Take Down

by James Swain

  “Leave,” Rock said to the hostess. To Ike and T-Bird he said, “Stand in the corner.”

  The punishers moved away from the table, and the hostess disappeared.

  “You two pull up a chair,” Rock said.

  Billy and Shaz made themselves comfortable. Rock resumed eating an artery-clogging double-bacon cheeseburger. When it was gone, he picked at a mountain of french fries covered in ketchup. The conversation would not begin until he was ready for it to begin. Back home, Billy had known drug dealers who’d drag a subject into a bathroom stall and make him watch while they crapped. It was a form of intimidation, designed to remind you who was boss.

  “I hear you killed a woman last night,” the drug kingpin said. “That your first time?”

  Billy realized he was being tested and grew rigid in his chair.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “How did it make you feel?”

  He shrugged, not sure what to say.

  “Answer me.”

  “I was numb, but then it wore off,” he said.

  “What did you do after you buried her?”

  “Had dinner.”

  “You were hungry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re not bullshitting me, are you?”

  “No. We were hungry, so we went out for a late dinner.”

  Rock gave him a cold stare. “Which restaurant?”

  “We went to a Brazilian steakhouse called Fogo de Chão on East Flamingo. You should try it sometime. The steaks are great.”

  “You don’t say.” Rock addressed the punishers. “Is pretty boy telling the truth?”

  “Uh-huh. Best steaks in town,” Ike said.

  “Don’t fuck with me, asshole. Did you eat there last night?”

  “Yes, suh,” Ike said.

  Rock crossed his hands over his enormous belly and belched. “I once had a guy working for me went by the name Freeway. Freeway’s deal was that he sold bags of coke at exits off the freeway. Freeway wanted to move up and become a lieutenant in my organization, so I decided to test him. I needed a rival killed, so I ordered Freeway to take the guy out. I drove Freeway there so I could watch. He walks up to the guy on the corner, caps him, and jumps into my car. As we’re leaving, he pukes on the upholstery. The blood upset him.”

  Rock shook his head at the memory. His Mexican bodyguards laughed to themselves.

  “Freeway was a weakling, so I got rid of him,” the drug kingpin said. “You, on the other hand, have the right stuff to join my organization. You interested?”

  It was a job interview. Billy tried to keep a straight face.

  “You want me to push drugs for you?” he asked.

  “I got a hundred guys selling drugs for me,” Rock said. “I want you to police my casino, keep hustlers from stealing my money. I’ll pay you real good, give you a car, penthouse, all the blow you want, pussy, too. You won’t regret coming to work for me. Will he?”

  “Rock’s the best,” Shaz said.

  “What do you say?” Rock asked. “You in?”

  Billy believed in seizing opportunities whenever they presented themselves to him. Only one person stood in the way of him ripping off Galaxy’s casino this afternoon, and that was his old pal Crunchie. If Crunchie’s grift sense kicked in, he’d blow the whistle on Billy and his crew and bring everything crashing down on Billy’s head.

  “The last time I checked, Crunchie was policing your casino,” Billy said. “Is he staying? If he is, then my answer is no. I won’t work alongside that prick.”

  Rock was not a man to be challenged. He picked up his walking stick from the floor and dropped the handle on Billy’s shoulder, causing the young hustler to wince in pain.

  “You got a lot of balls, little fellow. I’ll answer your question, but only this one time. Crunchie’s history.”

  “Then I’m in,” he said.

  “Good. We’re meeting in Doucette’s office at two to discuss how we plan to deal with these Gypsies trying to rip me off. Don’t be late.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said.

  “Don’t make me regret this decision.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Get out of here, and let me finish my lunch.” To Shaz he said, “Hang around for a few minutes. We have some things to discuss.”

  “Sure, Rock,” she said.

  Billy tried not to laugh as he walked out of the café with the punishers. He’d pulled some major snow jobs in his time, but this one ranked at the very top.

  His Droid was talking to him. Another text from Travis. His crew was camped out in the employee parking lot, waiting for Billy to show his face.

  “It’s time for you to meet my crew,” he said to the punishers.

  FIFTY-THREE

  Billy had used casino employee parking garages to stage meetings in the past. The casinos were too cheap to install surveillance cameras or pay guards to police them, making the garages safe havens for thieves and scammers plotting their next big score.

  The elevator was still out, and he trotted up the stairs to the garage’s fourth floor. The stairwell was as hot as a furnace, and Ike and T-Bird were gasping when they reached the top landing. He’d assumed that they were in good physical shape but was having second thoughts. Cheaters had to be fast on their feet for all the obvious reasons.

  “You sure this is a safe place to meet?” Ike asked.

  “You didn’t see any cameras in the ceiling, did you?” he pointed out.

  “What if we run across some security or surveillance people? Those guys are suspicious of everybody. They see you having a meeting, they’ll know something is going on.”

  “Security and surveillance people are required to park in a different garage and use a different entrance to the casino. The casinos don’t want them fraternizing with other employees, for fear if they catch them stealing, they won’t report it. So they separate them.”

  “Man knows all the angles,” T-Bird said.

