I knew there was a reason I had no time to relax. There were still too many things that could go wrong. I got up and hurried inside to assemble the troops. We needed to get all our ducks in a row, and soon.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
THE DUNGEON
S am’s mom called, asking if he could do her a favor. Anything, he said. She wanted him to make a house call, check on a prisoner Alphonso was keeping in the dungeon at the Global Hotel and Casino, as a favor for a friend. They chatted for a few minutes and as soon as they hung up, Sam grabbed his medical bag, a large bottled water from the fridge, the car keys, and was on his way. It was a long drive up from Tucson and he spent most of that time playing out the different scenarios in his head. He hoped Rocco was on duty, rather than Jimmy V. Although both of them knew him on sight, Rocco was much more likely to let him in without question, while Jimmy V. would be a much harder nut to crack. The ones with Rocco opening the door always turned out better. When he finally got there and made his way down to the basement, he got lucky. It was Rocco. He let him in with no questions asked.
“Hey Doc,” he said, “good to see you.”
“Thanks Rocco,” Sam said, “good to see you too. I’m here to take a look at your houseguest, make sure he’s okay.” C.R. Johnson was seated in a chair, the leg irons around his ankles attached to the chair leg, his wrists handcuffed together behind his back.
“Sure Doc,” Rocco said, “go ahead. You want me to stay here or wait outside the door?”
“Why don’t you un-cuff him so he can take his shirt off,” Sam said, “that will give me a chance to take his blood pressure, listen to his heart beat, you know, the usual. And you can wait just outside the door. It shouldn’t take longer than 10 minutes or so.”
“Okay doc,” Rocco said, unlocking the handcuffs. “Just holler if you need me,” he said, moving towards the door.
It was obvious that C.R. had been sitting in that chair much too long, his arms were stiff, and he had difficulty unbuttoning his shirt.
Sam leaned in, reaching for the second button while C.R.’s still numb fingers were fumbling with the first button. Sam waited for the sound of the door closing, “Fay sent me,” he said, “to make sure you were okay.”
“That’s good to know, that way I don’t have to kill you and use your stethoscope to strangle Rocco,” C.R. said, grinning.
“Did you forget that you’re shackled to the chair?” Sam said.
“Rocco keeps the keys in his right front pocket. His car keys are in his left front pocket. It’s a grey 2010 Ford Taurus Sedan, missing the left rear wheel cover. It’s parked about 200 feet from the rear door. Take me three minutes tops to make my escape,” C.R said.
Sam unbuttoned the last button, and he helped C.R. take his shirt off. “I like your attitude; I really do, but I was told to tell you to be patient, that help is on the way,” Sam said, placing his stethoscope on C.R.’s chest.
“So, who’s coming,” C.R. said, “the Seventh Cavalry?”
“They wouldn’t tell me, but they said something about a bad storm on the horizon. They said you would know what it means,” Sam said.
“Yeah,” C.R. said, his eyes suddenly misty, “I know what it means.”
“Let me take your blood pressure,” Sam said, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around C.R.’s arm.
“How often do you get out of that chair?”
“Maybe a couple times of day to go to the bathroom, but never for more than five minutes at a time,” C.R. said.
“I’m going to tell them you need to be out of that chair at least an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening so you can keep the feeling in your extremities, keep the blood circulating, your blood pressure is lousy. Anything else I can do for you?” Sam said.
“You could get me some broccoli, anything green,” C.R. said, “if I have to eat one more piece of cold pepperoni pizza I’m going to shove it up Jimmy V’s ass, cuffs or no cuffs.”
“Got it,” Sam said, “you need more nutritious food. I’ll tell Rocco. Hang in there. I have a feeling it won’t be too much longer.”
“Thanks, I appreciate you checking on me,” C. R. said, as they shook hands
“Don’t mention it. The sooner Alphonso is behind bars where he belongs, the happier I’ll be,” Sam said.
