Sin City

by Harold Robbins

  “Thanks.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Do me a favor, will you, Zack?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t make me love you again.”

  “I thought you might invite me to your next wedding. As your groom.”

  “Are you kidding? You came to two of my weddings and spoiled both of them.”

  77

  A-Ma sat at a desk in the suite she shared with Zack near Forbidden City. Ling stood on the other side of the desk. Two things were on the desk: a telephone and a document drawn up by a lawyer. She had been at the desk waiting for the past ten minutes, after Ling arrived with the papers and informed her that Wan was going to call her and give her instructions. She waited stoically, showing no emotion, her face and body expressing only the quiet patience for which the women of her country were noted.

  Ling also appeared impassive, but his countenance was more forced. She found Zack’s characterization of Ling as a ticking bomb true. She sensed he was a bundle of bottled-up nerves. The only overt clue he gave was his hands. He continuously made a noose with his hands and “strangled” one of his fingers with it. She found the nervous habit unsettling and sinister, but never revealed that it bothered her. Helplessness and fear fed the egos of men like Ling and Wan.

  She had a premonition about what the phone call would be about. It was to be the call she dreaded, the one she knew would come someday from Wan.

  The phone rang and she involuntarily flinched. Her reaction brought something resembling a smile to Ling’s face. He reached down, pressed the speakerphone button, and gave Wan a traditional Chinese greeting.

  “How are you, my child?” Wan asked her.

  “Very good.” It was a game they played, the pretense that he actually cared about whether she lived or died.

  “You used to call me ‘Uncle.’ Is there a reason the word would not come today? Have I fallen in your esteem?”

  “No—no, of course not, Uncle.”

  “You have to be careful in the West, my child—it can be a very seductive place. One can get so caught up with all its technology and gadgets, you forget about the traditions that have made the Chinese people great.”

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  “Remember, they are nothing more than barbarians with guns.” He laughed at his own joke so hard he started coughing.

  A-Ma folded her hands in her lap and sat quietly during the spasm, wishing that he drop dead during the attack.

  “My apology, A-Ma. As you can see, I am getting old and weak and will soon join my ancestors.”

  She had to stop herself from laughing aloud. Zack claimed that Wan would piss on all their graves and she was certain he was right.

  “You recall, my dear, that when I sent you to Las Vegas, you were to be a two-edged sword, first clearing the way for Mr. Riordan’s casino … now it is time to use the other blade. The corporation is fully licensed to run the casino. Mr. Riordan controls the corporation only because I have permitted it. I control the corporation, in your name, of course. Sadly, I no longer am able to trust you to do my bidding. The papers before you assign your entire interest to Mr. Chow. The papers also replace Mr. Riordan as President and CEO of Forbidden City. In his stead is an associate of Mr. Chow’s, who at this very moment is on his way to Las Vegas. Neither have criminal records and should qualify to run the casino.”

  “What will happen to Zack?”

  “Why, he will get on his horse and ride off into the sunset, as in those Western movies.” More insane laughter came over the phone before Wan came back on, smothering a cough. His voice turned harsh. “What happens to him is none of your concern. Ling reports that you have become infatuated with Mr. Riordan. I will forgive your foolishness, this time. But understand that I am not pleased with you. Ling, show her the photograph that was faxed to us an hour ago from the man who is following Mr. Riordan.”

  The whisper of a smile on Ling’s face grew into a real smile, the first she had ever seen him make. He pulled a piece of paper from his inside coat pocket, unfolded it and spread it on the desk. Zack kissing Morgan. Mickey Mouse in the background.

  “After you sign the papers, begin packing. You will be returning to Macao immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “My feet are cold.”

  Wan hung up and dial tone returned to the line. She ignored the buzz. Ling reached over and hung the line up.

  “Sign,” he said, gesturing at the papers before her.

  She looked down at the papers, but the print was blurry as tears invaded her eyes.

  “Sign.”

  “I have to read them.” She pressed a button under the desktop.

  He took a step back, shaking his head like he was trying to clean out his ears. “You do not need to read them.”

  “I have to see what I am signing.”

  “I will call Mr. Wan.”

  “Go ahead, but do it in your own room.”

  “No, sign the papers now.”

  Her maid came into the room, answering the signal sent from the button under the desk.

  “Show Mr. Ling out.”

  “I will call Mr. Wan,” he repeated, as he walked out.

  When the door to her room closed, she locked it. Back at her desk, she tore up the faxed picture and threw it in the wastebasket. She stared down at the papers for a long moment. Scratching out the names of Tommy Chow and his associate, she wrote in Zack’s name and signed the paper.

  She stared down at the paper for a long moment. Pushing back the chair, she got up. She felt both heavy and tired—burdened. Dealing with Mr. Wan was a burden. Everything about life was complicated. In the bedroom, she selected a white dress. After slipping it on, she opened the sliding glass doors and went out on the tenth-floor balcony. Forbidden City was lit up, being prepared for the opening, but already the brightest thing on the Strip. Light from God, Zack’s perception of the Strip, and now he had added the most brilliant beacon.

