The Casino Switcheroo

by Michael P. King

  “That’s because they’re trusting Koenig.”

  “On Saturday we’ve got plenty of cover. Solomon Island will be crawling with people. Anders will be there with the boat. If it all goes to hell, we’ll get away. That’s when it’ll be time to run.”

  “You always have to cut it close.”

  “That’s where the money is.”

  “Okay. I’ll go that far. But remember what you promised me.”

  “I remember. You say run, we run. But I still think we can screw him.”

  “But Saturday is the line.”

  “It’s the line.”

  “Make the call.”

  He put his phone on speaker and dialed JB. “Hey, JB.”

  “What’s up?”

  “You know the old dock on the east side of the island?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s a surveillance camera there. Can you turn it off?”

  “Why?”

  “Just something for the boss. Turn it off and make sure it stays off.”

  “Okay, if it’s for the boss.”

  “Thanks. Can you do that now?”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  Max ended the call and called Koenig.

  “Kid, what’s up?”

  “It’s time to land your gear.”

  “I was beginning to wonder. Still on the east side?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve checked it out?”

  “JB is turning off the surveillance camera.”

  “Meet us there.”

  “I’ll ride with you.”

  “Come down to the B&B marina. Raymond will meet you at the gate.”

  Max put his phone away.

  “You’re going with them?” Kelly Jo asked.

  “They’re not going to go if I don’t go.”

  “They might kill you.”

  “No, it’s not his style. He hasn’t gotten enough use out of me yet. If he’s going to kill us, he’ll do it on the day of.”

  “What a comforting thought.”

  They took Kennedy Boulevard downtown, skirted the stop-and-go traffic in the old port commercial zone with its restaurants and boutique shops, and came to the marina through the old warehouse district. Once they’d gotten through the downtown traffic, all the traffic lights were green. Kelly Jo stopped in the parking lot directly in front of the chain-link fence that guarded the B&B marina. Raymond was waiting at the gate. “Go somewhere else,” Max said. “I’ll call you when I get back.” He took his .38 out of his jacket pocket and laid it on the seat.

  “I don’t have to tell you to be careful.”

  “No, but I like it when you do.”

  Max stepped out of the car. Raymond unlocked the gate and held it open. “You carrying?”

  “Why? We getting in a gunfight?”

  “Follow me.”

  They walked along the wharf until they reached a weekender yacht. Two Latinos stood on the deck. “Let’s get underway,” Raymond said.

  One of the Latinos climbed into the cockpit and started the motor.

  “You know where we’re going?” Max asked.

  “Yeah. I’ve scouted the island. And we’ve got a good night. Plenty of moon.”

  “How much gear do we have to unload?”

  “Have a look.” He led Max to the cabin door and opened it. At least eight boxes, some as large as four feet by two feet, were stacked in the space.

  “Not too bad.”

  They stood in silence on the deck as they wove their way through the nearby boats to open water and motored across the bay to Solomon Island. As they approached the island, they turned off their running lights, stayed well away from the VIP marina, rounded the back of the island in the dark, and approached the broken-down dock by the cabins, navigating by moonlight.

  “The pole light is out,” Raymond said.

  “Surveillance camera as well,” Max replied.

  Raymond got out a pair of night-vision binoculars and scanned the beach and cabins. “All clear.”

  They motored slowly toward the shore until they felt the hull touch bottom. They were about ten feet from the beach. “What’s up?” Raymond asked the pilot.

  “Low tide,” he said.

  Raymond looked over the side of the yacht. “Guess we have to hump the gear in. Where are we taking the boxes?” Raymond asked.

  “I’ll show you. No need to go emptyhanded,” Max said. “How deep is the water?”

  “Four feet,” one of the Latinos said.

  “At least it’s calm.”

  Max took off his jacket and climbed down into the sea. The cold water lapped against his chest. One of the Latinos handed down a box. He shifted it onto his shoulder and walked it out onto the pea gravel. Raymond was behind him with another box.

  “You could have sent one of the guys,” Max said.

