Take Down

by James Swain

  “Where to?” his attorney asked, driving away.

  “I need to get my car from Galaxy’s valet,” he said.

  “I would advise you not to go back there.”

  “I need my car.”

  “Can’t one of your friends get it for you?”

  Billy wouldn’t ask a member of his crew to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. Underman dropped the subject and turned on the local public radio station that played classical music when it wasn’t begging for donations. They listened to one of Beethoven’s symphonies while driving south on the Strip, the beautiful music colliding with the jarring sight of late-night drunks trolling the sidewalks with drink cups dangling in their hands.

  “What happened to Doucette’s wife?” Billy asked, figuring his lawyer would know.

  “I’ve heard several versions,” his attorney said. “The most reliable is that she shot one of Rock’s bodyguards, killed the second by smashing an ashtray over her head, and bit Rock in the neck and severed his jugular. She did all of this with a knife sticking out of her chest. By the time the gaming board found her, she’d bled out. Did you know her?”

  “A little.”

  “What was she like?”

  “She had a lot of anger in her.”

  “I’ve got a question for you. Is there really a hit man named Lamont Paris?”

  “Sure is. I saw his wanted poster when I went to the post office to pick up a package. His name had a nice ring to it.”

  Galaxy’s casino was a block away, their trip almost over.

  “I need you to do a couple of things for me,” Billy said. “A friend of mine named Maggie Flynn needs to get sprung out of jail. That’s where you come in.”

  “Is she a cheater?”

  “No, she’s a nun.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Billy turned sideways in his seat. “I don’t care if you have to bribe a judge—just get her out.”

  “Be sensible, Billy. I don’t even know what the charges against her are.”

  “That’s not the answer I want to hear.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to get her out of jail. You once told me half the politicians in this town were in your back pocket. Pull some strings—I don’t care how much it costs.”

  “I’m not going to promise something I can’t deliver.”

  Billy grabbed Underman’s arm and gave it a vicious squeeze. The pain was unexpected, and the car swerved dangerously into the next lane before the attorney righted the wheel.

  “You’re hurting me,” Underman said.

  “Get Maggie Flynn out of jail.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll figure out a way to get your friend sprung. Now let go of me.”

  Billy released his lawyer’s arm and resumed looking at the road. “I also want you to find out where the guy that got shot is hospitalized, and text me the information.”

  “Why do you want to know that?”

  “I want to send him flowers. Stop asking so many fucking questions.”

  They had reached Galaxy’s main entrance. It was open for business, an interim management team running the joint. In any other town, it would have been shuttered until the investigation was complete, but that wasn’t how things worked in Vegas.

  Underman pulled into the valet area and hit his brakes. With the restrained fury of a father lecturing his son, he wagged his finger in Billy’s face. “I want you to listen to me. You’re a sharp kid, and you’ve got more lives than a cat. But your luck is going to run out. It happens to every criminal that thinks they can beat this town. They eventually crap out, and it’s one long downhill slide from that point on. When your luck does run out, the gaming board’s going to crucify you and your crew. This woman in the surveillance photo with the money orders is especially vulnerable. She’s a goner, if you didn’t know it.”

  Misty wasn’t a goner. Billy had figured out a way to save her. It was going to cost him, but that was true for most things that kept a person out of jail.

  “You done?” Billy asked.

  “For now,” his attorney said.

  “Don’t forget to get me that info,” Billy said, and hopped out of the car.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  Billy pulled in front of Gabe’s place at 3:00 a.m. and killed the engine.

  Human beings were creatures of habit. Upon discovering comfortable routines, they repeated them endlessly without thinking. Even criminals, who should have known better.

  His crew was no different. They’d gone to Gabe’s place to hole up, their cars lining the driveway. Seeing no gaming agents snooping around, Billy got the strongbox from the trunk and held it against his chest as he lugged it up the front path.

  He banged the front door with his knee. Bare feet pounded the foyer, Misty and Pepper the first to greet him. They planted kisses on his unshaven face and hugged his stinking body. He followed them down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “Look who’s here,” Misty said.

  The others were at the kitchen table eating cold pizza. They came out of their chairs and slapped him on the back. He cleared a spot on the table and put down the strongbox.

  “Did you post bail?” Travis asked.

  “Believe it or not, I talked my way out of it,” he said.

  “You must have done a real snow job on them.”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  The strongbox still had sand on it. He cleaned it off, popped the lid, and handed out stacks of bills to his crew. The money inside the strongbox had been his first big score. He’d scammed a blackjack game at Caesars using a perfect-strategy computer built into his shoes, the vibrating solenoids telling him how to play each hand. Instead of blowing the money on wine, women, and song, he’d bought a strongbox and buried the money beneath a large conifer tree in the desert.

  “The gaming board is pissed,” he said. “You need to lay low for a while, let the dust settle. Use this money to pay your bills and stuff. And whatever you do, don’t go into the casinos.” He turned to Misty. “You’re the one they really want. They’re going to try to track you down. They’ve got brand new technology that will be hard to beat.”

