Kathryn nodded as she looked around at her Sisters. She winced at their collective sigh of relief. The fine hairs on the back of her neck moved.
Murphy stirred, sensing distress in his mistress. "I can't believe any of you would think. . .You don't have to worry about me. All of you, relax. It's not like I'm joined at Bert's hip. We're. . .just friends," she lied, knowing they all knew she was lying. "I'm concerned for him just like I'm concerned about Jack and Harry. Like I said, you don't have to worry about me."
"We know that, dear. Sometimes we just have to say things out loud to make sure everyone is on the same page," Myra said soothingly.
"Myra is right, child," Annie said. "Now, Charles, can we please get to the good stuff? When and how are we leaving? Do we need to hurry and pack?" She looked around at the others and asked, "What does one wear in Las Vegas? Are we supposed to glitter and sparkle?"
"Never mind the glitter and sparkle, Annie. What are we supposed to do when we get there?" Kathryn asked. "What exactly is this mission all about?"
Charles cleared his throat. "Well, the current mission started out to be one thing, but with my people in place and reporting to me on an hourly basis, it looks like we might have inadvertently stumbled onto something else. Now is a good time to tell you that your payoff will come through Beatrice Preston. However, I may well negotiate another fee that could quadruple Miz Preston's fee. We'll get to that later.
"Lizzie had her face-to-face meeting with your new employer. With Las Vegas three hours behind us timewise, she will be getting ready shortly to head off to the county jail, where Marble Rose is being held. I have no idea what will transpire at that meeting. It's possible that if Marble Rose doesn't cooperate, the mission might well be scrapped."
"Why wouldn't she cooperate? Surely she can't enjoy being in jail. Why hasn't she engaged the services of an attorney?" Nikki asked. "The first thing a person does when she's arrested is to hire a lawyer. Is it possible she has been denied the opportunity?"
"At the moment, I can't answer that. All I do know for certain is that Marble Rose and her mother are estranged. The young lady is extremely bitter toward her mother."
"If we go, and if our mission isn't scrapped, what is the vigilantes' role in all of this? What exactly are we supposed to be doing once we get there?" Kathryn asked.
"Right now we're in a holding pattern, so let's use the time by me telling you what I have managed to learn about how Las Vegas works. I want you to store the knowledge away just the way those squirrels store their nuts for the winter.
"I'm told that the slot machines in Las Vegas pay the bills. The machines are referred to as 'beautiful vaults' because they bring in nearly three-quarters of the roughly $60 billion in gambling revenue at American casinos. That's billion with a capital B.
"Slot machines are the most popular form of gambling. The poker machines are a close second. Some serious gamblers, who like to play table games, consider slot machines not true gambling because they are programmed with a payback percentage and something they call a hit frequency.
"The machines contain a random-number generator, or an RNG, as they call it in the industry. It's a microcomputer that constantly, even when the machines are not in use, spits out numbers. Somehow or other the numbers are selected by using atmospheric 'noise,' but I don't understand that part at all. To continue, the random numbers correspond to positions on each of the reels in the machine. When you pull the handle or press the SPIN button, you are not really initiating anything except the spinning of the reel, which is merely for show. With the spin or handle, you are telling the machine to display the reel position that corresponds to the last set of random numbers that were generated.
"This is important because it debunks some long-held assumptions about slot machines. It all comes down to that precise moment that you pull the handle or push the SPIN button. Pressing that SPIN button or yanking the handle a hundredth of a second later would yield a totally different result."
"So can you beat the machines? And can the house fix them so they don't pay off?" Yoko asked.
"No and no, from everything that has been written about them," Charles said. "Unfortunately, I don't believe it."
"Then forgive me, dear, but I don't think any of us understands what's going on," Myra said. "Why are we going to Las Vegas? I thought, I think we all thought, that the casinos were somehow 'fixing' the machines to the benefit of the house, as opposed to the player."
Charles looked down at the ream of notes he had on the gambling industry. For some reason he'd thought his ladies would want to know all the nitty-gritty stuff he'd spent hours garnering. They'd just reduced all his research to two simple questions, to which he'd given two negatives in response.