  “I have to see the spot myself.”

  They carried the boxes across the gravel to a cabin that Max knew already contained other boxes. Max picked the lock. “We place our boxes around the side, where they can’t be seen through the windows.”

  Raymond nodded. He took a penlight from his shirt pocket to light their way inside. Several large mover’s boxes were stacked six feet high in the middle of the room. They stacked their boxes behind them.

  When they got back to the shore, there were two large boxes on the gravel and the Latinos were carrying more through the surf. Max and Raymond picked up a long box between them and carried it back to the cabin. They went back and forth twice more before the Latinos were on the beach helping them. One more trip, and they were done.

  Raymond shined his light on the hard-packed sand. “What do we do about the footprints?”

  “High tide will take care of that,” Max said. “The rest is gravel.”

  They waded back to the yacht and climbed up the ladder. “Let’s go,” Raymond said. The pilot backed the yacht off the sand and turned to leave.

  “When will they fix the light and the camera?” Raymond asked.

  “They won’t.” Max replied. “Not before Saturday. JB will make sure of that.”

  “You’ve done good work here.”

  “When I’m paid to do a job, I do it right.”

  Everyone was quiet as they crossed the bay back at the B&B marina, where the pilot pulled back into the slip they’d come out of. “You know your way out,” Raymond said.

  Max climbed down onto the dock and headed for the gate. His shoes squelched as he walked and his wet pants stuck to his legs. He turned up the collar on his jacket. There were only five cars in the parking lot. All empty. There was no one in sight, no one watching him, no surveillance cameras—at least none he could see. He crossed the parking lot and walked over one block before he called Kelly Jo.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “You can pick me up on Hatcher Boulevard. I’ll be on the south side, walking toward Industrial Street.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  He’d walked three blocks before Kelly Jo drove up beside him, the Cadillac’s flashers pulsing. “You’re wet.”

  “Had to wade.” He put his gun back in his pocket.

  She pulled away from the curb. “Did you put the gear where you planned?”

  “Yeah. Raymond didn’t argue at all.”

  “Koenig wasn’t there?”

  “Didn’t expect him to be.”

  “So now we’re just waiting.”

  “Waiting and walking the perimeter, looking for tells.”

  “And waiting on Anders.”

  “He’ll come through. He’s got three days.”

  She turned right at a stop light. “I’d ask you if you wanted to go for a drink, but I guess you’d rather go straight home.”

  “There’s still wine left at the room, isn’t there?”

  She pulled into the Treasure Cove Tourist Court and parked in front of room 188. A couple were sitting on the Adirondack chairs outside a room down by the office, the red tips of
their cigarettes and the silhouettes of their beer bottles visible in their hands. Max and Kelly Jo got out of their car. Max opened the door to their room. The dresser drawers were hanging open, the mattresses were askew on the box springs, and their clothes had been dumped from their roller bags.

  Max and Kelly Jo pulled their pistols. Max pushed the door all the way open. The door bounced off the door stop. He stepped in first. No one between the beds. No one in the bathroom. No one in the closet. “All clear.”

  Kelly Jo shut the door. They stood together, taking in the room, their guns still in their hands. “I don’t see anything indicative,” she said. “Who do you think it was?”

  Max put his pistol in his pocket and put his open roller bag on the bed. “Three options. JB and Lulu. Koenig. Or an unknown player.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed. “But why? They couldn’t learn anything here. And they tipped us that they’re looking.”

  “Which means it wasn’t Koenig. His people would have come and gone without leaving a trace. That leaves Lulu and JB, thinking we’re as stupid as they are, or, worst option, someone we don’t know about.”

  She put her roller bag on the bed next to his. “And now we have to fold our clothes and find a new motel.” She scooped some clothes off the floor and onto the bed next to her roller bag. Max did the same. She folded a blouse and laid it in the bottom of her bag. Max picked up a pair of pants and folded them with the crease. But just before he put them in his bag, he stopped, laid them on the bed, and tapped the edge of Kelly Jo’s bag. She glanced up. He held a finger up to his mouth. He found the hotel pad and pen on the dresser and wrote a note. Did they mess up the room to plant a bug or transmitter in our stuff? We need to check all our gear.

