When the Man Comes Around

by Bradley Wright

Cassie walked over. “No.” She glanced down at Johnny’s dead body. “Well, maybe.”

  Cassie bent down and rolled Johnny over.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Lawson was lost.

  Cassie picked up Johnny’s hand, grabbed hold of his thumb, and pressed it against the home button. “Breaking yet another law for you. But at this point, what the hell does it matter?” She stood up and turned the phone’s screen toward Lawson, showing him it was now unlocked.

  Lawson’s face scrunched in confusion. “You unlocked it with his thumbprint? How long was I in jail?”

  Cassie took a second to punch in a few things on the screen. “Tech changes fast. Wait until you see someone unlock their phone just by looking at it. I disabled the passcode function in case you need to get in the phone again later.”

  Lawson snatched the phone from Cassie and opened the messages app. He scrolled down to “Dad” in the text thread, clicked on it, then tapped inside the typing line.

  “Lawson, I wasn’t joking when I said we have to get out of here.”

  He ignored her. She walked over to the doorway and checked the hall. Lawson hardly noticed, he was busy concocting.

  Lawson typed a message to Nero from Johnny’s phone: Dad, Sokolov kidnapped me. He thought I had evidence against you. But it was just a plan Lawson and I came up with to get Sokolov. I thought it backfired, but Lawson just texted me that he is here, and coming to get me. I’m not sure he can handle all these men. We are at the D Hotel. Send help now!

  Lawson knew it was a long shot, but worth it. Nero already knew that Johnny had been taken. His men would have messaged him that immediately during the car chase out in the street earlier. Nero also knew that Johnny had done something in the security system, which is why Nero’s men were trying to stop Johnny from handing the flash drive over to Lawson in the first place. So while the text may not be easy to believe, it was, at worst, somewhat plausible. And if all it did was make Nero let his guard down just a little, maybe that would be enough to take him down.

  “The hallway is still clear, but it won’t be for long.” Cassie walked over to him from the doorway. “What did you do?”

  Lawson handed her the phone. She read the text.

  “Smart, but you really think he’ll buy it?”

  “Not the point. Just trying to gain any edge I can.”

  “I think that ship has sailed, partner. And so should we.”

  Lawson nodded, readied his gun, and took the lead over to the doorway. With a glance, he could see that the hallway was still clear. As they rushed toward the elevator, Cassie started to get skeptical.

  “You really think that flash drive has evidence that will tie Nero to Chief Walters and the recently deceased Evelyn Delaney? You think Johnny would do that to his own father?”

  “I don’t know, Cass. But if he didn’t, I’m done. So it doesn’t change what I am going to do now. If I’m going back to prison, I’m going back with Nero De Luca planted firmly in the ground.”

  “Right, so take down an entire organized crime ring all by yourself,” Cassie said, her tone full of disbelief.

  Lawson pressed the button on the elevator and glanced back at Cassie. “I don’t give a damn about the entire operation, I only want De Luca.”

  “There isn’t anything I can say to stop you, is there?”

  “Not a damn thing.”

  “Damn it, Lawson. Well, at least let me help you then.”

  “Not a chance. I’m not going to lose you too.”

  Cassie smiled. “What happened to the hard-ass that couldn’t even accept a hug yesterday at that motel?”

  “You’re not coming with me.”

  The elevator was almost to them now. As the two of them watched the number rise, so did their anticipation. But that moment of silence helped guide Lawson to an important thought. If he did die trying to get De Luca, which was highly likely, and he had the flash drive on him, De Luca would still get away with everything. Lawson reached down into his lapel pocket, and just as his fingertips touched the flash drive, the elevator door dinged and opened to two men who looked an awful lot like some of Sokolov’s men who had rushed past them near the downstairs elevator earlier.

