Final Justice: Sisterhood Series #5

by Fern Michaels

  "Why should we believe anything you tell us?" Yoko asked.

  "Because I'm telling you the truth. And because Rena asked me to watch over you because she said she owed you, but there was nothing she could do personally. Rena saved my life a long time ago. There was a bad car accident, and I was part of it. She pulled me out of my truck just minutes before it exploded. She's been like a daughter to me ever since. Call her, for God's sake, ask her."

  "Can we put our arms down now?" one of the men asked.

  "Only if you fold your hands in your laps and behave," Kathryn said.

  The big, burly men did as instructed. They lowered their heads in shame that a bunch of women had taken them on and reduced them to begging.

  Nikki walked away and pulled out her cell phone. She scrolled down until she found Rena Gold's number and pressed the autodial. Rena answered on the first ring like she was holding her phone and just waiting for Nikki's call. Nikki spoke quickly. "Yes or no will do it. I don't need a dissertation."

  "Well, you're going to get one. Everything Fish probably told you, and I can guess what he said, is true. And it can only mean you have them captive. It wasn't that I didn't have faith in you, I do, but I also know how those goons at the Babylon play the game. I didn't want anything to happen to you. Backup in any language is always a good thing.

  "You can trust Fish with your lives. Nikki, I'm sorry if I stepped over the line."

  Nikki heard and understood the anguish in Rena's voice. "Okay, but if you're lying to me, we'll come after you. You know that, right?"

  "Of course I know that. Your secret is safe with Fish and with me."

  Nikki slipped the cell phone back into her pocket. She walked over to the little group and leaned over to reach for Fish's hand and helped him to his feet. The others did the same for his men. "Rena said you were okay. We didn't go into details. Just stay out of our way."

  Annie walked over to Fish and handed him his gun, butt first. He holstered it and looked sheepish. Annie smiled.

  "You need to fix that crazy-looking wig you're wearing," was all Fish could think of to say.

  This was where she probably should have said something corny, like, Thanks for the tip, and then fix the damn wig. But she yanked at it and said, "Up yours" before she walked back to the white van. The others followed her.

  Fish's laughter followed them until the van doors closed.

  "That was real romantic, Annie," Kathryn said.

  "Shhh, I'm thinking," Annie retorted.

  Chapter 19

  The security room at the Babylon was swimming in testosterone as Hank Owens and his posse of goons watched the monitors.

  "Looks like they're all here, Boss," Mike Oliver said out of the corner of his mouth. His voice was pitched low so as not to aggravate a man who was already pissed to the teeth. "Looks to me like they're just milling around until it's time to make their way up to Lansing's office."

  "I don't see Homer. Did he get here yet?" Owens snarled.

  "He's been in his office since eight o'clock. He ordered breakfast and is now reading the morning edition of every newspaper that's printed. He didn't look happy when he got here. He usually shuffles when he walks, but this morning he stomped his way up to his office. He's been focused on the Post, since that's what he reads when he's at his home on the Chesapeake. I gotta tell you, Boss, the guy don't look too happy," Oliver said.

  "And I give a good rat's ass if that old bastard is happy or not!"

  The inner ring went mute. While Owens confided in them on some things, they all knew they were not privy to the really important workings of the casino. None of them ever made an issue of it, but it rankled. It was their asses on the line when Owens wanted something done on a wink and the sly while he sat up in his office staring at the monitors.

  The inner ring knew Owens was outraged that he hadn't been invited to the meeting in Lansing's office that was due to take place in forty minutes. Even though he wouldn't be physically in the room, he would still know what was going on, thanks to the miniature cameras Quintera and Richards had installed at four thirty in the morning. Homer's office had been bugged a little after midnight. Hank Owens wasn't the head of security for nothing. When he said he wanted to know everything that went on at his hotel/casino, he meant everything.

  Hank Owens leaned closer to one of the monitors. His clenched fist banged on the desktop with such force, the monitor teetered and almost came loose from its fittings. "That bitch is back! Son of a bitch, she's walking around trying to pick a machine. Of all goddamn days, she picks today, with Homer here." He banged the desktop again, then he moved away, his back to his men, and spoke into his sleeve the way the Secret Service agents did when they were guarding the president.

