The Runaway Prophet

by Michele Chynoweth

  Rory sat at the far right. In less than a minute, he had decided Stanley Cooper was a fake, pompous, greedy politician, and he didn’t like him or trust him. If it had been up to him, they would have turned around and walked out, and come up with a Plan B.

  But Rodney Steele, tough as his name, was in charge and remained undeterred by the mayor’s grandiosity. As the FBI chief briefly recounted the incidents leading up to the formation of Operation No Dice, Mayor Cooper warily looked at each of the players in the story seated before him.

  When Steele finished giving the details of their mission, he paused to let the mayor digest it all.

  The four of them waited in awkward silence.

  “So you expect me to believe that these club owners and casino operators, who just happen to be Muslims, have formed some kind of new Mafia that is running our city?” Stanley Cooper frowned, folding his arms across the front of his expensive suit. The plastic smile returned, but his tone was icy with contempt. “Fellas, come on. Aren’t we being a little bigoted? I know some Islamic radicals have caused a bit of trouble in our country in the past, but I believe that’s all been handled. Don’t you think I would have found out about an organized mob and a nuclear bomb in my city by now and done something about it?”

  Chief Steele ignored his phony umbrage. “Mayor, with all due respect, the evidence is too strong to refute, and the troubles being caused are stacking up to be worse than ever for our fair city. And now ….” Steele turned to Ned Thomas, who handed him a sealed envelope, which he in turn held out across the desk to the mayor, who took it with a skeptical stare. “We need you to read the letter that was mailed to former Sheriff Dade from Mr. Justice and was actually received from Sheriff Thomas.”

  The sheriff’s face burned red under the mayor’s scornful stare.

  Cooper’s wondering why his own man didn’t tell him about it, Rory guessed, feeling a new level of respect for Ned Thomas, who hadn’t betrayed their operation like Rory had originally suspected he might.

  The five OND men sat silently as the mayor put on designer reading glasses and perused the letter. When he was finished, he took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes then looked at them. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and his bronzed skin seemed to turn a wan, muddy shade.

  “So let’s say it’s true that this so-called Islamic Mafia exists in Las Vegas,” he said slowly. “And let’s, for a moment, say we believe this letter is valid too, although I’ve got to tell you, I’m not sure I believe it yet.”

  “Oh, Mr. Mayor, you can believe it,” Chief Steele interjected. “Our men in DC have verified its veracity. Even the president has seen it and believes in its potential threat.”

  The mayor’s mouth dropped open in shock. “The president … of the United States, as in Kathleen Tower?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why am I just being informed of this now?” the mayor asked angrily, looking from Chief Steele to Sheriff Thomas, who looked down, averting his eyes.

  “If you want to know the truth, Mayor Cooper, we weren’t sure who knew about the Mafia and who didn’t, or who might even be … working with them.”

  The mayor jumped from his chair, rising to his full, six-foot-four height, a lock of hair falling out of place across his face, which was red with rage. “Look here, if you’re implying…”

  “We’re not implying anything, Mayor,” the FBI chief interjected. “We are simply stating the facts. We were instructed from the top to keep our operation covert. Your own men had no choice but to keep our mission top secret. And we need to instruct you, by orders of the President, to do the same.”

  Rory heard Ned Thomas sigh with relief.

  “So why are you involving me now?”

  “We need your help.”

  The mayor, visibly trying to maintain a modicum of dignity, settled back down into his expensive leather chair to listen, albeit reluctantly.

  Chief Steele turned to Mark Glover.

  “According to our information, we believe the nuclear weapon is set to detonate on July sixth,” Glover stated.

  The mayor’s eyes grew large with alarm. “That’s only ten days away.”

  “Exactly. While we’ve been investigating and rooting out some of the Mafia members, and have even incarcerated several, none of them will confess to their knowledge of the weapon. The president wants our local team, led by these men,” Mark gestured toward Rodney, John, Ned, and Rory, “to find the bomb with the full support and aid of the FBI. Again, President Tower doesn’t want to needlessly send the whole country into a state of panic when there’s a slight chance this won’t come to fruition.”

