The Emperor of Vegas

by Ryan Stygar

  “Ty Marcus just left the Aria,” Adam said, a bit unnerved to hear the old man’s voice again. “He went north on Las Vegas boulevard and then headed east on Harmon. He’s driving an ambulance.”

  “Good,” Wyatt said, taking notes. “Any identifiers?”

  Adam looked all around him to make sure he wasn’t being watched or listened to.

  “Yeah…” he answered. “Hope Ambulance, it’s a big red and white van. Ty has two guys with him.”

  “Very good,” Wyatt answered. “I’m sending a team to go make the arrest. I understand my officers are holding something for you?”

  “They stole thirty grand from me,” Adam said indignantly.

  “Now, now, let’s not go throwing accusations around,” Wyatt said. “You’ll get ten of that back. Think of the rest as my fee for making all your charges go away.”

  Adam sighed. “Fine.”

  “Don’t leave town. We’ll call you soon,” Wyatt hung up.

  Adam tucked his phone back into his pocket and looked around him. The orange glow of dusk was settling across the Strip, causing the towering hotels to sparkle as the splendor of Vegas came to life. Adam found a quiet alley away from the main road and called for Vince to pick him up.

  

  Las Vegas Boulevard

  “How’d it go?” Vince asked as Adam scooched into the passenger seat of his old van. He was prepared to hear that his friend had lost everything trying to win his escape money at the casino.

  “Good news and bad news, which do you want first?” Adam answered. He was a frazzled mess; his clothes were roughed up, his lip was bloodied.

  Vince did a double take, “What happened in there?” he said. “By the look of you I’m surprised there’s good news,”

  Adam held out the envelope full of cash. “There’s twenty thousand dollars in here,” he said.

  Vince’s jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of all the money. “Holy smokes Adam!”

  “Yeah, there’s more too. I won a bunch of money before shit hit the fan in there.”

  “How much?”

  “Thirty K, but I’ll only get to keep ten.”

  Vince tilted his head. “How does that work?”

  “That’s the bad news,” Adam answered. “We can’t leave town until the cops arrest Ty Marcus.”

  “You did the deal with the police? I thought you didn’t trust them?”

  “I still don’t, but I got strong armed in there.”

  Vince pulled to the side of the road and threw his Miata into park. “Well… I have to be honest I don’t think I’m comfortable waiting this out at my place. The cops already rolled up on me once,”

  “I’m thinking the same thing. Let’s find a motel someplace quiet and lay low.”

  Vince turned his Miata around and drove the opposite direction from downtown.

  “And your lip? Is that from the cops?”

  Adam shook his head. “I guess there’s more bad news… I had to kill a guy. I was supposed to poison him, but things got screwed up.”

  “Wait what do you mean things got screwed up?”

  Adam looked down at his palms. “I mean I poisoned a guy by mistake, then I had to strangle a Russian gangster with my bare hands. It got really ugly in there.”

  “Shit!” Vince gasped. “Another guy? Why?”

  “I had no choice! The cops wanted Ty Marcus, and Ty wanted a dead Russian. It was the only way to get Ty someplace where the cops could get him. I swear I didn’t want to hurt anyone else!” Adam buried his hands in his face. “Dammit, Vince. It’s like every time I try to make a move all this shit just gets worse!”

  Vince tried to calm him down. “Hey, look man I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up at you. It’s just… it’s a little crazy.”

  “What was your first clue?” Adam groaned sarcastically.

  “We’ll get away from this soon. You said yourself we have another ten grand on the way right? We’ll just lay low and wait for the cops to come through with the deal. I already called my aunt and she’s ready for us any time. She actually sounded more excited to see us than I expected. That reminds me,” Vince reached under his car seat and pulled out a brand-new looking Bible. He tossed it into Adam’s lap.

  “Seriously?”

  Vince laughed. “Study up.”

  

  Fifteen Minutes Later, Las Vegas Boulevard.

  “We have a tail,” one of the EMTs in the ambulance warned. He was covered in blood and holding a long, bloody knife. His partner was placing Mikhail Petrov’s head into a box.