  Down below on the main floor, Lizzie felt the air stir around her. Security. She looked over at Ted. She could tell that he, too, had felt the atmosphere and knew exactly what it meant as he trailed behind Marble Rose and the Silver Fox.

  Lizzie looked at the startling numbers flashing on the progressive slot machines. The amounts were dizzying. Which one, she wondered, would Marble Rose pick? Would she home in on the $906,000 one or the one that clanged away with flickering numbers that read $1,111,111? All those 1's. Totaled, they numbered seven. Wasn't the number seven considered lucky in gambling circles? She didn't know. She held her breath when Marble Rose stopped at the million-dollar-plus machine. The air around her stirred, but Marble Rose moved on.

  Lizzie looked away from the machines and saw Cosmo Cricket staring at her from across the aisle. He winked at her. Winked? Suddenly she felt flustered. She knew she was supposed to do something, but she felt like she was in a time warp. She wanted to respond to the wink, but she had to keep her eyes on Marble Rose. The hell with Marble Rose. She let a seductive smile play along her lips and made a kissing/smacking motion. She wiggled her index finger in Cricket's direction. The sudden realization hit her that she was flirting with the big man. She tried to remember the last time she'd genuinely flirted with anybody, but no time or date would come to mind.

  Marble Rose stopped at a machine whose flickering numbers read $7,202. To Lizzie's stunned surprise, she sat down and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of her pocket and fed it into the machine. The air stirred again, and the phalanx of security moved off.

  Lizzie looked down at her watch. Twenty minutes until she had to head upstairs to the meeting. The slot machine was whirring and singing its own song as cherries, bars, and something called SECRET BONUS appeared, then disappeared. The machine chirped—a sound that indicated Marble Rose had won forty dollars. She continued to hit the SPIN button and won another ten dollars. Within seven minutes she'd gambled away her fifty-dollar winnings and was still down twenty dollars of her own money. She pressed the SPIN button again and three SUPER BONUS symbols appeared. She leaned back and waited for the machine to quiet down. She'd just won the $7,202 jackpot. She cashed out her winnings and headed to the cage, where she would redeem the slot machine slip for real money.

  While the teller counted out the bills, Marble Rose turned to Lizzie and said, "I'm ready to go now."

  "Where would that be?"

  "My car is loaded, and I'm headed east to New York. I'm going to bunk with a friend until I can find a place of my own. They need teachers up there. I did call my mother, Ms. Fox. We talked and are going to get together over the Christmas holidays. It didn't feel right, my going there now. I need some time to think about it. I don't want to make a mistake."

  Lizzie nodded in approval. "It's a start. I hope good things come of your meeting. Just be open, Marble Rose."

  Marble Rose nodded. She rooted around in her purse for a slip of paper. "I'm a little nervous about traveling with a lot of money. She handed Lizzie the envelope containing her winnings. Can you wire the monies to the account number I wrote on the envelope? I hate this place," she blurted.

  "Yeah, me, too," Lizzie said, leading the way to the elevator. She looked around for a sign of Cosmo Cricket
but couldn't see him. Her face suddenly felt warm at the thought of the big man.

  When they left the elevator and entered Alvin Lansing's office, introductions were made, then Lansing suggested they all move to a larger conference room where he said they would be more comfortable. He stepped aside to allow the two women to precede him. He made small talk with Homer Winters on the walk down a narrow hall to the larger room. Noticeably absent from the group was Hank Owens.

  After five seconds, Lizzie decided that this particular conference room had been decorated so people would relax and doze off. The walls were a soothing misty green. The carpet was one shade deeper, the upholstered chairs on wheels were evergreen in color. The long conference table had a soft, muted, watery-green marble top. Trees that looked like weeping willows nestled in the corners. Underneath one of them was a small decorative waterfall almost concealed by the dangling fronds from the tree. The sounds of trickling water over polished stones was beyond restful. The misty green walls were covered with children's art, bright in color. All were signed. Homer Winters was pointing them out to the room at large, saying it was the children's way of thanking him for the pediatric wing he'd donated to the local hospital.

