by James Swain
“This is Billy Cunningham,” the voice on the other end said.
Grimes gripped the receiver so hard it made his hand throb. If any single cheat had hurt his reputation and stunted his chance for a promotion, it was Cunningham, and it was all he could do not to curse him out. “You just pulled me out of a meeting. This better be good.”
“I need your help,” Cunningham said.
“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. You calling me for help. Ha-ha.”
“There’s something in it for you.”
“I’m hanging up the phone. Have a nice day.”
“There’s a Chinese gangster in town trying to fix the Super Bowl. His name’s Broken Tooth, and I can help you nail his ass.”
“His name’s Broken Tooth? Get real.”
“Guy’s got his own page on Wikipedia. Check him out if you don’t believe me.” Grimes decided to do just that. On his cluttered desk sat an ancient PC. He got on the Internet and with Google’s help was soon reading a page devoted to a notorious Chinese criminal named Wan Kuok-koi, aka Broken Tooth. According to the article, the guy was a public menace and had fixed hundreds of sporting events around the world. As a result of his gangster lifestyle, a meat cleaver had mangled one of his arms.
“You still there?” Cunningham asked.
“I’m here,” Grimes said. “So how does this guy plan to fix the Super Bowl?”
“Broken Tooth approached me to talk to players for the Rebels who spend their off hours at a private villa at Caesars. The plan is for the players to fix certain plays, which will cause several proposition bets to fall his way. Broken Tooth needs the money to finish building a beachfront resort he owns in China so he can live happily ever after.”
“Did you approach the players?”
“I sure did.”
“I should arrest you right now.”
“I didn’t have a choice. Broken Tooth’s goons kidnapped my limo driver and are holding him hostage.”
“You’re saying this Chinese guy blackmailed you.”
“That’s right. Now are you interested, or should I call the FBI?”
Fixing the Super Bowl. The words floated through Grimes’s brain like a banner being pulled by a prop plane. Sporting events were being fixed every single day, and the Vegas sports books took a beating because of it. But because these fixes took place outside of Nevada, the gaming board was powerless to stop them. It occurred to Grimes that this would be a first.
Movement caught his eye. Trixie’s office had a glass wall, and he spied Debbie Do Good standing in front of Trixie’s desk, working her charms. He came out of his chair.
“I’m interested. Where are you?”
“I’m at a joint called Herbs and Rye.”
“Never heard of it. You’d better give me directions.”
“Head west on Sahara and make a U-turn after crossing Valley View. Look for the dark, plain building next to the ARCO gas station and use the red door. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Yes, you will,” Grimes said.
There were so many gin joints in Vegas that Grimes had given up trying to keep track of them. In the good old days, the bars had served whiskey, wine, and beer. Today, the bars had wine cellars, fifty craft beers on tap, and exotic cocktails that took five minutes to prepare.
Grimes came through the front door of Herbs and Rye and stopped to let his eyes adjust. The place had a handful of customers, all tourists. Grimes could tell they were tourists because they were getting drunk in the middle of the day. Cunningham sat at the end of the bar, eating a plate of calamari. He waved to Grimes like an old friend.
Grimes gritted his teeth and headed down the bar. Not that long ago, he’d taken a contract out on Cunningham’s life, a plan that had blown up in his face. And now here he was, about to get in bed with the little bastard. He didn’t care. He wanted that corner office.
He sat on a stool next to Cunningham and ordered a beer. He wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, but if he ordered a nonalcoholic drink in a bar, everyone would know he was a cop.
Cunningham pushed the calamari his way. “Have some. It will make you feel better.”
“Who said I wasn’t feeling well?”
“It’s written all over your face. You look like crap.”
“What’s all this shit it’s mixed with?”
“Banana peppers, prosciutto, and cherry pepper aioli. It’s really tasty.”
Grimes stuck a piece into his mouth and chewed. It was the best calamari he’d ever tasted, but he wasn’t going to tell Cunningham that.
“Start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out,” Grimes said.
“Two nights ago, Broken Tooth paid me a visit down on Fremont Street. He’s got this plan to fix the Super Bowl by bribing the defensive line of the Rebels. Problem was, I wasn’t interested.”
“Really? Sounds right up your alley.”
“I don’t like sports betting. Too many things can go wrong. Broken Tooth got pissed when I said no, so he kidnapped my limo driver, Leon, and is holding him ransom.”
“You have a driver?”
“Part-time. Broken Tooth had his goons kidnap Leon and is holding him until I get this done.”
“Is Leon a member of your crew?”
“I’ve told you, I don’t have a crew.”
“Right. Does Leon drive the getaway car when you do your jobs?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Grimes finished the calamari. So far everything Cunningham had said rang true, but he wasn’t going to make a decision just yet. Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he said, “Which Rebel players did you talk to?”
“I met with Night Train McClain and his buddies on defense. Night Train wasn’t interested and told me to take a hike. That’s why I called you. If I tell Broken Tooth the bad news, he’ll have one of his henchmen put a bullet in Leon’s skull.”
“You haven’t told Broken Tooth.”
“Nope.”