  They exited the stairwell. Every parking space was filled except for two handicap spaces by the door. Cory and Morris’s Infiniti SUV was squeezed into the narrowest of spaces. Billy’s crew stood outside the vehicle engaged in small talk. To a casual observer, they appeared to be a group of friends out for the day. Nothing about their appearance said crook.

  “Good afternoon. How’s everyone doing?” Billy said.

  “We’re the only ones up here. I checked,” Travis said.

  “Good. I want to introduce my friends, Ike and T-Bird. They’re going to be a part of our operation this afternoon. If you’re nice, they’ll show you their Super Bowl rings.”

  The punishers mumbled hello. His crew responded in kind. Each side spent a few moments sizing the other up.

  “Let’s see the goods,” Billy said.

  Gabe removed the Nike gym bag from the SUV and passed it to Billy, who took a look inside. Eight million in glittering gold casino chips stared back at him.

  “You tested them?” he asked.

  “Every which way but Sunday. They’re perfect,” Gabe said.

  “Good job.”

  He stopped talking. A blinking light had caught his eye. It didn’t look natural, and he walked between two cars until he was standing at the wall that faced the rear of the casino, where there was a pool area and a pair of bright blue tennis courts. He tried to pinpoint the light’s origin but could not. Travis edged up behind him.

  “Something wrong?” the big man asked.

  “I thought I saw a reflection,” he said.

  “Binoculars?”

  “Maybe. Or a high-powered camera.”

  “Think someone’s spying on us?”

  “There’s always someone spying on us in this fucking town.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t see it now. Ma
ybe it was nothing.”

  Travis dropped his voice. “So where’d you find these jokers?”

  “It’s a long story,” he whispered back.

  “I don’t trust them.”

  “Nor should you.”

  “Got it.”

  Billy turned from the wall and went back to his crew. Ike was showing off his Super Bowl ring to Cory and Morris, while T-Bird was chatting with Pepper and Misty. Gabe stood off to the side, clutching the bag of counterfeit chips protectively against his chest.

  “Everyone, listen up,” he said. “In a few hours, we’re going to pull off the biggest heist this town has seen in a while. I need your undivided attention for a few minutes.”

  The conversations stopped, and they huddled around him.

  “Here’s the deal. At a few minutes past four o’clock, Ike and T-Bird are going to make a run at the cage and hand over the counterfeit chips to a cashier in return for a briefcase containing eight million in untraceable money orders. That in a nutshell is how we’re going to rip the joint off. T-Bird will be impersonating a drug dealer and will need to have appropriate threads. You’re also going to have to shave off his dreads.

  “I’ve been thinking about where this transformation should happen, and decided my suite at the hotel would be best. Misty and Pepper, come to my suite at two thirty with clothes for T-Bird to wear. Sound good, ladies?”

  Misty and Pepper both said sure, no big deal.

  “Each of you has a role in today’s heist,” he went on. “T-Bird needs two Mexican female bodyguards to accompany him. Misty and Pepper, that’s you. Dark wigs and lots of makeup should do the trick. You’ll also need some dangerous attire.”

  “Who has female bodyguards?” Pepper asked skeptically.

  “Prince had female bodyguards when he was doing the Purple Rain tour,” Misty reminded her. “They came with him to one of the awards shows.”

  “I remember them. They were wicked looking,” Pepper said.

  “Think you can handle it?” Billy asked.

  They both said yes.

  “Gabe and Travis are going to play dumb tourists, and need to be hanging around the cage when the chips are cashed in,” he continued. “Their job will be to intercept any employees that walk by, and turn their attention away from the cage.”

  “I can do that,” Gabe said.

  “Same here,” Travis said.

  “Cory and Morris, you drive the escape car. Go to the airport, and use fake ID to rent a red Chevy Malibu from a rental company. Bring the car to the rear exit of the casino at ten minutes before four. Park by the exit, and have the trunk unlocked. Got it?”

  “Why a red Chevy Malibu?” Cory asked.

  “It’s the number-one rental car in Vegas. Harder for the police to locate in case you’re chased.”

  “Got it,” Cory said.

  “At a few minutes past four, there’s going to be a major commotion by the blackjack pit that will draw security. That’s when Ike and T-Bird will cash in the fake chips. Once they have the money orders, they’ll leave through the back exit, where Cory and Morris will be waiting for them. The four of them will head back to Gabe’s house, where they’ll hole up.

  “Gabe and Travis will hang around the cage for a few minutes to make sure everything’s cool. Then they’ll hook up with Misty and Pepper and leave the casino. I’ll meet up with everyone later tonight. We’ll chop up the score and go out for a victory meal.”

  He paused to gauge their expressions. It was a lot of information to absorb, and he wanted to be sure that each person understood what his or her role in the operation was.

  “If you have any questions, ask them now,” he said.

  “What kind of commotion?” Cory asked.

  “I’m going to sic security on a family of cheaters scamming the casino.”

  “You’re ratting out another group of cheaters?” Cory sounded incredulous.

  “Not in the way the casino wants. They won’t go to jail, and they’ll come out on the winning end of things in the end.”