On the long drive back down to Tucson Sam realized that he might not need to call the FBI after all.
C.R. Johnson and his crazy daughter just might be able to pull this whole thing off all by themselves without any help from him. The thought that he may not need to put his mom and himself in jeopardy made the long drive through the desert seem much shorter than usual.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
STORMING THE BASTILLE
“S o how do we get Big Ears into the casino?” Jamie said. “I mean I get the part that he’s disguised as an employee, and he’s wearing a housekeeping uniform and a blonde wig. But do you think you’re just going to walk him all the way through a crowded casino up to the 12th floor with a gun pressed to his ribs? I like the first part, the disguise and all, but I’m having trouble with the second part.”
We were on the front porch discussing strategy, trying to get the details hammered out so everyone could agree on the best plan of action and what was expected of them.
“Yeah, okay,” I said, “I agree it’s a little risky, but I’m just showing Alphonso the gun. I plan on keeping it in my purse. The zipper will be open and I’ll have my hand on it, but I’m not going to flash it all over the casino. It will be our little secret.”
“I want in on this too, if you can scrounge up a Housekeeping uniform I want to go with you when you return Alphonso,” Jamie said.
“I thought you might, so I asked Fay for an extra. I need all the help I can get,” I said. “Besides if there is two of us, and we both have guns, it just might give him pause.”
“So,” Jamie said, “Alphonso knows intellectually that you have the weapon, but for this to work Alphonso has to know in his gut that you would be willing to splatter his blood all over the walls of his own casino. You know I’m certainly not going to shoot him.”
“That’s a good point,” I said. “And I promise I will do my best to convince him of that fact before we leave. I think I can make a believer out of him.”
“So what about getting your Dad out?” Rick said, changing the subject. As much as he disliked Alphonso, the thought of splattering his blood on the walls was more than a little unnerving.
“Here’s my idea so far, see what you think,” I said. “This is going to be much less complicated than the planning for the warehouse fire. This is more like storming the Bastille.”
I nodded at Carlos, “Tomorrow night at 11:00PM, Carlos here and Rick borrow one of Kevin’s ambulances. He is leaving the keys and a couple sets of uniforms inside, I said. “The rest of us will leave for the casino no later than 11:20PM. Our shift starts at 11:45PM. Jamie and I will come in through the employee entrance and escort Alphonso up to his suite. While we are in the act of returning Big Ears to his office Carlos and Rick tell Hotel Security on duty at the rear entrance that they got a call from Mr. Lombardi in Room #112 and that they are here to transport him.
“Carlos and Rick then wheel the gurney down the long hallway in the basement and turn the corner until the gurney comes to the dungeon. With any luck, Jimmy is busy elsewhere, leaving only Rocco at the door. Carlos points his pistol at Rocco and makes him open the door. Rick unties my Dad while Carlos covers Rocco. Carlos and Rick tie up Rocco in Dad’s place. Then they put Dad on the gurney so they can take him out of the building. Maybe cover his face, tell security that Mr. Lombardi was dead when they got there, and give the guy a story. Then they successfully exit the building, return the ambulance and come back here.”
I looked at Mikey and Melinda.” I know you guys want to help, but it’s probably safer to keep you both in the parking lot. If we need you to report a fire, create a diversion of some kind, we’ll call you, okay?”
“Yeah,” Mikey said, “I figured I couldn’t keep showing up as Buzz light-year.”
“So once you take Alphonso to his office,” Rick said, “what are you going to do with him?”
“I’m going to have Jamie carry three or four rolls of duct tape. We’re going to duct tape that sucker to his chair wearing a blonde wig, red lipstick, and a Global Entertainment Housekeeping uniform.”
“Maybe it would be kinder to just shoot him. How will he ever live that down?” Rick said.
