I stared at the rich man sweating in the heat of the parking garage, trying to take in what he had said. My mother had been beaten? I had no memory of that at all. And she had never once spoken about it.
R.A. went on. “Doc, Nyland threatened you as well. If Carson didn’t go along with the cover-up, you would be killed.”
“I was only six in 1982.”
“I know,” R.A. said. “I know.”
I let that drop for the moment, asked my next question. I was believing only parts of what he was saying, and I needed more. A lot more.
“So, what has changed now, after all these years, that would set Nyland off like this, if it is Nyland?”
I knew the answer to my own question. Dolan Chase had become President last year. That’s what had changed. But I wanted to see what R.A. would tell me. Just how much of the truth he was willing to share.
R.A. looked pained. He glanced around, making sure no one was close, then took two steps closer to me. I held up my hand. The front door to my car was still between us.
He stopped, glanced around again, then nodded, seeming to make up his mind.
“Ten men in the game originally. Your father, Jeff Taylor, Verne Adkins, Kevin DeFoe, and Benson James were the professional card players. The businessmen were me, Nyland Harrison, Aaron Bell and—”
He stopped, clearly in pain, as if something was actually forcing him to not say what he wanted to say next. Finally he got out, “Are you sure you want to know this?”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Dolan Chase and one other.”
R.A. looked surprised, then nodded. “Paul Hanson, his now chief of staff. Neither of them were rock-throwers either.”
“The cover-up is now all that matters,” I said. “And the fact that people are being killed for those keys.”
R.A. nodded.
“So the stakes of the cover-up changed when Dolan Chase became president. Talk about a skeleton in a closet. Chase has a real one buried in the mountains.”
“He does,” R.A. said. “And with the collapse of Nyland’s company, and his son going to jail for the dam collapse, he has gotten desperate. Crazy desperate.”
I nodded, staring at R.A. It was no wonder Carson had taken so much money from this guy. It was clear he was telling only partial truths, and had a real agenda. He was making what is known on a poker table as a semi-bluff, or a trap. He had no obvious reason to come and tell me all this information. There had to be another reason behind this move.
More than likely, it was an attempt on Carson’s key in some fashion or another.
“So, we’re both in danger from Nyland,” I said.
R.A. nodded. “I have more resources to protect myself than you do.”
“I can take care of myself just fine,” I said.
He nodded, started to say something, stopped. I had no doubt he was about to ask for Carson’s key, to keep it safe. But for some reason he didn’t.
Was he continuing the semi-bluff?
Or was he just deciding to go ahead and kill me for the key anyway?
He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a business card, then laid it on the trunk of my rental car. “Call me if you need help.”
Then he turned and stepped back to the limo, opening the door and ducking inside.
I didn’t move, but was ready to if something came at me out of that car.
Or from any other direction.
“Your father sacrificed a lot to keep you alive,” R.A. said, his voice echoing from the shadows.
Then, before he had the door completely closed he added, “Don’t make it all for nothing.”
It wasn’t until that white limo was long gone and I had turned to go into the Bellagio entrance that I actually let what he had said sink in.
Your father sacrificed a lot...
The images of those pictures of me in his bedroom came back into my mind like a fist to the side of the head and I just wanted to be sick right there between the cars.
August, 1982. The cover-up started.
The same month and year my father had left.
CHAPTER FORTY
Las Vegas, Nevada. August 24
I MANAGED TO get inside and to a couch tucked in between two marble pillars to the side of the wide hallway. Large green plants around the bases of the pillars gave the couch a private feel even though people were walking by within ten feet.
I sat, looking down at the white patterned tile floor, just thinking. At the moment, I didn’t trust myself to walk any farther, or run into anyone I knew.
Your father sacrificed a lot.
Those words echoed like a bad movie effect in my head. I didn’t believe everything R.A. had told me, but he was clearly telling some truths. I wasn’t sure what was true and what wasn’t.
What if part of his truth had been that this Nyland Harrison, or someone else, maybe even Dolan Chase, had threatened families? Mother had been beaten. Had Carson left to protect us? At six, I would have been easy to get to, and impossible to protect.
Is that why Carson pretended I didn’t matter to him anymore, to keep me safe?
It felt like my entire world had just been turned upside down. I had hated Carson for so long, so passionately, I just couldn’t make myself grasp the possibility that he might have left to save me.
Clearly, he had stayed married to my mother, and had Ace to look after me. And both had been overly protective at times, but I had just assumed it was normal stuff.
It had been twenty-seven years since 1982. After enough time of no threats from anyone, why hadn’t Carson just gone home, and told me as well?
Or had there been more threats?
Jeff Taylor.
He had died in an unsolved murder in 1996. Was that one of the threats that had kept Carson silent? Or had my anger at him kept him that way? Now I would never get a chance to ask him.