  They were within five minutes of Red Star Tower when the police cruiser started following them.

  “Cops?” Ty asked, turning onto a side road to try to lose them.

  “Yeah, two of them,” replied the EMT.

  The police cruiser’s siren chirped right on cue. Blue and red lights lit up the interior of the ambulance. Ty looked at the headless corpse of Mikhail Petrov in the back.

  “That’ll be hard to explain,” he whispered under his breath. “We can’t pull over.”

  Ty grabbed his phone and dialed Dimitri Jordan.

  “Good evening, Ty,” the Emperor answered. “How is Mikhail Petrov doing?”

  “Good evening, Mr. Jordan,” Ty said, glancing at the reflection of the police cruiser in his mirrors. “Mikhail Petrov is dead, but I have a police cruiser following me.”

  Jordan huffed under his breath. “Hold on a moment, I’m going to call Sheriff Wyatt and get this sorted out. Don’t pull over.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Ty said.

  Jordan hung up and dialed Wyatt. The Sheriff didn’t answer at first, so Jordan dialed again.

  “Hello?” Wyatt answered nervously.

  “You know it’s me,” Jordan grumbled unhappily. “There’s a police cruiser following one of my Lieutenants.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that…”

  “I’m getting really tired of this, James,” Jordan said sharply. “Call him off, now.”

  “Goddammit Dimitri,” Wyatt blurted. “Ty Marcus has zero seniority. Lieutenant or not, you and I both know he’s expendable! Let my guys take him in.”

  “I’ve told you before and I will tell you one last time; Lieutenants are not to be touched.”

  “Dimitri…” Wyatt pleaded. “Don’t you see it’s for the greater good? Just give me Ty Marcus. Our relationship doesn’t work without compromise.”

  “Apparently you don’t understand what I’m telling you, so you’ll need to be taught a lesson.” Jordan said.

  “Dimitri please!”

  “Your officers are about to suffer the consequences of your disobedience. I suggest you call them off now unless you want their blood on your hands.”

  He hung up and ignored Wyatt’s frantic return calls. He dialed Ty Marcus.

  “Mr. Jordan?” Ty answered.

  “James Wyatt and the LVMPD need to be sent a message.” Jordan said bluntly. “Are you armed?”

  “My men have MAC-10s. I have my silver gun.” Ty answered.

  “Good. Lead the police northwest, when you get away from the main roads I want you to throw open the rear doors of your ambulance and unload every single bullet you have into that police car, understand?”

  “Absolutely, Sir.”

  “Every. Single. Bullet,” Jordan said again.

  “They’ll get the message loud and clear.” Ty said before hanging up.

  Shooting at cops was scary, and Ty didn’t like doing it, but Dimitri Jordan was much scarier. He handed his silver pistol back to his men and ordered them to get their MAC-10s loaded.

  “Mr. Jordan wants us to put every single bullet we have into that police car.” he said to them. “Get ready.”

  Inside the police cruiser, Captain Williams was growing impatient.

  “If he doesn’t pull over in the next two minutes, I’m ramming him.”

  The cellphone in the car’s cup holder rang for the fifth time in as many minutes and the police
officer in the passenger seat held it up.

  “Wyatt’s calling again, do you want me to answer?” the officer asked.

  “He’s probably pissed that we don’t have Ty Marcus in cuffs yet.” Williams answered. He pressed down on his accelerator to catch up to the ambulance. “I’m not in the mood to get chewed out right now. We’ll call him back once we have this asshole in custody.”

  Traffic was thinning out as they followed the ambulance northwest on Highway 95. Williams decided that enough was enough and stomped on the gas.

  “I’m taking him down, hold on!”

  At that instant, the doors of the ambulance flew open to reveal two men aiming submachine guns right at them.

  There was no time to react.

  Fiery orange bursts lit up the night. Completely caught by surprise, the police were defenseless against the streams of automatic gunfire that punched the windshield into a million little pieces. Captain Williams’s chest exploded in a gory mess and the cruiser swerved out of control, spinning off the road into a cloud of dust. His partner was conscious of the attack for half a second; the last thing his brain registered was his own blood splattering against the dashboard as the flying lead ripped into him.