  At the end of the table was a huge silver coffee urn with a waiter ready to serve croissants, coffee, and fresh fruit. As tantalizing as the coffee smelled, and as luscious as the croissants and fruit looked, everyone declined and sat down. The waiter shrugged and left the room.

  The lawyers got down to business while Homer Winters carried on a conversation with Marble Rose about children and their art. Ted Robinson discreetly tapped out messages on the BlackBerry on his lap. Peter Udal was listening intently to both Winters and the lawyers as they bickered. He turned, his ears picking up the change in Lizzie Fox's tone.

  "Look at me, Mr. Lansing!" Lizzie commanded. "Do I look to you like I talk just to hear myself? Those are the numbers, and they are not going to disappear if you blink. Wire the money now or this meeting is over. Make me wait one more minute, and the price goes up by $50,000 for each minute you make me wait. This establishment is guilty of everything I've outlined for you. One more minute, and I will be filing so many lawsuits your head will spin. The clock is ticking."

  Lansing looked flustered at being dressed down by a woman in the presence of Homer Winters.

  Winters waved his arm. "Do what the lady says, Alvin. She's right, and everyone in this room knows it. You wasted almost four minutes so add $200,000 to the total. This young lady can use the money."

  Cosmo Cricket fixed his gaze on Lizzie and discreetly gave her a thumbs-up. Lizzie felt warm all over again. Ted pecked away at warp speed.

  Alvin Lansing excused himself and left the room. He returned ten minutes later with a wire transfer slip and three extra copies, which he handed to Lizzie. Lizzie swiveled around and handed one of the slips to Marble Rose.

  The room was quiet as they waited for the young woman to look down at the confirmation wire. There was absolutely no expression on her face when she folded and slipped the paper into the pocket of her jacket. She didn't say thank you, she didn't say good-bye. What she did was stand up, lean over, and whisper in the old man's ear. He nodded and patted her hand.

  Winters stood up and walked over to where Lizzie was standing. "You're a hell of a lawyer, young lady. I checked you out after I got here. I wonder if I might have a private word with you and Mr. Udal. You can come, too, Cosmo, if you have nothing else to do," he said in his reedy voice. The spring in his step as he moved around belied that elderly sounding voice. His blue eyes were brighter than stars as he looked from one to the other.

  Lizzie offered up her dazzling smile and accepted. "And my friend?" she asked, nodding at Ted.

  "Of course, we'll make it a regular party. What shall it be, Peter? The Rabbit Hole?"

  Ted's fingers continued their frenzied tapping.

  In the security room, Hank Owens was ready to foam at the mouth. "That goddamn old goat is up to something, and he's smart enough to take it out of the Babylon. What the hell did that mean, he researched that woman? Then telling her she's a hell of a lawyer! Goddammit! There's no way we can put someone in there to listen. Udal and Winters would pick up on it in a heartbeat."

  His minions knew they weren't expected to respond. Owens was simply venting the way he always did when he got his knickers in a knot.

  Owens started to pace, his face full of rage. Something bad was going to go down, and he knew it involved him and his people. "Richards, find a hooker downtown, one who doesn't look like she practices her profession. Dress her down, promise her anything, but get her to the Rabbit Hole before that crew gets there. Tell her to find some old lady to take with her so it looks legitimate. Now, Richards! Not tomorrow. Quintera, see if you can pick up anything on the tapes where that chick was whispering to the old geezer."

  Stu Franklin leaned back in his chair. His brain was spinning wildly as he mentally added up his portfolio. With what he had stashed in the Caymans and his portfolio, he could walk away and live very nicely, not luxuriously, for the rest of his life. He'd committed to one more year before getting out of Vegas. One more year would allow for a luxurious lifestyle. But sometimes careful plans just weren't in the cards. Any gambler knew when to hold and when to fold. His gut was telling him it was time to beat a strategic retreat.

  "What's wrong with you, Franklin?" Owens snarled. "You look like you're up to something. What?"