  “Am I toast?” Misty asked.

  “You are if we don’t do something.”

  He pulled two more stacks out of the strongbox and gave them to her. “Would you consider going to a plastic surgeon and getting a face-lift? The woman on that tape needs to disappear.”

  “And I thought you just liked me more,” Misty said, fingering the stacks. “Shit, Billy, I’ll do anything if it means not going to jail. You know that.”

  “You’re the best,” he said.

  “Should I go back to using my real name, too?”

  “Misty’s not your real name?”

  “Oh, come on. Half the girls in the porn business go by Misty. Misty Stacks, Misty Love, Misty Mountains, Misty Haze. I thought everyone and his half brother knew that. My real name’s Patty Driver. It’s on my driver’s license. Misty can be gone tomorrow.”

  “Then make her disappear.” To the others he said, “If you have questions about what I just told you, ask them now.”

  His crew acted cool with the deal. He suddenly felt flat-out exhausted, and dropped into a chair. Without thinking, he picked up a half-eaten slice from a plate and took a bite out of it. He chewed mechanically and felt himself start to unwind.

  “You’re leaving out the good part,” Pepper said. “When do we go back to Galaxy and get our score? I’ve got places to go and things to do with that money.”

  “We have to wait awhile. I know it’s a drag, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “How long?”

  “Three months. Maybe longer.”

  His crew let out a collective groan. He wanted to tell
them there was nothing wrong with delayed gratification but didn’t think they’d appreciate the sermon. One by one, they drifted out of the kitchen into different parts of the house.

  Except for Misty. She’d run with Billy long enough to know that he would want to hear how her little adventure had gone.

  “Any problems hiding the score?” he asked.

  “It went without a hitch. I rode the service elevator to the fourteenth floor, found the dirty coveralls in the storage closet, and threw them on,” she said. “I walked past a couple of workers in the hall, and they didn’t pay me any attention. I went to room 1412 like you said and stashed the money orders behind the AC duct in the open closet wall. It took two minutes, tops.”

  “Did anyone talk to you?”

  “No. You’re going to find this is funny, but I’ve been wanting to get a face-lift for years.”

  “But you’ve got a beautiful face.”

  “Some guy put the blow job movies I did on a free porn website, and there’s no way I can get them down. My face is out there, if you know what I mean.”

  “So this is a good thing.”

  “Yeah. I’m ready for a change.”

  She left the kitchen and he finished eating the slice. In a few days, room 1412 would be finished, the closet wall sealed up. When the time was right, he’d make a reservation at the hotel and ask for that suite, telling the reservationist it was his lucky number. Gamblers were by nature a superstitious group, and his request would not draw scrutiny.

  He’d check into the hotel under a false name. In his luggage would be an electric saw. The morning of his departure, he’d play loud music in the suite and cut a hole in the closet wall. The money orders would go into a piece of luggage, which a bellman would remove from the room and put in Billy’s car. This method of taking stolen money out of a casino wasn’t new; casino employees had been using it for years to rip off their employers and supplement their 401(k)s.

  He got pumped just thinking about it.

  He went to say good-bye to his crew. It was going to be a while before they hooked up again, and he wanted to look each of them in the eye and make sure they were okay with cutting up the score later on. Last thing he needed was for one of them to get sore and start shooting their mouth off. Misty and Pepper were in the study huddled in front of the computer, checking out the before and after photos of face-lifts on a plastic surgeon’s splashy website, Pepper saying, “You’re going to look ten years younger, girl. Think of all the rich men you’ll meet.” Misty laughed mischievously under her breath.

  “I’ve got to blow. Call me if anything comes up, or you want to talk,” Billy said.

  “You going to stay in town?” Misty asked.

  “I’m taking a friend to LA. I might hang there awhile.”

  “The plastic surgeon I’m thinking of using is in LA. Maybe we can get together while I’m recuperating, go hang out at Disneyland or something.”

  “That would be a blast. Let’s do it.”

  They said their good-byes. Pepper walked with him into the hallway.

  “Hey, Billy, do you think I could get a face-lift, too?” Pepper asked. “I was in those movies with Misty. It would let us both make a clean break, if you know what I mean.”

  He couldn’t say no without hurting Pepper’s feelings. In the kitchen he gave her two more stacks from the strongbox. She squealed with delight and kissed him.

  Next stop was the garage, where Gabe and Travis were preparing to move the bulky Italian press and spark-erosion machine that the fake chips had been manufactured on.

  “I’m out of here. Are you guys good with everything?” Billy asked.

  “I’m good,” Travis said.

  “Same here,” Gabe said.

  He asked them how they planned to spend the time away from the casinos.

  “Hanging out with my family, doing crap around the house, working on my dice switch,” Travis said. “You won’t recognize it the next time I move.”

