NANOVISION: What Would You Do With X-ray Vision?

by Paul Harry

  “How?” she asked, walking through the rooms. “Where’d you get the money?” It was a stupid question. She already knew the answer.

  For the past six months Daniel had been quietly playing blackjack in all the casinos in Northern Cal, Oregon, Washington and Nevada, building up his stake, sometimes with her, sometimes alone. Staying under the radar he played small amounts, moving between the dozens of gambling joints, winning a thousand here, a few thousand there, stuffing the money into his private slush fund. His goal was to raise enough money to cover the cost of taking down Benny Marcos, and when he got to two hundred thousand he knew he was ready. The only thing necessary now was to open a line of credit with the Blue Diamond−and that’s where Judy came in.

  With Judy and the FBI’s help, Daniel was given a fictitious business portfolio supported by credit and financial documentation showing that he was a man of substantial means. He was a wealthy business entrepreneur heavily invested in the tech and medical industry, though prone to reckless playboy antics. Daniel liked that idea.

  * * * *

  The evening at the Blue Diamond started out simply. Daniel wanted only the best. He and Paige had gone shopping early in the morning, purchasing a gorgeous, long black evening gown for her and a white jacket tuxedo with black trim for himself. The two made a handsome pair. Dressed to kill, they had dinner together in the Lobster Fillet Wine house, pampering themselves to an incredible meal including Bananas Foster dessert. As they sat drinking scented spring water and dining on lobster and steak, they went over their plans for the evening. Daniel wanted to make sure they were on the same page before they entered the Blue Diamond’s high limit room. After their meal Daniel placed a call to Judy, letting her know they were headed in.

  “Everything’s set,” she acknowledged. “Marcos is upstairs in his penthouse office and the team is in place.”

  “Then I guess we should get to work,” he said, hanging up the phone.

  He gave Paige a quick wink and put on his sunglasses. The clock was ticking.

  * * * *

  The high limit room of the Blue Diamond was as opulent as the Sunset Canyon Villa penthouse suite. Filled with half a dozen blackjack tables, two baccarat tables and a small roulette wheel, the room was just the place for high rollers. Small, intimate, and yet luxuriously tasteful, it featured a number of beautiful overhead crystal chandeliers, a replete wine and liqueur bar, and a small bank of high limit slots−just the place for the rich to lose their cash in style no matter what their gaming preference. The room’s table limits generally started at $100 and went up to $10,000, but in some cases the limits could be raised to $25,000−or if Benny was so inclined−$50,000. For that to happen though, you had to be just the right player.

  What appealed to Daniel was that the room was open to onlookers. It gave the ordinary patrons the opportunity to stand around and gawk at people like him. They could watch the ‘whales’ play, betting small fortunes on each hand, winning and losing with each turn of the cards. Daniel liked having an audience; their observations and commentary added to the game and revved up the atmosphere−such an addition would be especially helpful tonight. Unfortunately, at the moment, the room held only a few patrons and there was little action to be seen. It was Thursday evening and the night was still young with nothing much happening−yet.

  Selecting a dead table, Daniel and Paige sat next to one another, and after being ID’d by the dealer, Daniel asked for a $20,000 dollar marker. Upon getting approval, the dealer cut out several stacks of purple, black and green chips, which she passed over to Daniel. Keeping twelve thousand for himself, Daniel handed Paige eight thousand and the two began betting, two to three hands apiece, with their bets varying between $500 to $1000 on each hand. Sadly, things did not go well. The table had a limit of $10,000 per hand and the six deck shoe was miserable and Daniel, playing sightless, soon found himself in the hole for two markers totaling forty thousand.

  He complained to Paige. “I can’t believe these cards. You’d think I could win a couple of hands in a row.”

  “I know, hon,” she cooed, stroking him on the arm. “It’ll get better.” She was playing the bimbo role quite well.

