"It wasn't a bluff."
# # #
"No way."
"Isaiah—"
"No way. He's a civilian."
"So what? He knows how to drive, doesn't he? We aren't asking him to do hostage control."
"And you've known him how long?"
"I met him when I lived in Charleston. Six months."
"You gotta be kidding me. What's he doing in Vegas?"
"He lost his family recently. He's suicidal. Nothing to live for."
"These are selling points?"
"You want this money or not, Isaiah? How many shots come along in your lifetime to make a score like this?" Finally, a pause. She could almost hear the gears turning. Said, "It's 1:44, Isaiah. Someone's coming through that door any minute now, and you know it."
"Bringing somebody in I never worked with, never heard of, this late in the game, this big of a job. No scanners, no radio. We'll be blind."
"What other options do we have? It's this or walk away right now."
"You right. You right."
"So you want to walk away? Pack up all your toys and go home?"
Silence.
She said, "Am I sitting tight or coming back down?"
# # #
At 1:57 a.m., she heard the electronic chiming of the door's locking mechanism.
Her legs had gone numb ten minutes ago, a pins-and-needles sensation sparkling from her hips down to her toes.
The discomfort vanished.
The lights flicked on.
Letty cracked the cabinet door open just a sliver.
A suited man with a shaved head and neatly-trimmed goatee had entered. He was built like a vending machine. Carried a MAC-10 with a long magazine and suppressor, the machine pistol dangling from a shoulder strap.
He glanced into the powder room, the massage room.
Walked past the dining table, then turned, moving toward Letty's cabinet.
She let her door close fully.
Listening as his wing-tips sunk in the plush carpet, his wool pants swishing.
She caught a whiff of overbearing cologne.
Finally dared to breathe again when his footsteps trailed off toward the bedroom. She lifted her phone, banged out a text to Isaiah as the man's footfalls echoed off the marble in the bathroom.
1 man just entered
doing walk through
Isaiah responded in her headset. "Copy that. Just be cool."
The man emerged from the bedroom and walked into the living room. He lifted the shoulder strap over his head and set the machine pistol on the glass-topped coffee table. Tugged a small radio from an inner pocket in his jacket, said, "Clear."
Thirty seconds later, that electronic chiming repeated.
There was enough noise as the men entered for Letty to whisper into her microphone.
"Ize, can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear."
She whispered, "Three, make that four men have just entered."
"In addition to the first guy?"
"Yeah. Five total. All armed. Shotguns. Machineguns. Pistols. And still more are coming. A whole line of them."
"All muscle?"
"No, they're pushing carts."
"What's on the carts?"
"Cages. Covered in wire mesh."
"Our money?"
She liked the sound of that.
Said, "Oh my God."
"What?"
"I've just never seen so much. That makes six. Six carts they rolled in here."
"Is it our money?"
"Oh yeah. And there's a shit-ton of it. Two more guards have entered."
"Seven total?"
"You guys can handle seven, right?"
The cart-pushers departed, leaving the half-dozen carts grouped near the dining area.
The front door closed.
A man armed with a subcompact Glock took a post by the entrance.
The other six retired to sofas in the living room.
One of them spoke into a radio, "We're in, locked down, all secure."
Letty whispered, "They're getting settled. One man is standing by the door, the other six are in the living area. Wait."
One of the men stood. He moved over to the carts, and on top of one of them, placed a small device mounted to a tripod. It began to revolve slowly.
"What's happening?" Isaiah asked.
"Not sure yet. Stand by."
The man pressed a button on the device, said into his radio, "Visual installed. Confirm."
As he returned to the sofa, Letty said, "They set up a camera. It turns, takes in the entire room."
"It's okay. We planned for this contingency."
"So what happens now?"
"Sit tight."
The radio silence unnerved her. The pain in her legs was back with a vengeance. Through the crack between the door and the cabinet, she watched the guards.
Everyone black-suited. None younger than thirty, none older than forty-five.
Each exuding his own special brand of ex-military, fucked-by-life hardness.
Two of the men chatted about an upcoming fight at Caesar's.
One just stared.
Another took laps around the room.
She startled when Isaiah came through her earpiece.
He said, "Report."
"One guard is still by the door. Five seated in the living area. One on his feet near the TV."
"Have they been making regular trips into the bedroom or bathroom?"
"Just once."
"Are the curtains still drawn?"
"Yes."
"Perfect. How you feeling?"
"Scared."
"It's show time."
"Even with the camera rolling?"
"Yes. When I say 'go', I want you to climb out of the cabinet. Let them see you. Distract them. Engage them. Just don't get yourself shot."
"How much time do you need?"
"Ten, maybe fifteen seconds."
Her heart rate tripled.
She began to perspire.
Heard Isaiah say, "Stu? Jerrod? Ten seconds." And then, "Letisha?"
"Yes."
"You got your head on straight for this?"
"Absolutely."
"Because the next hour is going to take a few years off your life."
"I'll bill you for the Botox."
There was a four-second pause, and then Isaiah said, "Go."
17
Letty tugged down her Barbie Halloween mask.
Her iPhone lit up with a text as she reached for the door.
Christian: never in my life felt so alive thank you
She nudged the door open and crawled out of the cabinet onto the carpet.
No one saw her.
She slipped out of sight behind the bar, made herself take three deep breaths, flooding her lungs with oxygen.
She tried to stand but her legs were still numb. Frantically, she squeezed her calves. The tingling burn of sensation roared back.
Up onto her feet.
Got her elbows on the granite bar.
For what seemed ages, nothing happened.
She couldn't see the guard by the entrance, but the six men in the living room carried on just as before.
She opened her mouth.
The words fell out.
"What a sausage fest. Could I get any of you gentlemen a drink?"
The air went out of the room.
Six heads turning.
The seventh guard stepping out from the entranceway with an expression of pure disbelief spreading across his face.
Three men were already on their feet, reaching for weapons, the others rising.
Someone said, "How the hell—"
Letty said, "I sort of come with the room."
The tallest, oldest of the bunch stepped forward and trained his Glock on the center of her chest.
Thank God—he was blocking the camera from seeing her.
He said, "How did you get into this room?"
"Did you not just hear me?"
"You have no idea the world of shit you have just brought down on yourself."
Letty smiled through the mask, making sure to keep her hands visible and still.
"Worlds of shit are all I know, dude."