“Just a reunion with some friends,” Treven said. She’d pinged him with that glance and the question about his plans. If he pinged back, she’d escalate. “Play some poker, maybe see that Cirque de Soleil show.”
She nodded, noting, no doubt, that this was the second time he’d failed to return a volley. “Enjoy,” she said. But then, keeping the door open: “And let me know how that steam bath goes.”
He smiled. “I will.”
He knew it would look odd if he stuck around much longer, but he thought he could afford to take just a few minutes more and see if he could pick up anything operational.
He walked to the water cooler and filled a cup, then strolled over to the front of the room to grab a towel. Through the glass he could see the bodyguard, pacing slowly in front of the salon, which put him between the elevators and the entrances to the gym and the spa. Yeah, the guy wasn’t worried about people who were in the gym already, but he might key on new arrivals. Treven thought Dox should hold off, that it was time to send in Rain. Rain was the only one of them whose size wasn’t itself conspicuous, plus he was Asian, or Asian-looking, anyway, which likely put him generally outside the kind of profiling Shorrock’s bodyguards would be doing. And beyond that, there was something about Rain’s demeanor that made him easy to overlook. There was a stillness about him when he was in public that might initially be mistaken for blandness, or even timidity. It was the mistake the contractors had made, and Treven would never forget the way the average-sized, meek-seeming Japanese guy he had assumed Rain to be had suddenly decloaked and dropped the two much larger men with his bare hands before anybody could even get there to stop it.
Besides, they’d agreed Rain would do the actual hit. He had the most esoteric experience-the rest of them were strictly firearms guys. In fact, of all the men Treven had killed, more than he could remember in combat, assassinations, and self-defense, he couldn’t think of a time he’d used anything other than a gun. Not that it would be so terribly complicated to spray someone in the face with cyanide, but on the other hand aerosolized cyanide was dangerous shit, and in an op anything could go wrong. The surest, and safest, way to deliver the dose would be directly into the target’s open mouth, and if there was anyone who could get close enough to make that happen, he guessed it was Rain.
He walked back to the free weights area. Shorrock, a wiry guy of about fifty wearing Under Armour shorts and a tee shirt, was doing pushups, his movements crisp and efficient. He had an iPod Shuffle strapped to his arm. Treven noticed he’d set down an aluminum water bottle at the base of the dumbbell rack, probably filled with some sports drink. The guy looked at home in the gym. Treven started to turn away, then noticed something on the carpet next to the water bottle. Son of a bitch, it was a keycard, in the hotel’s signature flaming red.
His mind raced through the implications. They’d expected Shorrock to take a locker in the spa. Obviously he hadn’t-maybe because he didn’t have time, maybe because Eucalyptus steam baths weren’t his thing. He’d come straight to the fitness center, after which, presumably, he’d be heading straight back to his room.
Was there a way to get the room number? There was a sign-in sheet at the desk outside. To use the gym, Treven had needed to write down his name and room number. The people at the desk then checked the computer to confirm he was a registered guest. Presumably, Shorrock had filled out the form, too. Maybe the bodyguards had told him not to, but Treven doubted it. Their security posture seemed pretty relaxed. It was a Las Vegas casino, after all-what could possibly happen?
He stood behind the massive pillar in the center of the room so the bodyguard outside couldn’t see him if he looked in, and glanced around to confirm no one was within earshot. The place was huge and the closest people were on the treadmills and exercise bikes, a good fifteen feet away. The whirring of the machines was audible from where he stood.
He pulled his cell phone from his shorts pocket and called Rain. “He’s here,” he said quietly.
There was a brief pause. Rain said, “Okay. I know you can’t plausibly stick around much longer. We’ll rotate my partner in and I’ll head to the spa to wait.”
“No, the spa’s no good. I’m pretty sure he’s not using it. He set his keycard down on the floor right here, so I’m guessing he never got a locker.”
“His keycard?”
Treven moved from one side of the pillar to the other to ensure no one had approached. “Yeah, we’re thinking the same thing. I’ll check the sign-in sheet at the desk and see if I can learn his room number. You send your partner down to the spa-have him tell the desk he’s just checking it out to see if he wants to spend the forty bucks. There’s a bodyguard outside but I don’t think he’ll care about your partner if he’s heading into the spa instead of the gym. I’ll swap our friend’s card for mine-”
“Don’t forget, the Wynn stamps guest names on the cards. They’re not just keys, they’re like credit cards for the resort.”
“He’d have to look awfully closely to notice that-he’s just going to see his red plastic keycard where he left it, not the little gold lettering on the bottom.”
“You’re right. Keep going.”
“I’ll head to the spa like I need to hit the head, and hand off the key to your partner. He lets you into our friend’s room, then heads back to the spa on some pretext, gives me back the key, and I swap it back. You take care of business in the room, perfect privacy, and we’re done.”
“The room’s too risky. Security detail might routinely check it just before our friend goes in.”
“Fuck, that’s true.”
“Plus these keys are smart cards. They can be programmed to log the times they’re used. No way to know whether the Wynn does that, but if they do, and someone were to check, it would look strange for the key to have been used to access his room while he was signed in at the gym.”
“Then why not take the key off him when the job’s done and disappear it? Keys get lost all the time, who knows where it’s gone. Anyway, no key, no evidence.”
Silence for a moment. Then Rain said, “That’s true. Still, if I let myself in and a bodyguard shows up for a sweep, the whole op is blown. But now that you’ve got me thinking, the key’s still useful. Do what you said. Call me if you can get the room number. If you can, I’ll call it from a hotel phone. If no one answers, I’ll take a chance on going in, plant one of the wireless cameras, and get out.”
“So we can know when he’s coming and going and then pick him up by the elevators.”
“Exactly. And maybe overhear something about his schedule, too. Better to anticipate him than follow him. I’ll let the others know what’s going on.”
“Understood. Okay, let me see what I can do here. I’ll call you back.”
He clicked off and put the phone back in his pocket. Shorrock had switched to sit-ups, twisting alternately left and right at the apex of each rep. Looked like a warm-up routine of bodyweight calisthenics. Treven took out his room card and undid the Traser watch he was wearing. He walked over to the dumbbell rack, squatted as though to select the one he wanted, and dropped the watch next to the base of the rack. As Shorrock came up, twisting to his left and away from Treven’s position, Treven hefted a dumbbell with his right hand and smoothly swapped the keycards with his left. He moved a few paces away, used the dumbbell to do a tricep stretch for a few moments, then set the weight back in its place and headed out.
The bodyguard was still pacing by the salon and paid Treven no particular notice. Why would he? Treven had come from the gym. The guard had already classified him as harmless. Mistake.
He stopped at the sign-in desk. There was another pretty woman stationed there, a new one whose nametag read Victoria, not the woman who’d signed him in two hours earlier. “Hi,” he said. “I’m going to use the spa now, but if I want to come back later, am I still covered?”
“Absolutely, sir,” Victoria said. “Spa privileges are always applicable for the whole day you’ve paid for them, or else they’re already included in your resort package. But you’re good either way.”
“Terrific,” Treven said. He glanced down at the sign-in sheet. The last entry read,
“No, sir, you’re fine. Enjoy the facilities. Joshua inside will give you a tour, if you like.”
Treven thanked her and went in. The place was huge and absurdly deluxe-half locker room, half gentleman’s club, all leather and granite and inlaid mosaic tile-and he couldn’t imagine what it must have cost. An attendant-Joshua, from the nametag-came over and asked him if he needed anything, a tour, instructions, recommendations. Treven told him he was fine and the man moved discreetly off.
Treven took out the phone, sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs, and called Rain. “Got the key,” he
