by Ian Jones
Chapter Three
It was late afternoon as the plane touched down at McCarran Airport the following day. John had been looking out the window for the strip as they approached and then was amazed to finally see it as it rolled past the windows before they eventually came to a stop at the gate. After disembarking he changed his watch to the correct time, grabbed his bag from the carousel then made his way through anticipating the usual queues and delays at U.S. immigration, but it turned out to be not that bad. Flying in first class meant he got off the plane ahead of the crowds, and he was waved through without any issue. Vegas seemed to operate completely differently to every other US city he had ever flown into. As he headed to the exit he switched himself into work mode, shrugging off the long flight.
It was good that he did; he spotted them as he moved away from the customs desk. The doors slid open as a couple in front exited and he saw two men, one large and one small watching on the other side. Instinctively he turned his head as if waiting for someone, and then stepped away to one side so he was out of the line of sight. The doors opened again and he saw that the smaller one was holding a mobile phone and both men were checking it as people made their way out into the land side area of the airport. Of course, it could all be innocent. But then again. He made a show of packing his passport into his bag and considered his options; there weren’t many. If he hung round here too long the authorities were going to take an interest but ultimately that would still end the same and he would be out front. He couldn’t go back, so through the doors he went, but now he was ready.
John realised his suspicions were right as soon as he entered the arrivals hall. The small one immediately recognised him and nudged his colleague. The two men closed in on him wearing fixed smiles as he walked across the hall. He wore an expression of confusion as they neared him, both men still smiling away inanely and gesturing for him to follow them. He stopped and looked behind himself theatrically and then back at the two men while pointing to himself.
‘Sorry, are you looking for me? Do I know you?’
The small man stepped in front of the big one and grasped John’s free hand.
‘Mr Smith, hi! Hello and welcome to Vegas. The most happening city on Earth. We are here to get you to your hotel. My friend here will take your bag for you.’
John allowed the big man to take his bag and shook the other’s hand, who carried on speaking rapidly while effectively dragging John to the doors.
‘So the car is right outside, is this your first time in Vegas? Man you are gonna have a great time, this is the city of dreams my friend. Everything goes here; it’s one long party. You are not gonna want to go home.’
The big man barged through the doors and they followed him outside and headed left. John could see a large shiny 4x4 parked close to the wall where it shouldn’t be just down from the doors. The big man walked around and threw John’s bag on the back seat and then stood by the open rear door. John walked to the back of the vehicle and then stopped.
‘Hey what’s happening? Let’s go. Jump right in,’ the little man told him impatiently and grabbed his arm again, pulling him toward the open rear door
John stood firm.
‘No I don’t think so. I’ll just get a cab. Can I get my bag back please?’
The big man stared at him in disbelief then moved closer to where John stood and reached out for him.
‘Get in the fucking car dumbass. We’re just gonna talk,’ he growled.
John stood, poised and waiting. The big man stepped closer, his hand on John’s shoulder. The small man resumed his grip on John’s arm and moved in close until he was standing right next to him.
Action.
John suddenly leant into the small man with his right shoulder pushing him against the back quarter of the car and then launched a full force kick into the big man’s groin, who opened his eyes wide in shock and sank to his knees. It was a great kick, way too much power, the ball would have cleared the roof completely at Twickenham, probably ended up in the town centre. In the same movement, he rotated his arm free from the small man’s grip, rocked on his heels and leaning down head butted him straight on the nose, shattering the bone in an explosion of bright red blood. Stunned the small man fell back against the car and slid down to the ground. Still moving John whirled and caught the big man’s hair as he toppled forward and kicked him full in the face, and then grabbed him by the jacket and charged him head first into the wall, knocking him straight out and laid him on the ground. John breathed out and then looked back past the car at the doors, where people were leaving the airport, blissfully unaware of the events on the other side of the car. The small man sat slumped against the rear wheel looking up at him shocked, his mouth moving, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. John searched him first, and took a gun, spare clip, mobile phone, a pair of soft thin gloves and a wallet. He pulled on the gloves and then did the same again to the big man; taking identical belongings from him plus an extra clip, the car keys, a thick padded envelope and a flick knife. He dropped them into the pocket in the driver’s door. Then, with the small man watching, he laid out the big man’s arms and stamped down repeatedly on both his hands, smashing all the bones inside and his fingers. Then with some difficulty he methodically broke each arm, and dragged him into an alcove in the wall behind a bench. Satisfied he hauled the small man to his feet and folded him into the front passenger footwell of the car, and then climbed in and started up. Leaving the big man behind he drove out the airport and headed south and east out the city into the desert.
As he cleared the city limits the small man began to come fully round. He realised something had gone seriously wrong and started to talk quickly, alternating between trying to reason and pleading, all the time snuffling and wiping blood from his face.
‘What’s your name?’ John asked, interrupting him. He had his hand resting casually on one of the guns as he drove, in plain sight but too far away for the small man to reach.
