Criminal Option

by Robert Rand

  “Well, Sully, let me fill you in on what’s happened since all that crap” he began, then proceeded to tell Sullivan how Chuck Freely had done a decent job of managing the casino for about 16 months. Then he began drinking again and neglecting the customers and the promotions. We were getting ready to fire him when he wrapped his Jaguar around a light pole. They said the crash only knocked him out, but the fire that followed took his life. After that, the tribe had tried running the casino themselves, but there was too much in-fighting among tribal members, so various managers had been hired and fired during the intervening years. “No one has been able to fill your shoes, Sully.” The Chief paused a moment and studied Sullivan a moment before concluding, “If you’re ready to come back, and I think you are, there’s a lot of folks who would love to see ya here. Especially me.”

  Sullivan was speechless for a moment, but did recover from his dismay. “Donny, wow. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect this – not in my wildest dreams did I ever think you’d ask me to come back.”

  “Is that a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No’, Sully?”

  “Let me call my wife.”

  The Chief replied by turning the phone on his desk around so Sullivan could see the keypad.

  It had only taken Sullivan a moment to fill April in on all that had happened. Her response was much shorter. “Tell ‘em you’ll start in the morning.”

  These thoughts passed through Sullivan’s mind as he climbed on to the small stage on the casino floor - He had been back to work for one month today. The business had already begun to increase. He had quickly put together a series of promotions and advertisements. The tribe had been generous with advertising his return on cable TV commercials and in various newspapers. Tonight he was presenting new BMW 320I’s to winners of the weeklong slot, video poker and blackjack tournaments.

  He had come back from Hell and reclaimed his little empire. This time – there would be no mistakes.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Sherrell Bennett: Thank you for transcribing my handwritten manuscript and providing valuable early comments that helped shape the characters and the story. Love you, Mom!!!

  About the Author

  Robert Rand was born in 1965 in Southern California. He spent his early years in the Orange County city of Yorba Linda before moving to Cherry Valley in Riverside County with his grandparents. After three plus decades of meth abuse, and seven different prison terms, he is now clean, crime free, and living in Arkansas with his family.

  WORKS BY THE AUTHOR

  Criminal Option:

  The Rourk Family Saga, Vol. I

  A Father’s Option:

  The Rourk Family Saga, Vol. II (Available in June 2015)

  By Mike Wells and Robert Rand

  The Allie and Jeremy Branson Detective Series:

  With Mother’s Approval, Book I

  Seattle Under Siege, Book II

  (Available April or May 2015)

  Take a glimpse at A FATHER’S OPTION! The next installment of the Rourk Family Saga!!!

  A FATHER’S OPTION

  The Rourk Family Saga

  Vol. II

  By

  ROBERT RAND

   Robert Rand

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations are entirely coincidental.

  Prolog

  The setting sun left a red-orange sky in its wake as it sought refuge in the distant horizon.

  Lisa Rourk never tired of the Las Vegas sunsets. Each one was a new design of color, texture and style from God's pallet. She wasn't a religious woman, but she refused to believe that sunsets were left purely to chance. Life was definitely dictated by the choices one makes, but sunsets had to be God's gift to those smart enough to take a moment to enjoy them.

  Lisa had made her choices in life. She had chosen to follow her father into the high stakes world of Las Vegas resort operations. She had made the choice to finally get married a little more than a year earlier, and tonight she needed to make another choice.

  At five-foot-ten, Lisa had the lithe body of a model. Somewhere between her natural elegance, classic beauty and long blonde hair, most men made the mistake of failing to give Lisa credit for the sharp mind she possessed. However, she had learned early to use that to her advantage. She wouldn't hesitate to bat her lashes or flash a seductive smile in order to distract a business opponent during a negotiation, but never any further. Her mother had taught her that sex was a gift to be shared by two people who were in love, not as a bargaining tool.

  Lisa had loved infrequently in her life. In the past thirty-two years, she had only known three men intimately. One of these men was now her husband.

  David Keith was thirty-nine, six-foot-four, athletic, Ivy League educated and the Republican Party's choice for United States Senator in the upcoming election. His current position as a State Assemblyman for the Las Vegas District had brought him a lot of public attention, in large part due to his budget-related legislation that had been the basis of the State's first balanced budget in seven years. His silver-blond hair and leading man good looks didn't hurt his ability to grab media attention, either.

  However, Lisa Rourk had a family past. David knew only a small part; the part that had been brought out throughout the course of her father's three criminal trials. That part was a matter of public record.

  Lisa now had to make a choice whether to tell her husband all of the rest, or keep her secrets and hope no one came forward with information that would embarrass David and hurt his chances of winning the election.

  Lisa heard the apartment door open, then close. She picked up her glass of Chablis, sipped, and continued to stare at the sunset as the sound of footsteps approached.

  David placed his hands on his wife's shoulders as he leaned down to brush her cheek with his lips.

  He knew that his wife held secrets from him where her father was concerned. He didn't mind that she kept those secrets. She was more concerned with what the revelation of those secrets might do to his campaign than he was, but she had promised to either put her worries to rest, or share them by tonight.

