Smith's Monthly #22

by Smith, Dean Wesley

“That was when Carson left,” Ace said. “The three of us figured that if he pretended he didn’t care about you or your mother, Harrison and his thugs would look for other ways to control him. He was right, it stopped at that point and never restarted until Carson died.”

  “We were going to tell you everything when you were in college,” my mother said, tears filling her eyes. “We figured by then you would understand.”

  “I know,” I said. “You didn’t because Jeff Taylor was killed and you felt you couldn’t.”

  Both my mother and Ace nodded.

  Ace went on. “When you started winning tournaments and it became public knowledge that you and Carson hated each other, we let it go. It was the safest way to keep you out of this.”

  “And it worked right up until Dolan Chase became the president,” I said. “Ten people started that poker game in 1982. There are only five still in the play left alive, since I have taken Carson’s place in all this. I plan on winning this game.”

  “And how do you plan on doing that?” Ace asked.

  “Assuming that Chase and Hanson are playing the same hand, that only leaves three suspects who have keys. R.A. Scott, Nyland Harrison, and the president. I have a plan to get two out of the three together for a showdown. And get the third party, the President, involved at the same time.”

  “You’re losing me, kid,” Ace said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Annie said.

  “Aggression,” I said. “With thought-through aggression. I’m going to assume, until we know different, that the killer is one of those three, and I’m going to go after the bastard and take him out of the game before he gets me.”

  “And just how the hell are you going to do that?” Fleet asked, looking very worried.

  “Poker,” I said, smiling at my partner. “A game of poker started all this, a game of poker will end it all.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Las Vegas, Nevada. August 25

  AROUND THE LIVING room, they were all just staring at me as if I had lost what little sense I had to begin with.

  “Okay,” I said, “the plan is simply this. I’m going to use Carson’s key as bait and lure whoever wants it into a trap.”

  “And just how are you going to do that without getting killed?” Annie asked. “Whoever wants those keys seems to have no fear of cold-blooded killing to get them. Very professional cold-blooded killings.”

  “As I said. Poker.”

  “I’m lost and getting very worried,” Fleet said.

  I laughed. “Look, we don’t know which of these men is killing for the keys, or if it’s someone else entirely. Right?”

  Everyone nodded so I went on with the idea I had thought through in the poker tournament last night. “But we know that they each still have a key, and it’s clear to me these keys mean a great deal to both R.A. and Nyland. Nyland because he started the cover-up, and R.A. because he visited me, more than likely on a chance I’d just give him my key to get rid of it.”

  “How does poker fit into this?” Annie asked. “I’m with Fleet. I’m still lost.”

  “I’m betting,” I said, “that the two of them are willing to put the keys they own on the table and play me for them. I put up Carson’s key, winner take all.”

  Ace nodded. “They’ll play.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Fleet said.

  “They will,” I said. “Of that I have no doubt. I’m betting that one of them wants Carson’s key enough to get it the way I’m willing to give it up. Both of them have hated each other for years, both are avid poker players. This all started over a poker game. I want to try to end it over one.”

  “Why will it end?” Annie asked. “Having only three keys is still no good if there are nine needed to get into that box.”

  “I agree,” I said. “By my count, whoever is doing this has five keys right now, counting their own.”

  “Sure,” Annie said. “And two are in the White House. I still don’t see how this will end anything.”

  “It will end it for us,” Ace said. “That’s all that matters.”

  I nodded. “Ace is right. We’re in danger because of my father’s key. We get three of the available keys and destroy them in a public way, and we’ll be safe.”

  “Or you lose the key,” Fleet said, “and we win that way, as well, since whoever is behind the killings has no reason to hurt anyone here anymore.”

  “I’m going to win and put whoever is behind these murders away at the same time.”

  Fleet just looked disgusted. “Okay, I almost understood before you said that.”

  “By winning,” I said, smiling. “It will drive the murderer to actions he will pay dearly for.”

  “That is exactly what I’m afraid of,” Fleet said. “Why is that a good thing?”

  “A sting?” Annie said. “Of course, a sting.”

  I smiled at her. She and I really did think alike at times. “A sting,” I said, agreeing.

  “What happens to this sting if you lose?” Fleet asked.

  “I won’t.”

  Ace laughed. “Oh, trust me, he won’t lose.”

  Two hours later, I was ready to set the plan in action. We had talked it out, worked out details I hadn’t thought of, then ran over the entire idea again, step-by-step. It was dangerous, but so was just sitting here waiting for someone to come and kill one of us for that stupid key.

  “Ready?” I asked, glancing around. I was holding a phone in my hand and felt about as nervous as a beginning poker player going into a big tournament. I just hoped I wasn’t dead money on this entire plan.

  “Into the fire,” Ace said.

  “Make sure this call goes out on Mike’s secured line,” Annie said. “No telling who’s listening out there.”

  “Yeah, Mike told me the house was being watched,” I said.