  The cruiser rolled into an embankment and stalled. It’s red and blue lights were still flashing across the lonely road when it settled to a stop.

  “Every single bullet; Jordan’s orders.” Ty said. The EMTs nodded grimly. Together they slammed fresh magazines into their MAC-10s, racked the slides, and then sprayed the police cruiser with ammunition until it was all but disintegrated.

  Ty took a moment to turn the ambulance around and inspect their handiwork. Satisfied that Dimitri Jordan’s will had been fulfilled, he drove back to Red Star Tower to finish his assignment.

  40

  Red Star Tower, 8:30pm

  L ukas Petrov leaned back against the leather sofa in the center of the room as Dr. Kraineva entered the study to check on him. Getting shot was no small thing, but it was familiar territory for the former Spetsnaz warrior. Lukas was bouncing back from his injuries at an incredible pace and Kraineva was impressed.

  The balding doctor walked past the rows of books on the walls, admiring the sparkle of the Strip visible from the windows as he did . The twentieth-floor study contained enough books to keep a curious mind occupied for years. It was designed to be a social place as well, with enough comfortable seating for up to fifteen people. Kraineva helped himself to a snifter of scotch, which he sipped as he examined Lukas’s wounds.

  “Any pain?” he asked, gently pressing two fingers against the stitch line in his patient’s abdomen.

  “Only when I run too fast, or when I try to lift heavy things.” Lukas replied.

  “Shortness of breath?”

  “None.”

  “Well…” Kraineva said, adjusting his spectacles. “I’d say you are one tough bastard; for now I think our only concern is ensuring that your stitches heal properly. If you are not experiencing chronic pain then there is no need for more Percocet; just take some Ibuprofen if there is discomfort. In the meantime I want you to avoid alcohol for a few more days.”

  “Dah.” Lukas replied. “Thank you Doctor.”

  There was a knock at the door and Viktoriya poked her head into the study. She had a look of worry on her face that made both men rise to their feet right away.

  “Viktoriya.” Lukas said. “Are you okay?”

  Viktoriya shook her head. “I am worried sick. Father is not answering my calls. I haven’t heard from him since this morning.”

  “He left for the casinos earlier today.” Dr. Kraineva offered. Scooting to a side of the couch, he patted on the empty space beside him. “Come take a seat darling, I’m sure your father is fine. You know how he gets when he is on a lucky streak…”

  Lukas shrugged. “He once ignored my calls for three straight days. Papa doesn’t like being interrupted during his little outings.”

  “Not when we are at war.” Viktoriya said, biting her lip. “Things are different now! He ought to know that being out in public is not safe. What if something has happened to him?”

  “Oh love, do not speak of such things.” Kraineva said calmly.

  Lukas took her hand and guided her to the space beside the old man. When she was seated he pulled out his phone. “I’ll call him,” he said. “I would not be surprised if he’s just napping off a bottle of whiskey somewhere.”

  When Lukas stepped away to dial his father, Dr. Kraineva placed a warm hand on Viktoriya’s slender shoulder. “Do not fret darling.”

  “There’s more,” she said, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. “My plan to attack Dimitri Jordan’s Lieutenant has encountered a problem; Watson’s birthday party was cancelled.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Apparently the police attacked him last night; one Lieutenant is dead.”

  “Goodness,” Kraineva said. “As much as I enjoy hearing those Sumatra bastards are getting what they deserve, it is still shocking to hear that the police are attacking them, are you certain of this?”

  “The DJ for Watson’s birthday party is a friend of mine; we played tennis together for a few months when I first moved to Vegas. This information comes straight from him.”

  “We are witnessing tremendous changes,” Kraineva observed. “Perhaps Jordan’s time on top is coming to an end?”

  “Oh how I hope so,” Viktoriya answered.

  Lukas walked back to them with an apologetic shrug. “I tried both of his phones with no answer. I sent Ivan and Leonid downstairs to search for him.”

  Viktoriya had dread in her eyes. “If Dimitri Jordan has done something to our father…”

  “Do not think of it!” Lukas interrupted. “Jordan will pay for his sins soon enough, but do not assume the worst until we have more information.”