  Sokolov’s men registered danger at the same time Cassie and Lawson did. The wiry, pale-skinned man in a dark suit on the right raised his gun toward Lawson. Lawson instinctively snap-kicked up with his left foot and knocked the gun from the man’s hand. But there was no time to get to the other man’s gun. Both Lawson and Cassie dove in opposite directions in the hallway outside the elevator. Two shots came from inside it, both bullets carving into the hallway wall. Lawson glanced to his left, and Cassie was in the same position he was: lying prone on the floor, gun fixed on the open elevator. Neither party could move without the risk of being shot.

  Lawson brought himself up to a knee, not moving his gun, and hit the button, calling the second elevator.

  “You can come out if you want,” Cassie said to the men. “We promise we won’t shoot.”

  “Put guns down,” a Russian accent demanded from the elevator. “Or we kill you both.”

  The second elevator was almost there.

  “You can quit now if you want. No need to die. Your boss is dead.” Lawson told them.

  “You are liar. He just message us three minutes ago.”

  Lawson motioned to Cassie with a point to the second elevator, and a thumbs-up, letting her know it was arriving. “A lot can happen in three minutes. You’re about to find that out firsthand if you keep coming after us.”

  Lawson took a step toward the back wall, and could barely see the left shoulder of one of the men in the elevator. He raised his gun just as the elevator dinged. With just a shared glance, Cassie understood the plan. Lawson shot three times at the shoulder, missing all three times, but it gave Cassie the cover she needed. She dove into a front roll across the opening of the first elevator, then jumped into the empty one. Lawson rushed in behind her, and as she held the “door close” button, she fired a couple of rounds into the hallway, keeping Sokolov’s men back until their door closed. And just like that, they were alone in the elevator, only Frank Sinatra’s buttery voice to accompany them down.

  “This is ridiculous, Lawson.”

  “I know. But it’s necessary.”

  “I’m not sure it is.”

  “Here’s how you can help.” Lawson handed her the flash drive. “When we get out of this hotel, you go and make sure what Johnny said was on it is there. If it is, get it to the right people to see that it doesn’t get lost. Obviously, make a copy.”

  “Obviously. And then when I call you to confirm it’s all on there, you’ll stop what you’re doing, right?” Lawson had a blank look on his face. “Hello?” Cassie waved her hand in front of his face. Lawson snapped out of it. “Where’d you go there?”

  “I just remembered something Johnny texted before things got crazy outside Battista’s. He said he put something else on the flash drive that I needed to see. Said I wasn’t going to like it.”

  “Hmm, well, I’ll check on that too, but right now we have to make it the hell out of this hotel.”

  The elevator hit the lobby, and the door slowly slid open. Before they could exit, the elevator beside them dinged. Sokolov’s men had also reached the lobby. Cassie glanced up at Lawson as they both readied their guns.

  “This is about to get hairy.”

  31

  With the casino floor just around the corner, he wanted to make a run for it. Lawson knew the police were closing in, and even though he was with an FBI special agent, Cassie wouldn’t be able to keep them from taking him to the station. Even if the evidence did pan out to be on the flash drive, by the time they cleared Lawson, Nero would already be in custody. And his fate would once again be in the hands of people who didn’t really give a damn what happened to him. Not the way Lawson gave a damn anyway.

  However, running was too risky at this point. Even if they made it past the two bozos in th
e elevator next to them, it was highly likely he and Cassie would run into more of Sokolov’s men before they could exit the hotel. Lawson reached down and hit 2 on the elevator’s button board. The elevator doors shut just as Sokolov’s two men came out of their elevator with their guns drawn.

  “You think they won’t know we are going for the stairs?” Cassie said.

  “I think they will, but I’d rather have a shootout in a stairwell than on the floor of a casino around a hundred innocent people.”

  “You know, for a hardened criminal you’re proving to be an awfully big softy.”

  “Instincts never die.”

  Lawson readied his pistol, and when the doors opened, he rushed to his left and found the door to the stairs. As he raced down the stairs, he could hear Cassie following closely behind. He kept his gun trained in front of him with both hands. As he was descending the last few steps, the door to the casino swung open. Lawson moved the nose of his gun to a terribly frightened lady who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Her hands shot up as her purse dropped to the floor.

