The policeman with the newspaper was still outside his room. His back was to Xing, and Xing walked in the opposite direction, and became lost in the swarm of people.
The east end of Fremont Street was covered by a giant metal canopy which was transformed into a Star Wars-like special effects show every half hour. The show was called the Fremont Street Experience, and as Xing passed beneath the canopy, a booming voice came over the Public Address system, and announced that the next show would begin in exactly two minutes.
The street quickly filled with people. There were lots of uniformed cops, no doubt for security, but they put Xing on edge. He ducked into a souvenir shop, and bought a pair of shades and a baseball cap. He appraised his disguise in a mirror, and decided it wasn’t enough. From the racks he grabbed a black leather jacket. On its back was printed Jesus Wasn’t Born in Las Vegas Because They Couldn’t Find a Virgin. He took another look at himself in the mirror, and decided he looked like every other misfit he’d seen walking around. He paid for the items and headed outside.
A laser light show had started, with booming music and lots of explosions. He checked the time. Over an hour had passed since he’d last spoken to Bronco. Bronco had sounded eager to do the exchange, and he wondered what the holdup was.
Xing walked around and tried to act like every other tourist. A few minutes later, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, and saw that it was Bronco.
“Yes?” he answered, having to shout over the music.
There was no one there. He wondered if the canopy was killing his connection, and started to walk to where the canopy ended. His phone vibrated again.
“Hello?”
Still nothing. He flipped the phone shut and continued to walk. Ten seconds later, his phone vibrated again. He was standing directly outside the Golden Nugget, one of the larger casinos on Fremont and one of the busiest. He tried again.
“Are you there?”
Xing felt the barrel of a gun being shoved into his back. He lowered the phone, and stared into the reflection in the glass windows of the Nugget. A man with a shaved hand stood behind him with a scowl on his face. A stocky Italian with eyes like black ice.
“Turn around. Do it slow,” Bronco whispered into his ear.
Xing obeyed. Bronco was holding a magazine in front of his chest, and had hidden his gun behind it. The idea that Bronco might shoot him right in the street was not far from Xing’s thoughts. Hadn’t he shot a man inside a casino?
“You set me up,” Bronco said. “There are cops all over your motel.”
“I just saw them myself,” Xing replied.
“Really. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I was waiting for you to call.”
“You’re a liar.”
“I had no reason to set you up.”
Xing waited. He was not going to beg for his life. To do that would have meant losing face, and he would rather have died than let that happen.
“Do you have the Pai Gow secret?”
Xing felt himself relax. They were back on even terms. He nodded, and they edged over to the curb to do the exchange. Despite all the people on the street, it was the perfect hiding place, Xing thought. Everyone sees us, yet no one sees us.
“You go first,” Xing said.
“My pleasure,” Bronco replied.
Xing took out his wallet, and removed a piece of tissue paper. He carefully unfolded the tissue to reveal a small black object that resembled a miniature toothbrush. He had found this miniature toothbrush inside Kyle Garrow’s wallet in Reno when he robbed him in the strip club, yet had no idea what it was.
“Guess you don’t know what this is,” Bronco said.
Xing shook his head. Had he known, he’d be back in China by now.
“Its called an EPROM chip,” Bronco explained. “With it, you can rig any slot machine made by a company called Universal. Universal slot machines are all over the world, so you shouldn’t have any problem finding them in China.”
“How does it work?”
“Put the EPROM chip into a laptop computer, and run a diagnostic test on the Universal machine’s RNG chip. When the test is done, you must play three coins, two coins, and one coin, and you’ll win a jackpot. Got it?”
Xing repeated the instructions and saw Bronco nod.
“You’re all set. Now tell me the Pai Gow secret.”
The pair of Pai Gow dominos were resting in the breast pocket of Xing’s shirt. He handed them to Bronco, happy to be rid of something that he had no use for. Bronco still held the gun hidden beneath the magazine. With his free hand, he held the dominos up to the glaring overhead strobe lights.
“Tell me.”
“Red not black,” Xing said.
Bronco looked confused. He held the dominos at a different angle. Then, his face lit up. “Isn’t that beautiful. They’re made out of red plastic instead of black. The red’s so dark, you can’t tell the difference. Are all of them like this?”
All the dominos being used in American casinos were being manufactured at a plant in China. Whatever had been done to this pair, was true with them all.
“Yes. They’re all the same,” Xing said.
“Do you understand how this works?”
“No. My boss did not explain the scam to me.”
“Red plastic can be penetrated by an infra-red lens. With a special pair of glasses, I can see through these dominos, and know what the dealer has. You just made me a very rich man.”
Bronco patted Xing on the shoulder and started to smile. Suddenly, his scowl returned. Xing followed his gaze, and saw the manager of the motel where he was staying leading a group of policemen down the middle of Fremont Street. The manger was pointing at young men the same age as Xing, and the policeman were grabbing the men, and showing them to the manager, who kept shaking his head. Then, Xing saw the manager point directly at him.
“Run,” Xing said.
Xing stepped off the curb, then felt his legs stop moving. His stomach was burning, and he placed his hand inside his leather jacket, came away with blood. He looked over his shoulder; Bronco had disappeared into the crowd.
Xing fell to his knees as the policeman swarmed around him. The noise went away, and the world grew still. The reality of what had happened was slow to sink in. Bronco had shot him in the back so he could get away, and save himself.
And I just made him a rich man, Xing thought.
Chapter 54
Everybody died differently. Valentine had learned that the hard way as a cop. He’d seen plenty of people pass on to the great craps game in the sky, and each departure was a little different and carried some signature of that person’s time here on earth.
The Asian with the bullet in his back died with a thin smile on his face. Valentine had gotten to him first, and had knelt down, and pulled the Asian’s head into his lap. Even though he didn’t know the guy from Adam, he thought it was the least he could do.
“Bronco’s getting away,” Gerry said, sounding panicked.
“Let the cops run him down,” Valentine said.
“But Pop—
“He’s got a gun, Gerry. Stay here.”
His son reluctantly agreed. Valentine gazed down into the Asian’s face. He tried to remember the guy’s name? Was it Xing or Zing or Bling? He couldn’t recall. He looked like a decent enough sort, but most people did when they died, all the bad things they’d done seemed to seep out of them, and just the core remained, until that too was gone. The Asian’s eyes fluttered and his smile grew. What was that about?
“Anything I can do?” Valentine asked.
The Asian shook his head, and then he was no more.
One of the cops got a blanket from inside the Nugget, and laid it over the dead man’s body. Valentine stood up and crossed himself. Then he grabbed Gerry and went looking for Bill, who was handling the search for Bronco on Fremont Street. They’d caught a glimpse of their fugitive as he’d run away; he had disguised himself by shaving his head, and would not be hard to pick out of a crowd.