by Jana DeLeon
They left the manager's office, ensuring the door was locked behind them, and headed toward the back stairwell. Jake unlocked the door, and they slipped inside, hurrying up the stairwell as quietly as possible. It seemed to Jake that it should have taken longer to climb five flights of stairs, but before he knew it, they were staring at an entry door for the fifth floor.
"This is it," Jake said. "Are you sure you want to do this? I really appreciate you and your friends getting me this far, but I don't need your help searching the room. There's no sense in both of us taking the risk."
Mallory shook her head. "Silas had all that information on me, and that makes it personal. Besides, both of us looking will get it done faster so we can get the hell out of here."
He still didn't like it but couldn't exactly argue. Having her involved saved him the time of sorting through things he might not immediately understand. "All right," he said as he pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway.
They tried to appear nonchalant as they walked down the hall, just in case anyone stepped out of a room or off the elevator. The easiest way to be overlooked was to give the appearance of a young couple staying at the hotel, minus the hand-holding part, of course. Hand-holding with Mallory would most likely come with repercussions they didn't need at the moment.
They were almost to the end of the hallway when a door to one of the rooms opened and Brad, the dealer at the table next to Jake, stepped into the hall. Jake inwardly cursed his bad luck and prepared to play the role of the cad who'd decided to hook up with the attendant, but he didn't even get the chance to move into action.
Brad's usual simple, jovial expression was hard, his eyes narrowed at the two of them and flashing with anger. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge with the initials ATF on it, then motioned for the two of them to enter his room. Surprised, Jake stepped into the room, Mallory close behind.
Brad shut the door and turned to face them. "What the hell do you think you're doing? And don't even try and pass off some stupid story about a rendezvous." He pointed toward the door. "There's only one room left past mine and it belongs to Silas Hebert."
Brad pointed a finger at Jake. "You have stuck out like a sore thumb since you arrived at the casino. It only took me two minutes to peg you as a Fed and another five minutes to find out exactly why you were here. Why in God's name didn't they get someone Southern for this job? Someone who could blend?" He waved one hand in dismissal. "Never mind. I don't even care. I just want you out of here and lying low."
"I've got my own business to take care of," Jake said. "And it doesn't involve the ATF."
"The hell it doesn't! This tournament is all about the ATF We've been building a case for over three years, and I'm not about to let a money-laundering bust by the FBI interfere with taking down one of the largest arms deals of the decade."
Mallory gasped and stared at Brad in horror. "Oh, my God! Is that what my uncle's involved in? Arms dealing?"
Brad gave her a derisive look. "Please. Reginald St. Claire isn't a big enough player to do this kind of business. He doesn't have the smarts - or the balls if all his protesting is any indication of his backbone."
Mallory's face cleared in understanding and she narrowed her eyes at Brad. "But he has the connections, right? You were the one who put together this tournament. You made up the list of players hoping to get enough evidence to bust them when they were all together. Exactly what do you have on my uncle?"
"Enough to make him play. Insurance fraud and some creative accounting that the IRS might be interested in, among other things."
Mallory stared at him, disgusted. "And what about all the people you've put in the middle of your crap - the attendants, the dealers, the kitchen staff? You're risking their safety, and you don't even care."
Brad shrugged. "We took the necessary precautions. That was the purpose of the metal detectors. Besides, all the employees had a choice when they took this job. If they didn't know about the players' list beforehand, anyone had an opportunity to step off the boat that first day."
"Without pay," Mallory argued. "They could step off the boat and have no pay coming by Friday."
"Not my problem. And neither is some piddly crap the FBI wants to hang on Silas Hebert. The two of you are not going to fuck up my takedown. If Silas catches either of you spying on him, he'll leave immediately and tell the others that the Feds are here. It won't take five minutes to make this entire tournament a ghost town."
"So Silas Hebert isn't part of your ATF bust?" Mallory asked. "Then why was he invited?"
"We were watching him," Brad admitted, "but so far there is no indication that he's involved with any of the people we're looking to take down." He pointed at them. "The two of you are going to leave here and forget any thoughts you may have had about breaking into Silas's room."
"And if we don't?" Jake asked, trying to control the anger in his voice.
"Then I'll arrest you both and stick you in a cell long enough to make you rethink your actions." He nodded at Jake. "And I'll have your job, unless of course, you want to try and convince me that breaking and entering is now sanctioned by the FBI."
Jake felt his hand involuntarily clench into a fist. He'd never wanted to hit anyone so much in his life, but he had to maintain control. Otherwise, Brad would have every reason in the world to lock him up until the tournament was over. "I guess this means we're not going fishing together this weekend?"
"Ha. That's funny, McMillan. I'll say this - you've got some balls."
"Someone in this room ought to have balls," Mallory shot back. "If you're quite done lording over people and ruining lives, I think we'll leave. Unless of course, you're arresting us."
Brad studied them long and hard, and Jake could see Mallory holding her breath. Then Brad waved a hand in the air. "Go on. Get the hell out of here. And don't let me catch you in this hotel again."
Mallory spun around to leave, but her foot twisted on the way around and she stumbled a bit to the left. Brad grabbed her by the shoulder as she fell against him. "Sorry," she said as he righted her.
