Vegas Rain

by Rick Murcer

  CHAPTER-54

  Looking around the wooden table in the Egyptian’s main conference room, Manny counted the faces involved in the next, unorthodox step in this investigation. He didn’t just count the faces, however—he wanted to see what was going on in each of their minds. Five cops from the LVPD and seven more FBI agents, not to mention at least six resort security agents, were about to embark on one of the rarest of surveillance assignments in the history of law enforcement. They needed to be ready for anything. And he meant anything.

  Added to that, Josh and Alex were on their way from the airport and would be arriving shortly to increase the force. He was grateful for that.

  Scanning the crowd again as most of the cops engaged in small talk waiting for the meeting to begin, he heard the small, intense voice of discomfort nudge him. He was used to small teams and the flexibility they offered. Taking charge of a group of over twenty, and making sure they knew their assignments, was a bit out of his security zone, but then again, this plan was as well. The worst thing was not knowing if the plan would work. What if the killer wasn’t even in the building? What if Manny had made a mistake and coming back here wasn’t on the madman’s agenda at all? What if he’d totally mis-profiled this psycho? What if . . .

  He shook his head. Coming here was in this killer’s makeup, wasn’t it? Killers like him, while unpredictable in some of their advanced behavior, had basic needs that proved virtually impossible to resist over time. One of those base behaviors was the uncontrollable urge and compulsion to watch the results of their activity after they’d created chaos. No matter what the variables were, Manny was at least sure of that.

  He frowned. Was he? Going back over everything he could draw on from the killer’s actions thus far, especially the attack at the FBI building which doubled as a taunt at Williams, he came to the same conclusion—for a third time now. Yes, he was sure he was right. Moving closer to the door, he peered through the small, wired window looking for the rest of his team, especially Sophie.

  No show yet.

  Manny continued to stare through the glass as he ran his hand through his hair.

  The killer would have to think that after what had happened—what he did and how he did it in the FBI’s Vegas office—Manny and Sophie and Dean would come back to the hotel to clean up and then have another meeting with LVPD and the FBI’s local crew on what to do next. His delusional sense of power wouldn’t let him travel any other road. Manny knew if he were in the killer’s shoes that’s exactly what he would do. He’d want to watch the moronic law enforcement react to him, but that wasn’t all. This situation was racing toward an end game, one the killer needed to control.

  There was the feeling of uneasiness again. That vein of doubt that spoke softly of a haunting unpredictability continued to tease him. So be it. They had a trick or two up their sleeves as well, Sophie’s idea had sealed that notion.

  Never before had he gone in this direction. Inviting attention from a serial killer was never a great move, but if this worked, it might throw him off his game just enough to make a mistake and, with nearly two dozen cops in the building, they’d end this amusement once and for all.

  Just then, the door burst open, and Josh and Alex walked in, followed by Dean. Manny felt his spirits rise immediately. It was good to see his friends and to have two more good cops in the mix.

  “About time. Where have you been?” he asked, grinning.

  Josh reached out his hand. “That westerly wind is a bitch, besides, getting in deep trouble with the AD takes a little time, not to mention, Alex was dinking around in that hospital bed.”

  “Yeah, he always blames the one-handed guy. Never fails,” said Alex, returning Manny’s smile and shaking his hand as well.

  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to have you here . . . but what happened back east?” asked Manny.

  “We’ll talk later,” said Josh, his smile disappearing. “We did what we should have done two days ago.”

  Scanning Josh’s face, then Alex’s, Manny finally nodded. “All right. Later, if we’re able.”

  Josh frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Manny began to answer, but before he could, he stopped, mouth dropping wide open as Sophie walked into the room.

  More like strutted.

  Her appearance must have had the same effect on every cop in the room because the small-talk buzz stopped abruptly, all eyes on his partner. He’d seen her in every situation possible, he’d thought. Amazing how often he could be wrong.

  After a moment of stunned quiet, someone released a slow, tantalizing whistle which reflected what every man and woman in the room was thinking: Sophie Lee, FBI special agent, might have missed her calling. She was absolutely stunning.

  A short, red dress fitted with hundreds of sparkling sequins running in contrasting swirling patterns accented every curve the woman possessed. The plunging neckline showed her enhanced cleavage, leaving no choice but to stare.

  Add in the matching four-inch pumps, a sparkling black handbag slung over her shoulder, and enough jewelry around her wrists to drown a good-sized man, and she was ready to blow the top off the building. That wasn’t all.

  She’d dyed her hair with several bright red streaks running the full length of her long black locks, topped off with a wide-brimmed hat matching her handbag. No hooker in Vegas had ever looked more appealing or perfect than Sophie Lee did at that moment. Hell, maybe none on the planet.

  Stunning was the wrong word; mesmerizing was better.

  A protective, older brother attitude quickly stepped into his mind. She was Sophie, always had been, but he suddenly didn’t care for how the men in the room were looking at her. She’d think that funny.

  Dean was excluded from Manny’s pseudo-condemnation of the other cops.

