Void Moon (1999)

by Michael Connelly

  Grimaldi exploded.

  "Look, Jack, are you going to help me out here or are you going to spend your time playing word games and trying to make me look stupid? Because if that's what you're about, then I'll reach out for somebody else who can do the job without giving me the grief. "

  Karch waited a long moment before responding in a calm tone.

  "Vincent, you reached out for me because you know there isn't anybody else who can handle this like I can."

  "Then let's stop talking and get it handled. The clock is ticking."

  "All right, Vincent. Whatever you say."

  Karch looked down at the card he still held by the corner. He knew he could call in a favor from Iverson over at Metro and run the card for latent prints. But that would bring Iverson into something that Karch expected was going to get dirty. He decided to keep the idea as a last alternative. He went over to the table and opened the folder containing the hotel information packet. There were envelopes and writing paper inside one of the pockets. He slipped the playing card into an envelope and put it into his inside jacket pocket.

  "Prints?" Grimaldi asked.

  "Maybe. I'll try a few other things first."

  They went back across the hall to 2014 and took a final look around while they discussed their options. Grimaldi said Miami didn't care what became of the courier and so that left things open. They could back out of the room and let things run their course when the housekeeping maid discovered the body. Or they could bring a laundry cart to the room, put the body in it and take it down the service elevator to the loading dock and a waiting van. Any trace of the courier's stay in the hotel could be wiped off the computers and tapes and his body could then be planted out in the desert after nightfall.

  "It will take four guys to lift that sack of shit," Grimaldi lamented.

  "You widen the circle of people who know about this and you widen your exposure," Karch said.

  "But if we let things go, that means Metro comes in, and talk about the hotel getting a black eye. I can't remember the last hotel homicide we had in this town. They'll go after this like Tyson went after Evander's ear."

  "That's true. But maybe that sort of pressure on our guy will be useful. Maybe force him into a mistake."

  "Yeah, and what if Metro Homicide gets to him before you?"

  Karch just looked at Grimaldi with an expression that said the idea was absurd.

  "You call it, Vincent. We're wasting time. I want to look at the tape downstairs and get on with it."

  Grimaldi nodded.

  "Okay, no Metro. I'll have some people come up and take care of things here."

  "Good call, Vincent," Karch said, but in a way that might make Grimaldi wonder if he really meant it. "Let's go watch the tape."

  They both backed out of the room then, leaving the dead man behind on the bed. Grimaldi made sure he hooked the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door handle.

  21

  ON numerous prior occasions Karch had been in Grimaldi's office on the second level of the casino. He held a secret security consulting contract with the Cleopatra - no records, payments in cash - and as such he most often met with Grimaldi in his office, even though the tasks he was given normally had little to do with anything that went on in the casino below. Karch was most often involved in what Grimaldi liked to call ancillary security issues and problems. Karch liked his outside status all right. He knew he would never be the kind of man who could willingly wear a blue blazer with the profile of the Queen of Egypt emblazoned on the breast pocket.

  The office was large and opulent, with a desk area, a sitting area and a private bar. The entrance was through the casino's huge security center, where dozens of video techs sat in rows of booths watching the screens of video tubes showing the ever-changing views of the hundreds of cameras focused on the casino floor. This room was dimly lit and never warmer than 65 degrees because of the delicate electronics. Most of the techs wore sweaters beneath their standard blue blazers. In Las Vegas, when you saw somebody wearing a sweater to work in the summer, you knew he worked inside, watching tubes all day.

  One wall of Grimaldi's office had windows looking out into the security center. Another wall had windows viewing the casino. And located directly behind Grimaldi's desk was the door leading out to the crow's nest. It could be reached only through Grimaldi's office and he had never once invited Karch out for a view of the casino floor. This was something that bothered Karch and his frustration was compounded because he believed Grimaldi knew.

  As they entered the office, Karch noticed a man sitting behind Grimaldi's desk and working the control board of the multiplex video station to the right of the desk.

  "What have you got?" Grimaldi said as he turned to lower the blinds on the windows viewing the security center.

  "I gotta surprise is what I got," the man behind the desk said without looking up from the four screens he had active on the video station.

  "Tell us."

  The word us made the tech look up from the screens. He nodded once to Karch and then cast his eyes back down.

  "Well, looks to me like this guy mighta been ripped off by a woman," he said.

  Grimaldi came around the desk and looked over the tech's shoulder at the screens.

  "Show us."

  Karch remained on the other side of the desk but could see the screens. He glanced past the two other men and out the glass door that led to the crow's nest. Grimaldi did not bother to introduce the technician to Karch.

  For the next five minutes the tech used tapes taken from several overhead cameras to intermittently show Hidalgo's last night in the casino. It was called a video trail. There were enough cameras over the casino floor - any casino floor in Las Vegas - to never lose sight of an individual once he entered the so-called video net. The best techs had the quadrants of the net memorized and with fingers flying across a keyboard could jump from one camera to another to follow a target.

