The Emperor of Vegas

by Ryan Stygar

  Vince realized he’d hit a nerve and backed off.

  “Look, Adam,” he began quietly. “I want to help you and Lily get out of here. Shit, I need to get out of here too. I already lied to the cops and now I’m aiding a guy wanted for murder…”

  “I never wanted this to affect you, I’m sorry Vince.”

  “Helping you was my choice,” Vince said, he nodded toward Lily. “You know she’s like a niece to me. I love her too. I can’t imagine what you felt when the doctors told you about her heart problem, or when her mother died, but believe me when I say that I feel some pain too. I want to see her grow up to be healthy and strong, and I want to see you two together in one house again.”

  Adam wiped a tear from his eye. “Thanks so much Vince,” he said. When he’d taken a moment to compose himself he asked what Vince wanted to do next.

  “I have family in San Diego. My aunt works with a church that might be able to help take care of Lily while you and I find jobs and get on our feet out there. If we can get out of Vegas, I think they’ll take us in.”

  Adam’s eyes twinkled. “Are you serious? Vince that’s great, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  Vince shrugged a bit. “We don’t have the best relationship. My aunt is really religious; she doesn’t take too kindly to an atheist from Sin City.”

  “Vince if there’s a shot at getting out, we have to take it. Can you make the call?”

  “I can. I’m sure they won’t turn down a chance to help a little girl in her time of need; it’s the good Christian thing to do I guess. But we’ll need to play by their rules,”

  “Like what? Go to church? Sing in the choir?”

  “Something like that,”

  “Well sprinkle me with holy water and count me in!” Adam smiled. He pulled out his stack of money. “I have to get out by tonight or tomorrow, that’s is the only way we can make it work. No roulette this time, I promise. I’m gonna turn this into at least fifty grand and get us the hell out of here.”

  “Adam you’re gonna lose that money if you gamble with it.”

  “Dammit man we’ve been over this!” he said in a harsh whisper. “It’s the only play I have. Can you make the arrangements for San Diego?”

  Vince pursed his lips. His heart was broken for his poor friend. He hoped Adam could get the money he needed without losing the last of his cash, but he’d seen this pattern before. “Alright,” he finally answered. “I’ll make the call and make sure they’re ready for us – I’m not kidding though, your life is about to get seriously pious. Are you ready for that?”

  “Whatever it takes,” Adam insisted.

  “Ok. Go get that money. Good luck buddy,” Vince gave his friend a hug then took off to make amends with his aunt.

  

  Federal Building, Downtown Las Vegas

  Patricia Klein was sorting through a stack of papers on her desk when Clayton burns knocked against the flimsy door that separated her private workspace from the noise of the common office.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Clayton entered and then struggled to shut the wobbly door behind him.

  “Leave it,” Klein said with a defeated shrug. “Billions of dollars every year for Homeland Security, yet here I am with an office made of cheap cardboard.”

  Clayton sipped his coffee and took a seat by Patricia Klein’s desk. “I feel your pain, I’ve been trying to get reimbursed for my hotel since we got here…”

  “The life of a Fed, glamorous isn’t it?” Klein chuckled. “So what’s up?”

  Clayton handed her a slip of paper with the DEA seal embossed on the top. The one-page document had a small headshot of a man with Persian facial features in the upper left corner. Klein placed a pair of reading glasses on her nose and skimmed the page.

  “When did this happen?” she said with amazement.

  “Just this morning,” Clayton grinned. “Apparently Omar Khalid was asked to help Dimitri Jordan translate some documents related to the opium smuggling business. Either Jordan didn’t know or didn’t care – but Khalid is a devout Muslim. He and his family have a very personal beef with the Taliban extremists. Needless to say, Khalid wasn’t too happy about Jordan doing business with them.”

  “And you have him in DEA custody?”

  Clayton nodded. “Of course DHS will have full access to him, but we’ll be keeping a close eye on him until this is over. I don’t need to tell you that with Khalid’s help, we no longer need to worry about our Andrew Kremenski problem. Omar said he’ll provide any information we need.”