  “I noticed when we came in,” Annie said. “More than likely your FBI friends. They looked Federal-level stupid.”

  “I hope they’re the only ones watching,” I said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Annie said.

  I took a deep breath, then dialed the number R.A. had given me.

  R.A. answered with a gruff, “Yes.”

  “Sir, it’s Doc Hill. Would you be willing to meet me at my father’s house for a meeting about the key?”

  R.A. remained silent for a moment, then said, “Yes. That sounds like a good idea. Give me the address.”

  I gave him the address, then said, “My grandfather and my attorney will also be in on the meeting. Please come alone.”

  Again there was a pause. Then he said, “I’ll be there within the hour,” and hung up.

  I made sure I had disconnected the phone, then nodded to everyone. “He’s on his way.”

  My mother looked like she might just break down at any moment.

  Ace was nodding and thinking.

  “We better get a couple of Mike’s people in here with us,” Annie said, “just in case this goes sour right off.”

  “Well, that’s confidence,” Fleet said, looking very afraid and whiter than his normal pale skin.

  I couldn’t say that I blamed him.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Las Vegas, Nevada. August 25

  R.A. LOOKED A little nervous and sweaty as he came inside from the hot afternoon sun, leaving his limo outside running with the driver inside staying cool.

  He had a good reason to be worried. I really had left him no choice. This was a logical continuation of the play for the key he had made yesterday when he approached me in the parking garage. For all he knew, I wanted to just give it to him now.

  My mother was in her bedroom with one of Mike’s guards. Mike and two of his men were stationed in the kitchen pantry and down the hall, out of sight. Annie was in Fleet’s room, the closest to the living room. If something happened, there would be a lot of troops coming to the rescue.

  Once we were settled in the living room, I got right to the point. “First let me be clear that neither of these men know
what I’m about to suggest. This is my idea. I just wanted them here as witnesses to what we agree on.”

  R.A. nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

  I went on. “I think we should set up a no limit hold’em poker game between you and me and Nyland Harrison with the keys as the stake to buy into the game. Winner take all three of the damn things.”

  R.A. sat back, staring at me, clearly surprised and thinking. So I went on, telling him the details.

  “I suggest it would just be the three of us at your ranch in Idaho. I’ll have a professional dealer come in with me so we make sure there’s no cheating.”

  Annie had agreed to do the dealing in the game. Even though I didn’t like the idea, she insisted that since this was basically a Las Vegas case, she had damn well better be on it. After ten minutes of arguing about it, I had caved in. The woman had a damn strong will.

  “Why the ranch in Idaho? Why not here?” Fleet asked, following the script we had set up. I wanted Fleet to ask that question so that I could give an answer that would make sense to R.A.

  “No one is there,” I said. “I’ll bet Nyland hasn’t been back to the Big Game since that night in 1982, has he?”

  “He hasn’t,” R.A. said, looking disgusted at the idea. “After what he did to your mother, he’s never been invited.”

  “Good,” I said. “I want Nyland to be as off balance as he can be. Returning to a place where he helped kill someone will put him in that state.”

  “So what exactly are the stakes?” Ace asked, just as he was supposed to.

  “Nothing more than the keys,” I said. “Nyland brings his key for the chance to play for my father’s and R.A.’s keys.”

  “I’m not sure I want to give my key to Nyland,” R.A. said. “In fact, I’m sure I don’t.”

  “Trust me,” I said. “You won’t. I’ll win the game and then I’ll publicly destroy all three keys. No more reason for Nyland or whoever to kill anyone.”

  “And you’re so sure you’re going to win the game because?” R.A. asked.

  “I do this for a living,” I said.

  R.A. was clearly not convinced. I didn’t expect him to be at this point. He repeated what he told me the day before. “Nyland believes the keys are worth murdering for.”

  “So why take this kind of chance giving him your key?” Fleet asked me directly, right on script.

  “A sting,” I said. Just as R.A. had done with me, I was staying close to the truth. Just not giving it all. “During the game, we try to get Nyland to admit to at least one of the murders, or give us something we can track back to him.”

  “I’m an attorney,” Fleet said, pretending to sit back and think. “And I have a few friends in Boise. I think I can make any recordings you get stand up in a court if I do a little preparation ahead of time and we watch the evidence chain of custody.”

  “I like that idea,” R.A. said, smiling. “Get rid of that bastard once-and-for-all.”

  I never doubted that R.A. would like the idea. It played right into his desire to see his old enemy behind bars.

  “If what you say is right about this man,” Fleet said, “then he might try to kill you if you win the card game.”

  “I know,” Doc said. “I’m planning that my winning will be what sets Nyland off so that he gives us the information we need to put him away. Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

  R.A. nodded, buying into the trap. “And we destroy the keys when we have them all?”

  “That is the idea.”

  “I’m in,” R.A. said, standing and extending his hand to me.

  I shook it, pretending I was happy to be doing so. Even for a professional poker player, that was a damn hard act to put on.