  “So you admit this might all be a hoax?” The mayor gave a small, satisfied, self-righteous smile.

  “Yes, but even if there is a slim chance it isn’t, we have to do everything in our power to find the alleged bomb and diffuse it. According to the information we’ve gathered thus far, we believe the weapon is hidden underneath one of the casinos. That’s why we need your help. We need to do an investigatory sweep through each of them. It’s the only way.”

  “How do you do that in Las Vegas for crying out loud? You’d have to shut down the casinos!” The mayor indignantly smacked his hand on his desk.

  “Precisely.”

  Mayor Cooper smirked. “Okay, I’ve heard enough. That’s impossible. We can’t possibly shut down the casinos. We’d lose a ton of money. Our city can’t afford to lose one red cent, especially in the wake of the current recession. You’ll have to find another way.” He crossed his arms in resolute defiance.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  There is no other way.” Mark Glover crossed his arms as well.

  “So how do you propose we carry this grand scheme out, gentlemen?” Mayor Cooper asked sardonically.

  Mark Glover tipped his ever-present FBI cap to Ned Thomas.

  “The Sheriff’s department has been working every step of the way on this case, hand in hand with the FBI, Mayor,” Ned Thomas said proudly. Rory had to try hard to avoid rolling his eyes. “We’ve helped them devise a plan. First, we obtained the floor plans of each of the casino resorts, determining the square footage and special areas that may be hazardous or hard to access. Some of our officers will be assigned to the FBI units conducting the investigation since we are familiar with the lay of the land. The rest will either be assigned to normal patrol or to the MGM Grand arena for the fight.”

  “Ah, that’s right, we have the big fight coming up.” The mayor tapped his manicured fingers on the desktop, pausing for dramatic effect. “I almost forgot. Is that just a coincidence that it’s the same day the bomb is supposed to go off?”

  “We don’t think so,” John Dade said. “We think it was orchestrated that way so as many people are in town as possible. That’s why we need your help to shut down the casinos in a short amount of time, why this needs to come from the top. If you hold a well-publicized, televised press conference announcing the shutdown, no one will have a choice.”

  “Now why would I do that? The people will think I’ve lost my mind. I will never be elected again.”

  “Or you will later be seen as a hero, the mayor who saved Las Vegas,” John declared, sweeping his arms out with a flourish. He knows how to play this guy, Rory thought, realizing that John had worked with Stanley Cooper for a long time. It’s all about stroking his ego.

  “And if this bomb never materializes, I’ll be known as the mayor who cost Las Vegas millions of dollars, and I’ll be lucky I’m not impeached and run out of town.”

  “And if it does go off, it won’t matter because you’ll be a dead man.” Chief Steele interjected, his voice deadpan.

  “But if I can’t tell my people about the suspected bomb, what reason would I give? How do I pull this off without being committed for insanity?”

  “President Tower has already decided to back you up by declaring a national Responsible Gambling Weekend, a three-day period that will take place each year over the Fourth of July weekend; this year
it will be the weekend leading up to July sixth. Just like you, we found out that President Tower gets her fair share of protests from anti-gambling lobbyists. She will announce a new bill encouraging a temporary halt in gambling in observance of anti-gambling rights in response to all of the protests she’s received. Of course, the media will flock to the major gambling meccas like Reno, Atlantic City, and most importantly, Las Vegas. That’s when you’ll step in to say that even though Las Vegas will have to make some sacrifices, the city will do its patriotic duty by temporarily shutting down the casinos. Since you’ll want to be fair, each casino will be closed for several hours in observance of the new federal law. Of course, the plan will be to stagger their closings to impose the smallest financial impact on the city as possible.”

  The mayor frowned. “Let’s just say I agree to enact this legislation,” he said. “How long does each casino need to remain closed?”

  “We’re estimating about four hours each.”

  “All the casinos?”

  Chief Steele didn’t flinch. “With the manpower we’re promised, we’re estimating we can shut down the seventy-five casinos five at a time during the seventy-two hour period leading up to the fight.”