  A smile spread across Patricia Klein’s face. “Well praise Allah, Mr. Burns, it looks like we are back in business.”

  

  Aria High Limit Lounge, 3:25PM

  Adam liked to think he knew what he was doing when it came to Blackjack. The ten thousand dollars he had was enough to get into the exclusive Aria High Limits lounge where, after two hours at the table, he was up to almost thirty thousand in chips.

  “Drinks?” asked the cocktail waitress. She was a beautiful woman with Asian eyes and pixie-cut black hair. Adam’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he set foot in the high limit lounge; this was a hail-Mary pass and he knew it. The memory of what happened the last time he tried to gamble his way into prosperity was still a fresh wound in his mind. With an awkward smile he requested a strong gin and tonic to help settle his nerves.

  Drinks were complimentary of course. The high limit lounge of the Aria rests at the pinnacle of luxury in Vegas casinos. Rivaled only by the Tiger Room in Dimitri Jordan’s Sumatra Casino, the Aria’s venue sparkled with high-end décor adorned with rose-gold trimmings, exotic woods, and colorful granite. With a central bar stocked with the highest quality liquors from around the world, patrons gambled with minimum bets as high as a thousand dollars. It was a place to meet the who’s who of high rollers.

  When the fizzy gin and tonic arrived Adam took a deep drink and requested that another be sent along shortly; he was playing with fire and he knew it. The dealer was showing a Queen of Hearts, which made Adam nervous when he checked his own hand. Ten of clubs and six of diamonds.

  Adam held out a hand parallel to the felt table to indicate he wanted to stay. The other players made their calls.

  “House busts,” called the dealer. Adam blew out a breath as he collected his winnings. If he could keep this up for just a few more hours he’d be home-free.

  He detected some movement behind him. When he turned he saw a familiar face waddling into the high limit room with a bubbly call-girl hanging around his neck.

  “Shit,” Adam whispered, quickly turning to hide his face from Mikhail Petrov.

  He had no beef with the Russians, not while Viktoriya was expecting him to assassinate Watson Lafayette in Jordan’s nightclub that evening. But that didn’t mean he wanted to start getting cozy with the Russian mafia boss. Adam decided to collect his chips and try his luck somewhere else.

  Federal law required such a large winning to be reported for tax purposes and Adam quickly scribbled some falsified information at the cashier’s box to get out of there. When it was done he powerwalked through the rows of slot machines and toward the glass doors that led to Las Vegas Boulevard.

  “Hold it right there,” a man’s voice barked behind him.

  Adam turned and cringed at the sight of the blonde police captain from the night before. Another officer, a mean-looking guy with a dark crew cut, rested his hands on his gear belt and kept a lookout as the captain approached.

  Adam tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “Officers… is something wrong?”

  The captain tipped his head curtly. “Not yet. Sheriff Wyatt sent us to check on you.”

  “That was very thoughtful of him, but I’m fine,” Adam started to walk away but the captain caught him by the arm and pulled him back.

  “He wants to make sure you’re still committed to the deal.”

  He placed a card in Adam’s hand that had a phon
e number written on it. “We expect to have Ty Marcus in custody by tonight. You call this number when you have him where we can get him. Otherwise it’s you who we’ll be locking up.”

  Captain Williams quieted down as a gaggle of college-aged guests bustled past them. When the crowd was gone he leaned in close. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

  “No… no problem,” Adam said. He needed breathing room to make his getaway and having the cops around wasn’t helping; he had to get rid of them. “I can’t get him close with you two hovering around. You need to give me space.”

  The officer behind Captain Williams chortled. Williams scoffed, “And I’m supposed to trust you aren’t going to just make a run for it?” His eyes darted down to the case of money under Adam’s arm. “Lucky day at the casino I see?”

  “Please don’t,” Adam pleaded as Williams snatched it away and counted out the winnings. “I need that money, please.”