But I sure as hell would ask my mother those questions. And it was far past time I got some straight answers.
When Taylor died, I was still in college, just thinking about going out and playing professional poker. Fleet was taking my local poker winnings and building a really nice fortune with it. I was an adult. I could handle myself. I could have been told, either by my mother, or Ace.
I was sure as hell going to find out why I wasn’t.
And all that assumed I was jumping to the right conclusion with what R.A. had told me. There was a lot more going on than I knew right now. And I had no doubt he had been telling only half truths for some reason that was not yet clear.
“All right, think,” I said out loud. “What comes first?”
The moment I asked the question, I had the answer.
Get Ace and my mother safe and Fleet’s wife and kids safe.
That was the first and most important thing. They were the leverage that could be used against me, just as R.A. said they were used against Carson.
As Verne had warned me about.
I had no idea if it was R.A. Scott, or Nyland Harrison, or the president, or someone else entirely killing people. All I knew was that I had a key, and the keys held the secret of that supposed murder in Idaho, and someone was working to get them. I just had to make sure I couldn’t be played like Carson was supposedly played.
“Doc?”
I glanced up to see Fleet. He must have walked past me, headed for the elevators to go up to the rooms before realizing it was me sitting there.
“You all right?”
“Fine,” I said as I stood. “Just thinking while waiting for you.”
“So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ll explain it all shortly,” I said. “Right now, I need you to get our plane to Boise for Ace and my mother and your family.”
“My family? Why? When?”
“Right now, two hours ago. As soon as they can get to the airport in Boise, I want that plane waiting for them. And if our plane can’t get there that fast, I want you to get another one and I don’t care what it costs.�
��
“You’re scaring me,” Fleet said, while at the same time pulling out his cell phone.
“I’m scared,” I said. “If we have to call in favors from the police in Boise to get them all on that plane, we’re going to do it. Understand?”
He nodded.
“And I want body guards waiting with a limousine at the airport to get them here. Make sure the guards are armed. Can you do that?”
Fleet stared at me, swallowed, then nodded.
“Get the plane on the way, then call your wife.”
He took a deep breath and started to dial.
I pulled out my phone and called Ace.
When he answered, I said, “Doc here. Don’t talk, just listen. I need you to pick up my mother and get to the airport as quickly as you can, no longer than thirty minutes, no extra stops. There will be a private plane waiting for you. I’ll have a limo waiting on this end, and suites at the Bellagio.”
Ordering him was something I had never done, or would have even thought to try to do with my grandfather. But at this moment, I didn’t feel like having a conversation with him.
After he sputtered for a moment, he asked one question, very softly. “Is this about what happened to Carson?”
“It’s about what happened to all of us a long damn time ago,” I said, doing my best to just not yell at him. There would be time for my anger later, after he and my mother were safe.
“I understand,” he said softly. “We will be at the airport within thirty minutes.”
I didn’t say another word, just hung up.
Fleet hung up at the same moment. “Another Gulfstream will be standing by in twenty minutes at the Boise airport. Ours is still down here waiting for us and would take too long to get there.”
I nodded. “Ace and my mother are on the way to the airport. Get your wife and kids there without any delay. Not one extra minute. Make sure you get them all that protection and rides here on this end. I’ll go get them suites. Your kids need an extra room?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Can I now ask what exactly is going on?”
“Put it this way,” I said. “The guy who hired the thug to come after me yesterday will have no problem using our families to come after us and get Carson’s key.”
“Oh, shit,” Fleet said, his face white.
“Get your family on the way. I’ll tell you everything I know later tonight. It’s a long story and there are parts of it I’m not sure of. But let me say this, the morning started with the news that Verne Adkins was shot last night. He survived, and I talked to him. He had a key and someone got it. And the President is involved in some way or another.”
Fleet looked even whiter, like all his blood had vanished from his body.
“There’s a lot more. But for now, just get everyone here, inside this hotel, safely. And don’t you dare leave the hotel either, for any reason. Not one step outside, is that understood? There are some big nasty snakes just outside those doors.”
“Not funny,” Fleet said.
“I didn’t intend it to be,” I said, turning and heading toward the hotel front desk.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Las Vegas, Nevada. August 24
FBI AGENT HEATHER VOIGHT stood outside the window of the intensive care room and listened carefully to the phone conversation going on from Verne Adkin’s hospital room. It was being relayed into her ear from the monitoring station they had set up in an empty room.
She pretended to be standing guard. She had three agents doing that in different areas of the hall. She had been here just waiting for something like this to happen.
It was her only hope at getting a real lead, since Adkins wasn’t talking, and she doubted Doc Hill knew much more than she did at this point.
After Doc had left, Adkins had taken a short nap, which had allowed her to have a quick breakfast since Doc had woken her up with his call.
