Joe was now moving impatiently around his den as these thoughts consumed him. He was waiting for a phone call from San Francisco. His mind played across the facts once more, searching for a plausible explanation he might have missed: He knew for sure that Tommy had taken the money from the bank in Nassau. What possible reason could Tommy have for stealing five million dollars? Why would he do that? If he needed money, Joe would give it to him. No matter from which angle he surveyed the question, there seemed to be no answer except one: Tommy must have done it to show disrespect. Tommy had broken their bond of faith, and that fact tortured Joe. He could not excise it from his mind. It seared the edges of every other thought.
Then the phone rang and he snapped it up. "Yeah?"
A voice he knew well said, "You get the info?"
"He's landing at San Francisco at ten. They're using Pacific Aviation. Let me know."
"Done," the voice said and then they both disconnected, providing very little, if any, information to a potential government phone tap on Joe's house.
The man he had just talked to was named Reo Wells. He was not a made guy, but an independent contractor that Joe used when he had to do sanctions outside the family. Reo was government trained, a Delta Force commando, who had once done unauthorized wet-work for the CIA.
Joe paced in the den for several more minutes. The sun was down now and he had not turned on the lights. He couldn't seem to control his emotions. Anger swelled. He couldn't just stay caged up here and do nothing… He snatched up the phone and dialed an air charter service and booked a private jet to San Francisco.
"The Hurrah," Beano explained to Victoria, "is that point in the confidence game where the mark has completely committed himself. From this point forward there's no way he's going to pull out. He's got the bit in his teeth. He can smell the gold."
They were driving to the Penn Mutual Building two blocks east of Market Street, where Paper Collar John had dressed the top three floors to be the Fentress County Petroleum and Gas Big Store. Beano parked in the parking garage next door; then he and Victoria rang the security buzzer out front. She looked around, sure there would be a government sedan with two buzz-cuts somewhere nearby watching, but she saw nothing. After a few minutes, an aging security guard came down from the mezzanine. They showed their driver's licenses through the thick glass door and the guard found their names on a list John had left; then he let them in.
"Lotta people up there. You havin' some kinda do?" he asked.
"Yep," Beano said nonchalantly. "It's some kinda 'do,' all right." They left the guard and took the elevator up to the twenty-fifth floor.
When they walked out, there were fifty members of the Bates family standing around, or sitting on desks or in chairs. A few were sitting on the floor. They were all dressed about the same, mostly jeans and T-shirts. When Beano walked into the room they started to applaud. He was their famous cousin and the acknowledged best sharper in the game. He was the only member of the Bates family to ever be known as "King Con."
The top floor of the office building, which would serve as the Fentress County executive floor, was magnificent. John had really done his job in the last three days. Rented antique furniture, computers, and beautiful statues on pedestals dominated the carpeted floor. The blond, matched ashwood walls were now decorated with beautiful paintings in gold leaf frames. This was a setting that reeked of class, money, and success.
Steve Bates came up and shook Beano's hand. "John had everybody put on name tags 'cause I figured you ain't met some of these family members," he said.
Beano smiled and nodded. "That's great," he said. "Where's John?"
"Don't know," Steve said. "He was supposed to be here, but we should get started. He'll show up."
Victoria wondered if the FBI Agents might have broken their promise and picked up John, but why would they? It would ruin everything. She'd given Gil her word, which was her bond… and then she remembered that Gil's word was worth almost nothing.
Beano stood in front of the group. "I'm Beano," he announced unnecessarily, as they all nodded and grinned. They'd seen him on America's Most Wanted.
"Thanks for being part of this Big Store," he began. "The mark, as I'm sure John has told you, is Tommy Rina. But there's something that he probably hasn't told you." He paused to make his point. "Tommy is, in my opinion, certifiably insane, a homicidal maniac who can't control his temper. When he loses it, you can't steer him. He's an unguided missile. If he comes through hot, he'll shoot up the place. You should all know this, and if anybody wants out, now's the time, no hard feelings."
They all looked down, shook their heads, and waited for him to go on.
"Whatever we take from him, we split evenly."
An old man named Theodore X. Bates, from San Francisco, stood up. He was handsome, with a closely trimmed white beard and full white hair. "That's real nice, cousin Beano, but Carol was our family. We talked it over 'fore you got here, and we don't want no money. We're doin' this for her, same as you. Don't seem right to take money for it." They all murmured their assent.
Beano took a moment with that, and then he nodded. "Thank you, that really means a lot," he said, looking out at them. "Okay… here's how we're gonna run the bubble." Then he told them about the sting, explaining in detail what they were supposed to do and how they should act. He showed them a computer disk that Victoria had programmed, which would replicate the falling stock price of Fentress County Petroleum and could be interfaced with the on-line Quotron business report, which ran the real New York ticker at the bottom of the screen. "Remember, those of you who haven't played inside on a Big Store, the idea here is this has to be so realistic and so flawless that it would never even occur to the mark that what's going on here is not real. Never for a moment come out of character, no matter what happens."
They nodded and murmured and fell silent as Beano continued: "This Big Store con we're running is a variation on 'The Magic Wallet.' It was originally developed by a sharper named William Elmer Mead at the turn of the century, but it works just as good today. It basically gets the mark to invest in a dying company to save it. His magic wallet will buy the failing company at the last minute and make him rich. We have to convince Tommy that Fentress County Petroleum is on its last legs, that the float on the stock is so thin that his five million could control a hundred-million-dollar company." They nodded. "This isn't like running a short con. On this we have to be ready to move in any direction to head off the mark's questions. He's gonna be nervous about laying out five million dollars. He may even bring an accountant or attorney. He may get balky at the last minute. If that happens, I have a stall and a red ink close-out set up. We're gonna do the play-off somewhere else. The play-off is against the wall."
"Isn't that kinda dangerous, cousin Beano?" Theodore Bates asked.
"Yeah, but it's the only way that Tommy is gonna get the message. We gotta take him right to the edge. That means we gotta go to the edge with him." He looked at them and smiled. "Okay, now here's the gaff: Fentress County is a watered-down company that we actually own. It's listed on the Vancouver Stock Exchange. It hasn't been traded much in years, except for stock swaps John and I make twice a month to keep the stock active. Tomorrow the price is going to drop, courtesy of Victoria's disk." He held it up. "This will show that Fentress County Petroleum stock is falling out of bed. It's about to go bankrupt. You're all about to lose your jobs. You all have to play the situation, lots of nervous activity, strained looks, hopelessness. This is the Titanic, and we're sinking, okay?" He looked at them and they nodded. "Who has John picked to be the point-outs?"