  Sitting on the small balcony, she swung her legs over the low railing and put her head back, letting the warm August breeze stir her hair. Her mind floated with different thoughts, some for only a fleeting moment—crossing the Pearl River delta with the wind and rain in her face, a woman who turned children into “jewels,” seeing Zack for the first time. She wondered what her fisherman friend in Macao would think if he saw the Strip. Probably the same thing Zack thought when he first saw it as a child—that it was God’s lair. But the fisherman would not understand the passions and greed behind the bright lights. To him, life was simple, struggling each day against the sea, simple pain, and pleasures until one day he passed beyond sorrow. That was how he thought of life, as a time of sorrow that he would someday pass. And it was how she thought of it now.

  For a moment she frowned down at the pavement, over a hundred feet below. Then she smiled and leaned forward. The fall was exhilarating.

  She realized that for the first time in her life she was completely free and in charge of her own destiny.

  Part 11

  FORBIDDEN CITY

  August was the ghost month.

  78

  Waking up at three or four o’clock in the morning had become a habit for me. Sometimes I would just lay in bed, running everything about building Forbidden City through my head; other times I got up and went over piles of paperwork. We were getting down to the wire—the club would either open soon or blow up in my face. The quiet and isolation in the wee hours when others were sleeping had become my thinking time.

  It was the middle of August. A-Ma had died over a week ago, and each night since then I awoke to think about her. This night was no different. August was the ghost month. I couldn’t lay A-Ma to rest in August, so I had the body preserved until I could fly it to Hong Kong. I had no doubt Wan would try to kill me, but regardless of the risk, I was going to take A-Ma to her fisherman friend on the Pearl River tributary where together we would return the sea goddess to her rightful resting place in the waters she came from, in a red dre
ss to bring her luck in the afterworld.

  Since A-Ma had died, I had become sensitive about everything. I felt like someone had sand-blasted away my outer shell and left my nerves raw and exposed. Tears streamed down my face when I saw her on a slab. I don’t remember crying before, at least not since I was old enough to remember. I couldn’t even remember crying for Betty. Tough guys don’t cry, ever—that’s what Con always said. Maybe I wasn’t as tough as I thought. I had been torn between A-Ma and Morgan. And feeling guilty about the kids. Now the choice was gone and all I had left of A-Ma was the memory of a woman I loved but who never seemed quite real to me, not even when we were naked in each other’s arms.

  Morgan stirred beside me. “Can’t sleep again?”

  “Just thinking. Go back to sleep.”

  Morgan had been good about giving me space to get my emotions under control about the loss of A-Ma. This was the first night we slept in the same bed since we got back in town with the kids. And we hadn’t touched each other. She said she wasn’t ready. I had been staying alone in the suite I once shared with A-Ma, in a strange way sensing that she was still there. Last night I wanted to have dinner with Morgan and the kids at the country club house and ended up staying the night. I felt lonely for the first time since Betty died and being around Morgan and the kids helped. They felt like a natural part of my life.

  The phone rang and broke the quietness in the room. “Fuck.”

  Morgan sat up.

  “Someone’s died or the club’s burned down,” I said automatically.

  “Who knows the number?”

  “Nobody I want to hear from at three in the morning.”

  I let it ring three more times before I picked it up.

  “How are you, Mr. Riordan?”

  At the sound of Wan’s voice, a shot of murderous anger spiked me. But I needed a clear head to deal with the devil. I closed my eyes and leaned back. “What do you want?”

  Wan crackled like a goosed hen. “My money, Mr. Riordan, I want the money you have stolen from me.”

  “Your money? I don’t recall getting any money from you. Maybe you have the wrong number.”

  “You do not seriously believe that I would let you steal a hundred million dollars from me.” He clicked his tongue. “I have veered far from the Way that was set out for me at my birth if someone in this world believes he can take my property without forfeiting his life. Perhaps we are having a language problem; my English is not the best.”

  “How does ‘fuck you’ translate? You know, Wan, you screwed up royally when you took on A-Ma. She was too damn smart for you. Those footsteps you hear behind you are your pals like Tommy Chow coming to carve you up. I had one of my men meet your friend Chow at the airport and bring him to me. Before I kicked his balls up between his teeth, I let him know that you and I were partners in ripping off the triads.”

  A sudden gasp came from the other end of the line.

  “Is that a death rattle I hear?”

  The silence seeped over the phone like the chill of the dead. Finally Wan’s voice came back. “You have not read enough Sun Tzu, Mr. Riordan. He advised taking from the enemy that which he values the most.”

  Wan hung up. I listened to the dial tone in my ear for a moment before I put the receiver down.

  “What’s the matter?” Morgan asked.

  “Wan.”

  “Isn’t there some way we can deal with the man? Before he murders us all?”

  Murders us all. I rolled the thought around in my head. I didn’t think he’d harm my family, he was after me, but I didn’t like getting anywhere near the idea, either. His threat about taking what I hold dearest was obviously the casino. He planned to take it away from me. But having Morgan and the kids around would complicate things when the going got tough.

  “I want you and the kids to go back East in the morning. The corporate jet will fly you.”

  “No, I want the kids at the opening of Forbidden City. Do you really think there’s any danger to us?”