  “You going to videotape yourself?” Billy asked.

  “I was planning on it,” Travis said.

  “Practice keeping your thumb still.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “How about you?” Billy asked Gabe.

  “I’m going to drive down to San Diego to see my ex and the girls,” Gabe said. “I texted her this morning, and she seemed okay with it. I was hoping to shower her with money, you know, just to show her I wasn’t the biggest loser that ever lived, but I think it’s better that I don’t. I’ll send her some later.”

  “I hope it goes okay,” he said.

  “Me, too. Look, Billy, I’ve got to get something off my chest. I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with Cory and Morris. We all make mistakes, but those two . . . no.”

  “Anything in particular bothering you?”

  “Yeah. Cory came into the casino without his disguise. When I asked him why, he said he forgot to put it on.”

  “Was that his excuse? Jesus.”

  “You know about it, then.”

  “It came up during my chat with the gaming board. How about you?”

  “I feel the same way,” Travis said. “They’re going to ruin us one day if we’re not careful.”

  “Had enough, huh?” Billy said.

  Both men said they’d had.

  He found Cory and Morris in the backyard smoking a joint so fat it could have passed as a small cigar. Seeing Billy come out the back door, Cory ground the joint into the grass while his partner kept the last puff trapped in his lungs. Billy had told them they were not allowed to get high during a job, yet they’d kept right on doing it. Their stupidity was making his decision a lot easier.

  “Get over here. Both of you,” he said.

  They shuffled over, embarrassed. There was no reason to beat around the bush, so he laid into them. “You guys have been fucking up a lot lately. First at the golf course, then Cory forgets to put on his disguise when you parked the rental behind the casino. The gaming board made you. It’s a miracle I got you off. You could have screwed the whole thing up.”

  They hung their heads in shame. Morris let the smoke go and started hacking.

  “We’ll make it up to you,” Cory promised.

  “Yeah, we’ll do you right,” Morris said.

  “It’s too late for that. I’m cutting you both loose. You’ll get your money when we cut up the score, and that’s it. No more jobs. You’re done.”

  “You’re not going to give us another chance?” Cory asked.

  Billy shook his head and thought they might cry. He went inside without saying good-bye, grabbed the strongbox off the kitchen table, and headed out the front door. As he placed the strongbox in the trunk, they came up from behind.

  “Quit following me,” he said.

  “Come on, Billy, we’ve been loyal,” Cory said.

  “Soldiers to the end,” Morris said.

  “You want my advice? Go back to college and get degrees in hospitality management. It’s all you’re good for.”

  “No, Billy,” they both said.

  “Or slinging drinks in a bar. You could do that. I let you join my crew, teach you everything I know, and what do I get in return? A bunch of high school fucking jive artists who can’t remember to put on their fucking disguises before they walk into a joint. You’re both a disgrace. Now get out of my way before I run you over, which is what I want to do right now.”

  They jumped onto the grass next to the curb. Billy got in and fired up the engine. His heart was beating out of control, his hands shaking on the wheel. He didn’t need this, and he shot them an angry look through the passenger window. They took it the wrong way and brought their faces up to the glass, thinking he was going to give them another chance to make things right again.

  He sped away, refusing to look back.

  SIXTY-FI
VE

  His heart was still pounding as he pulled into the parking lot of Ly’s motel. He’d had members of his crew leave before, usually for personal reasons, but he’d never had to fire anyone. Cutting Cory and Morris loose was tearing him apart, and he didn’t know why.

  He rapped softly on the door to Ly’s room. He’d promised to drive Ly to LA and didn’t see any reason to wait. He needed to get her out of Vegas before the gaming board ran her down and held her feet to the fire.

  “Go away, or I’ll call the cops,” a woman that wasn’t Ly said through the door.

  He backed away from the door, knowing he was being watched through the peephole.

  “Sorry.”

  He walked around the building and entered the tiny office that served as registration. The young Latina working the desk was the same one who’d checked him in, a tough little number with lots of makeup. She unplugged herself from an iPod and arched her eyebrows.

  “Have you seen my friend? She isn’t answering her door.”

  “Your Asian friend checked out,” the Latina said.

  Ly didn’t have enough money to buy a bus ticket, and Billy wondered where she’d gone.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “I don’t like to get involved with people’s business,” the Latina said, “but since you paid for her room, I’ll tell you. Your friend met a guy in the restaurant, a software salesman out of Reno. He stays here a lot. Your friend left with him.”

  “You don’t say. Decent guy?”

  “The women seem to like him.”

  That solved that problem. He started to back out of the office. The Latina wasn’t done with him. “You had another visitor. She’s still here.”

  “Who’s that?”

  The Latina said, “Try the pool,” and plugged herself back in.

  He walked around the building to a metal gate that required a room key for entrance, and hopped over it. The pool was deserted except for a beautiful woman sound asleep in a lounge chair. As he drew closer, the breath caught in his throat. It was Mags.