  “When?”

  “How about three days from today? Noon at your ranch.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll set it up with Nyland,” R.A. headed for the door. “I’ll call you and let you know when he has agreed. But I have no doubt he will.”

  Neither did I.

  Six hours later, I got the call.

  “It’s set,” was all R.A. said.

  SECTION THREE

  A TURNING-POINT HAND

  At some point in every poker tournament,

  a player must put everything at risk to advance.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Northern California. August 25

  STEVEN JUST COULDN’T seem to stop laughing.

  He walked outside his home into the warm evening air, trying to get himself back together by staring out over the rugged, pine-covered mountains and deep valleys that stretched into the distance. The sun was ducking behind a ridgeline of Mt. Shasta in the distance, filling the valleys around him with deep shadows while leaving the peaks bright with oranges and yellows. It was a beautiful time of the evening, a time he really enjoyed.

  He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but then the memory of the phone call with his father came back and he started laughing again.

  He just couldn’t believe it. Richard Scott had called his father to set up a poker game between Steven’s father, Doc Hill, and himself.

  And the stakes were their three keys.

  Steven sat on a rock on the edge of a steep drop to an old construction site below and just laughed, the sound carrying out over the valley and the river below him. Finally, he managed to catch his breath.

  The ironic thing was that Steven’s father had called him and asked him to go along to the game, as a sort of second in the duel, as his stupid father had called it.

  Somehow, Steven had managed to agree to go along without laughing, at least until he had hung up. Now, he just couldn’t seem to stop.

  His father had no idea who his own son had become.

  While Steven was in jail for his father’s mistakes, his pathetic father had told him about the keys and that night in 1982. He had spilled everything, including how he had forced the others to be part of the cover-up. It had been one of those far-too-regular soul-baring sessions his father had felt he needed and Steven had come to hate.

  During that time, Dolan Chase was starting his run to the presidency, and his father had promised that when Chase got into office, he would pardon Steven because of the keys.

  It hadn’t happened. Steven had gotten himself out of the stupid minimum security prison on good behavior three months before Chase got elected.

  Now Steven’s father thought that by winning two of the keys at this game, he might get a start toward getting all the keys, and thus some business and respect back. His father had been a tyrant while running his own company. Now he was just plain delusional.

  A lot of far more powerful people wanted control of those keys. And Steven was going to have that control.

  Control over the President.

  And just as important, or maybe even more, Steven would have control over the President’s enemies.

  His father didn’t have the stomach for what it would take to get all the keys, or the knowledge of what to do with them when he got them.

  But Steven did.

  And, to his surprise, he was actually enjoying doing it. He seemed to have a special knack for killing, and the challenge of it was growing on him.

  He thought about this special new session of the Big Game that Doc Hill had set up and that he was invited to and started laughing again.

  It took him a good half hour until he stopped.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  White House, Washington, D.C. August 25

  PRESIDENT DOLAN CHASE slammed down the phone, then stood and started pacing behind his desk in the oval office.

  Paul stood in front of the desk looking pale and worried. “What happened?”

  “Are the damn recorders off?”

  Paul moved over to a control panel hidden under the bookcase and checked once more, then nodded. “They are.”

  “R.A. went into Carson’s house and talked to Doc and Ace Hill. A couple Las Vegas detectives and other security people were in there as well,
along with Doc’s partner and lawyer.”

  “Oh, no,” Paul said. “You think the kid gave him Carson’s key? Does he even know what the keys go to?”

  “He’s not stupid,” Dolan said, shaking his head at his best friend, then went back to pacing and talking. “Verne’s injured, Doc is talking to R.A., and Ace is there now as well. I’m betting he knows everything.”

  “Oh, no,” Paul said, moving over to a chair and slumping into it.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Dolan said, frantically trying to work this through. “Any of them could do us some damage if we don’t get them stopped.”

  “Some damage?” Paul said.

  Dolan could hear the deep sarcasm in his voice.

  “Some damage, like resigning from office, being tossed in jail?”

  “Yeah, damage,” Dolan said. “Blackmail at the least. God only knows what kind of damage could happen if someone on the other side got hold of this information and the proof. We’ve got to stop this, and stop this now!”

  “And how do you suggest we do that?”

  “Talk to that bastard Steven again. We need those keys here, in my hand, and I’m beginning to not care anymore what it takes to make that happen.”

  Paul started to say something when suddenly the phone line beeped.

  “Get that, would you?” Dolan said.

  He chewed on a few more Tums, then sat in his chair and leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the Oval Office. He had done that more than once so far in his short time as president. He had a hunch if he could stay in office, he would know every detail of that ceiling texture. No doubt many presidents over the years had stared at the exact same place.

  Paul climbed slowly to his feet and picked up the phone . “Yes.” Then a moment later, “Give me that name again and where exactly is he calling from?”

  Dolan sat up and watched the puzzled and surprised look on his friend’s face. Whatever this was, it had to be good.