Lamb extended his meaty paw. Lamb was what people in the casino industry called an office orangutan. He ate too much, drank too much, and didn’t know the meaning of the word exercise. One day, Lamb would drop dead at his desk, and another orangutan would replace him.
Billy ignored Lamb’s outstretched hand.
“I think we deserve the chance to fix this problem, considering all the things we’ve done for you and your friends,” DeSantis said.
“We’ve lost a lot of money in this joint. That more than pays for the concert tickets and free meals, don’t you think?” Billy said, unwilling to bend.
“Mr. C., we’re going to make things right, you have my word.”
“Twice my assistant gets called a hooker while playing roulette. You blew your chance, Eddie. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”
“But Mr. C...”
“Take a hike.”
The situation had turned ugly. Lamb tapped DeSantis on the shoulder, signaling for him to leave. More than likely, DeSantis wouldn’t have a job when he came to work tomorrow. It didn’t matter that DeSantis was a loyal employee willing to do backflips to make his clients happy. What mattered was that a whale was angry, and whales came first.
DeSantis turned his back and walked away.
Lamb jumped in and started talking. “The casino has asked me to extend its sincerest apologies for this unfortunate situation, Mr. C. We will do anything to make things right.”
“Define anything,” Billy said.
“You can play in our high-roller salon, which is closed off from the public.”
“Salons are for assholes,” Billy said.
“We can put you in a private suite, then.”
“Not interested.”
“Then how about your sky palace? We can have the equipment brought up along with the dealers. You’ll be able to gamble in total comfort and privacy.”
Billy brought his hand to his chin. “What about food?”
“We can have a chef prepare food in your sky palace, as well.”
“How about a bartender?”
“That, too. I’d also send up a masseuse to give you neck massages while you play.”
“Pedicures for the ladies?”
“Absolutely. Your wish is my command, Mr. C.”
Billy nodded his approval. In a few days, after the smoke had cleared and people were thinking clearly again, Carnivale’s management would conduct an internal review to determine how they’d lost so much money to one gambler. Among other things, the review would state that it was Lamb’s idea to let Billy and Tommy Wang play roulette for high stakes in the sky palace, outside of the secure confines of the casino.
Playing hard to get was the name of the game. Billy turned to his crew and said, “So what do you think? Should we stay or should we go?”
Each member of his crew stuck to the script with their replies.
“Sounds good to me,” Travis said.
“I’m game,” Cory said.
“Me, too,” Morris said.
“I’ll do whatever Pepper wants,” Misty said.
“Let’s give them another chance,” Pepper said, clinging to Wang’s arm.
The moment of truth had arrived. They all looked at Wang.
“I think I would like that,” the Chinese gambler said.
“It’s unanimous. Wang’s sky palace it is,” Billy said.
Fifty-One
The safest place in Las Vegas was inside a casino. Between the surveillance cameras and trained security, it was hard for a criminal to do business. Crimes happened, but only with a great deal of planning and preparation.
Outside of the casino was a different story. Customers got robbed inside hotels every day, often in the halls but sometimes in their rooms. Crafty thieves would impersonate employees to gain entry, stick a gun in a victim’s face, and rob him or her blind.
There were also larger thefts committed by scammers and cheats. Bookies had set up illegal bookmaking operations in Strip hotels, then used the casino to recruit customers with the promise of better odds and no taxes to pay to Uncle Sam.
And teams of card cheats had staged games in private suites where rich suckers got fleeced by dealers trained in sophisticated sleight of hand.
Casinos were secure. The buildings that surrounded them were not.
Billy sat at the bar in Wang’s sky palace drinking a Corona. The last few days had felt like a marathon; now the finish line was in sight. Pepper and Wang sat beside him at the bar, sipping rum punches made by a pleasant young woman named Star.
“Is everything to your satisfaction?” Star asked.
“Everything’s perfect,” Pepper cooed.
Out by the pool, a well-proportioned masseuse was giving Travis a massage. Cory and Morris were next in line and had their shirts off. Misty sat in a lounge chair, getting a pedicure from a chatty Filipino woman. Whoever said crime didn’t pay wasn’t doing it right.
“Hey, Larry, let’s get this show on the road,” Billy said.
Lamb stood in the center of the living room, a small computer in his hand. The room’s furniture was gone, replaced by a gleaming roulette wheel on an antique table. Four employees had brought in the equipment and set up the game under Lamb’s watchful eye.
“Just a few more minutes, Mr. C.,” Lamb replied.
“You said that ten minutes ago. Hurry up.”
“Good things are worth waiting for, Mr. C.”
“I’ve heard that one before.”
Lamb set the wheel in motion and spun the little white ball. The easiest way to beat the game of roulette was by exploiting a biased wheel. The wheel was a piece of furniture made of wood and metal and subject to subtle imperfections. These imperfections caused the wheel to spin out of balance, with the ball favoring one side of the wheel more than the other. A hundred and fifty years ago, a clever French gambler had broken the bank at Monte Carlo by exploiting a biased wheel, and casinos had been on the lookout for the scam ever since.
Lamb pointed the computer at the wheel and clocked its spin. He did this a dozen times. The last time, he nodded. The wheel was not biased.
“We’re ready, Rafael,” Lamb said.
Rafael stood like a statue by the slider. The croupier broke out of his trance and straightened his bow tie before taking his position at the table.
“Mr. C., the table is yours,” Lamb said.
Billy slid off his stool along with Pepper and Wang. They took the same seats at the table as they’d had downstairs. His crew came in from outside and joined them.
“Place your bets,” Rafael said.
Wang toyed with his chips and seemed uncertain how much to wager.
“Shoot the pickle,” Billy told him.
Wang gave him a confused look. “You want to shoot me?”
“No, no. It’s an expression. It means go for it.”
“You think I should bet heavy?”
“Why not? Fortune favors the brave.”
“Play your lucky numbers,” Pepper whispered in Wang’s ear.
Wang picked up his glass of wine and chugged it down. He let out a deep breath before placing his bets on his lucky numbers from the rigged backgammon game. Rafael set the wheel in motion and spun the little white ball.
“Good luck, everyone,” the croupier said.
The hardest part of ripping off a casino was acting surprised when it happened. Most cheaters thought they should jump up and down and start yelling, but that often looked staged. The best response was a moment of stunned silence, followed by cheers and back slapping.
Moments later, Billy’s crew did just that.
On August 21, 1951, Binion’s Horseshoe Casino opened its doors and proceeded to lose $200,000 the first night of operation. According to urban legend, it was the last time a casino in Las Vegas had a losing day.