  Stu uncrossed his legs and stood up. "Actually, Hank, I was wondering what you'll do with whatever information you can get from the Rabbit Hole. It looks to me like there are a few too many people here who can cause trouble. Believe it or not, what happens in Vegas does not always stay in Vegas."

  Owens stopped his frantic pacing to look down at one of the monitors. Today must be Fat Lady Day. Dumpy women wearing the kind of shoes his grandmother used to buy. Floppy hats and shapeless dresses. All old people wore sweaters because of the air-conditioning. These women weren't wearing any kind of wraps. Old people always wore sweaters. Some even wore shawls like his grandmother's. They came in with twenty dollars in free chips, got a free lunch, and left with the same damn twenty chips. He counted the dumpy women milling about as he listened with half an ear to Stu Franklin. Stu usually made sense.

  "No one can prove a thing. This will stay in Vegas. We're in the clear. Our plan from the beginning was two years. We're acing it. Don't tell me you're turning into a Nervous Nellie."

  "No, Hank, I'm not turning into a Nervous Nellie." He wanted to say he'd turned into a Nervous Nellie a week ago, but he wisely kept quiet. Hank Owens was a snake, and Stu didn't trust him out of his sight. He made his decision right then and there. When he broke for lunch he was going to get in his car and head for God knew where. In anticipation of what was happening, he'd packed some of his belongings and stowed them in the trunk of his car. A week ago his plan had been to drive to California, then cross the border into Mexico and hang out there for a while before he split for safer climes.

  "I don't know, Stu, you're looking strange to me. I hope you aren't thinking about doing something stupid. I want you down on the floor now. Check out those old ladies. Seven old ladies don't just appear out of nowhere. Not one of them is wearing a sweater. I want to know why they're not wearing sweaters. They usually come on a bus or in some church group. Check them out and get back to me."

  Stu shrugged. Anything to get out of this stinking room.

  Chapter 20

  It all seemed to go down in slow motion, to the horror of Hank Owens, who was glued to the overhead monitors in the security room. He watched as Stu Franklin made his way across the casino floor to where one of the old ladies was banging away at a slot machine that promised if you played long enough you had a chance, with ten million other people, to maybe hit the jackpot of $65,778. His gaze swiveled to another monitor that covered the entrance to the casino, where a horde of men, mostly Asian, and led by Harry Wong, who was in charge of the martial-arts exhibition
along with another man, were headed.

  "Name's Jack Emery, he's the district attorney in Washington, Boss," Richards said. "No one has checked in yet. We sent a limo for Wong and Emery. The others came in two vans. I think there are about thirty-seven of them. They flew in from all over the world."

  "Yeah, well, suddenly I'm not liking this," Owens snarled. "First the woman and Winters and whatever crap is going on at the Rabbit Hole, and now this shit with those old ladies who aren't wearing sweaters. I want every man and woman on our payroll on the floor right now, goddammit."

  "Boss, you sure you want to do that? It's pretty crowded down there for this time of day. With all that action, the customers are going to get spooked," Richards said nervously.

  "I don't pay you to think, Richards, I pay you to follow orders. Now, move your ass and get down there yourself. That goes for the rest of you, too. I'll man the monitors."

  Owens watched as Stu Franklin approached a row of slots where one of the old ladies was hitting the SPIN button with a vengeance. Owens turned up the volume on Franklin's mike but could hear only a rustling sound as Franklin leaned over and said something to the woman. Owens fiddled with the volume again, then started to curse.

  Isabelle looked up in alarm at the man standing next to her. Her hand froze in midair. From across the aisle, Nikki stopped playing long enough to rummage in her purse for money, as she watched the byplay out of the corner of her eye.

  "Lady, listen to me carefully, I don't have time to say this twice. I think I know who you are, and I don't care. Upstairs, there's a bunch of guys watching the two of us. One of them is convinced of who you are because you all screwed up and aren't wearing sweaters. I don't have time to go into detail. Get up, slap my face, and storm out of here and pray to God your friends follow you. Someday when this is all over, take a vacation in the Caymans and look me up. I'll be on the beach. By the way, my name is Stu Franklin. Now, do it and make it look good."