  Lukas’s phone buzzed and he picked it up.

  “Is it Papa?” Viktoriya whispered. Lukas shook his head and mouthed that it was Ivan on the other end of the line. Viktoriya watched her brother listen for few seconds before his face went pale.

  “Y-You are sure? Where?” he stuttered into the phone. “No! Do not touch it!”

  He hung up and started out the door.

  “Lukas?” Viktoriya called after him.

  “Stay right there little sister!” he said without looking back.

  Viktoriya stood defiantly and went after him. “What happened? Don’t walk away from me!”

  Lukas whipped around. “What did I just say!? You are a woman! You will sit down and let me handle this!”

  She slapped him across the face. “Don’t you dare speak to me that way! What happened to our father?”

  Tears welled up in Lukas’s eyes as he rubbed his reddened cheek. “Downstairs…” was all he managed to say.

  He didn’t speak another word as they took the elevator down to the lobby. Ivan was absolutely morose-looking when he met them on the bottom floor. The other guard, Leonid, was also in the lobby and did not turn to face the Petrovs when they entered the lobby. Viktoriya gripped her brother’s arm when she saw that Leonid was hunched over a cardboard box near the doors. He was whispering some sort of prayer under his breath.

  “It’s in there?” Lukas asked.

  Leonid continued muttering to the Almighty, taking little notice of the people around him. Ivan nodded solemnly. “An ambulance threw it in front of the grand entrance. He sped away before we could catch him.”

  “No…no...” Lukas repeated. At once he became inconsolable, swearing and pulling at his hair like a man possessed. “No!”

  Viktoriya choked back her tears and forced herself to approach the box, pushing Leonid aside so she could see its contents with her own eyes.

  “Please, Miss Petrov.” Leonid said. He tried to stop her, but she forced him out of her way and flipped open the lid. A horrified gasp escaped from her lips at the sight of the pale, bloodied face in the box.

  “Father’s?” Lukas asked, alre
ady knowing the answer.

  Viktoriya bravely wiped her eyes and nodded yes. Lukas fell to his knees and sobbed like a broken man.

  “Papa!” he screamed. Ivan hurried to comfort him, offering a hand which Lukas clutched like a lifeline as he cried against it. Even for the hardened Spetsnaz veteran, the sight of his father’s severed head was simply too much to bear.

  Viktoriya’s tears dried quickly. In a strange way, her brother’s meltdown was having a calming effect on her. As she looked at the severed, lifeless head, she felt something brewing in her chest. It wasn’t sadness.

  It was rage.

  Like a smoldering fire it grew hotter and brighter as she listened to Lukas wail in pain.

  Lukas was still weeping when he felt her soft hand grasp his arm and help him up to his feet. He was almost startled by the snarl on her lips, the hate in her eyes.

  “We are going to make them pay, big brother, do you hear me?”

  Lukas nodded and wiped his tears. “I am sorry, I do not know why I cannot control myself.”

  “You loved him very much – as did I,” her pearl white teeth flashed in the light like fangs. The slow, cold tone of her voice made the men around her shudder. Viktoriya had always been a strong woman, but they had never seen her like this. Her angelic aura vaporized; she had the face of a devil now.

  “Dimitri Jordan will die,” she whispered in Lukas’s ear. “His Lieutenants will die. The Sumatra will burn. Do you hear me? We will avenge him.”

  She wiped a tear from her brother’s eye. “I want you to call the men from your old Spetsnaz unit. Offer each of them forty thousand dollars if they can get here by tomorrow night.”

  “Sister…” Lukas said quietly.

  “You are hurting,” she said quickly. “Listen to my instructions. Call your friends and get as many of them here as possible. If they can bring their own weapons then that will be even better.”

  Lukas sniffled and held up his chin. “Okay… okay, Viktoriya. I am sorry for my weakness.”

  “Do not be sorry. We have just lost our father; it is natural to feel this way.”

  She barked at Ivan and Leonid to go find a more dignified container for her father’s head. When they scrambled off to do as she ordered, Viktoriya kissed Lukas on the cheek and turned to leave.