Travis rocked back in his chair. The rest of his crew looked equally stunned. When Billy had recruited them, each member had been up to his or her eyeballs in debt. He’d helped all of them climb out of the financial hole they’d dug for themselves and get back on solid ground. Now he was going to take them to another level and make them rich.
“Let’s celebrate,” Billy said.
Billy grabbed a bottle of Cristal from the fridge along with seven plastic champagne flutes he’d bought at a local party store, and upon returning to the table filled each flute until exploding bubbles were cascading down the sides. They raised their glasses in unison.
“Here’s to taking down Carnivale,” he toasted.
They knocked back the drinks. Cory was fidgeting in his chair and his facial expression said something was eating at him. Billy had recently cut Cory and Morris loose because they liked to smoke weed on the job, then had a change of heart and brought them back into the fold. They were still on probation, and Cory wasn’t going to speak unless spoken to.
“What’s wrong?” Billy asked.
“Carnivale is the newest casino in town,” Cory said. “I’ve heard they’re using facial recognition software and anticheating techniques that are second to none. They’re light-years ahead of everybody else.”
“Who told you that?”
“Remember Johnny March the blackjack hustler?”
“Is he the guy who used a hidden laser in a cigarette pack to mark cards during the game?”
“That’s him. Johnny’s used his cigarette pack to scam every casino in town. Johnny tried to scam Carnivale the first week the joint opened and it didn’t go so well. I talked to Johnny’s sister, Suzie, and she said Johnny got busted and is facing ten years in the pen.”
“They got the goods on him?” Billy said.
“Caught him red-handed. The eye-in-the-sky at Carnivale has a filter designed to detect lasers. No other casino in Vegas has that. Johnny’s screwed.”
“Yipes. Maybe we should scam another casino,” Misty suggested.
“Can we do that at this late date?” Travis asked.
All eyes fell on the boss. Billy leaned back in his chair and considered their options. In the old days, casinos had factored a 5 percent loss to cheating and inside theft. Times had changed, and the new owners of casinos, mostly large corporations, did not tolerate stealing, and they installed elaborate systems to prevent it. His crew was worried, and for good reason. Carnivale’s casino was the best protected in town.
Normally, that would have been enough incentive for him to call off the play. No job was worth getting arrested over. Except maybe this one. Carnivale’s management was so focused on drawing in whales that they’d lost sight of the damage a whale could inflict upon the company’s bottom line. That damage could make Billy more money than anything he’d ever tried. The risk was huge, but so was the reward. And those jobs turned him on the most.
He looked each of them in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. “I’m not going to let Johnny March’s screwup ruin this score, and neither should you. Every casino can be ripped off, including Carnivale. It’s all about preparation, my friends, and I’ve been planning this heist for a long time and have scrutinized every angle. If you don’t believe me, just ask Gabe.”
“Billy’s done his homework on this one,” Gabe said.
“Yes, I have. So here’s the deal,” Billy said. “I’m going outside on the deck to do a little stargazing. If you want in, come outside and join me. If not, pack your suitcase and leave tonight. No hard feelings.”
And with that, Billy rose from the table and walked out of the room.
The temperature had dropped twenty degrees, and Billy hugged himself to stay warm. It was a flawless night, and he found himself wishing that a cheater named Maggie Flynn was huddled up beside him. He’d been carrying a torch for Mags since he was a teenager, but when the opportunity to seal the deal had presented itself, he’d gotten cold feet and run out on her. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, yet now he regretted treating her so poorly. He’d heard Mags was back in Vegas ripping off suckers, and he’d decided to call her when the Carnivale job was done, to see if he could patch things up.
Gabe joined him at the railing holding two bottles of beer.
“I’m in,” Gabe said.
“I already knew that. What about the others?”
“They’re talking it over.”
“Think they’ll stay?”
“I told them they’d be idiots not to.”
They clinked bottles and Billy took a long pull. “That’s nasty tasting. What is it?”
“It’s a local IPA. Real hoppy,” Gabe said.
“I hate IPAs.”
“You’ll like drinking them in twenty years when your taste buds fade.”
“Did I handle it right in there?”
“You’re the boss. You can handle things any fucking way you want.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“You handled it fine. Cory should have kept that story about Johnny March to himself and talked to you about it later. Now the girls and Travis are spooked, that dumb shit.”
“I told Cory to speak his mind, and he did. Don’t hold a grudge.”
“Me hold a grudge? Never. But he’s still a dumb shit.”
His crew trailed out onto the deck. Each shouldered up next to Billy and said they wanted in. Billy had expected each would stay, but the vote of confidence was still worth hearing. Pepper remained by his side and snuggled up against him to keep warm.
“I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” she said.
“Have I ever been wrong before?” he asked.
“No, but there’s always a first time. I’m ready to get back to Las Vegas.”
“So am I.”
Pepper turned her head and stared at him. “Still pining over that girl, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” he asked.
“Yes. Think you’ll ever hook up again?”
“Could happen. She’s back in Vegas, running with a black hustler named Jimmy Slyde.”
“Somebody you know?”
There wasn’t a hustler in Las Vegas that Billy didn’t know. Most were stand-up guys who did their business and kept their mouths shut. But there was a handful that were nothing but trouble. Pepper was still staring at him, and he nodded.
“What’s Slyde like?” she asked.
“He’s a real scumbag,” Billy said.
Three
Jimmy Slyde had been a fixture in the Las Vegas underworld for twenty years.
Slyde was a hard guy to miss: his Armani suits, eighteen-karat-gold jewelry, and polished Gucci loafers would catch your eye in a room full of people, as would his neck ringed in gold chains. Sometimes the suit was pin-striped and sometimes it was gray, but he always wore a suit.
Slyde had started out pimping prostitutes on Fremont Street, all of whom had gone to jail. Later he’d graduated to peddling drugs via a network of female cab drivers, who’d also ended up in the slammer. Every successful criminal had a special talent. Slyde’s talent was finding desperate people willing to do his dirty work for him. Vegas was filled with hard-luck stories, and Slyde was a master at recruiting them.
Slyde’s latest recruit was Maggie Flynn. Every casino in town had Mags’s mug shot tacked to a bulletin board in their surveillance room, forcing Mags to wear a cheap blonde wig and shades whenever she was scamming a casino.
Slyde had discovered Mags at Jerry’s Nugget, painting cards at blackjack using a substance called daub. Daub was the cheat’s favorite substance as it was invisible to the untrained eye. Mags had been pounding G&Ts, and her play had reeked of desperation.
Later, he’d found her eating scrambled eggs in the coffee shop and had introduced himself. When she hadn’t told him to fuck off, he’d pulled up a chair and made his pitch.