"Yeah, whatever." Brad said, and stalked over to the doorway and yanked open the door. As he stood in the doorway, watching them exit and walk down the hall, his cell phone began to ring.
Mallory slowed her walk a bit, and Jake wondered what in the world she was doing. She put a single finger to her lips, then tilted her head back toward Brad, who was punching buttons on the cell phone in obvious aggravation.
"Hello. Can you hear me now? Damn cell phones!" The door to the hotel room slammed shut with a bang.
Mallory grinned and stepped around the corner to the elevator. "I should really be more careful when I walk."
Jake smiled. "You are an evil, evil woman."
"I know. It's a beautiful thing, right? Unless he needs to fire a weapon in the next several hours."
Jake gave her a look of mild panic. "Oh shit. I didn't even think about that." He looked back around the corner for a moment, then shrugged. "To hell with him. He probably won't even leave his room, so unless he opens fire on the cell phone, he's safe enough."
Mallory looked at Jake. "Well? What now?"
Jake blew out a breath and ran one hand through his hair. "Damn it! What are the fucking odds? I knew something was wrong about this tournament, but I never dreamed Reginald had got yanked in by a federal agency. I thought he was just having some fun all on his own."
Mallory nodded. "But it explains everything-the players' list, Reginald's anger, and definitely why he'd be willing to cough up ten thousand to me. He runs the risk of losing everything if his dealers can't win. Word on the street is that he owes money to a loan shark in New Orleans. What do you want to bet that he had to borrow part of the money to cover this tournament?"
"We're all screwed," Jake said, "and there's not a damned thing we can do about it."
Mallory thought for a moment. "That's not entirely true. If we're screwed anyway then what do we have to lose? I mea
n, I guess you still have your job if you walk away, but I won't. I can break in myself and search the room. If I get caught, J.T. will bail me out."
"You're not going in there alone."
"I don't remember asking your permission."
Jake smiled. "Yes, but I have the room key, and short of pulling a gun on me, I don't think you have the equipment to take me down."
"Really? Well, some of us don't have to carry weapons - we are one." She waved one hand in the air. "So what's it going to be?"
The thought of a grappling match with Mallory had Jake's mind bending in a million different directions, some of them not unpleasant. "That's playing dirty."
"Maybe the only way to beat them is to sink to their level. So are you coughing up that card or do I have to tackle you here in the hall? Your friend Brad might get a kick out of it."
Jake stared at her for a moment, then muttered under his breath as he drew the card from his pocket. "Fine, but I'm going in with you. If I'm going to screw up this bust and lose my job anyway, I might as well go out with a bang." He peeked around the corner, ensuring the hallway was still clear, then hurried down the hall to Silas's room, Mallory close behind. When he reached the door, he pulled the credit card out of his pocket and slid the card into the lock.
Red light.
He looked over at her and she motioned for him to try again. Turning back toward the door, he held his breath as he slid the card in and out again.
Green light. They were in.
Chapter Eleven
Mallory held her breath as Jake eased open the door and stuck his head inside. What if Amy was wrong and Silas hadn't gone to the restaurant? What if Silas was gone but he'd left one of his hired goons behind? A couple of seconds passed and felt like an eternity before Jake looked back out and motioned for her to follow. She let out the breath she'd been holding and slipped into the room, pulling the door closed silently behind her.
"Remember to put everything back exactly as you found it," Jake warned. "We don't want Silas to suspect anyone was here."
Mallory glanced around the room, taking it all in. "Should we start with the luggage?"
"Yeah, that's probably best," Jake said, but a quick inspection of the luggage showed it to be empty. Obviously Silas had unpacked for his week's adventures. "I'll take the dresser and the nightstands," Jake said. "You get the bathroom and the closet."
Mallory nodded and headed for the vanity located off the bathroom. She started with his grooming bag-razor, comb, hair products, deodorant - nothing alarming there. She turned around and slid open the closet door.
There were several suits hanging inside, all top dollar and recently pressed, probably by the hotel valet service. She wasn't likely to find anything inside the pockets, but she searched them anyway, running her hands through every available storage space on the jackets, pants and shirts.
When she was satisfied that the suits were clean, she looked up at the shelf, which held a row of shoe boxes. The man actually traveled with his shoes in separate containers. He probably folded his underwear, too. She reached up, grabbed the first box and pulled off the lid, revealing the black dress shoes inside. She felt down inside of each shoe and turned the box around, making sure nothing was tucked or taped inside or written on the cardboard itself.
Satisfied the box contained nothing of interest, she placed it back on the shelf and moved on to the next one until she was down to the last box on the shelf. It was way too light to be holding shoes, and she'd already seen one empty box on the floor, which she assumed was for the pair Silas had worn to dinner.
She propped the box on her left arm, then pulled off the lid. When she saw what was inside, she gasped, dropping the lid to the floor.
A voodoo doll.
A voodoo doll that looked exactly like her, down to the short black skirt and matching jacket she'd worn the first day of the tournament.
She heard Jake ask what was wrong, but she couldn't find her voice, couldn't make a sound. A second later, he was standing beside her. "What the hell?" he asked, and stared down at the contents of the box. "Where did you get that?"
