Stacked Deck

by Tracy Watkins

  “If you get what you want, and your other situation is taken care of, then what?”

  “I’ll resume my normal life.”

  “Always in the dark. Wouldn’t you like to just be yourself, maybe play in the big open tournaments like the World Series of Poker?”

  She shrugged. “I like the intimacy of the small, rich games. And I like being other people. Transforming.”

  “You’re not like anyone I’ve met before, that’s for sure.”

  “That good or bad?”

  “It’s good. But it doesn’t bode well for a long-term relationship.”

  “And you think you’re ready for one?”

  “Shit, I don’t know.”

  She chuckled. “Believe me, you aren’t. Not at this point in your life. Maybe later, when you’ve achieved some of your goals, you’ll look beyond just racing. But that doesn’t mean I can’t become a real Formula One fan. Show up for a race now and then.”

  She saw Giambi coming back. “He looks miserable.”

  “That’s gotta be tough at his age,” JD said. “Man like that, no family but a daughter who wants nothing to do with him. Loses everything he’s built. Nothing to look forward to but the feds. Makes you want to tie yourself to a fifty-gallon drum full of cement and throw it into the ocean.”

  “So, did you and the Greek make a deal?”

  “It’s in the discussion stage. If not him, there are still a couple of the Hollywood people who are interested. But I’d go with the Greek first. He’s got the experience, the money, and he can get me a ride sooner.”

  Giambi came in and they ate their breakfast in relative quiet. He looked really tense and she found that interesting. A man who dealt with the mob, professional killers, authorities, and all the things that a casino in Monaco throws at him, and the thing he seems most nervous about is some young woman he’s never met.

  They were back on the road at seven-fifteen. When they turned up the country road and drove about a mile, Giambi pointed out a house sitting back off the narrow road about a hundred yards, surrounded by trees.

  “Keep going.”

  JD drove down through a long tunnel of old trees until Giambi told him to stop, pull over and park.

  “What’s wrong?” Beth asked. “You didn’t like the car we passed that was parked off the road, hidden in the trees?”

  Giambi nodded.

  It had been visible only because a shaft of morning light cutting through the trees glinted off it’s windshield. Otherwise Beth doubted they would have noticed it.

  A farmer on his tractor was working the field, moving their way.

  “If she has visitors,” Beth said, “the farmer would probably know.” She left JD and Giambi in the car and walked through the trees to the edge of the field.

  JD watched Beth until she reached the fence, then he turned to Giambi. “Maybe she’s got a boyfriend and that’s all it is.”

  “A boyfriend hides his car in the trees? Doesn’t park out in front of the house?”

  “Maybe she just doesn’t want nosey neighbors knowing she has a visitor.”

  Giambi got a look on his face. When his eyes narrowed JD knew something was coming. Suddenly Giambi pulled his gun, grabbed JD by the shoulder and pointed the gun at his head. “You’re the only one who could have given her access to my office and my computers.”

  “That’s right. I did.”

  “You called off the ride on the chopper and told me to go on ahead.”

  “I told you what was going on.”

  “Hell you did. You knew it was going to blow up.”

  “You’re crazy. I had no idea. What’s wrong with you?”

  “You and that goddamn Greek. How did anybody know I had a daughter who lives here? You sorry son of a bitch.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” JD said. “You want to point that somewhere else?”

  “Maybe I don’t know what the hell is really going on and maybe you don’t, either. You think she’s been talking to the FBI, but how do we know that?”

  JD stared at Giambi. “You’re letting your paranoia get to you. If we were involved in some conspiracy, why in hell go through all this? You make no sense. Back off and get that gun away from me, old man. Whoever was in your computer before her would already know you were sending money here. Face it, if Beth and I were in it together, we’d be digging your damn grave in one of these fields by now.”

  JD pushed the gun away and got out of the van, pacing along the side of it. He was growing tired of the man’s endless finger-pointing. He walked back to the window, looking in at Giambi. “You need to get yourself straight. Next thing you’ll be thinking this was all orchestrated by Prince Albert and we’re all part of the great conspiracy to get you. Which would make you about the most important person in the universe. Maybe the President of the United States, the mob and the European Union are all involved.

  “The conspiracy against you is there. But it’s none of the above. You know who it is. If somebody has your daughter and is waiting for you, then you’ll finally have somebody you can shoot instead of me.”

  Giambi sank back in the seat. JD had never seen him this confused and weary. The man always seemed to know what was going on and what he had to do. Suddenly he was just this old guy who didn’t know what the hell had happened to him. JD felt sorry for him. The man was losing everything, all at once. That would be enough to make you crazy.

  JD turned and watched Beth waving at the tractor driver, but the farmer had yet to see her.

  He turned back to Giambi and said, “Look, I would never try to kill you. All that you did for me—what the hell’s wrong with you? I’m gonna betray the guy who saved my ass and got me straightened out and was trying his best to get me a seat in the show? C’mon, you’ve got to give me more credit than that.”

