The Money Shot

by Stuart Woods

  “You the super here?” Teddy said, cutting off any inquiry. “I’m in hospital rehab services. We coach first-time orthopedic fracture patients. Your stairs are not up to safety standards. I could have fallen. I don’t want to write you up. If you could just put in a handrail, I’m sure the patient would appreciate it. I’ll pretend I didn’t see this, but I’m going to be back on Monday, if you know what I mean. Would you mind getting the door?”

  The super bought it. He not only got the door, he carried Teddy’s bags out to the cab.

  Teddy had the cab drive around the block and drop him off at his car, which was parked out of sight from the super. He gave the confused driver fifty bucks for the incredibly short ride and rated him five stars.

  The grateful driver happily put his bags in the car for him.

  * * *

  —

  Teddy’s phone rang as he drove off.

  “Hello?”

  “Mark, it’s Rick. I thought you should know that another man on crutches just came out of your building. He didn’t look like Mark Weldon, but he’s the spitting image of Billy Barnett, and I happen to know Mike Freeman would want me to follow Billy Barnett.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Look in the rearview mirror.”

  Teddy did. Rick was right behind him.

  “Good man. Listen, Rick. Give Mike a call. Tell him I’m leaving town and I won’t need his services until I come back, which means you can knock off as of now. First, drop back and make sure no one else is following me. If you can’t spot a tail in the next ten miles, you’re off the clock.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Call Mike. He’ll tell you. By the way, you did a good job, and I’ll be sure to let him know,” Teddy said, and hung up.

  91

  The pilot was shocked to see Teddy on crutches. “Mr. Barnett, what happened to you?”

  Teddy grinned sheepishly. “Slipped in the shower. Totally embarrassing. I was on the floor naked when the EMTs got there.”

  “Do you want to use the apartment to convalesce?”

  “No, but I’d like to use my plane. I assume it’s set to fly?”

  “You can fly a plane like that?”

  “Why not? I don’t use my left leg much.”

  “This must have just happened. Aren’t you on pain medication?”

  “Not so you could notice. The doctor prescribed them, but that doesn’t mean I have to take them. Stiff upper lip and all that.”

  “I can’t send someone up in your condition.”

  “You’re not sending anyone up. You don’t run the airport. You manage a hangar. You do it very well, but you don’t control the air.”

  “Peter’s going to want to know why I let you go up.”

  “Peter’s making a movie. I’ll be back before he’s done.”

  The pilot sighed. “All right. Do you need any help?”

  “You can roll it out for me and throw my bags in.”

  The pilot stowed Teddy’s bags in the plane and tugged it out the bay door. He watched as Teddy hobbled up to it on crutches.

  “I’d feel better if you let me go with you,” he said.

  “I know, but I need you here.” Teddy smiled. “Thanks for the launch.”

  Teddy climbed into the pilot’s seat and checked the dials. He hadn’t flown in a while, except for his trip with Nigel Hightower III. It didn’t matter. A night’s sleep had done him a world of good. The drugs were wearing off, and he was thinking clearly. And flying was second nature to him.

  He laid in a course for Las Vegas and took off.

  * * *

  —

  In Vegas Teddy set down and taxied to a private hangar. The pilot in charge was surprised to see a man on crutches climb out of the cockpit. But when Teddy presented two crisp hundred-dollar bills, he gamely removed Teddy’s bags and helped him to a cab without comment. He understood about things that happen in Vegas.

  Teddy told him, “I’ll be leaving the plane for a day or two, maybe three.”

  “You got it,” the pilot said with a grin.

  Teddy took his cab straight to the New Desert Inn and Casino.

  He was not surprised to find a curvy secretary seated at the desk outside Pete Genaro’s office. He smiled. Pete’s taste in female employees would never change.

  “May I help you?” she said.

  “Pete Genaro.”

  She picked up the phone. “Who shall I say is calling?”

  Teddy walked toward the closed office door. “It’s too complicated. I’ll just tell him.”

  “You can’t go in there.”

  “It’s all right. He’ll be glad to see me.”

  Teddy pushed the door open with one crutch and hobbled in.

  Pete Genaro was seated at his desk, about to light a cigar. It fell from his hands when he saw Teddy.

  “Hi, Pete. How’s it going?”

  * * *

  —

  Teddy and Pete were seated in chairs with brandies. Teddy didn’t need a brandy, but he saw no reason not to be social.

  “When you first asked me for help, I wasn’t in a position to assist. Times have changed.”

  “I see. Now that your service isn’t so valuable, you’re willing to give it.”

  “Granted, I am not in the best physical condition. What you see is what you get.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “For one thing, Sammy Candelosi burned down my house, a bad move on his part, and it’s coming back to bite him. I may not be a hundred percent, but I can still handle the likes of him. Which of your men knows the most about him?”

  “That would be Jake, my personal bodyguard. I have him spying on their operation.”

  “Get him in here. I have a lot of ground to cover, and I’d hate to do it twice.”

  Genaro snatched up the phone. “Sherry, get Jake in here.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” she protested.

