by Jana DeLeon
"What do you think?" she asked her neighbor. "Will it give you enough of an angle to get anything?"
Scooter looked down from the ladder and nodded. "About as good as I thought. Probably three out of ten times if we're lucky."
Reginald looked from the tiny hole in the ceiling to the card table. "Anything to help at this point." He nodded toward Amy and Jake. "I don't think that's going so well," he said to Mallory, keeping his voice low.
She looked over at the table. "I agree that optimism is at an all-time low at the moment."
Amy dealt the last card for Jake's hand and looked at him. "Three of spades. Stay or fold?"
Jake studied his cards, turned face up for the sake of the training, his brow wrinkled in concentration. "Fold?"
Amy looked at him. "Are you sure?"
Jake blew out a breath. "No. But that's what I'm going with."
Scooter climbed down from the ladder and shook his head. "Man, you're not even close. You're down what ... two-thirds of the deck and over eighty percent of the face cards have been played? That puts you at a 472 by Amy's counting method, which makes you ripe for an inside straight. You should stay and raise."
Amy sucked in a breath and stared at Scooter in amazement. "Oh, my God, that's right."
Mallory whipped around to look at her neighbor. "Scooter? How in God's name did you figure that out?"
Scooter pulled a larger drill bit out of his toolbox and began to replace the current one on his drill, then shrugged. "It just makes sense. Those numbers Amy's using are like measurements - like building stuff. They all come back around to the same thing eventually." He started up the ladder again and began to drill a second hole, cleverly disguised by a chandelier.
Mallory stared after Scooter for a moment, then turned to look at the others, all looking at Scooter with varying degrees of disbelief. The total ridiculousness of the situation sank in and Mallory started to chuckle.
"I don't believe it," Jake said. "For God's sake, the man has his shirt on inside out."
Which only made Mallory laugh harder.
"I don't see what you think is so funny," Jake said. "It doesn't do us a damn bit of good if Scooter understands Amy's method. He's not the dealer."
"No, he's not a dealer," Mallory said as she flopped into a chair and wiped the tears away from her eyes. "But there's nothing to stop us from putting a camera on your hand and having Scooter watching it and calling the shots."
Jake stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Wouldn't work. How would he get the information to me?"
"We were going to work out some method of communication for the thirty percent we were hoping to gain, anyway. We'll just need something more elaborate than hand signals from across the room. You're the federal agent. Surely you can come up with some fancy electronics."
"I can hardly wear an earpiece while dealing," Jake objected. "I think Silas would catch on to that."
Mallory shrugged. "So I'll wear one. Don't tell me the FBI doesn't have something that will pass as earrings. We'll work out a series of signals - something that Silas won't be able to get. I'll take the information from Scooter and pass it to you during play."
Scooter climbed down from the ladder again and scratched his head. "Does that mean I can't drink beer tomorrow if I'm doing all this numbers stuff?"
Reginald let out a huge guffaw and slapped the other man on the back, moving him about six inches. "Don't worry about it, boy. You help Jake win this tournament and I'll see to it that you never worry about beer again."
"Even Silas Hebert couldn't manufacture enough money to keep Scooter in beer," Mallory declared.
"At the rate my casino business was increasing before all this mess, I won't have to manufacture anything," Reginald said. "I'll be able to run free and clear. Legally."
Mallory looked at her uncle and smiled. "First time for everything, right?"
It was barely dawn when Jake finished fixing Mallory's earring with the earpiece. "You're going to need to wear your hair down," he said. "This is good, but it's not perfect. The earring covers most of the device, but I still have this clear piece that I have to place inside your ear. Otherwise, you'll never hear enough of anything to be of any use.
Mallory nodded and slipped the large gold disk into her ear, then wrapped the thin clear wire around the bottom of her lobe and placed the end piece into her ear. She signaled to Jake that she was ready, and he walked out of Reginald's office with a radio.
She waited for a moment, but nothing came through, no voice, no static, nothing. She was just about to call for Jake when she heard him say, "So what kind of underwear are you wearing right now?"
"A thin string of purple lace." May as well give him something to think over.
There was a pause on the other end, then finally the next question came. "Are all your panties flimsy and lacy?"
She laughed and called out down the hall, "Yes, except my Sunday pair. They're a very respectable white cotton."
Noticing a movement to her side, she looked over and found Reginald standing in the doorway to the storeroom. "I don't think I even want to know the other side of that conversation. I take it the earpiece is working."
"Loud and clear."
Jake rounded the corner and gave her a wave. "Did you get that?"
"Yeah, didn't you hear my answer? I yelled it down the hall."
Jake shook his head and fiddled with a knob on the radio. "No, I was in the lobby."
"You were in the lobby when you spoke to me? That's incredible."
Reginald gave Mallory a thump on her back. "Yeah, and you were busy yelling about your undergarments to everyone in a hundred-foot radius." He walked back into the storeroom laughing as he walked.
Jake grinned. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think your panties or lack thereof are a laughing matter at all."
"Really?" Mallory gave him a sexy smile. "That's good to hear since I was thinking of giving you a glimpse of that purple lace to signal ‘all-in."'