  He glanced at the CSI and felt his smile return. Dean was flushed, his eyes as wide as some surprised cartoon character. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He swallowed hard, and, for a moment, Manny wondered if the man was going to faint.

  Slowly scrutinizing the cops in the room, Sophie spoke, hands on her hips, smiling. “What the hell are you all looking at? And wipe the drool from your chin, Mikus. It’s embarrassing.”

  Quickly pulling off his teal paisley driver’s hat, Dean took a step closer. “How much?”

  Laughter rippled through the room, and Sophie took advantage of the moment.

  “How much you got, big boy?” she answered in her best Marilyn Monroe impression.

  Taking the billfold out of his back pocket, he handed it to her.

  “All I have,” he said, his eyes growing serious.

  Manny doubted that few, if any, in the room caught his double meaning. She could have all of him, and that had been true from the beginning, hadn’t it?

  Her smile left and then returned in a split second. His gregarious partner had heard him, really heard Dean, but did her best to stay in the moment.

  She flipped the wallet back to him. “I only take cash, and I don’t do cops.”

  More laughter echoed around the room. Manny hoped they would all still be laughing in a few hours.

  Stepping to the front of the gathering, he motioned for people to settle down.

  “Okay. Enough of the show-time. Let’s go over what we need to do. No screw-ups. Sophie will be a target, so we have to be on the same page here. If I’m right, we could end this killer’s run.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” came a voice from the back.

  For the second time in three minutes, the room grew eerily silent.

  Looking at the ceiling, Manny thought about the question. His answer was the best he had. “Pray I’m not,” he said. “Pray I’m not.”

  *****

  Standing near the railing on the fourth floor, looking down at the entrance of the conference room, he watched as Sophie Lee disappeared through the door, dressed like the slut he’d always known she was. Her entrance, combined with the expected arrival of Corner and Downs,
had put the finishing touches on his day’s anticipated activities.

  Everything was set. All that was left was to bait the trap, and then Williams and his tribe of morons was just about to hand him who he needed to finish what he’d started.

  His smile grew as he walked away from the railing and headed for the casino floor.

  CHAPTER-55

  The tiny microphone attached to the strap of Sophie’s dress was so powerful she didn’t have to lean toward it to be heard. The ear bud wasn’t quite as undetectable, but one had to look for it.

  “You boys hear me?” she whispered.

  “Loud and clear,” said Manny.

  “Got you, Princess,” said Dean.

  “Yep,” said Josh.

  “I’ve got a good signal, Lee,” said Alex. “Just don’t get carried away and try to make a quick hundred, okay?”

  “Bite me, Dough Boy. At least I could. We’d better be watching you to make sure you’re not on the other end of one of those propositions.”

  “Really? I bet if I wore a red dress that showed my ass and had my boobs, my fake boobs, hanging out like that, I’d get an offer or two,” said Alex.

  She smiled. She heard the concern in his voice in spite of giving her shit, as usual.

  “Yeah, but it’d be from the guys who just got out of prison,” she answered. “And don’t worry, we’ve got this.”

  “Prison. Whatever, wench. And I’m not worried. Just be careful. If something happens, Josh’s paperwork will be a bitch. And . . . and I’d have to break in someone else to give me a hard go. I don’t have time for that. Okay?”

  “Got it, Dough Boy,” she answered, doing her best to keep her emotions out of her response. It was nice to have more than one big brother.

  “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get this shindig rolling,” said Josh.

  “We’ve got you Sophie, so it’s all yours,” said Manny.

  Funny how his voice still had a calming effect on her, even now.

  Climbing on the self-propelled carpet-cleaning machine, which resembled a hockey rink’s Zamboni, as gracefully as possible wearing a skirt that begged to show her butt-cheeks, Sophie tossed her bag around her shoulder, grabbed the controls, and began maneuvering down the middle of the casino floor.

  Driving anything with wheels had always been easy for her, and this machine was no exception. She turned down the main isle of the busy table-gaming section and began waving to anyone who looked her way, yelling greetings to everyone.

  She could count on one hand the times she’d felt self-conscious in her adult life, and this was getting close to another one. Yet, it really wasn’t. She’d shut out virtually all concerns of self-consciousness after her first divorce.

  What people thought of her carried no real value toward who she was inside, so why sweat it? Manny taught her that with the way he simply accepted her for her . . . that and a few lessons from the school of hard knocks.

  Her changed attitude over the years had made her a perfect candidate for this almost-undercover action. Besides, she got to wear one of the hottest outfits on the planet and charge it to the FBI. That was having and eating your cake at the same party. Everyone should have that happen to them every once in a while.

  Glancing down at her dress as she steered the carpet machine around a gentle curve and paced into the very heart of the casino, she was struck with another enlightenment: if most women were honest with themselves, they wanted to wear something like this just once. She’d seen it here in Vegas. And why not? Life was short—try everything.

  She knew she wanted to.

  Sophie kept waving, yelling, and drawing attention to herself as she moved along the aisle, but her eyes were working, taking in whatever and whoever she could. She was comfortable with what she was doing, but she wasn’t going be stupid either.

