Chapter 11
“According to what the map says we should make it to Pine Valley by this evening,” Sylvia said. She had grabbed the map at the welcome center when they exited Utah and crossed over the Colorado state line. She loved looking at all of the places on the geographic layout. So many towns with so many people, living so many lives with so many stories to tell. It always left Sylvia feeling awestruck at the size of the United States. One year for their anniversary, Andy bought her a world almanac. That kept her busy for months. He spent the next few years buying her globes, but none of them provided the details of her almanac. And it beat the crap out of buying jewelry, he often reasoned.
Andy wasn’t completely sure how to take what Chief Christos Gionelli told him earlier. He did not think the U.S. Marshals would arrest him, but he didn’t put it past the government to send out goons to pressure him into compliance. And he really didn’t want Nick getting involved, especially since Sylvia was still in the dark about the whole thing. He’d planned to tell her as they drove across the Nevada and Utah desert, but he never got up the gumption to spill the beans.
It wasn’t like he’d witnessed a murder or something. The entirety of the case revolved around a ruling passed down from the federal appellate courts on a lawsuit that involved civil rights violations regarding the hire of illegal aliens in fifteen local hotels and casinos in Las Vegas. The federal appeals judges decided there might have been some mishandling of the original case in which the plaintiffs accused the United States government of denying perfectly valid filings for U.S. citizenship to a disproportionately large group of immigrants who worked in the hotel linen industry.
The plaintiffs claimed that certain members of the state and federal government made substantial investments and purchases in hotel and casino properties in Las Vegas, NV. They claimed that hundreds of workers were being forced out through fraudulent visa denials so the shareholders and owners could bring in a different company to run the majority of the hotel and casino linen operations. That company was owned by the Nevada United States Attorney’s wife.
Having spent much of his adult life inside the casinos, Andy knew many staff members by name. As much as he was a gambler, he was a bit of a salesman and schmoozer at heart, also. He became friends with many on the kitchen staff and frequently traveled the back corridors of the casinos without question from the workers. He was simply “Andy”, an affable gambler, always quick with a joke or a light of your smoke as Billy Joel would have put it.
Andy always carried a briefcase with him when he went to “work.” He said it made him feel more respectable, a legitimate businessman. As the years went by he’d changed his fashions to suit the times. By now he carried a shoulder bag. He claimed it made him look European.
One night while sharing some hors d’oeuvres with the kitchen staff of the Sands Hotel and Casino, he placed his bag against a wall with several other similar bags. Apparently, when it was time to go, Andy grabbed the wrong one. He didn’t realize the mistake until the following day when he went through the bag and found some extremely accusatory documents. When Andy returned the briefcase to the casino the following morning, a horde of government officials gathered throughout the premises. Although he hoped to anonymously drop off the briefcase, too many eyes spotted him and questioned why he was there. He explained the briefcase and the documents, which led to further questions as to what was in the papers, what he read, and how he came into possession of the briefcase.
He tried multiple times over the following weeks to explain that it was just a coincidental mistake and that he had no involvement in these affairs. However, the U.S. government was not interested in his excuses. Andy simply got caught up a wide net cast by the U.S. Attorney’s Office, and he found himself trying to explain something as innocuous as grabbing the wrong bag to a group of suits with little interest in listening to him. He accredited the whole mess to bad luck. As a gambler he knew sometimes it didn’t matter what you did. When the rain clouds choose to hover over your head, you sometimes just had to ride out the storm.
Unfortunately, some of his longtime friends and acquaintances in the casino world saw his involvement with the U.S. Attorney’s Office as a potential threat to their daily operations. Especially, considering the level of acceptance and trust Andy had within this community. The pressures brought on by the civil litigation between the U.S. government and the unions further isolated Andy from people who once considered him trustworthy. Andy pleaded his case with them just as he did with the government boys, but to no avail. He began to see himself as a man without a country, as many of the perks he’d earned over the years disappeared, seemingly overnight.
So he decided, the hell with it all. If neither side was willing to give him a fair shake, then he’d make himself scarce. If he didn’t cooperate with the government, perhaps he could rebuild the alliances fostered by so many years at the tables. The government surely had better prospects than him for their case. How couldn’t they? He knew he was just a pawn, and he didn’t think anybody would pay much attention if that piece got removed from the chess table. But now the United States Marshals Service Witness Protection Program was playing hardball with him. Andy knew there wasn’t a credible threat against him, but he thought the scared, intimidated witness ploy might get him off the hook. He still wasn’t sure that wasn’t the case, but Christos Gionelli didn’t seem like a guy to mess around with. Andy just couldn’t figure out Gionelli’s angle.
“You know, we’re not in any big hurry to be anywhere,” Andy said. “Why don’t we just take our time, maybe stop off in Aspen, Vail, Breckenridge, or any of the mountain towns and see what’s what.”
“Really?” Sylvia said with a raised voice. The prospects of a new adventure on this surprise trip made her head spin with delight.
“Sure, why not? Maybe we could find a little bed and breakfast that’s off the beaten path and disappear for a while, just you and me.” Andy felt ashamed that this was more a tactic to keep the government off his back than it was to spend quality time with his wife. But still, he’d make it work and he knew how much it meant to Sylvia to make this trip, even if she didn’t know the underlying reason. You always need to hedge your bets he thought to himself.
“Well, Andy O’Fallon, you’ve got a deal!” she exclaimed. She poured herself into the map, wanting to stop at every town and get out and walk around like some tourist fresh to the United States. “Oh, there are so many places! I just don’t know where to go.”
“I’ll drive slowly, and we can pull off whenever you like. First place that looks like it’s got the best story, we’ll toss out the anchor and see what’s ashore.”
“Well, aye aye, sailor,” Sylvia said with a salute. First stop, Glenwood Springs. How’s a hot soak in the natural springs sound to your old bones?”
“Now that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day, lady.” Andy placed the car in drive and gunned the engine out of the Waffle House parking lot. Sylvia let out a scream and threw the map up on the massive dashboard as they fishtailed their way onto the main drag out of town.
The Bernie Factor Page 11