Chapter Seventeen
Jake pulled out the cards from the shelf beneath the poker table and began to stack them in the shoe. It was a little early yet, but the other dealers were starting to filter into the room. The players wouldn't be far behind. He was just stacking his chips on the side when he looked up and saw Brad standing at his table.
"It's going down today," Brad said. "Reginald is taking the boat in a big sweeping circle. The actual takedown will happen when we're still offshore in order to eliminate the possibility of some getting away on land, but we'll arrive at the docks within fifteen minutes of the arrests. Mid-afternoon is all you've got to get a money exchange. We'll start the takedown soon after the afternoon break."
Jake nodded. "I appreciate you telling me."
Brad shrugged. "Yeah, well, I asked my uncle about Silas. He gave me an earful and none of it pleasant. Even though what I'm dealing with is a bigger problem, if we could take one more like him off the streets that would be a good thing."
"No disagreement there. I just want this over. Get Silas behind bars once and for all. I'm sure you want the same."
"Yeah, we've got the evidence we need, but it's no small feat to take these guys. The only option for getting them all is doing it at the same time or the rest will run. And the only safe way to get them at the same time is on this boat, where we can be certain they're not carrying weapons.
Jake laughed. "Yeah, the whole thing - the boat, the metal detectors - was really a genius move considering the scope of your arrest. I did have one question, though. What about the players who were cut earlier in the week?"
"The scope of the takedown is really only six people. A lot of them we were watching for an indication of involvement, just in case, and we figured if we put them all in one place, they'd talk. If someone we were watching got cut from the tournament early, we would have had agents on him."
"I see," Jake said. "So this whole setup was as much for the spying as the takedown. Makes perfect sense no
w that I know the situation, but God, I'm definitely ready to get home. Louisiana is one strange place."
Now Brad laughed. "You got that right. Hell, if I hadn't lived here my whole life, I wouldn't believe the half of what goes on down in these bayous."
Jake stared at Brad. "I thought you lived in New England."
"Hell, no. You think I'm faking this accent? Ain't nobody that good an actor."
"But you met Mark at a party. . ."
Brad gave him a curious look. "Yeah, corporate party in New Orleans. That's where he and Janine lived at the time."
Jake swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. "Mark's from New Orleans?"
"Nah, somewhere in the Midwest, I believe, but he did a rookie stint in New Orleans as a cop, waiting for the FBI deal to come through. That's where he met Janine." He stared at Jake. "You didn't know?"
Jake shook his head and stared down at the table, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts that raged within. It wasn't possible, was it? Could he really have worked with Mark for over ten years and not known what his partner was involved in? But if he were innocent, why hadn't he ever told Jake about being a New Orleans cop? In fact, not once, in all the time Jake had known him, could he remember Mark ever mentioning Louisiana at all.
It was an awful thought, but it would explain so much-why Mark kept trying to file the case away as useless and unsolvable, why Silas managed to slip through their fingers on every setup, why Mark had insisted that it be he rather than Jake who secured a job with Silas's crew.
Jake looked up at Brad. "I need to know exactly when you saw Mark in the casino in New Orleans."
Brad stared at him for a moment, a confused look on his face, then it cleared in understanding. "It was February fifth, a Saturday. I remember because it was my wife's birthday."
Jake did a quick mental calculation. "That was a little over two weeks ago."
Brad nodded. "Exactly how long has Mark missed his check-ins?"
"Including today? Forty-one days."
Brad looked at him, a grim expression on his face. "You've got a big problem, my man."
Jake thought of Janine, waiting in her townhome in Atlantic City with a five-year-old, praying that Jake brought her good news of her husband. "You have no idea." He clapped Brad on the back as he stepped from behind the table. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, there's a phone call I need to make."
Brad gave him a sympathetic nod as Jake pulled his cell phone from his pocket, walked across the casino and stepped out onto the balcony
"Yeah," his captain said, picking up on the first ring.
"It's Jake. I'm afraid I've got a big problem here."
"It's the last damned day of that tournament, and you still don't have any money to test. Is that asshole Silas ever going to lose enough to buy in for more or was this whole thing a bust?"
If only it were that simple. "That's not exactly the problem I was talking about."
"Well, what the hell is it now?"
"Did you know that Mark worked as a cop in New Orleans before he joined the bureau?"
"I don't know. I guess I read it on his application. Why?"
"When we were building this case, why didn't you ever tell me that?"
"Hell, he probably had his tonsils out when he was a kid, too. I didn't tell you that, either. I'm not in the habit of going over my agents' resumes with their partners. It's your job to know the man you're working with."
"Well, apparently that man withheld information from the beginning. He told me he grew up on a farm in the Midwest and never once mentioned Louisiana or New Orleans. You got any idea why he would exclude that from his life story?"
There was a pause on the other end. "I honestly don't know. Maybe he didn't think it was relevant. Maybe he pulled something stupid working there and didn't want anyone looking too close. I don't get it, Jake. Where is all this going?"
"Somewhere you're not going to like." Jake took a breath and continued. "You know that ATF bust I told you about-the one going down during the tournament?"
"Yeah. Don't tell me you've fucked up their bust. I don't need any problems from the ATF, and I've already gotten more phone calls than I ever cared to take."