"Obviously, none of you cares to hear the rest of my research on how it's impossible to beat the house or the odds. Having said that, there are always ways for something to slip through the cracks, as all of you know only too well. I have seen the Las Vegas series that played on television a while back, and I've also seen the Oceans movies, as you have. If I recall correctly, we watched those movies together. You saw all the time, the effort, the planning that went into ripping off the casinos. Let me be the first to point out that they were fiction. This is real.
"My operatives, who at one time were the best of the best, and who I still think are tops, have been in touch with. . .let us just say, people in Las Vegas. It seems, aside from Marble Rose, the people in Las Vegas have been noticing that quite a few players have been winning large sums of money. The sums were not large enough to ring bells at first but still sizable enough that red flags went up. This strange occurrence began when Marble Rose hit her first jackpot. You all know I don't believe there is any such thing as coincidence. At the moment, this is just a gut feeling on my part, and we all know I pay little attention to gut feelings, since I have to deal in facts to ensure your safety at all times. But, those people, along with my gut, are telling my operatives that there is a definite undercurrent of unease among the casinos.
"Which now brings me to a rather bizarre message that came into our message board a little after midnight, seven minutes past twelve, to be precise. It seems"—Charles paused and looked around at his chicks to see how they were taking it all—"the Nevada Gaming Commission has asked for your help. The message was not signed by anyone who works for the commission, I simply read between the lines. In exchange for your help, they're willing to let Marble Rose off the hook. And there is an offer on the table of a percentage of whatever was stolen/won and recovered." Charles smiled. "The percentage is, for want of a better word, awesome."
"What?" the Sisters whooped in unison.
"I'm not sure I understand," Myra said. "Is Lizzie to try and negotiate? Who is she going to negotiate with?"
"When Lizzie calls, we'll know more. If you journey to Las Vegas, these are the men you will be taking on." Charles held up several large, grainy photographs and slid them one by one across the table. Charles identified each picture as the Sisters passed the photos around the table and made comment after comment.
"Most of the action appears to be coming out of the Babylon casino. So I think we should assume that whatever is wrong started there. The Babylon is where Marble Rose won most of her money; but she didn't discriminate, she gambled at just about all of the casinos, even going downtown to Fremont Street. She won a bundle at the Golden Nugget."
The pictures were back in Charles's hands. He sifted through them until he found the one he wanted. He held it up. "This man, Hank Owens, is head of security at the Babylon. He's been with the casino for over twenty years and is as good at his job as I am at mine. He knows every trick in the book. He's extremely well paid. He works twenty-three hours a day and gets by on one hour of sleep. I read that in some PR fluff in one of the Vegas papers. An exaggeration, I'm sure. His inner security ring—and that's what it's called, 'the ring'—is made up of four men. Mean men, ruthless men. Men who do exactly what Owens says when he says it. No de
viations. The inner ring has been with Owens from day one. They work on the reward system. The 'rewards' are a mystery. They're only mentioned in whispers or behind closed doors. I believe that all the things that happened to Marble Rose prior to her arrest were a result of the inner ring. I think the Gaming Commission wants us to look into Owens and his little cabal. Like I said, this is all tentative and subject to change."
Kathryn jumped up. Murphy growled. "What are you saying, Charles? That we're not a match for this. . .inner ring? Ha!"
Charles smiled. "If you had allowed me to finish what I was going to say next, you would have heard me say, the inner ring is no match for all of you."
"Oh. Okay, that's better."
"In addition, you will all have a secret weapon. Actually, four or five of them. I'm sending Harry to Vegas. I have a call in to some people I know who are arranging a martial-arts exhibition. Harry and his friends will be the judges. There might be a snafu or two since it's such short notice, but radio and television are wonderful tools. I'm sure we can come up with a good turnout, especially if it's a free exhibition. Las Vegas loves anything that's free."
"Charles, that is absolutely brilliant. How do you come up with such wonderful ideas?" Annie gushed. "Oh, I can't wait to attend. I love the blood-and-guts moves those boys make. That inner ring is toast if Harry takes them on."
Charles pretended to be embarrassed. Yoko virtually swooned at the anticipation of seeing her true love in Vegas.