“I’m hoping he won’t,” I said.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
PING DROPS A DIME
P ing wanted to call Li Chen from the Consulate in San Francisco as he was sure it was a secure line. But there was no time for that. He had the taxi driver pull over at what looked to be the last vacant lot in Las Vegas, handed him a twenty dollar bill and asked him to wait while he made a phone call. He walked to the middle of the lot and called Li Chen’s cell phone number. With the time differential it was still early morning in Shanghai and he didn’t want it to get any later.
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” Ping said, “I called as soon as I could.”
“No,” Chen said, “you didn’t wake me. I got up early as I was expecting your call. So tell me old friend, what were you able to find out?”
“Alphonso is not at the casino,” Ping said. “I met with his right hand man, Fagamo, who claims he is on an extended vacation, but my informant says this is not true. She says the daughter of a former adversary has him captive somewhere in Las Vegas and wants to trade him for her father. Her father is being held in the basement of the Global Hotel and Casino.”
“This must be the Johnson family Sgt. Wu noted in his report,” Chen said.
“Yes”, said Ping, “the Johnson’s are at war with Alphonso and they seem to be winning. Of course, Fagamo is secretly aiding them in that he does not seem to be looking very hard for Alphonso. I’m sure he is glad Alphonso is out of the picture. Perhaps he is hoping that his departure will become permanent as he is next in line to succeed him.”
“Is your informant reliable?” Chen said
“Very reliable but expensive, but don’t worry, your money was well spent,” Ping said, smiling at the memory of what he received from Tiffany in return for Chen’s envelope filled with cash.
“Speaking of money,” Li Chen said, “What were you able to find out about the pipeline?”
“Alphonso has no way to access the funds if he is being held captive,” Ping said. “It must have been something he set up beforehand.”
“Either something he set up, or someone set up for him,” said Chen, thinking of Sgt. Wu’s profile of Rick Wilkinson, the computer expert aligned with the Johnson’s.
“I’m sure we can find the wretched daughter,” Li Chen said. “And once we find her, we find Alphonso. Then we can determine the actual chain of events. I’m sure that Katrina is responsible. We will make sure she will help us in any way possible to ensure the spigot is turned back on.”
“Back on?” Ping said. “I thought the pipeline had only sprung a leak?”
“When I talked to you before you went to Las Vegas it was merely leaking,” Li Chen said. “As of yesterday morning, it was turned off.”
“What are you going to do?” Ping said.
“As soon as we hang up,” Li Chen said, “I’m sending the plumber.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
LEAVING ON A JET PLANE
B ut not even a Lieutenant General had the authority to send a cadre of his best men from Unit 61398 to Las Vegas on a clandestine mission, a mission that could include the use of force necessary to extract information from unwilling parties. He needed permission from the General Counsel for that. But he did have the authority to send them on a routine training mission, a mission where they were tasked to observe only, and not attempt to gather information that could prove helpful to China’s interests.
He called Colonel Yeung home number. The Colonel was asleep, but seemed to awaken quickly when he recognized the General’s voice. “Yes General,” he said, “What can I do for you?”
“The time has come to send the six men on stand-by alert as we discussed previously,” General Chen said.
“Everything is prepared General, all their documents, including their passports are in order,” Colonel Yeung said.
“Give me the names of the six men,” General Chen said.
“Captain Lung, Captain Tsang, Lieutenant Cheng, Sgt. Wu, and Corporal Ling,” Colonel Yeung said.
“Tell me about Corporal Ling, I’m not familiar with him,” General Chen said, interrupting.
“Corporal Ling is a bright up and comer, he’s an expert in electronic surveillance, and his English is very good as well.”
“Fine,” General Chen said, “Who are we missing?”
“Lt. Wang has the flu,” Colonel Yeung said, And Lt. Shen has been lobbying hard for the last slot.”
“Are his papers in order?”
“Yes General.”
He probably thinks it will look good on his service record, thought Chen. At least I won’t have to look at his pitiful face for a few days. But let us give Lt. Shen the opportunity to prove that he is worthy to marry my daughter.
