that I have to do. If you give me any trouble, or try to escape, my associate outside this room will cut your nipples off. If you try a second time, I will cut your throat. Do you understand me?”
She still didn’t know who this man was or how he fit in with Jack. Her father-even given the bastard he was-would not allow anything to happen to her. It had occurred to her that her father might be involved in this to get money out of her mother. The thought pained her, but she couldn’t dismiss it. But she didn’t believe he could allow this man to hurt her. But maybe Jacob wasn’t in charge. At this point, very little would surprise her.
She felt the shooting pains of hunger worsen, a bad sign. She couldn’t just die like this.
She just couldn’t.
So she nodded.
“I understand,” she told the man who’d kidnapped her. “If you have time later on.”
“That’s better. I’ll see what I can do.” The man gave her a big smile, and she suddenly felt very cold.
46
The private jets carrying the Advance Shadow Team members-a cell comprised of dark ops specialists from four different cities-all arrived at the Memphis airport within the same forty-minute window. They had been dispatched as soon as word that Paulus Styer was in Tunica had been received by their organization. Once they were on the ground, the group was driven to Millington Naval Station, where two Yukons, already loaded with their equipment, had arrived in a C-130 cargo plane from North Carolina. The Millington gate guards had been instructed by their base commander to ignore the arriving team members and to wave their matching Yukons through when they exited the base.
The men in the cell knew each other well because they had worked numerous missions together, but they knew each other only by the names they had been assigned. They were ex-military Special Forces members who had died in combat or in training accidents. Their given names, along with their histories, had been buried with the bodies-or parts thereof-supplied by the shadow cell to fill their coffins.
The search for Paulus Styer, who was called Cold Wind by the CIA, had been going on for over ten years, and had cost six of the shadow team’s elite professionals and millions of dollars. The team members knew that Paulus Styer was a continuing top priority, and that the men who ended him would be generously rewarded. Even as the shadows traveled toward Tunica, Mississippi, other units were moving to join them.
47
Standing at attention in the vast hospitality suite, windows at his back, Pierce Mulvane watched as workers finished assembling an architectural model of the River Royale resort. The model, made in Los Angeles by a company that built scale models for use in movies, had cost a great deal of money, but it would all be expensed. Press releases would show dignitaries standing behind the model, and pictures of it would be used to illustrate brochures and vacation articles. The model would then be moved downstairs in the lobby and placed on a table for public viewing while the actual complex was completed.
The River Royale, situated far south of the other casinos in Tunica County, would eventually cover over three thousand acres. The model depicted indoor tennis courts, swimming pools, fountains, two eighteen-hole golf courses, a spa, the casino itself, designed to replicate a palace in Monaco, a seven-hundred-room hotel, five mini- villas, a concert hall, a four-screen movie theater, a promenade with high-end specialty shops, heliport, and eight restaurants. The closest competing casino would be fifteen miles away, as if any casino could compete with a world-class, one-stop destination where gaming was the core profit generator, though it appeared to be only one more method of entertainment for the guests.
Pierce looked at the model, and although it wasn’t physically apparent, a large section in the center of the project stood out-the parcel that Kurt Klein didn’t yet own. Looking at it, Pierce felt another wave of nausea rise within him.
The workers finished their task and left without saying anything. Pierce had hardly noticed until he turned to find Tug Murphy waiting for him.
“Yes, Tug?”
“Klein’s guy, Steffan Finch, wants to see you.”
“Again? I shouldn’t keep him waiting…long, I suppose.”
“It’s a beautiful resort,” Tug said, nodding in the direction of the model.
Pierce rubbed his hands together briskly. “We have a great deal to accomplish and not much time to do it in. I wonder if Albert knows more about this Beals thing than he’s said.”
“That could be,” Tug said.
“I wish I knew everything that’s going on. Maybe it’s best I don’t. Given the circumstances, deniability may be my best friend,” Pierce said as he lifted a tiny golf cart and moved it from the cart path to a fairway. He thought,
Across the desk from Pierce Mulvane, Steffan Finch sat, his sunglasses still on. Beside him, a visibly nervous Albert White sat twiddling his thumbs.
Finch said, “Instead of waiting until Tuesday, Herr Klein will be arriving tomorrow from Atlantic City. I have some good men coming in with Herr Klein to handle his personal security needs.”
“I told Mr. Finch that if he needs anything from us, I will arrange it,” Albert White said.
“Quite a bit of bother over this Beals fellow,” Finch said. “When I spoke to Herr Klein earlier, I mentioned its being on the news, and he indicated I should place myself at your disposal in case this threatens to expand into something larger.”
“Yes,” Pierce said. “If it does, we’ll make sure you are kept apprised.”
Albert said, “It was a very unfortunate thing. Beals seemed to be completely trustworthy. It appears, however, that he was up to something on his own.”
“His connection to this casino should be of no concern,” Pierce said. “Isn’t that right, Albert?”
“No way this can come back on the casino,” Albert said, straightening his tie and shooting Pierce a nervous glance. “I can assure you he wasn’t acting on our behalf.”
“Herr Klein is always concerned about blowback, and my job is to address his concerns. These are very important people who can’t afford to be associated with any hint of scandal. So tell me what you know about Beals’s escapade. Herr Klein says that you are to level with me.”
Pierce said, “Well, I mentioned to Albert that I wished I could discover how a certain young man was managing to cheat this house. Albert asked Jack Beals to talk to the young man to find out how he was cheating. I have no idea who killed Beals. He was making himself useful to a certain someone whom Kurt sent to help with a land complication, and perhaps that man may have decided to take matters into his own hands for some reason not known to us. I mean, Kurt-”
“You’re mistaken,” Finch said, interrupting. “Have you seen anyone sent here by Herr Klein? Did Beals tell either of you that he had been helpful to anyone who was dealing with any problems for Herr Klein?”
“Of course not,” Pierce said quickly. “You?” he asked White.
“I’ve seen nobody. I just told Beals-as Mr. Mulvane told me to-that when someone approached him and used the name Pablo that he should do whatever this person asked him to, and that Pablo would compensate him directly. Jack never told me he had been approached, but I had also told him never to mention it again,” Albert said, smiling uncomfortably. “That’s all I know, and I only know that much inside this room, between us. Mr. Mulvane told me to find someone that could be trusted, and I picked Beals since he has always performed with professionalism. And, as a lifelong resident of Tunica County, he could furnish information on the Gardners. Is it possible this Pablo killed him so he wouldn’t have to pay him? Or to keep him quiet? I mean, with Beals dead, nobody else has even seen Pablo-if he actually ever arrived.”
“I see,” Finch said. “Beals was someone you could depend on. Isn’t it possible that this cheater had someone watching his back who was in the room when Beals went inside?”