‘Jim, Jimmy. It’s Jimmy,’ the small man replied staring at him. ‘Look man, I’m hurt real bad, I got to get me to a hospital, I am real fucked up and …’
‘OK Jimmy, just stop whining and shut the fuck up while I drive OK? I’ve never been here before; I’ve got no idea where I’m going, we don’t want to have an accident do we?’
Jimmy fell silent, just quietly whimpering to himself.
John followed the route aimlessly for a few miles, and then saw a turning onto a dirt road leading into the desert and swung the car into it. He bumped down the track and then turned the car a sharp 360 circle with the big car pitching and rolling across the desert scrub until it was on the track again pointing back the way he had come and stopped sharply, switching the engine off. He picked up the gun and climbed out the car, and walked round and opened the passenger door. Jimmy looked fearfully out, John reached in and pulled him roughly out of the car and threw him onto the dusty ground.
John looked around him. It was getting properly dark now, and Las Vegas shone like a bright multi-coloured beacon in the distance. All there was for miles and miles around him was desert.
He turned back to Jimmy and sat him up against the front wheel.
‘Now then Jimmy, can we have a chat?’
Jimmy looked at him and nodded rapidly. He really was a mess; his nose was still bleeding heavily and both his eyes were puffed up and closing.
‘Jimmy, you help me out we can both walk away in one piece OK? I got the upper hand here, but I’m not looking to kill anyone.’
Jimmy looked at him hopefully.
‘Yeah, sure, definitely, I can help. I’m a helpful guy,’ he snuffled, almost unintelligibly.
‘Right so let’s start at the beginning. Who told you to come and meet me at the airport? Pablo?’
Jimmy shook his head.
‘No, not Pablo. I mean it comes from the top yeah, but Stefan gives the orders.’
‘Who’s Stefan? The guy with you at the airport? The big guy?’
&
nbsp; ‘No, that’s Robert. You fucked him up bad man, you didn’t need to do that. He ain’t a bad guy, Robert. Shit I can’t fucking believe this, it ain’t happening. No, Stefan is Pablo’s number two.’
‘So what did Stefan tell you to do?’
‘Look man we just do what we’re told right? We don’t get to make decisions.’
‘Whatever. Just what was supposed to happen?’
‘We just had to give you a message. You were supposed to be scared; get back on a plane. Never even leave the airport. Jesus. That was the idea anyway. We were told it was gonna be real quick and easy, take five minutes. But Robert got different ideas when we was waiting, he wanted to fucking frighten you. He wanted to take you out to the fucking desert. Out here.’
Jimmy looked around and shook his head.
‘Jesus,’ he moaned.
‘And do what? Bury me alive? Leave me for the buzzards?’
‘No way man, no way. We wasn’t gonna kill you man, I swear to god. Just frighten you, Robert is good at that shit. Well, normally anyways,’ Jimmy finished lamely.
‘OK, so who told Pablo I was on the plane?’
‘I don’t know man. I’m not that high up. I’m just an errand boy you know. I don’t know nothing. Nobody ever tells me shit. It sucks.’
‘Where does Pablo live?’
‘You do not wanna know that man. You better off just staying away, I’m serious. Pablo don’t listen to anyone. Something is going down, he is fucking losing it I swear to God. Like I said, nobody ever tells me nothing but it seems to me that everything is turning to shit and fast. I worked for his dad, it was different then, he was a good man but Pablo. Man he just wants everyone to suffer.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind. But just to keep me happy, tell me where does he live?’
‘He’s got the penthouse on the top of the Acropolis. He never leaves the fucking place I’m telling you. I heard he used to have this big grand house someplace, but he sold it. When Francesco was running things we hardly ever saw him. But that’s all changed now. He never really goes anywhere. He’s got this strip joint called Honeys downtown. He does get down there sometimes, but it ain’t often.’
‘OK. What about Thomas?’
Jimmy looked at him surprised.
‘That guy? Why you asking about that loser? He hasn’t been around much lately. Likes the booze. I dunno where he lives.’
‘Right Jimmy, you’ve been helpful. One more. Where’s Abby?’
‘Who the fuck is Abby?’
‘British woman, young. Been here a few weeks, apparently with Thomas, or maybe Pablo, or so I understood it anyway.’
‘Oh yeah, the blonde piece? Why?
‘Because I’m looking for her. Answer the question.’
Jimmy theatrically slammed a hand down hard into the dirt stirring up a small dust cloud which drifted back against him in the breeze.
‘Fucking Hell. That’s what this shit is all about? I knew she was fucking bad news. Pablo running round after her with his tongue hanging out, worse than ever. Fuck.’
‘Jimmy, keep it simple. I’m here looking for her. Where is she?’
‘I think she lives with Thomas. Shares an apartment or some shit? Maybe. But I ain’t seen him in forever. It ain’t real clear what’s going on with her man. I don’t know. She don’t never talk to me. When she first turned up she would be at the tables, and I seen her once over near Planet Hollywood, you know, the apartments. I had to go pick her up. But I don’t know man. Tell the truth, I ain’t seen her in a while neither.’