“Very well,” General Chen said, “have them rendezvous at the airport two hours from now. There is a direct flight to Las Vegas with a ninety minute layover in Los Angeles leaving shortly thereafter.
“Yes General,” Colonel Yeung said.
“Your mission objective is to find the Johnson girl and secretly free Alphonso, returning him to his rightful place as CEO of Global Entertainment. Have Sgt. Wu turn the pipeline back on. I want that money flowing into the coffers of our Dear Republic as soon as possible. Please repeat that back to me,” General Chen said.
When the General was satisfied his orders were understood and the mission objectives were clear, he said, “There will be nothing in writing regarding what we have just spoken about. Your written orders will show that this is just a routine training mission, nothing more. Just to satisfy anyone who wants to take a closer look at the rationale for this trip, it is a reward for the continuing tireless efforts of your unit. A chance for those who have worked hard to relax, practice their English skills and attempt to blend in with every day Americans. Is that understood?”
“Yes General,” Colonel Yeung said
“Call Captain Lung first, explain the mission objective to him and then notify the others. Any questions?”
“No sir,” said Colonel Yeung
“There’s one more thing,” General Chen said, “When you liberate Mr. Vietri from the apartment, I want you to take the Johnson girl as well. She has been the bane of my existence, the reason I have not slept in weeks. After she has told you everything she knows about the missing funds, I want you to take her out into the desert and have Lt. Shen shoot her in the back of the head at close range; make it look like she was executed by the Mafia. If they’re unwilling to do their job, we’ll do it for them. Is that clear?”
“Yes Sir,” said Colonel Yeung, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he returned the phone to its cradle.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER
C arlos and I got to The Beat Coffeehouse a few minutes early the next morning and sat at an empty table. He pulled his chair around so we were sitting next to each other, both facing the door, our knees touching. “Wait a minute, we can’t both be Wild Bill Hickok,” I said.
Carlos shook his head, “then you have to be Annie Oakley,” he said, “because there is no way I’m going to be Annie Oakley.”
“I never knew SEALS whined so much, Are you always going to be like this, or is there a chance that once you grow up and mature you’ll change for the better?” I said
“I’ve heard about this maturity thing, but I always thought it was for, you know, old married people,” Carlos said.
“So it may be awhile then?” I said.
�
��For which part, the old part or the married part?” Carlos said.
“The married part, of course,” I said.
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen what happens to guys that get married,” Carlos said. “The gray hair, the wrinkles, there must be something about commitment that just ages them overnight.”
“I don’t think you have to worry,” I said, running my hand over his forearm.
“I don’t?” he said.
“No, you’re not exactly marriage material. You’re pretty much this huge reclamation project. I wouldn’t know where to start,” I said.
“You could start by kissing me,” he said, our faces now just inches apart. And I would have been more than happy to except for the fact that just then, Fay walked through the door and up to our table.
“Hi, this must be Carlos,” she said, holding out her hand.
Carlos stood and shook her hand, “Yes ma’am, I’m Carlos. Pleased to meet you,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,” Fay said, as she sat down. “I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”
“I was just explaining to Carlos how totally unsuitable he is for any sort of long term relationship.”
“That must explain why you can’t keep your hands off him,” she said.
“Exactly my point,” I said. “Physical attraction, in spades. Marriage, no way.”
Fay turned to Carlos, “I guess that means you’re off the hook,” she said.
“That’s good news,” Carlos said, smiling. “That means I get to go back to the bakery.”
“Carlos was minding his own business,” I said, “when I broke into his bakery late one night when Alphonso’s boys were chasing me. And speaking of Alphonso have you got any updates for us?”
“I do,” Fay said. “I talked to Mr. Lombardi and he said he was willing to cooperate in any way he could. And Kevin said that old number 33 is still running and that he would park it outside and leave the keys under the floor mat. He’ll include the uniforms, too.”
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