  She’d located a few of the agents and cops, and of course, knew exactly where Manny, Josh, Dean, and Alex were located in the casino, but hadn’t seen who they were looking for yet.

  He was going to make an entrance, no doubt in her mind. She wanted to see him first, however.

  That abruptly made her a little uneasy as she thought back to the cruise ship and how Eli Jenkins had almost been the end of her. Only that was different. She had a posse watching over her this time, and no matter how this demented bastard reacted to her taking the spotlight, his spotlight, they were ready for him.

  She kept waving and yelling as more and more people came her way. It was working. She was disrupting the whole casino, and that was the complete idea.

  Manny had a theory, and she and the other’s had agreed, that by her drawing attention to herself in such a big way, the killer may not be able to balance the diversion of attention to the desired outcome for these murders and the warped game he was playing. It was as if they’d be ignoring him. For a killer like this, that would never do. Sophie’s parade could cause a major short-circuit in the narcissistic realm the killer lived in and his anger would take over, causing him to react in a brash and uncontrolled way, and to ultimately show himself. That would be a perfect reaction.

  Even if he were able to restrain himself in reaction to Sophie’s hooker carnival, and if it were Argyle, he’d be able to contain himself to some extent, this unexpected step by the Feds would be out of his control and the pattern he’d tried to establish.

  As bright as this psychopath was, he was still a psychopath. Taking control away from him could drive him to do something impulsive and that meant showing himself. The trick was to make sure no one got hurt in the event he went ape shit. That worked for Sophie. She liked the idea of seeing another sunrise.

  Slowing down as the mass congregated closer to her, Sophie saw the guests looking at her, smiling, laughing, and pressing closer to the machine. She began tossing out some hastily made business cards, asking people to call a fictitious number for a good time. The crowd buzzed even more.

  She stood up, put her hands on her hips, and began to gyrate to the music echoing through the casino. The mob grew ever louder, pressing closer. She raised her hands in the air, scanning the crowd as best she could. She saw Manny standing on the fringe of the Tiki bar some thirty feet to her left, watching her and searching the crowd at the same time.

  “Okay, you losers. Do you want to have a really good time? Well, do you?”

  The throng that had gathered, maybe a hundred strong, voiced their reply with a boisterous hell yeah.

  “That was your best response?” she hollered.

  The next sound from the floor was like a cannon exploding as the deafening retort seemed to shake the very casino. By now, folks were pressing so close she could smell expensive perfume mixed with smoke and spilled beer.

  Raising her arms higher, she motioned for them to get louder.

  They did.

  “You still doing okay?” said Manny.

  His voice almost surprised her. She wasn’t used to the wire setup, but recovered.

  She started to speak, then remembered she was supposed to nod whenever possible to avoid breaking character. She gave a slight nod that she was fine. The closeness of the patrons wasn’t a concern for her. Not being able to see much beyond them was.

  Still, looking through the swarm of people, she did see more cops and agents, but no killer. Or anyone that looked like him.

  Picking up another stack of cards, she flung them in two directions, then turned slightly to toss a bundle behind her.

  “How about some free drinks?” she bellowed.

  Another rousing roar as people scrambled for the coupons.

  The slight break of attention allowed her to check behind her.

  Nothing out of the ordinary, if there was such a thing in Vegas and in this situation.

  Josh was standing at the edge of the closest bank of slots, Alex on the opposite side of the isle, both appearing to be casual observers of Sophie’s show.

  Glancing up to the second-floor balcony that led toward the show theaters an
d the food court, she expected to see Dean.

  He wasn’t where he should have been.

  She looked again.

  Still no Dean.

  Knowing she wasn’t supposed to do it held no power in her next action.

  “Dean? Where in hell are you?” she whispered, doing her best to hide what she was doing.

  Waiting for him to respond, her imagination careened out of control. What if—? Her earphone greeted her with static. What came next caused her stomach to fill her gorge.

  “Don’t worry, Princess, Special Agent Dean Mikus is in good hands.”

  “Who is this?” she yelled.

  “Don’t you know, Agent Lee? Don’t you know?”

  She jumped from the machine, plowed through the crowd, and sprinted toward the escalator leading to the balcony, her veins turning to ice and that voice ringing in her head.

  Sophie did know.

  CHAPTER-56

  Lifting the bottle of water to his lips, he finished it off and tossed the container in the trash. He was doing his best to be patient. He needed the information he’d requested and, in his mind, it was taking far too long. He didn’t understand all of the technology that ran amok these days, but he knew there shouldn’t be any trouble with this request.

  He sat back down, placed the phone on the table, and watched it.

  She’d told him it could be a couple of hours. It had been four. What came next, for him, hinged on getting that information. He’d made that incredibly clear. She told him she understood, but she could only do her part, the rest was contingent on a speedy response on the other end.

  Hell, he understood that, he supposed, but why now?

  He rolled his fingers on the table, watching the people walk past the window.

  Just once in his miserable life, he wished something could go right, especially this close to the end.

  The end.

  That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

  Oddly, there was some comfort in that. Once everything was out in the open, his chance of survival was akin to shit not stinking. But he’d known that from the time he’d decided to walk down this road.