  “No, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll move you into a VIP suite I’ve set up in the hotel tower. Don’t leave the complex without security people with you. Understand?” I threw off the blankets and got out of bed. “I need a shot of rot gut. I can’t sleep.”

  “Tell me what Wan said.”

  “He said I didn’t read enough Sun Tzu, that Sun Tzu defeated enemies by taking away what they held dearest.”

  I was to the bedroom door when she spoke again. “He’s going after Forbidden City.”

  “Of course.”

  “You say that as if the most important thing to a man is his business.”

  “Morgan—” I started, not in any mood to argue.

  “No, forget it, I always want you to be something, somebody, that you’re not.”

  “Whatever happened to unconditional love?”

  “Is that another way of saying unconditional surrender?” She quickly changed the subject. “Why do you think you can keep Wan’s money?”

  “A-Ma transferred her interest in the casino corporation to me by scratching out Tommy Chow’s name and writing in mine. Okay, that locked me into a deadly game with Wan. She told me he had used not only his own money, but the money of triads stretching from Shanghai to Taipei. If he got rid of me, he might be able to stall the triads from killing him until he figured out a way to cover their losses. Or had them gunned down first. But since I’m living proof that he has lost their money, his days are numbered. The question is, which of us has the highest number?”

  “Why don’t you just give him back his interest in the casino?”

  “It’s not that simple. Wan has double-crossed me twice and tried to kill me. I earned the money, but I honestly don’t give a damn about it. He was responsible for A-Ma’s death, just the same as if he pushed her. I have to punish him for it.”

  “Zack, I’m afraid. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. I’m not going to die for money. If it comes down to it, I’ll just sign back the interest to Wan.”

  I lied to calm her fears. Even if I signed back the interest to Wan, he would probably kill me anyway to save face. The only way to handle Wan in the long term was to play his game. He lived by the sword. He had to die by it. But I needed a bigger sword.

  I chugged two shots of Jack Daniels and made three phone calls before I returned to the bedroom.

  “Who did you call?”

  “Moody, to tell him to round up some of his cop buddies who have retired. I’m going to beef up security at the casino. And I called the sheriff and told him to put a patrol car outside the house for the rest of the night.” I didn’t say anything about the third call, setting up a lunch date at the country club.

  The lights were off and my mind was still buzzing when she spoke.

  “No pain, no gain.”

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking how tough life is.”

  “You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You don’t have any idea of how tough life is.”

  “Why didn’t you tell that to Bic, you arrogant bastard. You know, you always had an unfair advantage over him. You were born poor and had no place to go but up. Everything you ever did ended up successful. Bic choked on his silver spoon because he had to compete against a father who had pulled himself up by the bootstraps. Bic always had to walk in his tall shadow. He was never good enough for his father.”

  She turned her back to me and I rolled over and took her in my arms. She tried to push me away, but I held on to her tight.

  “Hey, I’m sorry I started with nothing and got successful. In my next life, I’ll try to make up for it by reversing the process.”

  “If you don’t give Mr. Wan back his money, your next life may come sooner than you think.”

  79

  Lunch at the country club was with Anthony DeCicco. DeCicco was a silver-haired, distinguished man in his mid-sixties, with pale gray eyes, a handsome
face without a single wrinkle, and a manner more polished than a Cartier diamond. He was the kind of guy whose pictures appeared on society pages laughing with the mayor at charity fund-raisers. Everyone who was anyone in town knew Anthony—and that he didn’t go by the name of “Tony.” But no one knew for sure what kind of business he had. He looked like a million, dressed like it, drove a big Caddie, lived in a suite on the top floor of the Hilton, gambled modestly but frequently, but never really said what he did for a living.

  I was aware of what he did for a living only because Con told me years ago. The feds knew what he did for a living. They probably had his line bugged. He was a professional go-between, a smooth guy who had connections—and some said was connected. He called himself a “business consultant” and his business relationship with Con concerned arrangements for occasional loans Con needed. The loans never involved any paperwork and the creditor was always someone that had their picture in the gaming board’s black book.

  I had never conducted any business with DeCicco and was surprised when he called me and wanted to set up a meeting last week. I had postponed the meeting because I was too busy, but called him in the wee hours last night to set up the luncheon. Assuming that his phone was bugged, and maybe even the table we sat at, we would have to tap dance around what we really wanted to talk about.

  “I was surprised to get your call in the middle of the night, Zack. Are you a restless sleeper or were you catching up on work?”

  “Sorry, I forgot about the time. I get wound up and forget what day it is sometimes.”

  “I don’t blame you, Forbidden City is the biggest thing that ever hit this town. You have a lot going on, I’m sure. I hear you’re opening the doors soon and the place is already fully booked.”

  “We’re booked solid for the next three months. It’s like the old saying, give people what they want and they’ll come running.”

  “Who said that?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Do I look like a philosopher to you?”

  “You look like success to me. You probably don’t remember it, but I was playing poker with Con years ago when you first started working for him. He introduced you to the guys at the table and after you left, he said, ‘See that kid, he’s going to run this town one day.’”