"Thank you, Vincent. You sure Martin was only working off what he saw the mark win? He didn't know about the two and a half?"
Grimaldi stepped a little closer to him. There was a humorless smile on his face.
"Let's just say that we questioned him closely and extensively on that point. And the answer is he didn't know. Chicago didn't know. It was just a casino score. It was like you said, Jack. I made a mistake giving the guy a draw. He turned it into more money and it drew sharks. Martin and his Chicago people. Everybody involved in this thing works for Chicago."
Karch just nodded and kept his lips tightly together.
"So if the girl's from L.A. now and Renfro's from L.A., then that's where the money is. You have to get over there and get it before they turn it over to Chicago."
"They probably already have it by now, Vincent."
"Maybe, maybe not. She killed the guy in his bed. Maybe they want to check the heat on it before they make any further moves. We have to get over there and be sure. Besides, even if they passed the money on, I want these people dealt with. Due diligence. You know the score."
Grimaldi looked at his watch.
"But I think we still have a shot at the money. Six hours into this and we've already got the whole story. You get over there and get the money. You have a line on the girl?"
"Not yet. If she came in from L.A. that means she probably jumped parole. I could check to make sure but that would leave an official trail. I don't think you want that yet, Vincent."
"I don't. So hold that as a last resort. Maybe you should start with Renfro, go from there."
Karch nodded.
"You have an address for him?"
Grimaldi shook his head.
"We got a cell phone number. The name and number was all Martin had. You'll have to trace it from there. Romero has it on a piece of paper in the office. Also written on there is the name of a guy I know over there in L.A. You need help with anything – tracing the number, anything – you call him and bring him in. There will be no official record with him. He's good people and has a lot of connections he'd be happy to share."
"All right, Vincent."
"Now you go grab a plane and you'll be on the ground by three at the latest and – "
"I'm not flying, Vincent. I never fly."
"Jack, time is of the essence here."
"Then have your guy in L.A. handle it. I'm driving. I'll be there before five."
"All right, fine. You drive. Maybe you could make another stop in the desert for me. You know, along the way."
Karch just looked at him.
"I've still got fat boy and Martin in a laundry basket on the loading dock."
"It's just sitting down there?"
"I've got Longo down there watching it. Nobody'll get near it."
Karch shook his head.
"Then have Long-O and Romer-O take care of it. I'm out of here, Vincent."
Grimaldi pointed a finger at him.
"All right, Jack, but I want to be kept informed this time. You understand me?"
"Perfectly."
"Then go get the money, Jack."
Before heading in from the crow's nest Karch took one last look across the casino. He liked the view from up here. He nodded to himself and walked to the glass door.
26
CASSIE Black punched the buzzer on Leo Renfro's door at noon and almost doubled over when the simple action sent a charge of pain up through her sore arm. When Leo opened the door she pushed in past him with the briefcase. He checked the street and then turned back to her as he closed the door. He was holding a gun down at his side. She spoke before he could say a word, and before she saw the gun.
"We've got a big problem, Leo. This thing was – why do you have that out?"
"Not here. Don't talk at the front door. Come back to the office."
"What, more feng shui bullshit?"
"No, John Gotti. Who the fuck cares? Come on."
He led her through the house once more to the rear office. He was wearing a white bathrobe and his hair was wet. Cassie assumed he had been swimming laps – which was late for him, unless he needed to do it to relieve stress.
They stepped into the office and Cassie lifted the case with her right arm and banged it down on top of the desk.
"Jesus Christ! Take it easy, would you? I've been going nuts here. Where the fuck you been?"
"Flat on my ass on the living room floor."
She pointed to the briefcase.
"The fucking thing tried to electrocute me."
"What?"
"Built-in stun gun. I tried to open it and it was like getting hit by a bolt of lightning. It knocked me out cold, Leo. Three hours. Look at this."
She leaned forward and used both hands to spread the hair on the top of her scalp apart. There was a surface cut and a swollen bump that looked painful.
"I hit the corner of the table when I went down. I think that knocked me out more than the bolt."
Leo's look of anger over her lack of communication was immediately replaced with a sincere look of surprise and concern.
"Jesus, you sure you're all right? You better get that checked."
"I feel like I have that baseball guy Nolan O'Brien's arm."
"Ryan."
"Whatever. It feels like it's dead. My elbow joint hurts worse than my head."
"You've been lying on the floor of your house all this time?"
"Just about. I got blood on my carpet."
"Jesus. I thought you were dead. I've been going nuts here. I called Vegas and you know what I was told? My guy said something's screwy over there."
"What are you talking about?"
"The guy disappeared. The mark. It's like he was never there. He's not in the room and his name's off the computer. No record of him at all."
"Yeah? Well, that's not the worst of it. Take a look."
She reached for the briefcase's latches but Leo quickly reached for her arms to stop her.
"No, no, don't!"
She shrugged him off.
"It's okay, Leo. I got some heavy-duty rubber gloves – like the ones the guys who work on the power lines use. It took me almost an hour to work the picks with the gloves but then I got it open. I disconnected the battery. The case is safe but not what's in it. Look at this."
She unlatched the case and opened it. It was lined side to side with stacks of hundred-dollar bills bundled in cellophane and marked with a " 50 " in thick black ink. She watched as Leo's mouth dropped open and then a look of dismay crossed his face. They both knew that seeing a case full of cash of high denomination was not immediate cause for celebration. It was not the pot of gold at the end of every thief's rainbow. Rather, it was cause for concern and suspicion. Like a trial attorney who never asks a question of a witness that he doesn't already know the answer to, professional thieves never steal blind, taking something they do not know the consequences for stealing. Legal consequences are not the issue. The concern is over consequences of a more serious kind.
It was a good ten seconds before Leo managed to speak.
"Fuck…"
"Yeah…"
"Fuck…"
"I know…"
"You count this?"
Cassie nodded.
"I counted the bricks. There are fifty of them. If that fifty on each one means what it looks like it means, then you're looking at two-and-a-half million in cash. He didn't win this money, Leo. He came to Vegas with it."
"Hold on, hold on a minute. Let's think about this for a minute."
Cassie started unconsciously massaging her sore elbow.
"What is there to think about? They don't pay you at the cashier's cage in fifty-thousand-dollar bricks wrapped in plastic. He didn't win this money in Vegas. Period, Leo. He brought it with him. It's a payoff of some kind. Maybe drugs. Maybe something else. But we took it – I took it – before it was delivered. I mean this guy, the mark, he was just an errand boy. He didn't even have a key to the case on him. He was just going to deliver it and probably didn't even know what was in it himself."
"He didn't have a key?"