  "Do you remember the first time you met my dad?" Lisa asked without preamble.

  "Sure,” David recounted, "It was the first hearing I'd ever been part of as a freshman member of the Assembly…"

  Sullivan Rourk was introduced to the members of the committee. His presence was as a concerned citizen, testifying about the lack of justice crime victims were able to receive from the system. The fact that he had been both a criminal and crime victim was as likely to escape the committee members almost as much as the fact that he was one of the wealthiest men in the State of Nevada. Rourk had been impressed by the quality of the questions asked by Assemblyman Keith. Enough so, that he had asked him to lunch following the hearing; that was when David had first met the woman who would eventually become his wife.

  "And what question that my dad asked sticks in your mind the most?"

  "That's easy. He was always asking, “Where is she?’

  "Where is she…" repeated Lisa.” He worried about me when I wasn’t directly in his line of sight." Lisa turned and faced her husband before continuing, "And you need to know why."

  "Alright." David sat on the sofa, taking his wife by the hand and guiding her to a seat next to him.

  "It all began the day we were supposed to be leaving Vegas…"

  Chapter 1

  Sullivan Rourk walked briskly through the front doors of the Pearl Dust Casino, Hotel and Resort. Several employees quickly noticed him. It was his erect bearing in the perfectly fitted Hugo Boss suit that got him noticed today. By this time
tomorrow he would be noticed for an entirely different reason.

  The casino floor was typical of Las Vegas. There were carousels of slot machines grouped by the denomination of coin accepted, various bars within easy access to waitresses and customers alike, video poker, card tables, roulette and craps, along with keno and a sports book available to anyone aged 21 or over with money to spend. Sullivan Rourk was the newly crowned 'King' of all he surveyed. This was actually his second day as manager of the Pearl Dust and the day his position would be made public.

  Vegas insiders all knew Sullivan Rourk and his journey from Indian Casino operator to convicted felon and back again. Those same people helped bring Rourk to Sin City in order to turn around the Pearl's declining revenue.

  The Pearl Dust was located downtown, where it was no longer fashionable to vacation. The vaunted Vegas Strip, with its themed mega-resorts and huge advertising budgets, had made the older area of Downtown Las Vegas passé. Rourk's job was to turn the Pearl around, thus creating a resurgence of interest - and income - in the Downtown area.

  A press conference was scheduled in the Pearl Divers Lounge beginning in less than one hour. The press had already gathered - all of it local, with the exception of the CNN crew. Not the major publicity hoped for by the Pearl Dust's owners, but there was more to come as business improved, of that, they were sure.

  Sullivan entered the lounge, greeting those he already knew, introduced to those he didn't. The one person he wanted most to see was his wife, April, yet she was nowhere to be found.

  "Have you seen April?" Rourk asked his old friend, Chief Donny De la Cruz.

  The hefty chairman of the Desert Pueblo Band of Mission Indians replied, "Not since dinner last night, Sully." Noting the concern on Rourk's face, he added, "She'll be here. This is your big day and that little gal won't miss it."

  "Yeah, you're ri…"

  "Excuse me, Mr. Rourk?" interrupted a slight man with dark, slicked back hair that looked to be glued into place.

  Sullivan eyed the man quizzically, taking in the ill-fitting sport coat, oily, pockmarked skin and hawkish nose. He had never seen the man before, yet there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. "What can I do for you?"

  The man glanced furtively toward the swarthy 340 pound Indian at Rourk's side; "I need to talk to you in private."

  Impatiently Sullivan replied, "Whatever it is, Mr.…Mr.. Whoever you are, it's going to have to wait."

  "But…" the man didn't get to finish his thought before Sullivan and Donny strode off toward the band stage.

  Rourk pulled his cell phone from its clip on his belt and hit the speed dial number for Aprils' cell. After three rings the voice mail picked up. He had already left several messages, so didn't bother to leave another.

  As the reporters took their positions, so did the people on stage. Five chairs were set to the right and slightly back of the ornate dais that had been placed center stage. To the left was an easel that held an architectural drawing that was currently covered by a pearl white satin sheet.

  The chair closest to the dais was empty, as was the one furthest away. In between sat Joey Picarella, Mayor of Las Vegas, Steve Wynn, a gambling industry legend, and Sullivan. Center stage stood the CEO of Pearl Dust Enterprises, Eugene Quinn.