  Daniel continued his play as the cocktail waitress breezed by bringing fresh bottles of water. “Here you go, Sir,” she said, giving Daniel a sweet smile. Paige shot her a dirty look as Daniel tossed the rather well-endowed waitress a twenty-five dollar tip.

  “You sure you wouldn’t like something stronger?” asked Tony, the floorman rating Daniel’s play. “We have one of the best stocked bars in Vegas, including imports.”

  Paige waved him off. “No, we’re good. Some luck would be nice though.”

  Tony smiled. “Yeah, that always helps.”

  Daniel continued to play and lose, feigning his agitation with the cards and the luck he was having. Before he knew it he was down seventy-five thousand and asking for a new shoe. As the dealer reshuffled he asked Tony to raise the table’s limit. “Can I get the limit raised to fifteen thousand?”

  “Let me check,” responded Tony. “Just give me a minute.”

  Walking to the podium in the center of the pit, Tony picked up the phone and made a call which brought another supervisor into high limit. Daniel watched as the two men briefly consulted−the new guy then looked up Daniel in the computer. He approached a minute later.

  “Hi, I’m Peter Wells, the pit manager,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I understand you’d like us to raise the table limit.”

  Daniel smiled and shook hands with Peter. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” noted Peter. He glanced at Daniel’s rating card. “I see this is your first visit with us. You’re staying in the penthouse suite?”

  “Yes,” enjoined Paige.

  “How do you like it?” asked Peter.

  “Scrumptious,” she responded, in her most flirtatious voice.

  “It’s very nice,” answered Daniel, giving a stern look at Paige. “We’re having an enjoyable stay.”

  Peter glanced over to Tony and the dealer. “Go ahead and raise the limit,” he instructed. “I’ll make the notation in the computer.”

  With a new shoe and the table limit raised, Daniel got another marker and began to play three hands betting five to fifteen thousand a hand and his losing streak continued. Before he knew it he was in $225,000 and things were not looking up. He took out another marker for $150,000.

  The next hour that passed was gruesome. Daniel’s play was dismal at best and he could hear miscellaneous comments filtering in from the crowd that was growing behind him.

  “My God, can you believe he hit that?” one said.

  “Doesn’t know much about basic strategy, does he?”

  “Geeze that was my house payment for a year.”

  Daniel was unperturbed by the comments−he had bigger fish to fry. He was more interested in what was happening in the pit itself. As the hours passed he became the focus of the high limit room, eventually meeting Rachael Darin the shift manager for the swing shift. She watched his play with amusement, chuckling to herself at his stupid moves. He was, after all, a terrible player, and though she couldn’t give any real indication, it was people like Daniel who gave her those huge bonuses at the end of each year. So when Daniel asked for another marker and the table limits to be raised again−she was more than willing.

  With the limit set at $25,000 per hand, Daniel began to structure his play and he seemed to get on a little run. Over the next hour he picked up $150,000 only to see it disappear. Now $375,000 in the hole, Daniel was frustrated. He stood up from the table and began pacing back and forth.

  “Hon, what’s wrong?” asked Paige.

  Daniel shook his head in exasperation. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. I’m not having any luck here and the limits suck. Let’s go to the MGM. I can bet more there.”

  Paige frowned and whined. “I don’t want to go way over there. Our room is upstairs.
Can’t we stay here?”

  Overhearing their conversation, Tony stepped in. “Mr. Lewis, perhaps we can offer you something to help keep your play. Will you give me a minute?”

  Daniel nodded. “Sure why not.”

  “Come on, baby. Sit with me,” said Paige. She patted the empty chair next to her. “Let’s see what they have to offer.”

  Daniel acquiesced and sat while Tony spoke with Peter and Rachael. He watched what appeared to be an earnest conversation between the three, as they checked the computer and discussed his play. A minute later Rachael picked up the phone. Who was she calling? Daniel had a pretty good idea. She was calling Benny Marcos. As much as she was in charge down here, she obviously didn’t have the authority to authorize a game limit that high. That would have to come from above, someone a lot higher up, like the casino manager or Benny himself. Daniel watched her lips move. If only his hearing was as good as his eyesight.