  Giambi glanced up toward Beth, then back to JD. “It’s a hell of a thing.”

  “What?”

  “The way things happen in this world. How things have a nasty way of coming back to bite you long after something should have gone away.”

  JD nodded. How a man like him could be blackmailed for that long and not be able to find a way to track down the blackmailer was amazing. He wondered what all the blackmailer had on Giambi. It had to be really bad.

  “You didn’t get a good look at that car in the trees, did you?” Giambi asked.

  “It looked like a BMW to me. There are a million of them running around. You want to go take a look?”

  Giambi nodded, then got out of the van. They walked through the trees to the car. They didn’t have to get very close when the old man whispered, “Son of a bitch.”

  The car had a decal on it for the executive parking area. And there was only one person who had that particular model. A model neither of them liked. 2006 BMW X5 SUV.

  Vincenzio.

  Giambi was beside himself. “I’ll kill that bastard. I’ll rip him apart and bury him out in that fucking field.”

  “I take it you don’t want to bring the police into this?”

  “No police. They’ll just get her killed.”

  “You have any ideas?”

  Giambi glanced over at Beth, who was still trying to wave down the tractor.

  “Yeah, that tractor would be one way to get close to the house. If somebody was out front causing a distraction, somebody hiding on the other side of the tractor could jump off and get up to the back with nobody seeing him. Go get Beth and tell her what the situation is.”

  Chapter 30

  B eth turned as JD ran through the trees toward her. She could tell something had happened and she ran to meet him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He told her about Vincenzio’s car.

  “The tractor could drive right past the back of the house. No one would question it. A distraction out front would provide additional cover. Giambi is going to do this one way or another, Beth. Without the police. The man wants a fight and now he has one. You can argue with him if you want,
but it won’t do any good. I know him. When he makes up his mind how things are going to go, that’s how they go. Vincenzio is the one who’s been betraying him. Probably to the Cosa Nostra. He’s probably the one who set off the bomb in the chopper.”

  “What about the attack on us?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the hit team did think it was Giambi. Not even Vincenzio knew who was coming and going from Giambi’s private quarters.”

  In the distance, Beth could see Giambi checking his weapon. She had no doubt JD was right. “Let me deal with the farmer,” she said. “Keep Giambi under control until I can arrange something. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it with some chance of success. He may want to die in a shoot-out, but I don’t.”

  JD nodded and walked back into the trees toward Giambi.

  Beth waited until the farmer turned again, maneuvering the tractor along the rows.

  Finally, when the farmer drove close to the fence line, he saw her waving him to come over. He slowed, then turned and drove over to the fence and cut the engine.

  “Bonjour.”

  “Bonjour, madame.”

  “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  He dismounted, walked over and asked her what was the matter, taking off his wide-brimmed hat, running his hand through his graying hair.

  Beth told him they were worried about the woman who lived in the house and owned the land he was working. She had not come into town to open her store and she might be in trouble. “The man with her is dangerous.”

  “There is more than one man,” the farmer said. “I saw two, maybe three.”

  The farmer stood with his hands in his pockets. He was a solid-shouldered man, ruddy, his face heavily lined from years outdoors.

  As Beth explained what she wanted from him, he kept glancing toward the house that was just on the other side of the knoll. They could only see the top of the roof from where they were.

  “There is no time to call the police,” she told him. “These men probably have a lookout on the highway. They will kill her and get away. They’re professionals.”

  “You don’t expect me to get involved with killers, do you?”

  He looked up when Giambi and JD walked over to join them.

  Beth said, nodding to Giambi, “This man is her father.”

  Giambi said, “You know the Sapphire Star Casino in Monaco?”

  “Of course.”

  “I am Salvatore Giambi. I built that casino. Kaya is my daughter.”

  He told the farmer what he wanted to do, but the farmer wasn’t showing any signs of compliance. He looked both skeptical and more than a little nervous.

  It was a hard decision for him, he said. He didn’t want any trouble. He kept saying the best thing was to call the police. “They will be here in just a few minutes,” he argued.

  “Police would only complicate matters,” Giambi said. “And it might get her killed.”

  The farmer said he was Kaya’s friend and he worked for her whenever she needed plowing or other tasks. He was plowing up some of her vineyards now on directives from Paris. It was a terrible thing, he said. But this? No, he couldn’t get involved. He had a family of his own to think about.

  “We must do this quickly,” she said. “We have no time. You only have to drive by. Two of us—”

  “No. That is impossible. I will become an accessory to whatever happens. This is a police matter.”

  “You said you think there are two or three men?”

  “I did hear more than one man talking when I went up on the porch to deliver Kaya eggs and milk. You must listen to me. This is something for the police.”

  Giambi walked over to the fence. It had three split wood rails. He insinuated himself through the top two and walked over to the tractor.

  “We can fit here in back of the seat. Nobody will see us.”

  “I can’t help you. I’m sorry. This is not possible.”

