupiers. Melinda is his wife.”

  Kathleen shook hands with each of them, while Ivanov stepped back for a moment and shot an anxious glance at his watch. She supposed his mood had to do with his yet-to-arrive sister, but it was just seven. No need for worry, unless there was something he had yet to share with her.

  As she finished introducing herself, Ivanov swept his hand in the direction of the wet bar where someone from the wait staff had discreetly stepped in. “Please let Bill know what you would like to drink. We’ll have some appetizers while we wait for the rest of our guests to arrive.”

  A perfectly gracious host, but Kathleen detected the traces of concern in his tone and wondered if it was somehow connected to the investigation, his sister, or both. As his staff served them drinks, he chatted with his guests, but continued to glance occasionally at his watch. With each second that passed, his expression grew more worried, until from out in the hall came the muted sound of hurried footsteps.

  A young woman flew through the door just a moment later. Her hair was slightly mussed, the wavy ebony strands flying loose around a very feminine face which bore an undeniable resemblance to the prince’s. The same determined chin and sharp slash of a nose. Crystalline blue eyes a shade lighter than her brother’s, but with the identical intriguing shape.

  “My sister, Princess Tatiana.” Ivanov sauntered over to his sister and plucked her knapsack off her shoulder with obvious disdain. He handed it off to another staff member who had trailed the princess into the room.

  “So nice of you to dress for dinner,” he added as he skimmed his gaze over his sister’s jeans, polo shirt, and zip-up hoodie. He raised his hand and straightened a few flyaway hair strands into some semblance of order, but the gesture leaned toward indulgence rather than annoyance, Kathleen noted.

  “We can’t all have our majordomo dress us in a designer suit each morning,” she replied, but with a hint of teasing which, to Kathleen’s surprise, dragged a chuckle and a broad smile from her brother. The earlier unease she had sensed in the prince had diminished, but he still had some lingering worries.

  He slipped his arm around his sister’s shoulders and with a playful shake, he said, “We’re glad you’re here so we can finally be seated for dinner.”

  The others in the room quickly took spots at the table, leaving the head and foot for the prince and princess, and providing Kathleen with no other choice but to sit to the immediate right of Ivanov.

  He held out her chair, ever the perfect gentleman. Being so close to him, it was impossible not to smell his scent. A decidedly masculine and woodsy aroma teased her nostrils before he slipped into his own seat. As soon as he was in his place, his staff went to work, executing an obviously well-orchestrated plan as they served the meal.

  Every dish was brought out and whisked away with impeccable timing and an aplomb to which Kathleen was unaccustomed. Her idea of meals ran to quick bites at a local diner or a frozen dinner tossed into the microwave.

  During the entire meal, Ivanov was the epitome of elegance and class as he conversed with those at the table. It made her wonder if the man had any flaws—or if he ever relaxed. Perfection had to be tiring.

  Determined to get a better understanding of Ivanov and his much younger sister, Kathleen sat back, watched, and listened. While the prince was all polish and guarded reserve, his sister was the exact opposite. Her smile came readily, as did her laughter, creating a much more jovial atmosphere at her end of the table and a lightness about her, as if a fresh breeze had wafted through the room.

  Ivanov was nearly thirty, Kathleen knew, so there was close to a dozen years difference in age between them. Could that explain the disparity between his very reserved personality and his sister’s effervescent charm?

  Ivanov leaned toward Kathleen. “Is everything to your liking?” His tone was low so only she could hear. Almost intimate. Which brought unbidden warmth as she imagined such a whisper as he lay next to her. A dangerous thought that had to be thoroughly quashed.

  “It’s all been wonderful,” she replied. Totally true. Not one aspect of the meal had been lacking, much like everything she had seen so far about Russian Nights. It seemed that everything this man did was as perfect as he appeared to be.

  But no one was truly perfect. She knew that first hand. Images of the women held captive in his warehouse returned to remind her why she could not let herself be fooled by him.

  “I’m glad you approve,” he said, then glanced toward the young housekeeper. “How many times have you been employee of the month now, Mary?”

  “Six,” the young woman replied with some pride.

  “It may be time to retire you from winning the award for best member of the housekeeping staff.” His comment prompted a nervous reaction from his employee.

  “I don’t understand, Prince Alexander. Does that mean I can’t come to dinner anymore?” She laid a trembling hand on the table and her fiancé took hold of it with a reassuring squeeze.

  “Not as a member of the housekeeping staff. I’d like to transfer you to my personal detail. You would be responsible for the penthouse rooms. With the free time you’ll have, I’d like you to attend some management training classes. That is, if you’re interested in making that move.”

  Tears came to the young woman’s eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands, fighting back emotion. Her fiancé hugged her hard as she murmured, “I would like that very much, Prince Alexander.”

  “Excellent. I believe we should celebrate.” As if on cue, his wait staff brought out plates with slices of cake that looked too sinful to be called just cake. Thick, luscious, and chocolate, with an immense dollop of whipped cream to one side. The bartender came around and handed a glass of champagne to each guest.

  Ivanov snared his with long, elegant fingers. It was too easy to imagine those fingers doing more than just holdi
ng the glass he lifted in a toast…

  “To Mary. Much success in your new position. And to Edgar on his excellent work at the tables. To Kathleen, welcome to the staff of Russian Nights.”

  Everyone joined in, but Kathleen only took a small sip of the champagne, much as she had been drinking soda throughout the entire meal rather than wine. While the day might be over for the others, she intended to hit the casino floor after dinner. From what little information she had been able to review so far, much of the chip cashing activity had occurred during the wee hours. That was also when the missing hostess usually worked her shift in the restaurant, so it was a perfect time to question the personnel.

  After dessert, Ivanov bade good-bye to his four special guests. While the wait staff cleaned and tidied the room, he said to those remaining, “Would you all mind joining me in my office for a moment?”

  His sister raised an eyebrow, but followed him, Jim, and Kathleen as they paraded back to his office. Inside, the prince leaned a hip on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest and addressed Kathleen. “I just want you to know that my sister is aware of what might be happening.”

  “I don’t want to believe Vanessa is involved,” Tatiana stated, her earlier carefree spirit now totally serious.

  “Why do you say that?” Was there something Tatiana knew that she wasn’t sharing?

  “Vanessa has been here for dinner a few times also. We hit it off since we’re close in age. She was working hard to finish college. To better herself.” Tatiana glanced from her brother to Jim, uneasy before she blurted out, “She’d been in trouble as a teen. I don’t know what, but it really upset her.”

  Jim spoke before Kathleen could. “If Vanessa had a juvie record that was sealed, we wouldn’t have come across it in our background check.”

  But it should have been in the records from the FBI search. She was going to have her people double check, but in the meantime…

  “Is there anything else, Princess Tatiana? Anything you’re not saying?” she pressed, but Tatiana remained silent, nervously glancing at her brother.