A phone started ringing. Both men looked back at the car. John leaned across through the open door and took out the two phones. Jimmy watched him curiously. John held up the ringing one; the word ‘Acropolis’ was visible on the display. It stopped abruptly and then silence, but seconds later the second phone started ringing with the same name showing. After a while it stopped. Both men looked at each other.
Jimmy appeared even more worried now.
‘So what now man? You said nobody was getting killed.’
The first phone started ringing again, this time the display read ‘Stefan’.
‘Wow Jimmy, they’re very keen to talk to you. You must be a popular guy.’
The phone stopped ringing.
On the ground there was a flat rock. John laid the phone that just rang on it and then hit repeatedly with the butt of the gun until it smashed. He put the remaining one back in the glove compartment of the car.
‘I think we’re done Jimmy,’ he said quietly and raised the gun.
‘No look man, you said …’
‘I know what I said Jimmy. I’m not gonna kill you. If you’re lucky. Stand up.’
Jimmy stood up shakily and leaned on the bonnet for support. As he turned to look round John struck him on the head with the gun and he dropped straight back to the ground. John smashed both hands and broke both arms, then picked him up and laid him out carefully on the back seat.
He followed the track back to the main road and stopped, pulled Jimmy out the car and dropped him on the dirt by the turning and then drove back to Vegas.
Back in the city he vaguely tried to follow the roads he believed he had taken out and eventually found signs for the airport. He navigated his way around onto the strip, and headed south, spotting a long line of the same hotels which he now had reservations in. The traffic was heavy, nose to tail but he was in no hurry. Eventually, more by luck than judgement he found the Acropolis and parked the car in the multi storey car park behind the hotel leaving the keys in the ignition. May as well add insult to injury he decided, but he parked near the top so it wouldn’t be discovered for a while. The mobile had rung several more times during the journey; he left it switched on in the glove box. Then he put everything from the door pocket into his bag and followed the path into the hotel and entered from the rear, straight into a shopping area. Wherever he looked there were fake Greek ruins and statues. Not bothering to avoid any cameras he made his way through and entered the casino, where there were lines of card tables and roulette wheels and continued straight on past banks of lifts and where it was all slot machines, loads of beeping and flashing lights and a huge central bar. It was busy, the time of day when the serious players would be settling in. There were signs everywhere pointing to all the many areas and John made his way to Reception, where he waited patiently in the queue and then checked in successfully under the name John Smith. He collected his room key and left the hotel.
He spent the next two hours wandering around the strip checking in to all the hotels from his list, doing them all in order. There were queues in every one. The next seven were under the name John Smith, and then he pulled on a blonde ponytail wig and clear glasses and checked into the last two as Jurgen Schmidt, from Stuttgart. Las Vegas was busy, people and traffic everywhere. The last hotel he went to was the Mandalay Bay, which was located on the other side of the road from the Acropolis and would be his base for now. A suite had been booked for him high up in the enormous building so he made his way to his room and looked out the window. The crowded strip glowed brightly away to his left, the airport straight in front and looking to his right everywhere got emptier ending in the desert. Diagonally in front of him and far below was the Acropolis, with the lights on in what was presumably the Penthouse on the top. He checked his watch, half past eight. He’d had a busy couple of hours. He laid out all of Robert and Jimmy’s belongings on the bed. The guns were new Glock 17’s, both freshly oiled and fully loaded and there were also three full spare clips. So he had good firepower already, plus the knowledge that Pablo would be told he had them. He hid the guns and ammo under the mattress in the centre of the vast bed. Between the two wallets he pocketed over seven hundred dollars and a pass key for the Acropolis. That was a pleasant surprise, very useful. He turned the envelope over in his hands and then tore it open, inside was ten thousand dollars, so Pablo was very generously more than covering any personal expenses for this visit. He stashed the money an
d the knife in the room safe, put the gloves in his back pocket and then shoved everything else in the bin, he would dispose of it next time he went out. Pleased with how everything had started he dug high power binoculars out of his bag, ordered a room service cheeseburger and a beer and pulled a chair over to the window.
Chapter Four
Robert stood shaking in the office. He was in so much pain he thought he was going to pass out. The last thing he needed was to be standing here getting yelled at. He should be in the hospital. He had come round outside the airport and had vomited and then been unable to stand or even properly right himself; ending up lying half against the wall behind him. He had laid there for ages trying to move wondering what the hell had happened until an old lady had sat down on the bench. She heard his moaning behind her and tried to help, originally thinking he was drunk, then deciding he must have been hit by a truck. After fussing round him she eventually went for a help and a medic came out and had a look. He went back, got another man and a stretcher and after a lot of awkward and painful pulling and lifting they managed to get Robert to the first aid room, also believing he was a drunk, and then promptly forgot all about him. It was nearly two hours before they remembered. By now Robert had come round fully and was hurting badly, but couldn’t move either arm properly so couldn’t get out the room. They took pity on him and produced a mobile phone then made a call to Stefan holding the phone up to his ear. Half an hour later Tony had arrived with a smirk on his face and Robert had finally got out of the airport. Now with Pablo and Stefan glaring at him he wished he had stayed there.
‘So tell me again, one more time,’ ordered Stefan who was standing very close to him.