  The 85-year-old Quinn wore his hair in a severe military style flattop, giving him the appearance of a hard man. However, when he brought the press conference to a start with just a radiant smile, the hardness melted into joviality. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you are here at my invite, then you already know who I am. If I didn't invite you, then my security needs a little improvement." The crowd laughed at the light-hearted remark. Quinn continued in his signature folksy manner. "Today marks the beginning of a new era for things hereabout the Pearl Dust. There have been some big changes in this patch of desert dirt since I first drove into town. No, it weren't on a stagecoach. But not far off. I was drivin' a brand-spankin' new nineteen hunerd an' forty-eight Ford. That car was a piece of crap! I only stopped here acause that damn car wouldn't go no further. Anywho, I figured I'd stay on a few days an' play a bit a five-card stud. Two days later I won this here casino. Acourse it was really just a whorehouse and a few card tables back then. But by fifty-nine I'd built up the building yer all in right now. Times were easier then. Folks came to Vegas to gamble and we were happy to oblige 'em. My time to pass on the reins come long ago. But I'm just now listenin'. I had a chance some twenty years back to pull in Steve Wynn. He turned Vegas into the monster it is today. And got hisself a bundle a money doin' it! Steve ended up goin' to the other end a the street, bought twelve percent of the Golden Nugget and parlayed that into a gambling empire that would include the Mirage, Belligiao, Treasure Island, Desert Inn, and a handful of other hi-falutin' business ventures. He's probably one of only two folks in the world that could still turn a profit on the likes of O.J. Simpson or Grey Davis. The other one is the fella sittin' next to him, Sullivan Robert Rourk. Since I didn't see clear to bring in Steve Wynn, I figured the least I could do was let him introduce the man I did bring in. That's right, I'm goin' to ree-tire. So, without any further jaw-jackin' from me, here's Steve."

  Cameras flashed as Eugene took his seat and Steve Wynn stood at the podium. "Not much left to say about the old man." Wynn smiled and looked over his shoulder to make sure Quinn was smiling, too. "But there is a lot to be said about Sullivan Rourk. He is a newcomer to Vegas. His claim to fame in the gambling business has been in his ability to lure our customer base to other places. Places most people have never heard of. Temecula, San Jacinto, Banning, Indio. Sullivan Rourk has turned California's Indian gaming from a multi-million dollar bingo business into a multi-billion dollar full service casino resort industry. Now he has come to the Pearl Dust with plans to reclaim the prominence it once held. I've seen those plans, talked with Sullivan, and am convinced he can do it. Enough so that I've now purchased thirty-two percent of the Pearl and today I'm handing over twelve percent to Sullivan Rourk."

  The voices of the people gathered rose to a cacophonous roar. Questions were shouted. Wynn raised his hands, palms out in mock surrender, before pointing to one of the hand-waving reporters calling his name.

  "Dave Jeffers, CNN," began the perfectly groomed youngish black reporter. "And just what is the value of twelve percent of the Pearl Dust?"

  "About eight million dollars."

  "Just what do you get for that much money?"

  "Twelve percent of the Pearl assures us one hundred and ten percent of Sullivan Rourk."

  With that said, Wynn turned and extended his right hand to Sullivan, who rose slowly and took it in his own. Sullivan's shock was apparent only for a moment. Following the unexpected news of becoming a partner in the Pearl Dust, Rourk made a quick recovery and addressed the crowd. "Thanks, Steve. And my thanks to Eugene as well. I've been in town for nearly six months working to revamp the Pearl. The job was initially to come to an end today with the unveiling of what I believe will be the road to recovery for Downtown Las Vegas."

  Sullivan pulled the sheet from the architectural rendition of his changes for the Pearl Dust's casino floor. There was less flash, less clutter. The rows of one-armed bandits were replaced by more comfortable slot chairs that provided each player with their own area of comfort. The card tables were reset to allow for a more private feel, with seclusion from the next table, while other games were set into their own areas. There was an elegance to the design that could be seen nowhere else in Las Vegas. Sullivan Rourk's idea, April Rourk's drawing.

  "What we plan to do is return Downtown to the gambler. We do not intend to compete with the themed resorts along the strip. We will cater to gamblers, not families on vacation. Our customer base won't arrive on tour busses. Nor will they be carrying 'Fun Book' coupons. What the Pearl Dust will offer is personal service. All of your needs will be catered to in an intimate setting. We will replace the gaudy opulence that has permeated the downtown area since the mid-nineteen fifties. The Pearl
Dust will close for nine months, beginning in six weeks. There will be no lay-offs. All employees will be temporarily reassigned to other duties in order to expedite the remodeling. The hotel will reduce its capacity from twenty-two hundred rooms to sixteen hundred suites."

  "How can you make a profit if you slash your potential room capacity?" asked an elderly woman reporter from the Las Vegas Times.

  "We currently make a small profit while only a third of our rooms are occupied. Profits will increase if I fill more rooms - even if I have fewer rooms total. As of this morning, we had nine hundred and three rooms occupied. If we fill twelve hundred suites, we will increase our profit margin. Empty rooms don't make money."

  "Is your eight-million dollar deal the highest in Vegas history?" again, the woman from the Times.

  "Yesterday I agreed to a five year contract that would provide me a little over one million per year. That was the deal. For that sum, I would give 111% of my effort to this casino. Mr. Wynn's generous gift is a pleasant surprise."

  Reporters clamored once more for Sullivan’s attention. Shouting questions, waving hands that clutched pens, microphones and micro-cassette recorders. Rourk ignored them all, waved, said "Thank you", then turned and shook hands with those on stage while cameras clicked and whirred.

  April still hadn't arrived and Sullivan was quickly becoming wrought with concern.

  As soon as was politely feasible he excused himself from the group of men on stage and headed toward the main entryway where Chief De la Cruz stood waiting.