“Billy’s going to kill us,” Cory swore, clutching the wheel. “He’s already pissed about the golf scam. If we don’t show on time, he’ll fire us for sure.”
“You really think he’d do that?” Morris said.
“Damn straight. He doesn’t put up with any crap.”
“Maybe we should stop smoking dope before jobs.”
“There’s a thought.”
The idea of no longer being a member of Billy’s crew terrified Morris. He’d never held down a real job, and he had no intention of starting now. He threw open his door and stuck one foot onto the pavement.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cory asked.
“The resourceful professional failing to improve the method changes the moment,” Morris said. “Billy told me that once, said it came from a famous book on cheating. Don’t ask me what it means, because I don’t know.”
Leaving the rental, Morris walked calmly into the next lane, causing the already sluggish traffic to grind to a halt. Horns blared in disapproval and drivers shook their fists. Morris waved to Cory to cut in. The rental jumped to the front of the line, and Morris got back in.
“You’re a superstar,” Cory said.
They reached Galaxy’s back entrance with minutes to spare. There were a handful of available parking spaces by the back entrance. Cory backed into one and they both got out. Except for an NV Energy company crew working on a pole, everything looked George.
Cory popped the rental’s trunk. He reached in, hoisted a Kenneth Cole leather briefcase off the spare tire, and placed it inside a flat-handle, brown-paper shopping bag so that the briefcase would be hidden when he entered the casino.
“This feels heavy. Are you sure it’s the right weight?” he asked.
“I did the math,” Morris said. “Eight hundred money orders weigh ten point six pounds. That’s how much weight I put in the briefcase.”
“It feels heavier,” Cory said.
“It’s not. Get moving, will you? Gabe and Travis will be wondering where you are.”
“You going to wish me luck?”
“Luck is for amateurs. Get moving.”
“Why are you so pissy?”
“Who the fuck knows? Go.”
Cory entered the rear of the casino carrying the shopping bag. Twenty feet from the door, he spotted Gabe tapping the screen of a Jacks or Better video poker machine. Gabe was playing geezer and wore a floppy white fishing hat and wraparound shades that covered half his face. Cory came up beside the older man and dropped the shopping bag on the floor by his chair.
“Where you been?” Gabe said under his breath.
“Traffic was a bitch. You know how it is. Where’s Travis?”
“He’s scouting the cage area. You know why you show up to jobs early? Because then you’re not late.”
“I got here, didn’t I? Stop yanking my chain.”
Gabe peeled his eyes away from the video poker machine long enough to give Cory a blistering stare. His frown turned into a snarl. “You’re not wearing your disguise.”
“Shit, I forgot to put it on,” Cory stammered.
“How can you forget something like that?”
“I don’t know, man.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s still in the car.”
“A lot of fucking good it’s going to do there. Now the casino knows what you look like. If this thing blows up in our faces, it will be because of you.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You’re pathetic. Get out of here, before I smack you in the mouth. I mean it.”
“Stop talking to me like that.”
“Leave.”
Cory kicked the shopping bag. Hadn’t he and Morris helped this big sack of fertilizer settle his huge gambling debt? But it was the wrong time and the wrong place to be having this discussion, and he left the casino without another word.
FIFTY-EIGHT
The sky was falling, and Mags didn’t know what to do.
All of Billy’s crew were now inside Galaxy. Just a few minutes ago, the last two members had parked a red Chevy Malibu in a spot next to the casino’s back entrance. Both had curly hair and boyish faces and reminded her of Billy, long ago. One had gone inside the casino with a brown shopping bag. When he’d come out, no shopping bag.
Frank and Trixie had joined the three gaming agents inside the truck. The tape of the Chevy was replayed, and watched again. Frank’s boss shook his head.
“That car is a problem,” Trixie said. “They can use it to run over our agents. Call the guys working the back of the casino, and tell them to set up roadblocks on the street.”
“Roadblocks?” Frank said. “How long is that going to take?”
“I don’t care how long it takes,” Trixie said. “Just do it.”
Frank went outside the truck to make the call. Mags leaned back in her chair. It was now or never to alert Billy. Not having Frank in the truck emboldened her, and she rose from her chair.
The three gaming agents sat in front of a large console onto which they’d tossed their car keys and cell phones. Mags backed up to the console, looking at Trixie as she did. As their eyes met, one of the agents’ cell phones found a home in her back pocket.
“Go sit down,” Trixie said.
“I need to take a piss,” she said.
“You’ve got some mouth on you, you know that?”
“Want to wash it out?”
Trixie led her to the lavatory and jerked the door open. It was smaller than the johns on airplanes, and she had to wedge herself inside.
“Make it fast,” Trixie said, shutting the door.
The overhead light flickered on. She pulled out the stolen cell phone and sat on the toilet. She was in luck; it did not require a password, and she unlocked the screen and located the phone icon. She got an outside line and got the main number for Galaxy’s casino from information. The call went through. Through the door came the unmistakable sound of Frank’s voice.
“Where’s Mags? She didn’t slip out, did she?” Frank asked.
An operator answered her call. Mags covered the phone’s mouthpiece.
“Hi. Can you please page someone in your casino for me? It’s an emergency.”
“Let me check. What’s their name?” the operator asked.
“Billy Cunningham.”
“Please hold on.”
Recorded music filled her ear. Frank pounded his fist on the door. “You dirty little shit! Who the hell are you talking to in there? Open the fucking door, goddamn it, or I’ll break it down.”
“I’ll be right out,” Mags said, trying to buy more time.
“Right now!”
“I’m taking a leak. You can watch. I won’t charge you.”
Frank hit the door with his shoulder, causing the hinges to give way. He was going to kill her, only Mags didn’t care. Billy’s crew meant more to her than any promise she’d ever made to the gaming board. She was going to join them one day, even if it meant first going to jail.
Billy was glued to the potted plant in the lobby. The three-thirty wedding had wrapped up, and the chapel was ready for the next couple to tie the knot.
An announcement over the PA snapped his head. He glanced at Ike.
“Did you hear that?”
“I think you’re being paged. Want me to check?” Ike asked.
“Yeah, do it.”
Ike crossed the lobby and picked up a white house phone that hung on the wall. He had a short conversation before returning to Billy’s side. “Operator said some woman urgently wanted to speak to you, only she hung up,” he said.
“Did the operator get a name?”
“Nope.”
Only a handful of people knew that Billy was here; those that did would never have him paged. Was someone trying to warn him? It sure felt that way. Crackling static filled the earpiece he was wearing, and Rock’s voice invaded his head.
“Here come the Gypsies,” the drug kingpin said.
“I’m not seeing them,” Billy said into the mike pinned to his lapel.