"No. Nothing like that. There's an ATF agent here, name of Brad, who met Mark when he was working in New Orleans. Brad made Mark when he was undercover working for Silas in one of the casinos in New Orleans. Mark filled him in so he wouldn't blow his cover."
"Okay. That's a random-chance sort of thing, but Mark did the right thing in telling the guy."
"Yeah. I thought so too-until Brad told me that happened just two weeks ago."
There was dead silence on the other end of the line for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Jake heard a sharp release of breath.
"Goddamn it!" his captain ranted. "I'm pulling you off this case as of now. You get your ass out of that casino. If Mark's turned, then Silas has known all along who you are.
"Maybe, but if it's as simple as Mark turning, then why was he locked in that apartment? It doesn't add up, Captain."
"Maybe he turned long enough for Silas to get what he needed, and then he was expendable. Maybe Silas only trusts him so far. I don't know and I don't care. The fact is, if Mark were free to roam a casino two weeks ago, having private conversations with the ATF, then he was also free to check in with the office as scheduled."
"Yeah, but it still feels like I'm missing something."
"Maybe the plan was to stage the kidnapping, make it look like Silas had taken Mark and held him captive. Maybe they thought they could release him afterward and Mark could step right back into his job at the bureau. At this point, it doesn't really matter. What I do know is that they're playing you, and it's not safe to remain at the tournament."
"I know that, but I can't leave. Silas may think he's got the upper hand, but his ego keeps him from having the control he thinks he does. This vendetta he has against St. Claire and his family goes back forever. I'm beginning to think this is a whole lot more than a simple money wash. I think Silas is trying to set up St. Claire to go down for the laundering, just like he did Jack Devereaux."
"All the more reason to get the hell out of there. If this is more personal than business, there's no way to know what Silas is capable of."
"If he wanted to kill me, he could have done so already. He's playing with me because he thinks he can win-his final parting shot at the FBI. I still think I can get an exchange. I only need the one."
"It's not worth the risk. We can regroup here and decide what to do next."
"What we can do next is nothing, and you know it. In a matter of days, Silas will be out of the country, probably taking Mark with him. We can't do a damned thing then."
"I don't care. It's likely I've already lost one agent. I don't want to lose another. Don't you make this personal, too."
"It is personal, Captain. And it's not just me who's affected by this. I've made promises to other people, and by God I'm going to see that I make every effort to make them happen. I'm sorry, but I can't leave until this is over."
"Even if it means leaving in a body bag?"
"If anything happens to me, get in touch with Brad Johnson at the ATE Maybe he can help fill in the blanks."
"At least let me send you backup. I can have men at the boat within a half hour."
"There's no time. The boat leaves the dock in a matter of minutes. The ATF bust is going down mid-afternoon, so I only have five hours or so to pull off an exchange. I'll call as soon as I get an exchange tested."
There was a pause on the other end and Jake heard the captain sigh. "All right then. I trust your instincts. I've got judge Warner standing by. If you can get an exchange, I'll have the warrant in place when we dock. I'd love to take this bastard down-now more than ever."
"Me too, sir."
"Do not attempt to apprehend Silas on your own. Wait until you dock."
"Yes, sir."
"And Randoll, I don't guess I have to tell you to watch your
back."
Jake gave Mallory a brief nod as she approached the poker table while the players took their seats. "Last day, gentlemen," he said with a smile. "The ante goes up to five hundred a hand this morning and will increase again after lunch. Unless anyone wants to quit now."
The men chuckled, except Silas, who gave him a superior look, and Father Thomas, who lifted one hand in the air and said, "God bless this game of which we are about to partake."
Jake looked at the priest, still amused the old bird had held in this long. He probably wouldn't make it until noon today with the chips he had left, but he'd certainly given the words "functioning alcoholic" a whole new meaning. "Well, now that we've been officially blessed, what do you say we play some cards?" He reached for the decks of cards and began to shuffle.
Mallory removed her tablet from her pocket and began to take the morning orders, starting at the far end of the table first. He could feel her apprehension, thick in the air, as she moved closer and closer to the man who had ruined her life, but the resolve on her face was clear-this man was not going to win. What must she be thinking? What would he do in her position?
It was a question he didn't even want to think about answering because Jake was afraid that if he were Mallory those metal detectors wouldn't have kept him from bringing an instrument of death on board. She was serving the drinks, after all. A quick round of rat poison would do the trick and given Silas's reputation, the local police probably wouldn't even look too hard into his death, and Jake would be the last one to point out a discrepancy.
He watched Mallory take Silas's order with the same calm she'd dealt with the other players. This was one woman to be reckoned with. She would never sink to Silas's level and probably wouldn't appreciate Jake's aspersions of death by rat poison. She didn't want him dead. She wanted him in a living hell like he'd put her in. A prison cell for a man like Silas Hebert would be the ultimate in torture.
Mallory made it back with the drink server trailing behind her just as they were wrapping up the first hand. Luckily, his draw had been so bad that a blind monkey could have told him to fold, but that would all change now that Mallory was back to serve the drinks and spread her unluckiness along with them.