  “Oh we’ll keep it safe for you,” Williams said. He pulled out a wad of cash from the box and smoothly tucked it into his pocket. “Service fee,” he explained with a cruel wink.

  “We’ll keep an eye on this while you get Ty Marcus for us. We would really hate for you and all that spending money to just disappear without delivering on our deal first.”

  Adam stepped forward to grab his box but was shoved back. “I suggest you get with the program,” Captain Williams growled. “Make the call when Marcus is ready,” Williams said with a firm slap on Adam’s shoulder. “We have units ready to take him down.”

  Adam nearly cried with anger as the cops walked off with the last of his money.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  37

  Spring Valley, West Las Vegas, 5:45pm

  T he Mediterranean-style homes in Spring Valley were all relatively new, having been constructed during the building boom of the early 2000’s. Chad’s place sat in the center of a planned community surrounded by parks by well-maintained sidewalks.

  Vince parked his yellow Miata in front of Chad’s two story house, walked past the brand new Ford F350 in the driveway, and rang the doorbell.

  “Just a minute,” a voice called from inside.

  While he waited Vince admired the new truck in the driveway. The thing was lifted up so high that it’s owner installed chrome ladders under its doors to help people climb inside.

  “Vince, good to see you,” Chad greeted as he opened the door. A wildly successful steroid dealer, Chad lived in a well-decorated house with all the latest in home amenities. His expertise in his product line stemmed from years of regular use, but despite his lean, muscular build, the unfortunate fellow stood at a mere five feet and feet inches tall. Vince loomed over him like a giant as he walked into Chad’s living room.

  “Business seems good, I like the new truck,” Vince remarked.

  “Biggest one on the lot!” Chad beamed proudly. He sat down on his leather couch and started rifling through a pair of black bags on his coffee table. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, soda?”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Vince said. He held out four one-hundred dollar bills. “I’m going to need a little extra today; I think this might be one of my last purchases for a while.”

  Chad looked up, counted the money, and placed it in his back pocket. “Double dose, no problem. Where are you going?”

  “San Diego,” Vince answered. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

  “Well, be sure to send me a postcard,” Chad said as he counted out the vials for his loyal customer.

  A powerful V10 engine roared outside, causing Chad to look up and stand from his seat. “Looks like she’s a little early,” he said. “Excuse me a minute?”

  Vince waved him off and made himself comfortable in the living room. From where he sat he had a clear view of Chad opening the front door and inviting an athletic-looking woman with raven hair which was shaved on one side. Vince felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her. The confident, powerful aura that complimented her edgy beauty made her both mysterious and wildly attractive.

  “Vince this is Kiersten, Kiersten this is Vince,” Chad said as the woman walked into the living room.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Vince said, meeting her gaze. Kiersten was friendly and she politely shook his hand, but she was effortlessly intimidating.

  “The usual?” Chad asked. Kiersten nodded and handed him an envelope full of cash. Vince’s eyes bulged at the sight of all the money. Chad, who didn’t even bother taking a count, placed the fat envelope in a safe under his coffee table. “Most of the stuff is ready, but I have to special-order his HGH, come back tomorrow night for the rest.”

  She thanked him and headed for the door. Chad handed Vince his significantly smaller black bag and ushered him outside with Kiersten.

  A gleaming white Lamborghini Huracan was glowing in front of Chad’s driveway. Behind it, a black man in a suit and tie was leaning against a Range Rover and resting his hand on a silver pistol tucked against his hip.

  “Should I be worried?” Chad asked, looking at the armed guard by Kiersten’s Lamborghini. She shook her head.

  “Dimitri sent him to watch over me. Just a precaution. He’s very protective.”

  “I like the new car,” Chad hummed as he admired the Lamborghini. “He sure loves you.”

  “He does, and I love him too,” Kiersten said politely. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  When the roar of the Lamborghini faded in the distance, Vince looked down at Chad.

  “Who was that girl?”

  “Pretty sexy right?” Chad grinned. “I’m sorry to say she’s way out of our league buddy. Her boyfriend is a billionaire.”