  Grimaldi's tech did that now, only it wasn't live action. He had pieced together Hidalgo's video trail from the night before. He showed Hidalgo playing baccarat and blackjack, even a couple of spins on the roulette wheel. Whatever game he was playing, he seemed to do it with a minimum of conversation with fellow players and casino employees. Finally, when the counter showed the time on the tape to be 10:38 P.M . they watched as Hidalgo headed to the VIP desk and retrieved the brushed-aluminum briefcase from the vault. He was met at the desk by a security escort who then walked with him to the elevators.

  "Who's the escort?" Karch asked.

  "His name's Martin," Grimaldi said. "He's a shift supervisor. Been here a couple years, coming over from the Nugget. I had him escorting the fat man all week."

  "We'll have to talk to him."

  "I don't know what it will get you but it will be no problem."

  The tech pointed to a new screen where Hidalgo's trail continued. It showed the fat man and the blue-blazered Martin stepping onto an elevator. Hidalgo took his card key from his pocket and Martin took it and plugged it into the control panel before hitting the penthouse button. Though the tape did not have audio it was clear that the two men were not engaged in conversation.

  "And that's the last we see of him," the tech said.

  "No hallway cameras, right?" Karch said.

  "Nope. We lose him once he's off the elevator in the penthouse."

  "What about when the fire alarm went off later?" Grimaldi asked. "Any sign of him then?"

  "Nope," the tech said. "I checked all elevator and stairwell cams. He didn't evacu - "

  "Wait a minute," Karch suddenly said. "Go back. Back the elevator tape up."

  The tech looked at Grimaldi, who nodded. He backed the tape up until Karch said he had gone far enough and then replayed it. They watched silently. It was clear Martin said something to Hidalgo, who then reached into his pocket and produced his card key. Martin then used it to engage the penthouse button.

  "Vincent, you said Martin's a shift super?"

 
; "Right."

  "Wouldn't he have a key to the penthouse?"

  Grimaldi was silent for a moment as he computed what they had just seen on the tape and the meaning of Karch's question.

  "Son of a bitch. He used Hidalgo's card when he could've used his own."

  "Because maybe he didn't have his on him."

  "Because maybe he gave it - where's this woman you're talking about?"

  The tech hit some memory codes and the tape on one of the screens reversed to a preset point. On the screen was a wide view of the baccarat salon. One table was in use and Hidalgo was the only player. Using a roller ball built into the console the tech moved the image forward a few frames at a time. He pointed to the bottom of the screen, his finger tapping it just below the image of a woman leaning on the railing that separated the salon from the rest of the casino.

  "Her," he said.

  "What about her?" Grimaldi asked.

  "She's trying not to show it but she's watching him."

  He continued to move the roller and the image moved forward. The three men watched the screen in silence. The woman on the screen appeared to be resting or maybe waiting for someone. She had a small backpack over one shoulder and a black gym bag gripped in one hand. She looked as though perhaps she had just checked in and was waiting for someone, perhaps a husband who had stopped to play a few hands of blackjack before they went up to their room. But twice she glanced into the salon and her eyes seemed to fall directly on Hidalgo. Each time her eyes held for what seemed to be more than a passing glance would call for. It was curious to Karch, but not enough.

  "He's the only guy playing," he said. "Who else is she going to look at?"

  "That's true. But I put her trail together, too."

  He ejected a tape from the console and put another one in. Grimaldi came up closer behind him to look at the screen. Karch put his hands flat on Grimaldi's desk and leaned over for a better view. The tape showed the woman with the two bags entering the casino at 8 P.M . and proceeding to the VIP desk, where she was given an envelope.

  "That's got to be the key," Grimaldi said. "Martin's fucking key!"

  Karch was thinking the same thing but did not say as much. He was also thinking the dark flowing curls that framed - and concealed - the woman's face had to be a wig. He watched as she huddled against a phone in the lobby and probably opened the envelope away from any camera's view. She then turned and started moving toward the casino floor. She moved without hesitation, with a strong purpose. The bags she carried appeared heavy but she held them steady.

  After her stop at the baccarat salon, the video trail followed her through the casino and onto an elevator in the Euphrates Tower.

  "She was damn good," the tech said. "Never looked up once. We've got nothing. That hat and that hair, she might as well been walkin' under an umbrella."

  Karch smiled as he watched. The tech was right. She was good, and already knowing what she had done upstairs, Karch found himself enthralled by the woman on the video screen. She was disguised but he was able to draw a sense of her from the videotape. Young, maybe early thirties, the skin beneath her chin taut, the jawline beneath the brim of the hat set with determination. No earrings, no rings or other jewelry that he could see. No distractions. Nothing but drive toward her goal. Karch wished he could see her eyes because he knew they'd be something to see.

