It was the stupidest damn thing, but Valentine found himself feeling proud of Wily. He’d smartened up, something chumps rarely did. So Valentine lied and said, “Heard about it, but never seen it.”
“No kidding.” Nick looked at Wily. “If the past-posting is hidden from the camera, how we going to nail them?”
“Was hidden,” Wily informed him.
“Let me guess,” Nick said. “You sent someone down to the floor with a video cam, and captured the whole thing.”
Wily smiled. “Yes, sir. I was thinking of letting the woman leave and having her followed. Who knows. Maybe she’ll lead us to Fontaine.”
Nick beamed at him. “Good thinking. Tony, the kid’s sharp, isn’t he?”
A few years ago, Valentine had likened Wily to a dog trying to walk on its hind legs. No more. “Real sharp,” he said.
Nick slung his arm around Wily’s shoulder. Then he led Wily across the room to a secluded corner and broke the bad news to him. Wily had worked for Nick for seventeen years, which was a lifetime by Las Vegas standards, and Valentine watched Wily’s face change as Nick explained that the Acropolis was doomed. Wily kept trying to interject, but Nick wouldn’t let him. It was over.
By the time Nick was finished, the head of security was weeping.
At a quarter of four, the thirty people responsible for destroying Nick’s empire began to file into the basement meeting room of the Acropolis.
Valentine watched them on the video monitors. The new hires were laughing and joking, unaware they were about to be busted. Nick appeared by his side, chewing a handful of Tums and gulping down water.
“Fucking rats,” Nick said. “I wish this was thirty years ago.”
“Why’s that?”
“In the old days, casinos shot cheaters in the head and buried them in the desert.”
Valentine glanced at him. “You ever do that?”
“Who cares?”
“I like to know who I’m working for.”
“No. I just had their legs broken.”
“That was civil of you.”
“Didn’t have a choice. There were no surveillance cameras back then. Sometimes you could snap a picture from the catwalk, but it was hard. Usually, it was your word against theirs in court. Juries didn’t buy it, and the cheaters walked.”
“So you broke their legs to keep them away.”
“Just one leg.”
“Why only one?”
“I didn’t want them becoming cripples. A guy with a cane can get around, find a job, lead a normal life. I’ve got principles, you know?”
Valentine’s eyes returned to the monitor. Wily was in the basement, standing directly in the camera’s eye. When all the new hires were present, he would stick a pen behind his ear. That was the signal for Nick to come down without Wily calling him and arousing suspicion.
“How much security is down there?” Valentine asked.
“Twenty of my best guys.”
“Remember those martial arts creeps Fontaine sprang on you last time?”
Nick called downstairs and doubled security outside the meeting room. Hanging up, he said, “If they start to tango, you want a piece of one?”
Valentine looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Me?”
“Yeah. Weren’t you a judo champion? The TV movie said you were.”
“About a hundred years ago.”
“Come on, you’re not afraid of these young punks, are you?”
Nick was putting on a brave face, and Valentine tried to think of something to say. He almost told Nick the truth, which was that if you lived long enough, all good things in your life came to an end. On the monitor, he saw Wily stick a pen behind his ear. Nick saw it as well, and hurried from the room.
Five minutes later, Nick and forty security guards rushed into the basement meeting room and announced that the new hires were being held on suspicion of cheating the house.
Valentine was the last through the door. He saw several females start to weep. Other employees lay on the floor and covered their heads with their arms, a sure sign they’d been busted before. A small group of male employees decided to put up a fight and cleared away the folding chairs in the room’s center.
Twenty security guards surrounded them, then charged in. They used billy clubs and their hands, and were not gentle. Nick immediately jumped into the melee and began swinging his arms. He was a lousy fighter, but every tenth punch caught an unsuspecting chin and sent someone to the floor. Seeing Valentine, he yelled, “Are we having fun yet?”
It looked like fun, only Valentine was in no mood for it. His mind had locked on Gerry. He needed to find him before the FBI made the connection between his son and the gym bag. He wanted to help Gerry decide his best course of action. Maybe it was hiring a good lawyer; or perhaps he needed to turn himself in. Either way, he wanted to be there, and help him decide.
He spied a familiar-looking guy crawling across the floor. It was Albert Moss, the rat in finance who’d cooked the books. He stood in front of the exit, blocking Moss’s escape. Moss rose from the floor.
“Get out of my way, “ the crooked accountant said.
“No.”
Moss tried to take his head off with a punch. Valentine ducked the blow, then grabbed Moss’s arm and in one practiced motion flipped him over his shoulder, then slammed his body onto the concrete floor.
Moss lay on his back without moving. Valentine sat on his chest and saw Moss’s eyes pop open. He looked older than his photo, with thin, purplish lips and short curly hair more appropriate for another part of his body.
“I can’t breathe,” Moss gasped.
“I’ll let you up, if you tell me one thing.”
“What...”
“We’ve figured out all the scams you’ve got going, except the slot machines. I want to know how you’re ripping them off.”
Moss’s eyes narrowed. “You’re... Valentine.”
“No, I’m Bozo the fucking clown.”
“Frank didn’t tell me everything,” Moss whispered.
“You must have some idea.”
“Frank said the slot scam at the Stardust inspired him.”
The Stardust slot scam had happened in 1980 and was the stuff of legend. Fourteen million in quarters had disappeared from the casino, and no one knew how. Valentine guessed Moss knew more than he was letting on.
“You’re lying.”
“I swear, I don’t know.”
“Where’s Fontaine hiding out? ”
“I’ll tell you,” Moss said. “But you’ve got to let me up.”
Moss’s face was turning blue. Valentine pushed himself off his chest. The rest of the employees were standing against the wall, having their rights explained to them. It wouldn’t be long before they would be cutting deals and ratting each other out.
He watched Moss get up. His head left a pancake-sized bloodstain on the floor, and Valentine winced. He’d never believed in hurting people for the sake of inflicting pain, and wondered if he’d cracked Moss’s skull open.
“You want to know where Fontaine is?” Moss asked.
Valentine lifted his gaze. Moss was standing next to him, and had a small knife gripped in his hand. Drawn from his sock, he guessed.
“Frank’s with your girlfriend,” Moss said, slicing his face open.
28
Gerry watched the sun set from the Red Roost Inn’s parking lot while trying to decide what to do.
The sun had bled through the sky as it dropped behind the mountains. His old man had gotten him in the habit of catching sunsets whenever he could. His father hadn’t used to care about that kind of stuff, but becoming a widower had changed him. He savored things now that he’d never paid attention to before.