“The right Reverend Rock.”
“What you smoking? It’s making you talk crazy.”
“Hear me out. Rock’s a drug dealer, and he’s using the casino to launder drug money. If Rock gets scammed while he’s here, he can’t call the police and file a report. Rock’s money is ours-he’s just holding it for us. It’s a perfect job.”
“Maybe for you it is,” Ike said. “If me and T get involved, we’d have to go into hiding, get new identities, the whole shebang. Rock has a long memory.”
“So what if you go into hiding? The way I see it, you guys have a problem. You’re too big to be thieves. Wherever you go, you stand out. That’s hard when you’re a thief. Look at me-I’m five eight and weigh a hundred sixty pounds. Stick a baseball cap on my head, and I look like your average schmuck.”
“You don’t look average,” Ike said.
T-Bird had pulled his chair closer to his partner. In the reflection in the mirror on the other side of the suite, Billy saw the bird man foot-tapping Ike on the leg the way cheating couples did at bridge, as if to say, Listen to the man.
“There’s another problem-you’re also famous,” he said. “You played football for the Steelers, won a Super Bowl, your faces televised to a billion people during the game. How many times do you get recognized? I bet it’s a lot.”
“Guy recognized us tonight,” T-Bird said.
“There you go. You’re not cut out to be thieves. You need to make one big score and vanish into the wind.” He paused to let the idea set in. “So what do you say? Do you want in?”
T-Bird gave his partner another foot-tap. Ike scratched his chin, thinking.
“All depends on what our take is,” Ike said.
“Twenty-five percent.”
“Twenty-five percent of what?”
“Twenty-five percent of whatever was in the bag Rock passed through the cage last night. It looked like six million. Twenty-five percent would be one point five million. That’s your take.”
“Try eight million,” Ike said. “That’s what gets laundered each week.”
“All right, then your take would be two million. That’s enough to spend the rest of your life eating cheeseburgers in paradise, don’t you think?”
“That’s a nice number,” Ike said. “We could live off that. Couldn’t we, T?”
“Fat and happy,” T-Bird said.
The vibes coming off the punishers were of the feel-good quality. Billy had planted the seed; now he needed to make it grow.
“On Saturday afternoon, the Gypsies are going to scam Galaxy’s casino, and Doucette is counting on me to stop them. If I tell Doucette that the scam’s going to happen in front of the craps pit, he’ll send every security guard to the craps pit. You couldn’t ask for better shade to make a run at the cage.”
“Shade?” Ike asked.
“Distraction. Every hustler uses it. By the time Doucette realizes Rock’s eight million is missing, you two gentlemen will be gone.”
“Are you talking about a heist with guns?”
“Hardly. I’m talking a scam. The cashier will hand T-Bird eight million in laundered money, and T-Bird will waltz out the front door. Does that sound like fun to you?”
“I dig the way you describe things,” Ike said. “But it won’t be cash. It will be eight million in money orders. Doucette uses a chain of check-cashing stores in town to launder the money.”
“Can the money orders be traced?” Billy asked.
“Nope. Each money order is for ten grand. Rock comes to the casino with two big leather briefcases, and he leaves with a small one.”
“That will make your job even easier. This is going to be a piece of cake.”
“Keep talking,” Ike said.
It was time for the reveal. From his pocket, Billy removed the souvenir key chain with the rubber casino chip he’d purchased at Galaxy’s gift shop, and let it dangle on his finger.
“See this hundred-thousand-dollar gold chip? I bought it in the hotel gift shop. It’s the key to the kingdom. We’re going to get rich off this.”
T-Bird jumped out of his chair. “Are you fucking kidding? That thing’s rubber. No one’s gonna be fooled by that.”
“Sit down, and let him talk,” Ike said, knowing there was more.
T-Bird dumped his body back in his chair and folded his massive arms.
“You’re right, it is made of rubber,” Billy said. “Now, look at the color. It’s the same color as the hundred-thousand-dollar gold chip in the casino. The exact same color.”
T-Bird started to protest. Ike silenced him with an elbow to the ribs.
“What’s the one thing the casinos are most afraid of?” Billy went on. “Counterfeit chips. A talented forger can wipe a casino out. To stop this from happening, the casinos employ different measures to stop forgers. The two measures that have worked best are RFID microchips and using special colors that can’t be duplicated. You with me so far?”
“Yeah,” the bird man grunted.
“Galaxy doesn’t use RFID microchips, so that just leaves the special colors. And Doucette let a promotional company have the formula to make this rubber chip. I’ll get the paint from them, give it to a forger that works for me, and he’ll counterfeit gold chips. Get it?”
Ike nodded approvingly; he was on board. T-Bird still needed convincing.
“Passing counterfeit chips inside a casino has a name,” Billy said. “It’s called making a run at the cage. It’s a difficult scam to pull off. You’ve got to fool the cashier, the cage manager, and the eye-in-the-sky. If any of those folks think you’re trying to pass bogus chips, they’ll hit an alarm, and you’ll get busted.”
“This sounds hard,” T-Bird said.
“It won’t be when we do it. In fact, it’s going to be a piece of cake.”
“Why’s that?”
He’d already told them the answer, only T-Bird was brain dead and had forgotten. Ike’s brain was still working, and he slapped the table with his enormous palm.
“We’re going to make a run at the cage while the Gypsies are pulling their scam,” Ike said. “You understand what the man is saying? We’re going to pull a scam while another scam is going down. Security will be dealing with the Gypsies, while we’re ripping the joint off. Douche bag won’t know what hit him.”
T-Bird had a funny look on his face. Rising from the table, he pointed at the door to the master bedroom. “In there,” he said, and walked into the other room.
Ike rose as well. “Be right back.”
The bedroom door closed, and they started to argue like a married couple having a spat. For a couple of ex-jocks about to run out of road, it was the deal of a lifetime, and he wondered what the problem was. At the end of the day, it really didn’t matter. Ike was the brains of the duo, and T-Bird would eventually agree to what Ike wanted, because that was how it worked.
The Nike duffel bag sat on the floor. It had been eating him to know what they’d stolen from his condo. The zipper made a harsh sound as he tugged it open. The bag was filled with the money from his wall safe-no surprise there. In the side pockets they’d stuffed watches, jewelry, and fancy cigarette lighters.
He took everything back. The pieces that didn’t fit in his pockets went into drawers at the bar. He also helped himself to the money, and left twenty grand. That was the amount they’d agreed to, and he was not going back on his word.
Harsh words floated out of the bedroom. He went to the couch, flipped on the TV, and stared at images that made no sense. Sleep was calling to him. It had been a long fucking day, and he needed to recharge his batteries for tomorrow, which promised to be an equally long fucking day. He still had to find the Gypsies, and that was no small order.
The punishers came out of the bedroom and stood in front of the couch, blocking the TV.
“We got a question,” Ike said. “How do we know you won’t rob us and take all the money come Saturday? What’s to stop that from happening?”