  “So the fight will go on?” the mayor asked slowly, thoughtfully. “At least we’ll get some revenue from that I guess, unless you’re proposing to stop that too.”

  “No, unfortunately there’s not enough time to cancel it without sounding off the alarms,” Mark Glover interjected.

  A somber hush enveloped them all as they sat mulling over the magnitude of the plan.

  “I’m going to have to think this over of course,” Mayor Cooper said, regaining his composure. “I think you’ll need to do a little more to convince me there’s a bomb before I go shutting down the lifeblood of my city. The more I think about the whole thing, the more preposterous it all sounds.”

  Suddenly, the mayor pointed his forefinger at Rory. “By the way, who is this guy? He hasn’t said anything. Isn’t he the one who started this whole thing? Why should we believe him and that letter from his father?”

  “Because we’ve no reason not to,” Chief Steele said.

  Rory didn’t say a word, wondering for the hundredth time how he had become the messenger in this whole twisted game.

  The entire media world was focused on Mayor Stanley Cooper’s press conference that brilliant July morning. The sun radiated off the glass panes of City Hall, giving the impression that the city was gleaming and perfect. No one could see or know that the vast majority of the Vegas population lived out in the desert in neighborhoods littered with empty beer cans, broken bikes, abandoned cars, and forgotten dreams, sucked dry like the victim of a vampire, a nightly beast that grew ever more evil and hungry for more.

  It had been ordained that the king and ruler, Mayor Stanley Cooper, would take the podium, which was raised up on the stage of the outdoor concert plaza like a shrine surrounded by video cameras and microphones so his eminence could be seen and heard.

  Crews from all of the major American networks and news stations, as well as the Associated Press and all of the foreign press, surrounded the stage, vying for space.

  Rory stood between John and Carlos, and was disappointed that Susan stood on Carlos’s other side.

  The memory of their kiss seized him when he caught the scent of her perfume on a slight breeze. He suddenly realized he hadn’t talked to her since he had kissed her. They had all been consumed by this crazy Mafia case, and time had flashed by so fast lately that he hadn’t had much time to think. Plus, if Rory was honest with himself, he hadn’t allowed himself to think or feel, stuffing down his emotions when they arose so that they had grown into a blend of anxiety and embarrassment. It now felt as if there was a tangible wall between the two of them. Rory wanted desperately to shatter it.

  After the mayor is done … he thought, his mind in overdrive, hatching a plan. I can’t take this distance any longer. I miss her. I’ve got to talk to her … hold her in my arms. His heart ached to be alone with her, if only for a few minutes.

  Rory and the other OND members were briefed the night before that Mayor Cooper planned to make an unusual public appearance. They found out that the haughty mayor had been haunted by his own nightmare the night of their visit to his office, and had been somehow humbled by it. Agent Glover informed the team that Stanley Cooper had called Chief Steele into his office again the next day and confessed everything: he had known about the Mafia, and was in fact receiving bribes to keep quiet about the ISM’s underground operations. He even admitted that even though he was terrified to play along with the plan to close the casinos and risk the Mafia’s retaliation, he was even more afraid not to for fear of being solely responsible for what might happen if he didn’t.

  Rory sat in shocked silence as Mark Glover outlined the nightmare recounted by the mayor to Chief Steele. He didn’t dare look in Mark’s direction.

  “He said it was as real as if it were actually happening,” Agent Glover relayed, keeping his tone steady. But as Rory listened to him, he knew Mark was doing everything in his power to keep his voice from shaking. “Las Vegas was in the aftermath of some type of nuclear holocaust. Mayor Cooper was one of the lone survivors—and he wasn’t his well-groomed perfect self, but a sick, ghostly shell of a man who wished he had never lived to tell the tale because he knew he was partly to blame since he had done nothing to prevent it.”

  My dream, Rory realized, stunned. He finally looked at Mark, who caught his eye for a second, and then rapidly looked away. He knows it’s the same dream, and even he’s afraid.