  Giambi pulled a gun. “You’re going to drive the tractor with us in it over to the back of the house.”

  “Wait. I can drive it,” JD said. “I’ll put his hat on, they won’t know who it is.”

  “No,” Giambi insisted. “We need you to drive up to the front of the house and make some kind of diversion. Get their attention directed to you so we can get in the back. My daughter’s life is at stake here and I’ll do what I have to. And that includes,” he said pointedly to the farmer, “putting a bullet in you if you jeopardize her.”

  “I’m sorry,” Beth said. “We have to do this. If the men in there are the professionals we think they are they probably have the means to listen to police calls.”

  “Get on the tractor and let’s go,” Giambi demanded. The farmer’s face paled and he nodded, finally realizing Giambi was in charge. “She could be dead already. JD, get going. Whatever you do, make sure you get their attention.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” JD said. “Soon as the tractor gets near the back of the house, I’ll do a few donuts in the front yard. Raise holy hell.”

  “The longer you divert them, the better our chances of getting in without being seen.”

  “I can act like some crazy country boy who’s coming back from an all-night drunk and wants to see his girl.”

  “Just don’t get yourself shot,” Beth said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be an easy target.”

  Then Giambi took out a small handgun and gave it to Beth. She hefted the piece and said, “I think I’ll go back to being an analyst.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  They went over the plan one more time. The farmer would drive them along the edge of the field, to the rear of the house, then tinker with something in the engine.

  They would lie in the box behind the seat out of sight. When the tractor made one pass, then came back, that’s when they’d go in. When JD saw them coming back for the second pass he’d do his thing.

  Beth grabbed Giambi’s arm. “We don’t know for certain who those men are. Maybe they’re relatives, friends. Don’t shoot innocent people. And if the shooting starts, your daughter might be in the way.”

  He gave her a look that said he didn’t appreciate being treated like a fool. “Friends and relatives don’t show up in the middle of the night,” he said. “And they don’t hide their car in the weeds and prevent somebody from opening their shop. Somebody knew I was coming here.” He glanced back at JD.

  “I know but I don’t want to be part of a real mistake.” She nodded to JD and he went back to the van.

  She and Giambi climbed onto the tractor and settled down in the tiny compartment behind the seat, squeezed in tight as sardines.

  “Wouldn’t want to go far in this,” Giambi said. “Even with you practically on top of me.”

  It got a little worse when the tractor kicked to life and started along the field.

  “You didn’t think the feds would let you keep your guns, did you?”

  “I need them for protection. Isn’t that the meaning of the witness protection program?”

  The tractor had a canvas roof but it didn’t cover the box and they had the sun beating down on them as they headed out across the furrows. Beth couldn’t remember ever in her life being on a tractor out in a field. Vegas didn’t have farms.

  Beth leaned toward the farmer. “How many doors in the back of the house?”

  “One in the middle. There’s a porch. Around to the left side there’s another that leads into the kitchen. That’s where I put the milk and eggs.”

  “Does she usually keep doors locked during the day?”

  “No. This isn’t America.”

  “What was the reason we saved these people? I forgot,” Giambi said dryly.

  They settled in while the tractor paused and the farmer acted like he was checking something. Giambi warned him as he was getting down not to run or he’d end up with a couple bullets in him.

  The farmer got back in and they continued on
for another hundred yards or so before turning. This time he would be going right by the house.

  “All right, JD,” Giambi whispered, “You better be ready to do your thing.” Giambi turned to Beth. “You ready?”

  “As I’m going to be. You okay?”

  “If I can walk after being cramped up in this thing. Last time I was being pulled by a tractor it was when I was in high school on a Christmas hay wagon with Margie Huff.”

  “You remember her name after what…sixty years?”

  “That’s the thing. I can remember that better than I can remember last week.”

  “I think it had something to do with Margie Huff.”

  He made a sound that resembled a chuckle. “She was a lot of fun, that’s for sure. Back in those days, or as the young would say, back in the day, girls weren’t as charitable as they are these days.”

  “We’re getting close,” the farmer said.

  Giambi asked if he saw any signs of anyone. He didn’t.

  “Okay, JD,” Giambi said on the cell. “Do your thing.”

  JD turned the van down the feeder road toward the house. “I’m about to make some noise.”

  He watched as the tractor approached the rear of the stone house.

  He didn’t know how French country guys behaved after a night of drinking, but he knew how a good ol’Tennessee,

  Thunder Road

  , dog in love would behave.

  He hit the horn three blasts. Then he gassed the van, turned down across the lawn taking out a fence on the way. He leaned out the window and began yelling at the top of his lungs in his bastardized French accent about his love.

  He spun his wheels in the grass, did a three-sixty that almost turned the van over.

  Leaning out the window, he screamed, “Belle fille! Belle fille!”

  Faces appeared at the windows.

  The tractor was behind the house now, out of sight.

  He crashed through the garden and took out some bushes.

  A girl’s face appeared as the door opened. It was her and somebody had a hold of her arm.