  “So what’s the kid in?” asked Benny over the phone.

  “He’s in two hundred thousand in cash plus a hundred and seventy-five thousand in credit,” answered Rachael.

  From his desk upstairs, Benny studied Daniel and the bimbo blond sitting with him. He’d been watching the two for quite a while. Both were miserable players and he was sucking them dry. And now the kid wanted a maximum limit? God, how he loved these rich, spoiled, tech geeks and their millions.

  “How much does he have left on his LOC?” he asked Rachael.

  “He’s got eight hundred and twenty-five thousand in credit left,” she answered.

  Benny rapped his fingers on the desktop trying to decide. “Okay,” he said finally, “but with these conditions. Tell him we’ll raise the limit to fifty thousand, but not on a six deck shoe, it’ll have to be a never-ending shuffler with a minimum of ten thousand per hand. If he agrees, put 4.5 mil on the table. I hardly think we’ll need it, but it’ll look good. The kid’s drawing quite a crowd.”

  “Will do,” answered Rachael, hanging up.

  She walked over to Daniel and relayed the message. He agreed to the terms.

  * * * *

  Daniel and Paige continued to gamble (and lose), while the table one over from them was opened and prepared. New cards had to be unsealed and verified, then washed, stripped, and shuffled. Afterwards, the five decks comprising the endless shoe were loaded into the shuffler and the $25,000 checks known as ‘pumpkins’ were brought to the table by security. The pumpkins were different from regular casino checks. They were mixed, multi-hued colors of orange, brown, and green, and larger in circumference and thicker−hence the nickname, ‘pumpkins’. Daniel watched as the dealer ran the stacks down, nine in total, each stack worth $500,000. Things were about to get interesting.

  With the preparation of the new game nearly complete, Daniel took a quick break to hit the head. On his way back from the bathroom he made a quick call to Judy.

  “Surf’s up,” he whispered covertly into the phone, snapping it closed and tucking it into his pants pocket.

  He smiled to himself as he made his way back to high limit. He was getting off on this clandestine shit. It was then that he caught sight of Sid exiting one of the elevators on the casino’s far side. The henchman looked a good deal older, but seeing him right there was sobering and it brought Daniel back down to reality. He was here for a reason.

  Returning to the high limit room, Daniel made his way through the crowd that was gathering outside. It seemed that word was spreading through the casino that some rich whale was betting it up big in high limit. Daniel reached the BJ table to find Paige talking with the dealer. She had already moved their chips over and was waiting for him to return. Giving her a quick kiss, he lowered his sunglasses allowing her to catch the shimmer of light that rippled across his eyes.

  “Are you ready to turn it around?” he asked.

  Paige grinned ear to ear, almost laughing aloud. Covering her mouth with her hand, she nodded. “Oh yeah,” she squealed, then under her breath, “I think we’ve eaten enough shit.”

  Daniel looked over to Tony. “Can I get a marker for three hundred thousand?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Lewis.”

  * * * *

  Daniel found it more than a little ironic. He had accepted the casino’s offer of using their never ending shuffler, which gave them a bigger edge, but now there were more eyes on him and the game than ever before. He understood it. After all, the game had moved from a few thousand across the board, to tens of thousands being bet. It was a rocket ride, slow at first, but accelerating rapidly. With him and Paige each betting three hands between $10,000 and $25,000, things were heating up, just not the way the casino planned.

  The first six hands out of the shoe should have been the first clue that something was awry, but that was not the case. Casey, the dealer, dealt a 14, a 12, a 9, a 17, a 20, and a soft 6 respectively to each spot. He then gave himself a sixteen with the ten showing and a six of clubs in the hole. Daniel looked at the shoe and saw that a ten of spades was coming next.

  “Stay,” he instructed Paige.

  Paige nodded and waved the dealer off, as did Daniel.