"What about Jack? Is he going to go with Harry? What's his role?" Nikki asked. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until it exploded from her mouth in a loud, swooshing sound.
"I know you don't want to hear this, but Jack, like Bert, is going to sit this mission out. He's on the radar screen, just as Bert is. It could be dangerous for Jack to show up in Vegas and, in addition to that, he has no authority to do anything in that town except visit and gamble. Harry is different."
Nikki looked like she was going to cry. She bit down on her lower lip.
"I don't agree," Kathryn said coldly. "I think we should put it to a vote. Not Bert. I understand why he has to remain in D.C. I'm referring to Jack. Jack has always been our greatest backup. He and Harry always work in sync. I'm not saying either one can't operate without the other, I'm sure they can, it's just that it's better with both of them. Jack has a black belt, why can't he be one of the judges? I think we need to take a vote where Jack is concerned. It goes without saying that Jack would have to agree."
Nikki sent Kathryn such a grateful look that the former truck driver just smiled.
"Kathryn is absolutely right," the others agreed.
Myra looked at Charles, and said, "I think you've just been outvoted, dear. Personally, I always felt more confident when the boys were watching our backs. Jack must have some vacation days accrued that he can use."
Charles was gracious in his acquiescence. "I bow to the majority. I'll call both Jack and Harry to put them on alert."
The Sisters were hyped. "Tell us more about the inner ring," Isabelle insisted.
"The rumor is that if Owens were to turn his inner ring loose—fire them, if you prefer that term—none of the other casinos would snap them up. They don't like their methods. The other casino executives and their heads of security are businessmen. They operate by the book. Owens and his thugs play by different rules. The man does get results. The Babylon brings in the most money. Owens is credited with installing slots that give the best odds, and their video poker gives a 100 percent return—if you play long enough. In addition to all of that, his rewards program offers free slot play as well as cash back and comp dollars for being a good member. Before you can ask, everyone who walks in their doors is an instant member. Owens has a full-time staff working minimum wage plus tips just to take care of 'membership.'"
"I hate Hank Owens and his inner ring already," Annie said. Excitement rang in her voice when she said, "So, in addition to bailing out Marble Rose, we are going to. . .uh, take down Hank Owens and his inner circle. Oh, be still my heart," she cried dramatically.
Her outburst left the others smirking as they started whispering among themselves. Charles knew, just knew, they already had some wicked punishment in the works. He looked over at Myra, his true love, and winked. She nodded slightly, then laughed.
"All right, ladies, I have to get back to work. I'm going to leave this folder for you all to peruse. I will let you know the minute Lizzie checks in. In the meantime, Alexis, start thinking about disguises that will get you in and out of Las Vegas safely."
Annie clapped her hands in glee. "All riiight, kids, let's get to it!"
Chapter 10
It was early, dawn just breaking over the horizon, when Rena Gold tapped softly on the door of the luxurious condo she'd made available to Lizzie and Ted. When Lizzie opened the door, she smiled at the former showgirl, who was holding a tray with two cups of Starbucks coffee, two containers of orange juice, and a bag of sweet rolls.
"In my opinion, it's impossible to start the day without coffee. At some point today, I'll stock your refrigerator. A cleaning lady comes in once a week to freshen up the place. The girls and I just use this condo for. . .other things, and rarely keep food here. Like I said last night, it's not on anyone's radar screen. Nikki said ownership is buried very deep. You can stay as long as you need to. Is there anything else I can do for you, Lizzie? Just ask, and it's yours," Rena said breathlessly.
Lizzie smiled. "Not at the moment. However, I'd feel a lot better if you and your girls would go on vacation. Maggie and Annie authorized the use of the Gulfstream to take you and your friends anywhere you want to go. Today, Rena. Like this morning. Can you get it together and make it to the airport by ten?"
Rena pursed her lips for a moment. "Sure, but do you think it's really necessary?"
"Yes, I do. Don't think for one minute my departure from the hotel went unnoticed. They have those damn cameras everywhere. The valet parking attendants even have cameras on their lapels. They've undoubtedly already run your license plate. I don't want you anywhere near this place when our guests arrive. It's for your own safety."