  They felt all over the insides of their roller bags. Clean. They checked each item of clothing—not the pockets, but the seams and cuffs. Nothing. Finally they went through their shower kits, where they found a transmitter hidden in the lining of each bag.

  “Very careful,” Kelly Jo whispered.

  Max nodded. “That’s more like Koenig. Room is probably bugged as well.”

  They left the transmitters in the shower kits. They repacked their roller bags without talking. When they were finished, they rolled their bags out to the Cadillac and drove away from the tourist court. “What a shame,” Kelly Jo said. “I really liked that little motel.”

  “It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Max said. He looked out the back window. No one seemed to be following them. “I’m hungry,” Max said.

  “Drive through?”

  “Yeah. Any place is fine with me. What about the Taco Heaven around the corner up here?”

  After they went through the drive-through, Kelly Jo drove out to the beltway and got off at the next exit with motels. “Which one? Quality Inn, Budget Inn?”

  “How about the Budget Trucker?”

  “It’s a dump.”

  “Yep.”

  They got a room on the ground floor of the Budget Trucker. In the parking lot, pickup trucks were parked in close, while heavier work trucks and semitrucks were parked at the perimeter. They rolled their bags into their room. It smelled of aftershave and Pine Sol. There was a king-size bed with a heavy depression in the middle, a small closet with a few wire hangers, and a mildewed bathroom with cellophane-wrapped plastic cups. A no smoking sign was posted on the back of the door, and the dresser had cigarette burns on the top.

  “Home sweet home,” Kelly Jo said.

  They got their shower kits out of their roller bags, pulled the transmitters, and set them on the shelf in the closet.

  “So now they can follow us here,” Kelly Jo said.

  “Yeah. That’s the idea. They’ll think we’re vulnerable and stupid. We’ll have to keep an eye out, just in case they want to bushwhack us, but after the job we’ll move to the safe house Anders is setting up and they won’t have a clue where we’ve gone.”

  Meanwhile, Raymond looked out the curtains into the front yard of a duplex in a quiet neighborhood. A man and a woman were walking their dogs, the man’s dog pulling at its leash while the woman’s dog walked close by her feet. Raymond turned back into the dark living room. The local news was on the TV. Light fell in from the kitchen. He took out his phone and speed-dialed Koenig.

  “The gear is in place.”

  “Good,” Koenig replied. “Any problems?”

  “No, it all went to plan. How did you know he would choose the cabins? We could have just motored up to the marina and left the gear on the boat.”

  “But then everyone would have to meet at the marina. Too many eyes, too many civilians in the way. That’s what the kid would think. He’d rather risk being found by one security guard than enjoy all the extra cover. What have you heard from JB and Lulu?”

  “They’re ready to go. JB wants to know why they have to wait to kill Max and Kelly Jo.”

  “Always in a hurry, that one.”

  “Yeah, I told him to stick with the plan.”

  “And Max and Kelly Jo’s room?”

  “Nothing there. They moved to another motel.”

  “Right now, the kid thinks we don’t know he knows about the transmitters.”

  “You sure he found them?”

  “We have to assume so.”

  “Then why did we plant them?”

  “We didn’t need to plant them, and we didn’t need to toss the room. It’s a distraction. I want to keep the kid off balance. The more distractions he has to deal with, the less likely he’ll be able to figure out what our real play is before we’re gone and he’s left holding the bag.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve got another one in mind that ought to really wind him up.”

  “What do you want done?”

  “I’m going to have Lulu take care of it. Your end all set?”

  “Hernandez’s crew is ready, the basement is ready at safe house number one. The only issue is getting the extra vehicle in place. You say go, we could do the job tomorrow.”

  “Saturday is still the day.”

  “When will you share the final details?”

  “Driving you crazy, isn’t it? You’ll know on Friday evening. Just you.”

