As was often the case, I wouldn’t have put it the way Dox did, but I couldn’t disagree with his logic.
“All right,” Treven said, holding up a hand in a maybe so, but… gesture. “Let’s assume he’ll be at the gym at some point. It’s still a huge window. A real CrossFit guy would get up extra early if necessary to squeeze in a WOD before a full day of meetings. Or he might skip lunch to get one in, or maybe right before bedtime.”
The dog barked again. Dox said, “Christ almighty. That is the worst bark I’ve ever had to endure. Sounds like someone’s giving the damn thing an electrified enema.”
I tried not to picture it. Which of course just made it worse.
“You’re right,” I said, looking at Treven. “Still, if there were a way we could catch him at the gym, it could really put us in business. It’s not on his schedule, so not a hot spot from the perspective of his security detail. In fact, if one of us could be in there when he arrived, we’d likely be overlooked. He’s supposed to have two Secret Service bodyguards, right? That’s not a full detail. If it were the president, they’d have a full team to clear every room ahead of time, whether he was announced or not. But with just two, they’ll be focused more on anyone trying to follow Shorrock than they will be on people who are already in a place he randomly decides to visit.”
There was quiet for a moment. Treven said, “Well, we could try rotating through the gym. We’re all in shape, so to anyone else in the gym, the staff or whoever, a ninety-minute workout wouldn’t seem unusual, and probably each of us could kill a good amount of time showering or using the sauna or whatever in the locker room before and after. If we rotate through one at a time, two hours each, that’s an eight-hour window we’d have covered. Still fifty-fifty in a sixteen-hour day, but not bad, either.”
I nodded, pleased. I had the same idea, of course, but by expressing it as a vague wish, I’d let Treven turn it into a plan he could now feel was his own.
“It’s an interesting suggestion,” I said. “And now that you mention it, I think we might do even better. We don’t need wall-to-wall coverage, do we? Figure Shorrock will work out for at least an hour. If he’s not there when the first of us is ready to leave, the next person could show up, say, thirty minutes later and still easily overlap with Shorrock. That means we’re up to almost ten hours of coverage. And I’m betting he’s more likely to show up early than late. The part of his day that’ll be easiest to manage is the part before the meetings. Plus, the main reason he’s out here is to be wined and dined. That would all happen at night. So if we play it right, we’re actually doing significantly better than fifty-fifty.”
Dox drummed his hands on his belly. “Not bad odds, for Vegas. And there’s one other possibility, though I’d call it a long shot given the Sin City venue and all that. The file says he’s a church-going man. Every Sunday.”
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Well, he’s scheduled to leave on Sunday. Maybe a pious man would stop at a local house of worship on his way out of town. By the time his flight gets to the East Coast, with the three-hour time difference, he’d be too late for anything back home.”
I nodded. “Agreed, a long shot, and hard to know where he’d be going ahead of time, assuming he goes at all.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Though how many churches could there be in Las Vegas?”
“Hundreds,” I said. “If you want to make money in hospitals, you build where people are sick.”
Larison said, “I like the gym. We can rotate like Treven said, with thirty-minute intervals in between to extend our coverage. Whichever one of us sees him in there can alert the others. They have extensive spa facilities, and if he uses any of it-toilet, shower, steam room, hot tub, sauna-we’ll only need him alone for a second. Sauna or toilet would be perfect, in fact. Easily explained as a heart attack with the first, embolism with the second.”
I nodded thoughtfully, again trying to convey that these were persuasive points I hadn’t fully considered myself.
“Doing a man in the steam room,” Dox said. “When you say it like that, it sounds dirty.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that no one else had said it like that.
Treven said, “The gym makes sense.”
The dog barked again. Dox winced and said, “Car alarms, people who yell on cell phones in public, and people who don’t bring their yapping dogs inside. And people who put their seats all the way back in coach, while we’re on the subject. I swear, there’s no more civility in the world. Listen, I’m gonna grab a soda from the machine. Anyone want anything?”
The others shook their heads. Dox stepped out.
We talked more about how to approach Shorrock, what we’d do if he showed up in the gym, what we’d do if he didn’t. I noted Dox had been gone a little longer than a trip to the vending machine would have warranted, and wondered if maybe he’d felt an uncharacteristic need for some privacy and had actually gone out to use a restroom in the lobby.
“What about reconnaissance?” Treven asked. “We need to walk the resort to get the layout and nail down details. We can’t do it together, obviously, but we’ll be conspicuous as singletons wandering the casino. It’s strange behavior, and staff monitoring the cameras might pick up on it.”
No one responded right away, and in the silence, I realized the dog had finally stopped yapping. It was a relief.
“That’s a good point,” I said. “What I usually do in a situation like this is get an escort. They don’t care what you do or what you talk about as long as they’re being paid, and if they notice you watching your back or doing anything tactical, they usually attribute it to the fact that you’re married and afraid of being seen.”
“Works for me,” Treven said. “I’ve done it myself.”
Larison nodded. “It’s a good idea.”
There was the sound of a keycard sliding into the door lock, and a moment later Dox walked in. He was grinning.
“Well, the cyanide works,” he said, holding up the canister.
For an instant, I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit me. I said, “You didn’t.”
Dox nodded. “I did. If I had to listen to that thing for one more minute, I was going postal, I swear. This way, it was two birds with one stone. The cyanide works, and we get to enjoy the sounds of silence.”
I shook my head and sighed, thinking I should have seen it coming.
“Oh, come on,” Dox said. “Tell me you didn’t think of it yourself.”
Treven said, “I wish I had.”
We all laughed at that, and maybe the laughter was good. Nothing brought a team together better than shared laughter-well, shared fighting, maybe, but bar fights were a younger man’s game, and anyway we couldn’t afford the attention. But the momentary sense of camaraderie struck me as likely to be just that: momentary. Nothing more than a lull, a veneer temporarily obscuring differences that might soon impel each of us to very different sides of a board, the contours of which I sensed but couldn’t yet discern.
Treven benchpressed a hundred eighty pounds at a dead weight station in the spacious Wynn fitness center, taking his time, going easy. He could have put another hundred on the bar, but that kind of weight would have been conspicuous, and besides, he was only here in case Shorrock showed up, not for a real workout. Shorrock was scheduled to check in that day, with the keynote tomorrow, and though check-in was at three, it wasn’t inconceivable he’d arrive earlier. So Treven had started in at the gym at noon, doing nothing other than the length of his workout to distinguish himself from the other guests who’d been coming and going. It had been nearly two hours already, and no sign of Shorrock. It was about time for him to move on and let Dox, who was on deck, take over. It was silly, but he’d been hoping he’d be the one to make the initial contact. He wasn’t used to feeling like the junior member of a team, and although it embarrassed him to admit it, he wanted a chance to prove himself.