Fear sparked momentarily in Rena's eyes, but a second later it was gone as she squared her shoulders. "You know best. But I'm going to give you the number of a guy I know. You can trust him. He's lived in Vegas forever, and there's nothing he doesn't know about this town and the people who work here. That's another way of saying he knows where all the bodies are buried. He lives out in the desert, and if you think Hank Owens has security, you should see what this guy has. He's not much to look at, but he cleans up real good. Sharper than razor wire. He has his own posse. For all intents and purposes, ranch hands. No one really knows the backstory between my friend and the head of security at the Babylon, but whatever it is, it's deadly."
"So what you're saying is he's the go-to guy, and he has a hate on for the head of Babylon's security. What do people go to him for?"
"This and that," Rena said vaguely. "He takes care of things. His name is Little Fish. His friends call him Fish. He's full-blooded Shoshone."
"Just out of curiosity, how do you know this 'Little Fish'?"
Rena shrugged as she brushed at her thick red hair. "That's for another time, okay? If you need Fish, just tell him I told you to call. He won't question you because, as far as I know, only two other people besides me have this number." She walked over to a small desk set into an alcove and wrote the number on a Post-it. "It might be a good idea to memorize it as opposed to carrying the number around or listing it in your BlackBerry."
Lizzie nodded.
"I guess I should be going," Rena said. "I hope it all works out for you and. . .and the girls. Listen, Lizzie, that guy Hank Owens, he's bad news. I mean really bad news."
Lizzie smiled. "Understood, Rena. I'll call you when it's time for you to come back. Thanks for the juice, coffee, and rolls."
Rena just nodded.
Lizzie could see the worry and fear in her eyes
. "Hey," she said softly, "this is a betting town. Who you putting your money on, that pissy Hank Owens, or me, the vigilantes, and Mr. Fish?"
In spite of herself, Rena laughed. "That's a no-brainer. See ya, Counselor."
"Yeah, see ya, Rena."
Lizzie bolted the door and was on her way to the kitchen with the coffee containers when Ted walked into the living room. "Did I just hear the door close?"
"You did. Rena dropped off coffee, juice, and some rolls." Lizzie carried the containers and the paper sack out to the state-of-the-art kitchen that looked like it had never been used. They sat down at the table and looked at one another.
"This town isn't what I thought it was," Ted said as he wolfed down two of the sweet rolls, one right after the other. He looked at Lizzie questioningly as to whether she wanted the other four rolls or not. She shook her head and sipped at her coffee. "You know, they bill it as a family place kind of thing. Family, my ass. This town is about money and nothing else. The only relationship this town has to family is it takes a family's money. Bottom line. The security is one step below the Mafia and the gestapo. Where the hell do they get off billing it as a family atmosphere?"
Lizzie swigged from the orange juice bottle. "And you didn't know this?"
Ted was taken aback. "And you did?"
"Of course. What time did you get here last night?"
"Around three. I took a cab. No, I didn't have any tails. I was shooting the breeze with a couple of reporters from the Sun and the Review-Journal. I wrangled an introduction from a buddy at the Old Gray Lady. The three of us hit it off, so we went off for a few beers. You were sleeping pretty soundly, or I would have woken you.
"I found out that reporters are pretty much censored, and they don't like it. It's not like back in D.C., where the only people you have to watch are the politicians—here you have to watch the casinos' security and the cops as well. One does not tread, even lightly, on their toes. No one knew anything about Marble Rose and her big winnings. At least that's what they said. They talked a lot about the celebrities who come here. And the guy from the Sun told me he'd just gotten a text message that there is going to be some kind of martial-arts exhibition at the Babylon in the next few days. The Babylon is the biggest draw here. Even the Wynn can't hold a candle to it. They talked quite a bit about the top-notch security and the guy—Owens—who runs it. They were telling me about his inner ring, but said they weren't allowed to write about it. They said those guys, the ones in the inner ring, live in mansions and drive Porsches. They wear five-thousand-dollar suits and handmade silk shirts, but they still look like goons. The reporters said they can't print that, either. The casinos own both papers. Those reporters make twice what I do. I might think about relocating here. They have unlimited expense accounts, too."
Final Justice Page 9