  To the astonishment of the masses assembled and the millions of TV viewers, Mayor Cooper came out of the glass doors of city hall wearing jeans, a T-shirt, work boots, and sunglasses. Wild applause erupted.

  The mayor removed his sunglasses, and instead of flashing his trademark smile, he looked sombre as he waved to the crowd from behind the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began in a voice that was uncharacteristically humble. “I am honored to be standing among you today as your mayor and as a concerned citizen of Las Vegas.”

  He actually sounds sincere, Rory marveled.

  “I am dressed this way to show my solidarity with each and every one of you, and to show you that even though I hold a position of authority as your mayor, I am subject to all of you who put me in office. I am no better or worse than any of you, and I am willing to do what it takes to work side by side with all of you to save Las Vegas from decline and possible self-destruction.”

  A murmur rippled among the assembled crowd, increasing in sound like an oncoming train until Mayor Cooper raised his hands to quiet them.

  “Let me explain.” He lowered his hands once the buzz tapered off. “Everyone knows Las Vegas is called Sin City. We who are residents have adopted the name, and we’ve even been proud to wear it like a badge of honor for many years—wearing it all the way to the bank, if you know what I mean.

  “But lately, I and other officials in charge have noticed Las Vegas taking on a darker side to the vices that have long been the source of pleasure for people from all over the world. Perhaps the bad is outweighing the good as people get greedier. The rich get richer while the poor get poorer. I believe it’s time to start looking at ways Las Vegas can clean up its act and explore more healthy, family friendly, and uplifting sources of entertainment that benefit all citizens.

  “As some of you who read or watch the news know, President Tower has declared this weekend the first annual Responsible Gambling Weekend to draw attention to a platform raised by anti-gambling protestors. It is the president’s hope that this initiative will inspire the nation to prevent gambling addictions, to help victims and their families, to keep casinos legal in all their business transactions, and to find other solutions to entertaining tourists who visit cities like Las Vegas, Reno, and Atlantic City.

  “President Tower has called on our city to be the leader in curtailing gambling during this July fourth weekend
to draw attention to this new legislation,” the mayor continued. “I believe this is our chance not only to show solidarity with our nation, but to show how Las Vegas is ready to come out of the depths of the current recession with a new and improved image and game plan. With the blessing of your city council, I have made the decision to shut down all of the casinos in Las Vegas this Friday through Sunday ….”

  A roar surged through the crowd, and Stanley Cooper bowed his head and raised his hands to wait for a modicum of quiet so he could continue.

  “We will shut down each casino for four hours in observance of the new bill. We believe this will not cause too great a financial hardship on each of the casino resorts but will make an impact on the public.”

  Questions were hurled, but Mayor Cooper simply smiled and shook his head. “This is not that difficult to comprehend, so I will not be answering questions from the media at this time,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure you are all wondering whether Sunday’s big fight between Jay-Jay Moss and Carmen Gallo will be held. The city has consulted with the promotional company running the fight, and together we have decided it was too late in the planning stages when we heard about the president’s responsible gambling legislation to discontinue the event without facing potential litigation that could be costly. So the fight will go on.”

  Applause broke out once again.

  “However, in the spirit of the legislation, there will be no on-site betting on the fight, and our city government will do everything possible to ensure this is a family event and a clean and fair fight.” Hecklers booed and shouted profanities, pushing and shoving until they were rounded up by security guards standing close by.

  It’s a good thing we’re providing him with twenty-four-hour bodyguards for the next few weeks, Rory thought.

  The mayor continued as eloquently as possible amid the chaos. “We are simply asking you to have faith in us as we trust in our nation’s leaders. Doing the right thing is never an easy task—but not doing it can turn out to be even more difficult in the long run. One might ask, how can Las Vegas, already in the throes of a recession and on the brink of a depression, afford to shut down our biggest money makers for a few minutes, much less a few hours? But I ask, how can we afford not to? How can we turn a blind eye to the negative consequences of gambling without finding a solution? It is in our best interest to support our president.