She pointed to the empty space on the top shelf. "It's a voodoo doll." She looked over at Jake. "Of me."
Jake took the box from her hands and put the lid back on it. "It's bullshit is what it is. There's no scientific proof that voodoo works. It's all urban legend."
"There's no scientific proof for my unluckiness either, but it hasn't changed what I am."
Jake shoved the box on the shelf and shook his head. "It's not the same. God knows, I don't understand any of that paranormal crap, but maybe your situation is as simple as a kind of energy that you can access and the rest of us can't. Maybe you think you're unlucky and somehow your mind creates the energy to make it so."
He pointed to the shoebox. "That is an inanimate object. It has no energy, therefore it can't cause anything to happen. If you fear it, you're causing things to happen. Don't you see? It's all in your mind, no matter what."
Mallory looked at him and frowned. "I want to believe that, but a man like Silas ... why would he bother with something if it didn't work? It can't be the first time. The work on the doll is too perfect, and he had it made too fast. He has a connection somewhere. Someone who was willing to create the doll and deliver it in a matter of twenty-four hours."
"It could have been shipped."
Mallory shook her head. "The service is so horrible, it takes days to get a FedEx here, and if it had been shipped regular mail, Stanley would have opened the package and I'd have known about it sooner."
"Then I don't know how he got it, and I really don't care. It doesn't matter, Mallory, and you can't let it bother you. Do you want me to finish with the closet? You can get the nightstands."
"No," Mallory said, trying to sound like she meant it. "I'm sure you're right. It's all just superstition. I'll finish here." She looked up at him and tried to smile, positive she wasn't successful. He studied her face for a moment, but apparently she'd managed to satisfy him. He nodded once and headed back into the bedroom.
Mallory waited for him to walk around the corner of the vanity, then turned to look in the mirror, watching to see when he disappeared around the corner of the room. When she heard him open the drawer on the nightstand, she stepped to the closet and before she could change her mind, eased the shoebox off the shelf, grabbed the doll and shoved it into the inside pocket of her jacket.
She glanced in the mirror, but Jake was still out of view. She replaced the lid and slipped the box back onto the shelf, making sure it was facing the same way she'd found it. Maybe Silas had the doll but didn't need to look at it, she rationalized. Maybe he wouldn't notice it was gone until the tournament was over and he was packing to leave.
"Aha!" Jake's voice sounded from the next room, causing her to jump.
She smoothed the front of her jacket and stepped around the corner. "You find something?"
Jake held up a deck of cards identical to the ones he was using for the tournament. "Maybe. It might be nothing, but it might be that Silas is palming cards."
"Do you think he could do that without you noticing?"
Jake shrugged. "I'm not sure. But we're going to find out." He pulled a pen from his pocket and began to place a tiny dot in one corner of each card, the black ink hidden in the intricate design - unless you knew exactly what you were looking for. "Check that other nightstand," Jake instructed Mallory. "See if you find anything else."
Mallory stepped around the bed and pulled open the nightstand drawer. She lifted the phone book from inside and found a small leather-bound book beneath it. Pulling the book from the drawer, she saw engraving at the bottom of the cover-"S.H."
"I may have found something," she said, and flipped the book open.
Jake looked up from the cards and smiled, then reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny pad of paper and a pen. "Make a note of any addresses and phone numbers you find. I'll get my boss to cross-check them with t
he other information we have on Silas."
Mallory grabbed the pen and paper and jotted down the information in the book, hoping that one of the entries would bring Jake news of his partner's whereabouts. When she got to the fifth page, it was blank. She flipped a couple more pages, but the rest were blanks as well.
"It must be a fairly new book," she said to Jake. "There's only four pages of information."
Jake finished up his deck marking and carefully placed the cards back in their plastic holder. "That's more than we had before. Besides, it only takes one of them to make a difference."
Mallory studied the notes she'd made. "Most of these addresses are New Orleans, and they look like businesses. But this last one ... I think I know this place. It's an old apartment complex just at the edge of Royal Flush."
Jake looked over at her. "An apartment complex, huh?"
Mallory nodded. "I think it's some sort of affordable housing-you know seniors, disabled, that sort of thing."
"Doesn't sound like the sort of thing Silas would be involved in."
"No. I doubt Silas is involved in anything except things that help Silas."
"I'll have the other agents get on that list first thing." Jake placed the deck of cards back in the nightstand and rose from the bed. "If Silas is using this deck in the tournament, I'll know by tomorrow."
"And what can you do about it? You can't tell Reginald how you know."
"I can always tell Reginald what I suspect. I know he has security cameras everywhere. It shouldn't be impossible to turn one on our table at the right angle to catch the sleeve of his jacket. He's quick enough to fool the naked eye, but running it back in slow motion would clearly show it."
"So you think it's that simple - when Silas couldn't win on the first day, he started cheating? That's why I don't have any effect on him anymore?"
Jake shrugged. "It would explain why you're still affecting the other players but don't seem to have an impact on him." He smiled. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one. That's what they say."
"They have probably never been to Louisiana."
