“Smoltz tell you what he’s going to do?” Bill asked.
“No,” Valentine asked.
“Guess we’ll find out at three o’clock.”
“Guess so.”
“What are we standing here for?” Gerry said impatiently. “Let’s go find Bronco.”
“He’s long gone Gerry,” Valentine said. “Let it go.”
“Like hell he is,” his son replied matter-of-factly. “Bronco’s in a casino, trying out the Pai Gow scam.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s got a new toy, and he wants to play with it.”
“You think so?”
“Damn straight,” he son said. “He threw on a disguise, drove to the other side of town, and went into a casino where he knew they had Pai Gow. Trust me. He’s ripping someone off right now.”
“Then he shouldn’t be too hard to find.” Bill said, punching numbers into his cell phone. “I’ll alert the SIN network that a white male is cheating at a Pai Gow game, and ask them to alert the casinos. Since most people who play Pai Gow are Asian, Bronco will stick out like a sore thumb if your theory is true.”
“It isn’t a theory,” Gerry said. “Just wait.”
Ten minutes later, Bill got a call back. A white male playing Pai Gow at the MGM Grand had taken the casino for twenty-five grand in less than an hour. A surveillance photo of the player appeared on the screen of Bill’s cell phone.
“You think this is him?” Bill asked.
Valentine took the phone out of Bill’s hand and had a look. The player in question wore a baseball cap and tinted sunglasses. Most of his face was hidden, and Valentine couldn’t be sure if it was Bronco or not. But the shades bothered him. Only poker players wore shades in a casino, or cheaters using infra-red marks to beat the house. Maybe that was the secret of the Pai Gow scam.
He showed the photo to Gerry. “What do you think?”
“That’s him,” Gerry said after a pause.
“You sure?”
“Positive. Look how he cups his hands. He did that in the car in Reno.”
“Hell,” Bill said, “he’s right across the street.”
The MGM’s sparkling emerald green buildings were visible from where they stood. Valentine felt a tinge of excitement knowing that Bronco was so close. He listened as Bill called the MGM’s head of security and ordered him to put guards at every exit.
“I’ve got my job until tomorrow,” Bill said, ending the call. “Maybe I can end it on a high note.”
Gerry ran over to an airport employee driving a luggage cart, and talked him into giving the cart up. Jumping behind the wheel, Gerry drove over to where they stood, and Bill and Valentine hopped in.
“What did you tell that guy?” Valentine asked.
“Don’t ask,” his son said.
Chapter 58
They pulled into the MGM at five minutes till three. The front entrance looked like a parking lot, and Gerry drove the luggage cart on the sidewalk and braked by the front door. He threw the keys to a bewildered valet, and they hurried inside.
The casino’s head of security waited in the lobby. His name was Richard Goldman, and he wore a designer blue power suit that was the trademark of his position. On the giant screens behind the check in area, a troupe of Chinese acrobats that were appearing in the hotel’s theater did gravity-defying somersaults through the air.
“I’ve got a guard covering each exit,” Goldman said as he led them through the packed casino. “I would have used more, only there are so many players in the casino, I needed the others for crowd control.”
The MGM’s casino was over three football fields in length. It had more video poker games than any other casino in town, and players were lined up to play them. It was a madhouse, and Goldman pushed his way through with a walkie-talkie to his ear.
“He’s still there? Good. We’re coming.”
Valentine glanced at his son. Gerry was gritting his teeth.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Valentine told him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
They reached the area of the casinos devoted to Pai Gow. The tables had pretty Asian girls dealing the games, and Asian pit bosses watching the action. The players, all Asian males with excited looks on their faces, were drinking imported beer and talking excitedly amongst themselves, oblivious to the chaos taking place around them. As Valentine neared the table, he spotted an empty spot with a gigantic stack of chips. He motioned to the pit boss..
“Whose sitting here?”
“Some guy wearing a baseball cap. He’s taking a leak,” the pit boss said.
“Is he winning a lot?”
“He hasn’t lost.”
“You need to shut down this table.”
The pit boss acted shocked, and looked to Goldman for help.
“Do as the man says,” Goldman said.
To the anger of the Asian gamblers at the table, the game was shut down. The gamblers left, and the dealer went on break, leaving the pit boss to watch Bronco’s winnings.
“When our friend comes back, tell him the game was shut down,” Valentine told the pit boss. “If he beefs, offer to give him a free meal voucher.”
“Whatever you say,” the pit boss said.
“What are you doing?” Bill wanted to know.
“I don’t want to arrest Bronco on the floor,” Valentine said. “ Better to let him take his winnings to the cage. Then we’ll get him.”
“Good idea.”
They moved behind a bank of slot machines. From their vantage point, they had a clear view of the Men’s Room. Valentine’s palms were sweating, and his mouth had turned dry. He’d never hunted, and wondered if this was what a hunter felt when their prey was in range, ready to be taken down. He checked the time. In two minutes, the ball was going to drop. They needed to catch Bronco before that happened.
“Here he comes,” his son said.
Bronco sauntered out of the Men’s Room and approach the Pai Gow table he’d been playing at. Valentine had always wondered how Bronco had managed to slip through the hands of the law so many times. Watching him cross the casino, he saw the slow, unsteady walk of a gambler who’d had too much to drink. It was an act, and he realized then Bronco’s great secret. Bronco was a chameleon who could play any role.
Bronco came to the empty table and halted. A strange look registered across his face. He knew something wasn’t right. He had a short conversation with the pit boss. Scooping up his chips, he began to slip them into his pockets. He took his time and stayed in character, a real pro. Then he headed across the floor to the cage, continuing his impersonation of a tipsy tourist. His shirt was pulled out, and Valentine guessed he had a gun tucked in his waistband.
Reaching the cage, Bronco began sliding his chips through the bars to the female cashier. She had big hair and an easy smile, and was talking a mile-a-minute. It was the best distraction they could ask for.
They moved in fast; Bill to Bronco’s right, Valentine and Gerry to his left. Bronco was leaning on the cage’s marble counter, yukking it up with the cashier. He looked surprised when they sandwiched him in.
“Freeze.” Bill had his weapon drawn, and pointed it at his suspect’s chest. “Put your hands behind your head, and keep them there.”
Bronco dutifully raised his arms into the air. Bill reached beneath Bronco’s shirt, and removed the gun from where Valentine had guessed it would be.
Bronco seemed resigned to his fate. He looked at Valentine and laughed.
“How long you been chasing me?”
“Twenty-five years,” Valentine replied.
“That’s a long time. You happy, now?”
Catching crooks had never made Valentine happy. It was about as much fun as cleaning septic tanks, which had been his first job before becoming a policeman. But, this was different. This was for Sal.