  “He’s got a cell phone, doesn’t he? Get him in here.” Pete hung up and shook his head. “I swear, if she wasn’t so darn pretty.”

  Jake showed up fifteen minutes later. He gawked at the man with the cast on his leg.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Jake,” Pete said. “This is Billy Barnett, the man Bambi advised me to call.”

  “Let me fill you in,” Teddy said. “Pete called me to help with a mobster named Sammy Candelosi. At the time, I was not eager to do it, but certain things have changed. He burned down my house. Now I’ve purchased a new one and I’m getting it renovated, but before I move in I need to be sure it won’t burn down, too. That’s where you can help. You have the inside track with Sammy Candelosi. Pete tells me you know more about his operation than anyone else. You can tell me what I need to know. First off, how many bodyguards does he travel with?”

  “Just one, but the guy’s a stone-cold killer. Scares the shit out of me. Guy named Slythe. Tall, thin, long hair, carries a straight razor. Candelosi’s got other goons, but that’s the one he’s always with.”

  “How many other goons does he have?”

  “Hard to say. They’re scattered throughout the casino. Some are goons, some are bouncers, some are pit bosses. Most of them are local. He’s got maybe ten or twelve men he brought from Jersey.”

  “Suppose he went out to dinner. Not at his casino, but at a private dining room at a restaurant in town. How many men would he take?”

  “It would depend on who he’s dining with. If he were on a hot date, there wouldn’t be many and she wouldn’t see them.”

  “Say it was a business meeting with a couple of out-of-town guys that he didn’t know.”

  “He’d bring muscle. Slythe for sure, maybe five or six others.”

  Teddy nodded. He turned to Pete. “Okay, here’s the pitch. I said I’d handle t
his for you, but obviously I can’t. I do owe you for the Russian, and I like what you said on the phone. I can’t do it myself, but I need to get it done. So I lined up two guys to do the job. They’re young, but they’re good. They’re protégés of mine, actually, and they owe me, just like I owe you. I’m not going to give you their names—in fact, you’re not going to meet them. They’re going to contact Sammy Candelosi posing as young movie executives with their own studio in Hollywood, who want to talk to him about a multimillion-dollar money-laundering scheme. They’re going to set up a dinner meeting with him in a private dining room at an out-of-town restaurant. That’s why I want to know how many goons he’ll have with him.”

  Teddy turned back to Jake. “So I want you to keep an eye on him. When he agrees to the dinner, I want to know it, and I want to know how many goons he’s going to bring. Can you do that?”

  Jake looked at Pete.

  Pete nodded. “What Billy tells you, consider it comes from me.”

  “Yeah, I can do it.”

  “Good man,” Teddy said. “Go see what you can find.”

  When Jake went out, Pete said, “You’re paying these guys yourself?”

  “They’re doing me a favor.”

  “You always were a stand-up guy.”

  Teddy jerked his thumb in the direction Jake had gone. “You think he can do it?”

  “He’s not very bright. I think that’s why Sammy lets him hang around. He’s no real threat.”

  “No argument here.”

  Pete frowned. “Why did you ask him to report in when Sammy agrees to the dinner? Won’t your hit men do that?”

  “Yes, they will,” Teddy said.

  “Then why did you ask him?”

  Teddy smiled. “To see if he does.”

  Pete raised his brandy snifter. “I always knew you were smart.”

  92

  Jake burst into Sammy Candelosi’s office. “Billy Barnett’s here!”

  Sammy frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, but don’t worry,” Jake said. “He’s got a cast on his leg.”

  “Then why is he here?”

  “He came to help Pete. Pete asked him to take you out. He can’t do it, but he lined up two hit men to do it for him.”

  “Two hit men?”

  “Yeah. They’re going to call you up posing as movie types and ask you out to dinner to discuss a deal. They plan to hit you during dinner.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “But now you know not to go.”

  “Yeah.” Sammy frowned.

  “What’s the matter?” Jake said.

  “If we don’t go, they’ll just try something else,” Slythe said. “On the other hand, this gives us an excellent opportunity to neutralize the threat.”

  “When did you hear this?” Sammy said.

  “Just now, in Pete’s office. Barnett sent me here to see if you’re going to go for it.”

  Sammy smiled grimly. “Oh, I’m going to go for it.”

  93

  Pete Genaro comped Teddy the Presidential Suite with every extravagance imaginable, from the bar, pool table, and sauna to the balcony terrace with barbecue grill. Ordinarily Teddy had no use for such excesses, but he had had no chance to clean himself up since the hospital. The bathroom featured a walk-in marble shower with three-sixty jets and a wraparound marble bench.

  Teddy had been told he couldn’t get his cast wet, but the doctor hadn’t planned on him taking it off. Teddy got in the shower, washed up, and cleaned his wounds. He had almost forgotten the one on his side, it was so minor compared to the rest. Ironic that getting shot was the least of his problems. He washed it off while he waited for the throbbing in his leg to subside.

  When he was done, Teddy dried himself off, hobbled on crutches to the bed, and went to work with his medical kit. He bandaged the wound in his chest and taped up his leg. He wouldn’t bother with the cast until he had to go out. It was decorative only.

