Xing saw movement in the mirror. The dealer was scooping up the last of the fat man’s chips. The fat man had lost all his money, and looked dejected.
Xing unbuttoned his jacket while hopping off his stool. It was every gambler’s dream to die broke, and the fat man was about to fulfill that dream. He walked directly over to the 21 table with his eyes peeled on his prey.
“Out of my way,” he said loudly.
The crowd around the table parted. They knew what was about to happen. It was part of life in the Golden Dragon. Losers died.
The fat man spun around in his chair. Seeing Xing, his eyes grew wide with fear. Xing drew his gun from its shoulder harness and blew a hole in the fat’s man chest. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Xing blew smoke off the barrel of his gun like a cowboy in the Old West. The sound of a man yelling snapped his head. The bartender was pointing excitedly at the exit. Xing shifted his gaze to see another fat man running out the door. The beer in his stomach started to rise. He had shot the wrong man.
The phone rang, snapping Xing awake. Picking up the receiver, he said hello in Chinese, realized his mistake, and said hello again in halting English. He had learned English in school, and from watching American TV shows, which were shown in China with subtitles.
“This is Kyle Garrow, Bronco Marchese’s lawyer,” an unsteady voice said, shouting to be heard over disco music in the background. “I’m ready to do the deal.”
“Is Bronco out of jail?” Xing asked.
“No,” the lawyer said.
“Then how do we do the deal?”
“Bronco put me in charge. I have the secret to the slot scam. I’ll give it to you in exchange for the Pai Gow scam, and you can go home.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t have a choice, pal.”
Xing tightened his grip on the receiver. He did not like this change in plans, or that Bronco’s lawyer was calling the shots.
“I’m at a strip club down the road from your motel,” Garrow went on. “Meet me in ten minutes, and we can do the exchange. And don’t be late.”
Xing’s face burned. He did not like to be ordered around. He wondered if the lawyer knew he was a Triad assassin. Somehow, he didn’t think so.
“Give me the instructions,” Xing said.
Chapter 18
Valentine’s investigation had hit a wall. Karen Farmer had told him a lot, but nothing that would lead him to tracking down the crooked gaming control agent. His case was stalled. He needed to talk to Bronco if he wanted it to move forward.
He drove into downtown Reno with his son, and checked into the Peppermill. It was an old joint, and one of his favorites. The place had started out as a restaurant, and gained fame for the giant fruit dishes it served at meals. That had led to a hotel being built, and then a casino. The rest, as they say, was history.
He and his son were given adjoining rooms. Gerry came into his room, and they went out onto the balcony and stared at the skyline. The sun had set, and the desert was starting to cool down, the sky dotted with stars and passing jets.
Gerry lit up a cigarette, handed it to his father.
“Take a puff before you have a stroke.”
Valentine took the cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.
“That girl in the psych ward really got you worked up, didn’t she?”
Valentine puffed on the cigarette. Talking to Karen Farmer had put him in a funk. She was a decent kid, yet somehow Bronco had corrupted her, her husband as well. It was the one part of this puzzle he didn’t get. Decent people didn’t become thieves at the drop of the hat. Yet, Karen had done it, and so had Lucy Price. He passed the cigarette back to his son.
“She sure did,” he said.
His cell phone vibrated. Caller ID said it was Bill.
“What’s up?” Valentine answered.
“We just tracked down Kyle Garrow,” Bill said.
“Let me guess. You put an illegal trace on his cell phone.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. Where is he?”
“Garrow’s at a strip club called The Pink Pony, waiting for the Asian to show up so he can do the exchange. One of my men is watching him.”
“You need to arrest him, Bill.”
“I can’t arrest him until the exchange goes down. Garrow hasn’t broken any laws.”
“Yes, he has. He lied to the cops about his whereabouts.”
“You want to arrest a lawyer for lying? That’s a good one.”
“I’m not auditioning for a comedy club. Garrow lied to buy time for Bronco. That makes him Bronco’s accomplice. You need to drag his sorry ass in.”
Arresting a lawyer was serious business, even if the lawyer was pond scum. Bill knew that as well as anyone, and said, “How about if I pick you up, and we arrest him together?”
“Now you’re talking,” Valentine said.
Kyle Garrow had been a dreamer and a schemer all his life. He envisioned himself a master criminal, but didn’t have the spine to really break the law. So he’d become a criminal defense attorney instead. By representing criminals, he stayed close to the action, and felt like he knew the score. He’d represented some of the worst scum bags society had to offer — bank robbers, jewel thieves, casino cheats — and learned something new from every one of them.
Take Bronco Marchese. Bronco had learned how to rip off slot machines from a GCB agent. The problem was, the secret was useless to Bronco. But Bronco was smart, and told Garrow to shop the secret around. There had to be someone out there who could use such a secret.
Garrow had put the word out, and within a few days, gotten a phone call. To his surprise, the call did not come from any of the known syndicates that bankrolled criminal enterprises. It came from a Triad boss in Macau.
The Triad boss had made Garrow a unique offer. His gang was running a devious Pai Gow scam in Macau’s casinos. The scam was foolproof, and the player always won. Was Garrow interested in trading Bronco’s slot scam for the Pai Gow scam? If so, the Triad Boss would send a man to do an exchange.
It had sounded like the kind of money-making opportunity that Garrow had been looking for. He had told the Triad boss yes, knowing that Bronco would agree. The Triad boss had said he’d send his man immediately.
Garrow had hung up the phone with dollar signs in his eyes. He had always been an opportunist, and he decided that he would turn the tables on Bronco the first opportunity he got, and go out on his own with the Pai Gow scam.
Garrow was feeling the champagne when Xing entered the strip club. Xing was a shade under six foot, thin as a rail, with dark bangs that hung lifelessly on his forehead. He wore a sullen expression on his unshaven face, and looked like a punk. Garrow waved him over to his table.
“Have a seat.”
Xing pulled up a chair. A topless waitress hit the table like a shark, and explained the two drink cover. Xing ordered a Heineken, while Garrow got another glass of bubbly. Xing gave him a hard look when she was gone.
“What’s wrong?” Garrow asked.
“You’re drunk,” Xing said.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
Xing grew silent. His face was a blank, and it was hard to get a read on him. They watched a couple of girls get naked on the stage beneath a strobe light. The waitress returned with their drinks. Xing asked her if they served food.
“What are you in the mood for?” she asked.
“Steak. Rare.”
“Coming right up.”