  The move stunned Casey. Perplexed, he hesitated as if to tell them they were making a huge mistake.

  “Casey, listen to me carefully,” said Daniel. “I don’t play blackjack like other people. What I want is for you to simply follow our hand signals. If you do, I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  “Okay by me,” responded Casey. He glanced at Tony, who shrugged nonchalantly as if to say: Do as they ask. If they want to play like idiots−let ‘em.

  Flipping his hole card, Casey revealed his sixteen, which he hit with the ten out of the shoe, busting his hand. He paid out $105,000 and dealt out the next hand.

  The next couple of hands were not quite as lucrative, and Daniel was forced to pick and choose where and when to hit or stay. Still, with each round he picked up an average of $75,000, which allowed him to begin pressing his bets. Within fifteen minutes of play he and Paige were at the table limit betting $50,000 per hand. The chips in front of them piled up quickly and the crowd behind them was mesmerized by their incredible luck. They were seemingly unstoppable, and the whistling and cheering only got louder with each hand they won.

  In the center of the pit it was entirely a different story. Rachael and Peter were stumped by what they were witnessing, and Tony was aghast. Nobody was that lucky−nobody. It was just unfucking believable. With the passage of another five minutes of play, Daniel and Paige were up two and a half million and there was no end in sight. With panic in her heart, Rachael was on the phone with surveillance asking if they were tracking Daniel’s play.

  “Is he cheating?” she asked.

  They had no idea. How could he be? It was an endless shoe and they had just opened the game. He wasn’t touching the cards. What they were seeing was impossible.

  The next call was from Benny.

  “What the fuck is going on down there?” he asked, heatedly over the phone. “I go to the john to take a dump and this is what I see when I get back. What the fuck!”

  Rachael was tongue tied. “I don’t know,” she stammered. “Mr. Marcos, we’re at a loss to explain it.”

  “No fuckin’ kidding!” he yelled into the phone.

  It was at that moment that the shit really hit the fan. Without warning, two men and one woman entered the pit, flashing badges from the Nevada Gaming Commission. They walked directly to the podium and took over, causing Rachael to drop the phone.

  “Who’s in charge?” asked the lead agent, shoving his badge in her face.

  Caught off guard, Rachael stuttered. “I-I-I am.”

  “Gaming Control. I need to see your badge and gaming card,” he demanded forcibly, not missing a beat. And yours too.” He pointed a finger at Peter.

  Peter and Rachael looked at one another with conflicted uncertainty. What the fuck was going on? Bewildered by the unexplained intrusion into their realm, they obediently surrendered and han
ded over their employee ID’s and gaming cards.

  “What’s this all about?” asked Rachael, trying to regain control of the situation. She watched with trepidation as the two agents scanned the bar codes on their licenses.

  “We’ll get to that in a minute,” noted the one in charge.

  Rachael nodded; a twinge of panic racing through her. Be cool, she thought, you need this job.

  Ordinarily you never hear from Gaming Control−they usually keep a low profile. Oh, occasionally they show up to check badges and stuff, most of which is routine, but then there are the cases where they can make your life a living hell. And when it’s your livelihood on the line, you make sure you jump when they say jump−otherwise it’s adiós to working in the State of Nevada.

  “We’ve had some discrepancies brought to our attention regarding some of your gaming equipment,” said the lead agent. “So we need to check out a few things.”

  “What exactly do you need?” asked Rachael, grimly.

  “I want the cards that were used on these three games.” He pointed to several blackjack tables. “And I want the dice on both your craps tables, and Karen over here, she’s going to check the balance on your roulette tables. So, if you don’t mind, let’s get started. We don’t have all night.”

  Rachael felt like her life had just been hijacked. As shift manager she had no choice but to follow their orders. She looked at Peter. “You’re in charge here,” she said. “Give them the cards for BJ 23, 25, and 26. I’ll take care of dice and roulette.”

  Peter nodded and swallowed hard as Rachael left, taking the lead agent and his female associate with her.