Grimes sipped his beer in thought. He’d been trying to run down Cunningham for ten years and had come up short. Like a grand master at chess, Cunningham was always several moves ahead of his opponents, a master at anticipating what his adversaries were about to try.
“What’s your plan?”
“Broken Tooth wants to give Night Train and his pals upfront money as a show of good faith. I was going to tell Broken Tooth that the fix was in and pick up the money.”
“How much we talking about?”
“Five hundred grand.”
This was sounding better all the time. “And that’s where the gaming board comes in.”
“Correct. I’ll wear a wire when I go see Broken Tooth. I’ll get him to talk about the fix, and you can record it. Then I’ll get the five hundred grand from him and hand it over to you. That should be enough to arrest his sorry ass, don’t you think?”
It was more than enough. Broken Tooth would go down hard, and Grimes would get the credit. If that didn’t get him kicked upstairs, nothing would.
“When is this meeting with Broken Tooth taking place?”
“I’m waiting for him to call me. Hopefully this afternoon.”
Grimes winced. He needed time to set this up properly. “Can you stall him?”
“I can try.”
They finished their drinks. Cunningham’s cell phone on the bar began to vibrate. The young hustler raised the cell phone to his face and answered the call.
“Hello?”
Grimes’s hearing was better than a dog’s. The caller was Chinese and had a voice as pleasing as fingernails scraping a chalkboard. Grimes heard the words Super Bowl come out of the caller’s mouth and knew that everything Cunningham had said was true. Flashbulbs exploded, and for a moment he could hardly think straight. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, and he didn’t care if a little scumbag hustler was responsible for it.
“Tell him yes,” Grimes whispered.
“What time?” Cunnin
gham said into the phone. “Six o’clock tonight?”
Grimes looked at his watch. It was three thirty. Two and a half hours was hardly enough time to set up a proper sting, but it would have to do.
“Tell him you’ll be there,” Grimes whispered.
“That works for me,” Cunningham said into the phone. “Where?”
Cunningham motioned for something to write with. Grimes pulled a pen from the pocket of his sports coat, and Cunningham wrote down an address on a cocktail napkin.
“I’ll be there.” Cunningham hung up.
Grimes paid for the drinks and food. It was his way of telling Cunningham that the past was behind them. Cunningham seemed to appreciate the gesture and stuck out his hand.
“This feels like the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” the young hustler said.
It was all Grimes could do not to wring Cunningham’s neck. He hated Cunningham with all his heart and soul, but that was meaningless right now. Grimes needed help. And when you were drowning, you couldn’t be too choosy about who threw you a life preserver.
Grimes briskly shook the young hustler’s hand.
THIRTY-FIVE
Wearing a wire just wasn’t what it used to be.
Back in the good old days, a plant would go to a meeting wired up, get a crook to make an incriminating statement, and record it so the DA could use it against the crook in court.
This was easier said than done. Wearing a wire was cumbersome and consisted of a miniature tape recorder attached to the informant’s waist, with wires secured to a microphone that was taped to the informant’s chest. It was a bulky setup that required the informant to wear a long-sleeve shirt and a sports jacket to hide the apparatus. If a wire slipped free and made itself visible, or if the crook patted the informant down and discovered the deception, the plant was forced to jump through a window to avoid retaliation.
Not anymore. Today, wires were digital. An informant no longer needed to have a tape recorder attached to his body. Instead, he wore miniaturized recording equipment hidden in the button of his jacket, the point of a pen, a cuff link, or the edge of a tie clip. He could be patted down by a crook and not get caught. Thanks to the technological revolution, snitching had gotten a whole lot easier.
Billy sat in a room of the Nevada Gaming Control Board’s headquarters getting outfitted with a wire. Never in his life had he expected to be doing this. The gaming board was the cat and he was the mouse, and the mouse never willingly entered the cat’s lair. But he was desperate to save Leon and help Maggie, and sometimes desperation was the mother of invention.
“Hold still,” Grimes said.
Grimes had decided to put the wire in a button on Billy’s silk shirt. Grimes had chosen the top button because it would be closest to Broken Tooth’s mouth when the Chinese gangster started talking and incriminated himself in the fixing of the Super Bowl. Because English was a second language to Broken Tooth, it would be important for Billy to stand close and get Broken Tooth to speak clearly so the recording equipment in the gaming board van would be able to record what Broken Tooth was saying. Otherwise, they were wasting their time.
Billy looked down at the button Grimes was attaching to his shirt. The shirt was made by Versace and had a busy blue-and-gold Baroque print with front-button closure and a hidden placket. He’d paid $600 for the shirt, and it was one of his favorites. The button hiding the wire was a different shade of beige than the shirt’s other buttons but was hidden by the placket.
“The button’s the wrong color,” Billy said.
“It’s close enough. Besides, he’s not going to see it,” Grimes said.
“He’ll see the button if my shirt parts open.”
“What are the chances of that happening?”
“Fifty-fifty. Either the shirt opens up, or it doesn’t. Can you get another button? Just to be on the safe side?”
