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.
“Sure am,” he said.
“Glad somebody is,” he said, and laughed again.
Bill made Bronco drop his arms, and began to cuff him. Bronco glanced at the cashier, who was watching, her eyes aglow.
“Nice talking to you, sweetheart.”
Valentine looked at his watch. It was exactly three. His eyes shifted to the casino, ready to see how many video poker machines lit up, and showed a million dollar jackpot. He wondered how Smoltz planned to deal with this disaster. The casinos couldn’t pay off that many jackpots without bankrupting themselves. But if the casinos didn’t pay off, no one would ever gamble in Las Vegas again.
A few seconds later, he got his answer.
Chapter 59
The lights inside the MGM flickered, then went out all together, throwing the interior into darkness. The casino had no windows, and the blackness was like being inside a cave. A roar of panic came from the startled patrons.
“Son of a bitch,” Bill shouted.
“What’s going on?” Valentine said.
“Smoltz!
It took a moment for Valentine to understand what Bill was saying. Rather than allow a quarter of Vegas’s video poker machines to register jackpots and potentially bankrupt the casinos, Smoltz had killed the power throughout the city.
Bill let out a startled yell. Then a gun went off, the sound ripping across the casino. Valentine hit the floor, and covered his head with his hands. Self-preservation had been the first thing he’d learned as a cop, and he rolled across the floor until he hit the wall where the cage was, and stayed there.
“Gerry — you okay?”
“Yeah, Pop.”
“Bill — how about you?”
Bill did not reply. Valentine preyed his friend was not hurt. On the other side of the casino came the sounds of people screaming, as well as chairs and tables being broken. Were people destroying the place out of anger, or just trying to escape?
Valentine felt the toe of a man’s shoe catch him squarely in the face. He tasted his own blood and the world began to spin. The shoe kicked him again, this time in the forehead, and his head snapped back, and hit the wall. An ugly laugh accompanied the kick.
“Hey Valentine,” Bronco said. “Guess who’s gun I’ve got?”
Valentine lay perfectly still, and tried to determine where Bronco was standing. If he could just grab his leg…
“Want me to shoot you?” Bronco asked.
Valentine hesitated, then said, “Not really.”
Another laugh. “You’re a funny guy. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Your brother-in-law Sal was on the take. He tried to squeeze me, so my boys and I killed him. He was dirty.”
Valentine felt the anger rise in his throat. Sal was like most cops, and had lived close to the poverty line. He couldn’t have been taking bribes.
Gerry started to say something. Valentine kicked him before the words tumbled out of his mouth, and his son fell silent.
“Sal got what he deserved,” Bronco said, his voice moving away. “I’ll send you a postcard when I get settled. See you around.”