  “Take it! Just don’t hurt me!”

  Lawson peeled his finger away from the trigger. He had come a hair from squeezing it. He waved his gun left, telling her to move that way.

  “It’s okay, ma’am,” Cassie said. “I’m a federal agent.”

  The woman shuffled to the side, and Lawson gave a sweeping glance into the casino floor. He didn’t see anyone. He looked back at Cassie.

  “Be careful getting out of here. Let me know when you confirm the info on the flash drive.”

  “Lawson, just come with me. Please don’t get yourself killed.”

  Lawson had already moved out into the casino before she could even finish her sentence. He tucked his gun back into his pants and tried to walk casually yet quickly for the front exit. He didn’t see any suspicious movement. Sokolov’s men must have already gone back up to the suite. They were in for one hell of a surprise.

  He walked toward the main entrance, hoping to be able to hop in one of the taxis that always stood on standby at every casino on the Strip. He rounded the corner, and before he even fully walked around the last row of slot machines, three uniformed officers hurried in through the large revolving door.

  “Freeze!” the first cop shouted, reaching for his piece in the holster on his hip.

  The cop had recognized Lawson’s face immediately. No doubt, every cop had been shown his picture before they started their daily beat. Lawson darted back the way he had come and sprinted for the exit out to Fremont Street. He knew it was on the opposite side of the casino. As he ran, dodging hotel patrons, he followed the signs posted every hundred feet or so, directing the way. He was getting close. He glanced back over his shoulder, and the three officers weren’t far behind him. When he looked back in front of him, two of Sokolov’s men were waiting for him at the exit. Both had guns extended out in front of them.

  Lawson dove left into one of the last rows of slot machines, his momentum carrying him into the brass swivel chairs, his ribs slamming against them. Gunshots banged loudly over the ding-ding-ding of the slots. Several of the bullets clapped against the other side of the slot machines.

  “Freeze! Drop your weapons!” one of the officers shouted from the opposite direction.

  More gunfire came from Sokolov’s men, followed by return fire from the officers. Lawson, the reason everyone was shooting, was caught directly in the middle. People all around them were shouting in fear. Lawson looked down the row of slot machines, and on the floor facing him, about four machines down, was an older lady. The look on her face, sheer terror.

  Lawson motioned downward with his hand and mouthed the words “stay down.” The lady nodded frantically. Lawson pulled himself up and took a peek toward the exit through the gap between machines. Something blurred by on the left just as he looked, and before he knew it, one of Sokolov’s men tripped over the lady lying on the floor. The man skidded on his stomach, rolled onto his side, pointed his gun at the woman, who shrieked in terror, and Lawson shot his gun before he could fully get turned around. The lady screamed again as the gunman moved his pistol toward Lawson. But Lawson’s gun had already found the man, and two squeezes later the man collapsed dead to the ground. The lady screamed even louder.

  Lawson moved to the gap in the machines once again. The other of the two gunmen was lying dead in front of the exit. That meant the cops were—

  “Don’t move!”

  Lawson stepped up on the chair, pushed off with all he had, and launched himself up and over the row of slot machines, just as several shots were fired behind him. He hit the ground hard but immediately rolled to his feet and sprinted for the glass doorway. Shooting at it twice, he watched the glass fall down in front of him like rain. The last of the glass was still falling as he covered his head and ran through it out into the suffocatingly hot air. More shots were fired behind him, but he didn’t feel the burn of any of them on his skin. Out on Fremont Street, the sidewalks and street were packed. And though there weren’t any cars allowed under this massive awning-covered path through the downtown casinos, the first thing Lawson saw were two officers on bicycles, and when they saw him run out of the D, their feet twisted their pedals forward, launching them toward him.

  “Freeze! Stop right there!”

