Billy pointed an accusing finger at the stack of green on the floor.
“That’s wrong,” he said.
“Come here, I want to show both of you something.”
Rising, Billy went to the window and drew back the blinds. Blazing neon from the Strip invaded the room and bathed the young hustler in lurid rainbow hues. Victor slowly came out of his chair and leaned against his son to get his balance before hobbling over to the window. Nico reluctantly followed his father but kept his distance from their guest.
The view was southerly. In the distance an airplane landed on one of McCarran’s four runways. Billy pointed at a cluster of buildings in an industrial park beside the airport.
“We all know about the Nevada Gaming Control Board’s Technology Division,” Billy said. “Their job is to monitor the state’s slot machines and video poker games. If we steal a jackpot, gaming agents are sent to investigate.”
“We’ve heard of them,” Nico said. “So what?”
“A few months back, I ran into a hustler named Maggie Flynn who I knew from the old neighborhood. Maggie was working as a snitch for the gaming board and having an affair with none other than Frank Grimes.”
“Small world,” Victor said.
“In a moment of weakness, Grimes told Maggie that the gaming board had set up a computer lab near the airport whose sole purpose was to protect the integrity of the state’s video games and slot machines,” Billy said. “You can see the top of the building from here. It has a red security light. There’s also a twenty-four-hour guard.”
Victor’s breath fogged the glass. “Shit, I see it. Nico, take a look.”
Nico stared as well. “What does this have to do with us?”
“Let the man tell his story,” Victor snapped.
“The lab houses the source codes for every piece of game software approved in Nevada,” Billy explained. “Every new piece of software is brought to the lab and examined before being put into play. Is the random number generator random enough? Does the video poker game pay out at the advertised rate? The lab has to give the game the Good Housekeeping seal of approval before it gets put into a casino.”
“So tell us something we don’t know,” Nico said.
“Show some manners,” his father said.
Billy was having a hard time understanding why Victor had chosen Nico to succeed him. Nico was a hothead and didn’t have any manners, while his father was the epitome of cool and class. There had to be another reason, only Billy wasn’t seeing what it was.
“According to Maggie Flynn, the lab has a new addition,” Billy said. “It’s called a central server, CS for short. CS is a massive computer that’s wired in to every slot and video poker machine in town. It monitors jackpots.”
Billy paused to let the words sink in. Victor turned from the view to stare at him.
“Say that again.”
“CS monitors jackpots and looks for statistical deviations. Every casino has a ‘loser list’ of bad games that lose money. It can take a casino days to find these games and figure out what the problem is. Sometimes the games have a wiring problem or sometimes there’s cheating taking place. CS finds these games in nanoseconds and alerts the casino.”
“Nanoseconds?” Victor said, swallowing hard.
Billy clicked his fingers. “Just like that.”
“Is the casino onto us?” Victor asked.
“No doubt. CS has already alerted the casino that their slot machines were compromised. Security will review the surveillance tapes to spot who’s responsible. It’s only a matter of time before you’ll get a knock on your door. You want my advice, blow out of here right now.”
“Do we retire the scam?” Victor asked.
“No. You can take it to another casino, just keep your winnings reasonable. Otherwise CS will sniff you out.”
Victor addressed his son. “Tell your sisters and cousins to pack their clothes; we’re checking out tonight.”
Nico turned from the window. “How many fucking slot machines are there in this town — a hundred thousand? You expect me to believe one fucking computer can instantly tell when one of them is getting scammed? Fat fucking chance. Pretty Boy is yanking your chain.”
“Billy wouldn’t lie to us.”
“Yes, he would.”
“Do it anyway,” his father said sternly.
Nico didn’t move. This wasn’t going to end well, and Billy stepped away from the window and headed for the door.
“Thanks for the heads up,” Victor called after him.
“Anytime,” Billy said.
Fourteen
Billy rode an empty elevator downstairs. He was glad to have that out of the way. He’d warned Victor and that was all the cheater’s code required him to do. His mentor, a cigar-chomping gangster named Lou Profaci, had taught Billy the cheater’s code, and he’d lived by it ever since. Many younger cheats didn’t follow the code, believing it was an old set of rules that no longer applied. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Rules were important, especially when it came to thieving.
The rule about not ratting out another cheat was a good example. Some younger cheats thought it was okay to roll on their partners when they got arrested, mistakenly believing it was better to send a friend to jail than to go to jail themselves. But the cheat who squealed lived in a different kind of prison, one where he had no friends or people he could trust.
Upon reaching the lobby, Billy headed straight to the casual clothing store where he’d bought his disguise. The pretty college-age girl who had waited on him was still on duty.
“Back so soon?” she asked.
“Short trip. I need my old clothes back.”
“I threw them away. Just kidding. They’re behind the register.”
From behind the counter she retrieved the clothes he’d come into the store wearing. He followed her to the dressing rooms where she unlocked one of the doors with a brass key dangling from her belt. He brushed against her as he entered the stall. She didn’t seem to mind.
“What’s with the key?” he asked.
“They dock my pay if anything gets stolen,” she explained.
“That hardly seems fair.”
“You’re right. It’s not fair at all.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Only when I think about it.”
Billy was always on the lookout for new recruits, and this young woman was a perfect candidate. She was young, she was attractive, and she didn’t have an arrest record — otherwise she wouldn’t be allowed to work in a casino. She also had a chip on her shoulder and would rip off the store if the opportunity presented itself. Those were all important things in his line of work. When he came out of the dressing room, he placed the clothes he’d worn to see Victor onto the counter.
“What do you want me to do with these?” she asked.
“Throw them out. What’s your name?”
“Brianna, but you can call me Brie.”
“Can I give you a ring sometime?”
“Only if I give you my phone number.”
Brie gave Billy her number, and he logged it into the contact app on his cell phone.
“I like sushi and I’m off on weekends,” she said.
“My name’s Billy. Nice meeting you.”
“Same here, Billy.”
He walked out of the store and returned to the five-thousand-dollar blackjack game. The pit boss had held open his seat at the table, hoping he’d return. As he sat down, a cocktail waitress appeared like a genie coming out of a bottle.
“Drink, sir?”
“Rum and coke with a twist of lime.”
“My pleasure.”
Drink in hand, he played blackjack while keeping an eye on the elevator bank. It wasn’t long before he spotted a female member of the Boswell clan walk past dragging her suitcase. More members soon followed, their departures spaced minutes apart. Leaving separately was smart, as hotel employees working the front desk were less likely to remember them.