  “Dimitri?” Vince asked.

  “Yeah, Dimitri Jordan. He’s the guy who owns the Sumatra Hotel and Casino,” Chad tilted his head. “Hey, that’s where you work isn’t it?”

  Vince nodded quietly. All his conversations with Adam were whirring about in his brain. He knew that Dimitri Jordan was a powerful guy, but everything he knew had come second hand. Now that he’d just seen Jordan’s girlfriend with the Lamborghini and the armed guards, it all suddenly felt more real.

  “You okay?” Chad asked.

  Vince shook off his sense of awe. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for the juice,” he walked past Chad’s gigantic truck and left.

  38

  A dam made his way back to the Aria High Limit Lounge without catching Mikhail Petrov’s attention. The aged Russian gangster was lounging and laughing with an escort who was barely a third of his age. The old man rocked his round body up and out from his chair to order another drink from the bar. Adam turned around to conceal himself as Mikhail Petrov passed.

  His brain ran scenario after scenario to find a way out of his dilemma, but it just kept spitting out the same chilling conclusion. If he was going to get his money back and get out of town, then he needed to get Ty Marcus locked up. With Ty in police custody then the charges against Adam would go away and then the police would give his money back. Then he could get back to the business of getting out of town.

  Carefully poking his head around to keep tabs on Mikhail, Adam decided that the Russian gangster was just the bait he needed to lure Ty Marcus to where the cops could get to him. He pulled out the burner phone in his pocket and dialed.

  “Adam Friend,” Ty answered, “I was starting to worry about you.”

  “I’ve got Mikhail Petrov; he’s alone except for a call girl,”

  Ty sounded surprised that Adam had come through for him so quickly. “No kidding… you’re sure he doesn’t have guards with him?”

  Adam pressed himself against the wall outside the High Limit Room and peaked through the doorway. Scanning the room he saw nothing but old rich men and chatty young prostitutes.

  “I’m sure,” Adam answered. “He’s by himself.”

  “Where?”

  “The Aria High Limit Lounge. I don’t know what you want to do next, there’s a lot of guests gambling in there,” Adam thought a s
econd then carefully added that Ty should come see it for himself.

  Ty turned from the phone and started shouting orders to men, after a minute of chattering with them he spoke into his receiver again. “We can take him out quietly, but we need time. Can you stay in the high limit room for a couple hours?”

  Adam was starting to sweat. What did they mean by ‘take him out quietly?’ And how involved did they expect Adam to get? Killing guys in the privacy of a dumpy motel was one thing, taking out a mob-boss in the middle of a casino was just madness. Adam told Ty that he had no money, hoping it would give him an excuse to get away from the Aria.

  “That won’t be a problem,” Ty said, much to Adam’s chagrin. “Go to the cashier. Tell them you’re a friend of the Sumatra and that Ty Marcus sent you. I’m going to make a call and get you a line of credit to work with. Stay in the high limit lounge and keep an eye on Petrov. You’ll get more instructions shortly,” he hung up.

  Adam’s shoulders slumped. The thought occurred to him that his little gamble to lure Ty into the Aria might have failed. His best move, he figured, was to follow Ty’s lead and hope for another opportunity to hand him over to the police.

  As instructed, Adam went to the cashier. He was surprised and more than a little unnerved at the look of awe he received when he dropped Ty’s name. The Aria gave Adam a fifteen thousand dollar line of credit, which was plenty to get back into the exclusive high rollers area. As he walked back into the high limit room he was greeted by the waitress with the black pixie cut.

  “Welcome back,” she said with a warm smile. “What will it be?”

  “Blackjack,” Adam answered.

  “I’m Darlene by the way,” she said as she escorted him to the Blackjack tables.

  “Adam,” he answered back with a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

  She pulled out a chair for him at the Blackjack table where he was quickly served a colorful pile of chips to play with. From where he was, Adam had a perfect line of sight to observe Mikhail Petrov, who was across the room and gambling away a fortune on Baccarat while keeping a firm grip on his date’s left butt cheek.