  “How you going to pull that off?” Cory asked.

  Billy had taught Cory the cheater’s code, along with every other cheater that had run with him. The code spelled out how the game was played and what the rules were that they lived by. He tousled Cory’s hair until the younger man loosened up.

  “Trust me on this,” he said. “It will all work out.”

  “Okay,” Cory said.

  They were done, and he said good-bye to his crew. If things broke bad, he might not see them again for a while, and he took the time to speak to them individually. Done, he walked toward the stairwell with the punishers. At the entrance he stopped as if he had forgotten something.

  “I didn’t give the girls the key to my suite. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  The punishers headed down the stairs. He turned around and walked back to where the SUV was parked. His crew had gotten in, ready to leave. The passenger window came down, and Misty stuck her head out.

  “Hey, stranger, what’s shaking?” she said.

  He took the room key from his pocket and handed it to her. “You’re going to need this. I’m staying in Tower A, suite 1841. What do you think of my friends?”

  “They’re a couple of two-bit hustlers,” Misty said.

  “I’ll second that,” Pepper said, wedged in beside her. “They’re scum buckets.”

  “I wouldn’t trust them with my kid’s lunch money,” Gabe added from the backseat.

  “We don’t like them, either,” Cory said.

  He rested his elbows on the open windowsill. “Your instincts are good. These boys are planning to rip us off. Forget everything I said about leaving with them in the rental. Once the exchange is made at the cage, I want you to do the pigeon drop, then get out of the casino as fast as you can. Does everyone remember the pigeon drop?”

  The pigeon drop was the first street scam that Billy had learned when he was apprenticing, and he’d taught the scam to everyone who’d run with him. It was a surefire way to separate a sucker from his money. Everyone inside the vehicle said they remembered the scam.

  “Good. Travis, you’ll be the steerer. Gabe will do the switch while Misty and Pepper keep the boys distracted. You’ll need to get a leather briefcase for the switch. Cory and Morris, that’s your job. Everyone clear on what they have to do?”

  Another group yes. They were all on board.

  “Here’s to getting rich together.”

  With that, he rapped his knuckles on the roof and walked away.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Mags punched the horn of her rental. A hard rain was falling that had turned the streets treacherous, and traffic wasn’t moving. She jumped out to see what the problem was. Up ahead, two vehicles had collided, the drivers standing in the road inspecting the damage.

  She decided to hoof it. Leaving the keys in the ignition, she hustled down the sidewalk with the university’s majestic spires in view. No member of the Flynn dynasty had ever made it to college, her family tree filled with losers and two-bit thieves, a tradition she’d faithfully carried on. Amber was about to break the mold, and Mags was determined not to miss the seismic moment.

  It was her first visit to the college, and the manicured grounds and stately buildings made her choke up. Tuition had to be expensive. Had Amber gotten a scholarship? Mags didn’t know. Some mother she was.

  The gymnasium’s shimmering glass walls captured her quiet desperation as she hurried inside. For all these years she’d carried around the belief that she and Amber would one day form a bond beyond the infrequent phone call. It happened on the Hallmark Channel all the time.

  The lobby was deserted. She went to the nearest set of doors and tugged at the handles. The doors opened, and a black maintenance man gave her a scornful look.

  “It’s over, lady. Yo
u’re too late,” the maintenance man said.

  She rushed past him onto the polished parquet floors. The gym was a sea of bleachers covered in discarded programs, while up on stage, two workers dismantled the podium.

  She choked back her tears. She imagined Amber receiving her diploma to no applause. How many other grads had suffered that ignominy? She wanted to blame someone for being late, but in reality, she had no one to blame but herself.

  “Wake up.”

  Her head came off her pillow. Frank stood beside the bed, holding a steaming mug. He put it under her nose, the fumes snapping her awake.

  “How . . . did you get in?” she stammered.

  “When you didn’t answer your phone, I picked the lock,” Frank said.

  “You said you were coming at twelve thirty.”

  “It is twelve thirty. We need to get moving. I told my boss we’d be there at one.”

  The coffee brought her around. She hadn’t contacted Billy to warn him, and she slipped out of bed and took her iPhone off the night table. Frank intercepted her at the bathroom door and yanked the cell phone out of her hand.

  “Give me that,” she said.

  “You don’t need your cell phone in there,” he said.

  “I want to send my daughter a text. I haven’t been in touch with her in a while.”

  “Do it later, on your own time.”

  The Strip was a madhouse. Thousands of tourists oozed along the sidewalks clutching plastic cups of draft beer and yard-glass containers filled with potent rum concoctions. Every day was Mardi Gras in Las Vegas, every night a Super Bowl party.

  “Where are you taking me?” Mags asked.

  “See those NV Energy vehicles parked the next block over? There,” Frank said.

  Parked in front of Galaxy was a convoy of Nevada Energy vehicles. This included a truck with a cherry picker, two white vans, and a camper-sized vehicle with a satellite dish on the roof. A crew of utility workers was fixing the spaghetti power lines running to the hotel. It looked legit, until Mags noticed that the man in charge was Frank’s piece-of-shit boss Trixie.