She had managed to eat a few bites, sitting on a couch in the hallway, when Adkins woke and asked for a phone. He was brought one, a phone that was bugged so Heather could listen in to both sides of the conversation.
She knew a moment after Adkins had finished dialing that he had called the Las Vegas number of a man named Aaron Bell.
“Verne, oh, man, I heard what happened. Are you all right?”
“A couple extra holes in my head, but nothing anyone would notice. They say I’m going to be fine.”
“Oh, thank God,” Bell said. Even through the tap, the relief in Bell’s voice was clear.
“Aaron, protect your family,” Adkins said.
Heather glanced around at the busy hospital wing. That was the exact same thing Adkins had told Doc Hill to do.
“Why?” Bell asked.
“Someone’s making a move on the keys,” Adkins said. “Got mine by threatening my grandkids.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Bell said. “I didn’t think you’d ever touch a gun. Who’s behind it?”
“I don’t know,” Adkins said. “I didn’t recognize the bastard. More than likely hired help. Just get your family protected.”
“Will do,” Bell said. “Thanks. And take care of yourself.”
After Adkins hung up, Heather desperately wanted to just go into the room and ask the wounded man what the keys were all about. He and Doc Hill had talked about keys as well.
“But keys to what?” she said out loud. She had a hunch that the moment she discovered the answer to that question, she would find out who was doing this. And why Paul and the President were so interested in all this.
And why she was here in the first place.
With one long look at the now resting man in the ICU, she turned and headed down the hall, leaving her unfinished breakfast behind on the couch. She was going to need even more help, which meant another call to Director Smith. And maybe Paul. She now had to put a round-the-clock watch on Aaron Bell.
If whoever was doing this made a move on Bell, she was going to make sure this would come to a very quick end.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Las Vegas, Nevada. August 24
I GOT THE suites for Ace and my mother, and the extra room for Fleet’s kids, then headed through the midday crowds for the poker room. The tournament was scheduled to start in about fifteen minutes. I had no intention of playing. I just wanted to wish Annie good luck, and make a date to talk to her after she was finished. I didn’t know how, but I had a hunch I was going to need her help.
And maybe all of the Las Vegas police department as well.
As I got closer to the tournament area in front of the poker room, I stopped and stepped off to one side of the wide aisle. My mind was swirling, and somehow I had to have time to put all of what I had learned today into perspective. And figure out what to do next.
I had no doubt I was just going to pace and worry until the plane from Boise got here and everyone was safely inside the Bellagio. Granted, someone could get to them here, even with all the security cameras. But on short notice, and at least for the night, it was the safest place I could think of. After they were here, I would have a talk with the manager and get his security people on higher alert. Maybe have Annie help me with that was well.
Right now, beyond taking care of that, I was having trouble thinking about anything.
I had to get calmed down and clear my head.
One of the final satellites broke, with a few handshakes around. In the early rounds of a poker tournament, my normal style was to do nothing but watch other players.
Maybe I should just go ahead and play, put myself in a place I was comfortable. No one would bother me, and I would have time to think. I always did some of my best thinking in the boring early rounds of tournaments.
Or on the lazy, calm water up on the river. God, right now what I wouldn’t give to be back there.
Playing would be a waste of the two thousand entry fee, of that I had no doubt, but at the moment, it seemed like a small price to pay to help me get things into perspective.
I flipped ope
n my cell phone and called Fleet.
“Everyone is on the way to the airport,” he said. “I’m in my suite making sure nothing gets missed.”
“Good. I got everyone suites, and later on I’ll meet with Annie and get the police in on this as well. Anything I can do to help right now?”
“Got this part covered,” he said.
“Okay,” I said. “I think I’ll sit in on the tournament for a while. But you can come and get me at any point.”
“Trying to give yourself time to think, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, laughing. “You know me too well. You got guards and a limo lined up for this end?”
“I do,” he said. “They will be at the airport in an hour and will wait. I’ll get them all here safely,” Fleet said.
“Good, thanks,” I said. “You know where I’ll be. Let me know when they arrive. Otherwise, I’ll see you when someone takes my chips and kicks my ass out of the tournament.”
He half-laughed. “Will you notice?”
“Probably not.”
I hung up and moved forward toward the entry desk. Annie was standing off to one side, and when she saw me, her nervous smile faded. It dawned on me she must think I wanted my entry back, since I was here before the start.
Before I could say anything, she asked, “How was Verne Adkins?”
“Alive, talking, got a bad headache.”
“Did you find anything out about what happened?”
“Not enough,” I said. “I was right, he was attacked, and it was set up to look like a suicide attempt. The woman I called this morning is from the FBI. She’s working with your department’s people to keep him safe.”
“FBI?” she asked, looking at me intently, “How are they mixed up in this?”
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