“This is the only one I’ve got. Look, he’s not going to see it. Just go in there, get him talking, and once he implicates himself, we’ll break down the door and bust him and his goons. Your driver will walk away unharmed.”
“My driver’s name is Leon,” Billy said.
“So?”
“I care about Leon. That’s why I came to you. I want to save him from getting shot. Are we clear about this?”
“Sure. No reason to lose your cool.”
“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”
The special agent nodded like they were on the same page. Only that was a lie. Grimes didn’t give a rat’s ass if Leon walked away with his skin; Grimes’s only concern was having his ugly puss splashed across the front page of the newspaper and getting his long-overdue promotion.
Grimes took a step back to admire his handiwork. The button was heavier than the other buttons and created a crease in Billy’s fancy shirt. Billy could see the crease but hoped no one else would.
Grimes moved to a desk on the other side of the room. Picking up a pair of headphones, he fitted them on his head. “Start talking in your normal voice.”
Billy started talking in a normal voice. Grimes shut his eyes and listened. Then he nodded and removed the earphones. “Clear as a bell. How good is Broken Tooth’s English?”
“It’s chipped,” he said.
“Meaning what? That he sounds like the illegal taking your order at a Chinese restaurant?”
“It’s a little better than that.”
“We need to be able to understand what Broken Tooth’s saying, otherwise the case will get thrown out of court. You’ll need to stand right next to him and get him to talk in a clear, concise manner. Otherwise, this won’t work.”
“He’s holding Leon against his will. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“The fact that Broken Tooth kidnapped your driver doesn’t mean he’s trying to fix the Super Bowl. Broken Tooth can tell the judge that your driver borrowed money from him and refused to pay it back. I’ve had that happen in kidnapping cases before. Does your driver have a record?”
“Yeah, Leon’s got a record.”
“The judge will take that into account. Look, Cunningham, I’ve played the game long enough to know what the rules are. Your job is to get Broken Tooth to discuss how he plans to fix the Super Bowl and that he’s giving you money to bribe the players. That information has to come through on the recording, otherwise this won’t fly.”
“Got it.” He fingered the button on his shirt. “What’s the range on this thing?”
“More than a quarter mile.”
“Does that take into account that Broken Tooth is inside a building, and that the transmission will have to go through walls?”
“Can’t you get Broken Tooth outside?”
“That’s a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Broken Tooth’s a pro. He knows about wires. If we go outside, he’ll want to take a drive, and your transmission will be lost.”
“Then what’s your plan?”
“Broken Tooth will be contacting me soon. I’ll go pick up the money and make sure Leon’s okay. I’ll engage Broken Tooth in conversation and get him to drop his guard. I’ll steer the conversation to the fix and get Broken Tooth to implicate himself. Once that’s done, you and your posse can come to the rescue. That work for you?”
“Good enough. You going to be carrying?”
“Look at the clothes I’m wearing. A gun would stick out. No, I’m not carrying.”
“I just wanted to be sure.”
Billy glanced down at the crease in his shirt. He followed the maxim that the people he did business with were just as smart as he was. If he thought the button looked funny, Broken Tooth would think it as well. And if that happened, Broken Tooth would go berserk and have his goons tear Billy’s arms out of their sockets and beat him to death with them.
“Sure you can’t do anything about this button?”
“Tuck your shirt into your pants and tighten your belt. That will hide it.”
Billy ga
ve his suggestion a try. The crease went away. It was as good as he could hope for. Grimes said, “I’ve got some people you need to meet.”
The special agent picked up his headphones and transmission equipment and walked out of the room. Billy followed him, looking down to see if the crease reappeared. It didn’t, and he forced himself to put it out of his mind.
Grimes escorted Billy to the building’s subterranean level where the weaponry was stored. Four gaming agents awaited them. The agents—two white, one Latino, one black—were lean and mean, all of them clean shaven with cropped hair and no visible tattoos. They looked like grown-up choirboys.
Introductions were made. Billy acknowledged each agent with a curt nod. The agents were not his friends and never would be. Billy had stolen so much money from the casinos that the gaming board had taken to plastering Billy’s face in every surveillance room while accusing him of more thefts than any human being was capable of committing. They were desperate to bring him down, and the irony of their working together was not lost on him.
Grimes explained how the bust would go down. Grimes and the agents would be in an unmarked van and would tail Billy to the meeting. The agents would wait outside on the street in the van, electronically eavesdropping on Billy’s conversation with Broken Tooth. Once Broken Tooth had handed over the money to bribe the Rebel players, the agents would show their faces and make the bust.
“Any questions, ask them now,” Grimes said.
There were no questions. With Grimes in the lead, the agents crossed the hall to a room where the heavy weapons were stored. A clerk working the counter assigned each agent a sawed-off shotgun along with a bulky bulletproof vest and a ballistic helmet. It occurred to Billy that he would be the only participant in this little drama who would not be armed or have a way of defending himself if things went south. He was trusting Grimes with his safety, and he hoped it wasn’t a mistake.
The gaming agents fitted on their body armor and loaded their weapons. Grimes watched them as they did this, then got dressed and loaded up.