  “Okay.”

  Koenig ended the call. Raymond didn’t know why Koenig was so tightlipped about the final details. They were robbing a crime family. What could be more dangerous than that? All their people were reliable and professional. Hernandez’s crew would create just the amount of chaos necessary to completely intimidate the guests and overcome the security team. When the on-site rapid response arrived with their military gear, and the cops started unloading off the ferry, they’d melt in with the terrified civilians. In the meantime, his team would do the real job, whatever that was, and escape either by helicopter or boat, whichever worked best. Max and Kelly Jo—whoever the hell they were to the boss—would be left to take the fall. And during the confusion, he’d steal the score out from under Koenig and Hernandez—and anyone else who thought they were going to get a taste.

  Lulu stood behind the reception counter in the casino hotel. Her shift was almost over. Her legs were tired, and she was hungry. With any luck, JB was off getting drunk somewhere. She was looking forward to putting her feet up and eating a dish of ice cream. The phone rang. “Solomon Islands Casino Resort. How may I help you?”

  “Lulu,” Koenig said. “It’s good to hear your voice. Can you talk?”

  She glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear her. “Yes, boss.”

  “How is JB doing?”

  “You know JB. Cranky and jealous.”

  “But he’s doing his part?”

  “We’re all ready.”

  “You’ve really gone the extra mile with him.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What about Max and Kelly Jo?”

  “I think I’ve got Kelly Jo believing my cover. I got her to lie for me.”

  “Great.”

  “But Max is hard to f
igure, you know? He’s a charmer.”

  “But they’re definitely a couple?”

  “Yes. They’re like married people.”

  “Can you sow some discord before Saturday? Create some tension between them?”

  “That’s not much time.”

  “I know, but that’s what I need.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will. You’re going to get an extra half share on this job.”

  “An extra half share? Thanks, boss.”

  “You earned it.” He ended the call.

  Lulu smiled to herself. An extra half share. Well, she had earned it. She deserved combat pay for sleeping with JB. Saturday was three days away. Then she’d be done playing his girlfriend, thank God. But now she needed to focus on Max and Kelly Jo. There was no time to be subtle. She knew exactly what she needed to do to create some friction between them. She wasn’t as naturally pretty as Kelly Jo, but she was younger, softer, and rounder. She wouldn’t have any trouble getting Max to put his hands on her. She just had to think of a way for Kelly Jo to find out that would drive her over the edge.

  4

  The Last Sleight of Hand

  On Thursday afternoon, Max was in the maintenance shop, sorting through a shelf of paint cans, looking for some touch-up paint for a wall repair when Lulu strolled in. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “If you’re looking for JB, he’s not here.”

  Max found the can he was looking for and pulled it off the shelf. Lulu boosted herself up onto a workbench and crossed her legs. “I’m not looking for JB.”

  He looked her over. The top button of her blouse was undone, and she was pumping her leg in a rhythmically suggestive way. He set the paint can down on the bench beside her. She smiled.

  “If your plan is to convince me to fuck you, you’re trying too hard. All you had to do was sashay over here and show me the goods.”

  “Is that right?”

  He nodded.

  She uncrossed her legs. “What about Kelly Jo?”

  “You wanting to include her, or are you planning on telling her?”

  “Neither.”

  He stepped between her legs. “Then we should stop wasting our time.”

  After Lulu left, he gathered together the paint tray, the small roller, and the paintbrush for the wall repair touchup. Then he stood for a moment looking at the workbench where she’d been sitting. What did she think she was going to accomplish by having sex with him? It was in character for her to try, but it was just a little too strategic, which made it a tell, which meant she wasn’t a stupid little nympho. And that meant that everything they thought they knew about her and JB was probably a cover—a cover he could break if he had enough time or interest. But there were only two more days, which meant it was safer to assume they were in on some sort of double cross. So if they even looked at him or Kelly Jo crossways on Saturday, suggested anything the least bit out of the ordinary, he was going to kill them on the spot, just to be on the safe side.