  On the screen the woman in the elevator used a card key from her back pocket to engage the penthouse button.

  "There's the key all right," Grimaldi said.

  Karch wished he would shut up and just observe but didn't say anything.

  "Okay," the tech said while typing in a new command on the keyboard. "So she gets off the elevator on twenty. But then we see her two more times."

  "Twice?" Grimaldi said.

  "Yes, sir. First time she came back down to meet somebody but they never showed up."

  He pointed at the screen and the video trail continued. The three men watched silently as video snippets showed her moving through the casino to the lounge, picking an empty table and ordering from a waitress. The trail jumped in time twelve minutes and showed the woman sitting alone but with two drinks on the table.

  "What the fuck?" Grimaldi said. "I thought you said nobody showed."

  "Nobody did," the tech said. "She ordered the drinks but nobody ever came."

  "Let's just watch, okay?" Karch said, annoyed by their banter.

  On the screen the woman casually glanced around herself as if to make sure no one was watching and then picked up the glass in front of her. It looked like a Coke to Karch. The woman reached across the small round table and tapped it on the glass of beer. Karch leaned in closer to the screen and watched her lips as she obviously spoke out loud.

  "I think you've tailed the wrong person," Grimaldi said, his voice rising in frustration. "This broad's sitting there talking to herself. We don't have the time to be - "

  "Wait, sir, check this out. She goes back to the elevators now and goes back up to twenty."

  He fast-forwarded the tape.

  "And then we don't see her again until four. She comes back down, and take a look at what she's carrying. She went up originally with two bags and she comes back down with two. But something's different."

  The woman appeared again on the casino floor, moving quickly through the thin crowd of die-hard gamblers. Right away Karch saw that the tech was right. Things were different. She had the backpack strap over one shoulder but the gym bag was gone. Instead she carried a large black canvas bag with two hand straps. The tech hit a key and froze the image. The second bag contained an object that was rectangular, its dimensions clearly showing through the canvas. It was the mark's briefcase.

  "That little bitch," Grimaldi said calmly. "She's got my money."

  "You follow her out?" Karch asked.

  The tech hit a key starting the video again and simply pointed at the screen. The cameras tracked the woman as she made her way completely across the huge casino floor to the VIP desk. From the canvas bag she removed an envelope and left it on the counter without speaking to anyone. She then proceeded to the south exit. It was not the main casino entry and exit point. Karch also knew that it did not lead to a parking lot or drive-up circle. Rather, it led to the sidewalk which took pedestrians to Las Vegas Boulevard.

  "She didn't go out the front door, Vincent," he said.

  There was enough urgency in his tone to draw Grimaldi's eyes away from the video console. The older man raised his eyebrows, picking up on the tone but not knowing the significance of it.

  "She didn't park here because she didn't want the cameras to see her vehicle," Karch said. "So she parked somewhere else and walked in."

  Karch pointed at the screen even though it was now blank.

  "The south exit," he said. "She was heading to the Flamingo."

  Impressed, Grimaldi nodded.

  "Ace of hearts. You have someone there?"

  Karch nodded.

  "No problem."

  "Then go."

  "Wait a minute, Vincent. What about Martin? We should start with him."

  "I'll take him. You follow the money, Jack. The money's the priority and we're on a fucking clock."

  Karch nodded. He guessed Grimaldi was probably correct in his thinking. He thought about the ace of hearts he'd found upstairs. Follow the money. Follow the money card.

  "Well, what are you waiting for?"

  Karch broke away from his thoughts and looked at Grimaldi.

  "I'm on it."

  He glanced once out the door to the crow's nest and then headed toward the office exit. He stopped at the door.

  "Vincent, you might want to send somebody back up to the second room up there to check the AC vents."

  "What for?"

  "She went up with two bags, a backpack and a gym bag. She came back down with the backpack and the briefcase inside a black canvas bag. Where's the gym bag?"

  Grimaldi paused for a moment while he thought about this. H
e smiled, impressed that Karch had picked up on the missing bag.

  "I'll have it checked. You stay in touch. And remember, Jack of Spades, the clock is ticking."

  Karch shot him with a finger and went out the door.

  22

  KARCH followed the same route out of the Cleopatra that he had watched the woman take on the video screen a few minutes before. As he wound his way around the tables and circumnavigated the idiots who lazily walked into his path, his mind became preoccupied by thoughts of the woman on the video. She had come close to pulling off a perfect caper. One glance too many and too long at the mark while at the baccarat railing. Her only mistake. Otherwise they'd probably still be scratching their heads. Still, he had to admire her. He was looking forward to the moment he would meet her. And he had no doubt that moment would come. She was good but he was better. Their time would certainly come.