  Teddy took out one of the burner phones he’d brought along and called Mason Kimble at Star Pictures. “Mr. Kimble. This is Carlo Verdi. Sammy Candelosi would like to meet you and Mr. Cardigan for dinner tomorrow night. I’m arranging the details now. I’ve booked a high-roller two-bedroom suite for you and Mr. Cardigan. It’s available now, but you can come tonight or tomorrow. I regret that we do not have our own private plane, but let me know what flight you are going to take and I will book you first class. Don’t worry about transportation, you’ll be met at the airport. Check in and enjoy the casino, all expenses are comped. Don’t try to contact Sammy at the casino. I’ll let you know when it’s time. Does that work for you?”

  “That will be just fine.”

  “Good.” Teddy gave him the number of the burner phone. “Call me at this number when you decide what flight you want to take and I’ll set it up.”

  Teddy figured he’d done a good day’s work. He lay down on the bed and was almost instantly asleep.

  94

  We have to get there early,” Gerard said.

  “Why?” Mason said. “We’re going first class.”

  “I need time to check in my gun.”

  “You don’t need a gun. It’s a business meeting.”

  “A business meeting with a mobster. I’m wearing a gun.”

  “He’s an investor.”

  “He’s an investor who happens to be a mobster.”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t go?”

  “No, I’m just saying I’m taking my gun.”

  “You’re taking a gun through the airport?”

  “Why not? I have no police record because my heart is pure, and I’m very good at what I do. Trust me, there won’t be a problem.”

  There wasn’t. Fully paid first-class tickets were waiting for them at the airport. They only had to present IDs. Gerard checked his gun, and they were good to go.

  They got off the plane in Vegas to find a chauffeur with the sign KIMBLE AND CARDIGAN waiting at baggage claim. He took them to the casino, carried their bags, and refused a tip.

  “It’s taken care of,” he said.

  The desk clerk was equally gracious. When Mason Kimble presented his driver’s license and a credit card, he handed the credit card back. “Just the ID. Everything is taken care of. You just have to sign for it.”

  “This is wonderful,” Mason said as the bellboy led them up to the room.

  “It’s too good to be true,” Gerard said. “I don’t like it.”

  “You worry too much,” Mason said. “Can’t you just enjoy it?”

  “Sure,” Gerard said, but he wasn’t entirely happy.

  It was almost reassuring when the bellboy accepted a tip.

  95

  Teddy spent the morning checking out restaurants. It wasn’t easy on crutches, but he’d narrowed them down online. The first two were unacceptable, their private rooms too private for his needs.

  The third one was the charm. The Golden Grill had exactly what he needed—a room on the ground floor with a table that could easily seat a dozen and a high window on the back wall. Teddy inquired as to its availability for a birthday party the following month, got prices, and told them he’d call.

  He went back to his suite at the casino, called them up, and booked the room for six o’clock that night with Carlo Verdi’s credit card.

  When the room was booked he called Mason Kimble. He had his cell phone number, but first he tried him in the hotel suite.

  Mason was in the hot tub, but of course there was a phone within reach. He picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Kimble?”

  “Yes.”

  “Carlo Verdi. Are your accommodations satisfactory?”

  “Quite.”

  “I have dinner set for six o’clock tonight at the Golden Grill.”

  “Good. We’ll be ther
e.”

  He had one more call to make.

  * * *

  —

  Sammy Candelosi had Slythe, Jake, and four goons in his office when the call came through. All were tough, all were armed, all had come with him from Jersey.

  “Yes?” Sammy said.

  “Sammy Candelosi? This is Mason Kimble. Gerard Cardigan and I would be happy to meet you for dinner at the Golden Grill at six o’clock tonight to discuss an arrangement I think you will find financially advantageous.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “We’re movie producers, the owners of Star Pictures in Hollywood.”

  Sammy looked over at Jake and nodded his head. “Movie producers. And you want to meet me tonight at the Golden Grill?”

  “That’s right. At six o’clock in their private dining room. Will that work for you?”

  Sammy glanced around at the men assembled in his office. “Absolutely,” he said, and hung up the phone.

  “That’s it,” Jake said. “Those are the guys.”

  “They sure are,” Sammy said. “And we’ve got time to prepare a little surprise for them. Nice work, Jake.”

  “I gotta report back to Pete,” Jake said. “Tell him you got the call so he doesn’t know you’re wise.”

  96

  Teddy packed his bags, called the bellboy, and tipped him handsomely to leave them outside where the valets summoned cabs. He’d gotten confirmation from Jake, via Pete, that the dinner was on, and it was time for him to play his part.

  “Are you checking out, sir?”

  “No, just going out for the afternoon, and I can’t carry them very well.”

  “Do you want me to call you a cab?”

  “No, it takes me a while to do things. Leave them with the valet and tell him I’ll be down.”

  Teddy gave the bellboy five minutes to clear the lobby so the desk clerk wouldn’t think he was checking out, took one last look around the suite, and went out the door. He was getting better on the crutches. He motored through the lobby and went out front where his bags were waiting with the head valet.