  Lawson had the advantage here. There were too many people for the bike cops to catch him. They couldn’t weave through the crowd the way he could. But Lawson knew that if he didn’t hurry, all the roads that led out of this covered stretch of carless walkway would be sealed off at any minute. No way out. Lawson launched himself into the crowd, bowling over everyone in his path. He made a right at the flashing Fremont Casino sign and sprinted past a souvenir shop. He could see the next street just out in front of him. But at the intersection, two police cruisers skidded to a halt, their blue-and-reds flashing above them. Lawson skidded to a stop as well, the slick bottoms of his oxfords sliding on the smooth concrete below him. The last thing he saw were two officers exiting each vehicle, pulling their guns and aiming at him.

  Lawson turned back toward the crowd and took a right, sprinting down Fremont. The bike cops were right on him now, but they still had too many people to swerve around. So much so that when he looked back, Lawson saw them abandon their bicycles, and the cops from inside the casino were right beside them. He sprinted toward the iconic Binion’s and Golden Nugget up ahead under the covered intersection. The cross street that ran through this section allowed cars. This was Lawson’s chance.

  About fifty feet in front of him, a large man wearing a florescent yellow vest with the word security written in black down the front stood in a ready stance. The man was as round as he was tall, but unfortunately for him, Lawson had momentum. Lawson would have just run around him, but a car was stopped right behind the security guard at a light. And Lawson needed that car. Just as the security guard began to move forward, Lawson lowered his shoulder, like a fullback running through a stationary linebacker. The impact jarred Lawson but lifted the big man right off his feet. As the security guard slid on his back, Lawson slid to a stop and opened the door of the neon-yellow Toyota Prius. He immediately reached in across the young man in the driver’s seat and unclipped his seatbelt, then pulled him by the arm out of the car. Lawson slammed the door shut, laid on the horn, and put the accelerator to the floor. The people opened like the Red Sea in front of him. The front tires squealed, and a couple of seconds later Lawson was passing the Golden Nugget’s main entrance, then running a red light, swerving left onto Carson Avenue.

  He lifted his foot off the gas and brought the car down to the speed limit. If he drove out of there like a maniac, all that would do was draw attention to what was for the moment an otherwise inconspicuous car. A few blocks down, he would be able to step up the pace again and get away for good. As maddening as it was not to race away from so many people chasing him, slow and steady was the smart move until he got out of the immediate vicinity. Two police crui
sers zoomed past him going the direction he just came from.

  Now the only problem he had was that he had nowhere to go.

  32

  Lawson picked up the pace as he drove away from downtown, away from the unbelievable series of events that had just taken place. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Even though he managed to elude death and capture on several occasions, he still was no closer to ending this entire thing. Especially if Johnny’s flash drive didn’t hold the proof that he promised. Lawson knew he couldn’t let his mind wander down that path. He had to focus on what was ahead of him.

  The sun was beginning its drop from the sky, and the lights of the Strip a couple of streets over were beginning to sparkle. He knew where Nero lived. Everyone did. He stayed in the same mansion his father had lived in when Lawson was trying to run him down. But Lawson doubted that Nero would be there right now. With everything going on, he was most likely lying low in a more secure, secluded location. Thus the reason that Lawson was driving in the direction of the Pink Kitten at the end of the Strip. It wasn’t well known that De Luca owned the place, much less that he kept a secure office there. Again, Lawson’s time behind bars was paying dividends in insider organized crime information.

  Though organized crime had been mostly phased out of the casinos, there were still plenty of ways for crime bosses like Sokolov and De Luca to make their money. One of the largest current ways was narcotics. Most of the wars between crime syndicates in modern Vegas were waged because of turf trading violations. The large amount of strip clubs and other various seedy businesses lends itself well to cleaning the dirty money coming in from drug sales. However, one of the most popular ways a boss sells his drugs is through illegal prostitution. Contrary to popular belief, prostitution is only legal in the twenty-one designated brothels throughout Nevada. The vast majority of money spent on prostitutes is illegal. And it is a nice side income to the drug trade for these organized crime rings.