complicated here. Yeah, there are women, but there’s also drugs and booze and cash. Some of my guys really believe that shit about what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. When the NBA All-Star game was held here, it got so bad they had to shut down some of the clubs early on a Saturday night.”
“How bad could it have been?”
“Three shootings and a couple of near riots inside the clubs.”
“Geez.”
He smiled at Ava. “Yeah, geez. That’s why I never let any of my guys come to Vegas alone, or with friends. I send a babysitter along with them. A big, tough babysitter.”
As the limo got close to Sands Avenue, the Venetian loomed into view. St. Mark’s Square had been transplanted to Las Vegas with everything but the pigeons. They drove around the canal to the entrance. As Jackson left the limo, Ava said to him, “Just leave a tip. I’ll pay for the ride.”
He looked at her as if she was joking. “That’s a change.”
“I told you — I don’t need a job,” she said.
The limo left the Venetian, glided past the Palazzo, and entered Steve Wynn’s world. Wynn Las Vegas was, by Vegas standards, the epitome of class. The only theme was luxury. The forty-five-storey hotel had close to three thousand rooms and had cost almost three billion dollars to build. Its curved exterior was sheathed in bronze glass, with Wynn written in gold across the top. Inside, its marble and glass walkways were lined with high-end boutiques, including Cartier and Chanel. Overhead hung hundreds of light fixtures and chandeliers made of colourful blown glass. The casino occupied more than 100,000 square feet and was serviced by cocktail waitresses whose breasts almost touched their chins.
Ava had booked a deluxe resort room. It was more than six hundred square feet and decorated in soft creams and modern furnishings. She imagined that the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows would flood the room with natural light during the day. The bellboy spent a few minutes showing her the high-tech controls for the drapes, the massive flat-screen TV, and the en suite bathroom. She was less enthralled when he told her that if she put anything in the room’s mini-fridge it would result in a charge. She also didn’t like the idea that if she picked up a can of cashews for more than sixty seconds, she owned them. As classy as they try to be in Vegas, she thought, there’s always a hint of a tart.
She booted up her computer to find emails from Martin Littlefeather and Jack Maynard. She pulled out her notebook and copied the corporate and personal information that Martin had provided on The River, David Douglas, and Jeremy Ashton.
Maynard’s email was long and rambling, and he had attached a photo of David Douglas.
Ava now saw why Douglas was called “the Disciple.” He was older than she had imagined — she guessed around sixty — and had a strange build: tall, narrow in the shoulders, and with a hollow chest that swelled into a large, pronounced pot belly. His face was bony and angular; he had a sharp chin, a pointed nose, and eyebrows that were thickets of curls. The look was topped off by a head of long, wiry silver hair that had been coiffed into a puffy Afro resembling a halo. Maynard had written, The hair is his trademark. He thinks it makes him look saintly.
Maynard explained that Douglas was considered an elder statesman of the poker community, someone who took his wins and losses calmly, never gloating, never whining. He had acquired his nickname from his unique coif, as Ava had thought, but also from his habit of casting his eyes skyward whenever he had a difficult decision to make at the poker table.
Maynard closed his email with a comment that Ava found telling. It is every poker player’s fantasy to be able to see his opponents’ cards, to be completely in control. That prick Douglas took that fantasy and made it a reality. He must have felt like he was some kind of god, fucking around with us miserable mortals.
Martin Littlefeather’s email was more concise and all business. The River was controlled by a holding company that was registered in Cyprus. It had three shareholders: Douglas, Ashton, and a company called Duncon LLP. There was no mention of who owned Duncon. Littlefeather had included the names and addresses of the banks The River dealt with. One was in Las Vegas; the other, not surprisingly, was in Cyprus.
The Mohneida had run rudimentary background checks on both men. Born in New Mexico, Douglas had been playing professional poker since he turned twenty-one, when he had moved to Las Vegas. He had been married and divorced twice and had no children. No bankruptcies, no arrests, no drug or alcohol issues. His entire life seemed to revolve around poker. The report noted that, like Maynard, Douglas was well respected by his peers. He had won three World Series of Poker bracelets, but none in recent years. The report also commented that although Douglas’s best playing days were probably behind him, his reputation would be an asset in terms of promoting The River.
Jeremy Ashton had been born in Sheffield, England, and attended the University of Leeds, where he graduated from business school. He had worked with Smyth’s Investment Bank in London for less than a year, and then he went to New York to work as an analyst at Whiteburn. He’d never married and, like Douglas, he seemed to be free of scandal.
Ashton had met Douglas while he was at Whiteburn; he left the firm to help him start The River. They seem to have raised the money they needed quite quickly, Martin Littlefeather wrote in his email, but competition was fierce and the site struggled.
Ava finished making notes and was about to shut down her computer when she saw that she had a message from an mgonzalez. She paused, and then she remembered the woman Mimi had mentioned and opened it. Dear Ava, My name is Maria Gonzalez. Your friend Mimi suggested I contact you, though I have to confess I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve been living in Toronto for only six months. I work at the Colombian trade consulate. I have found, truthfully, the transition to the city and the weather and the culture to be very difficult. Mimi thought we had a lot in common. I like movies, good food, I’m Roman Catholic, and I love to salsa. I apologize if you find this approach not to your liking. But Mimi urged me on, so I thought I would take a chance. I hope we can get together, maybe for a coffee or a drink? My best regards, Maria Gonzalez
Ava read the email twice before responding. Hi Maria, Mimi did mention your name to me. I’m away from Toronto on business, and I don’t know when I’ll return. If Mimi thinks we could be friends then I think it’s worth meeting. Let’s keep in touch. Oh, and I like to salsa as well. Ava
Ava flopped onto the bed and then grimaced. Her body was beginning to recover and the pain was less severe, but now and then it couldn’t help but remind her it was still there. She sat up. Her cellphone had been off since she left Victoria, so she turned it on to retrieve her messages. Her mother had called again to say she’d heard about Philip Chew and that the aunties were ready to kill Tommy Ordonez. Ava was relieved that no fingers were being pointed in her direction. And Uncle had phoned; he said simply, “Call me when you can.” She dialled his number after deleting the message.
“ Wei.”
“Uncle, it’s Ava. I’m in Las Vegas.”
“The Mohneida cooperated?”
“They did.”
“What did it cost?”
“Nothing. I just guaranteed that we would indemnify them from any legal action and try to shield them from negative publicity.”
“That is not nothing,” he corrected, and then paused so the words would sink in. “So, they were not involved?” he said finally.
“Not in any way that would matter.”
“You probably still promised them too much. We cannot speak for Tommy Ordonez.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle, but I needed their cooperation, and that’s what it cost. And there was one other complication I had to deal with.”
“With the Mohneida?” he asked.
“No, two poker players who lost money the same way as Philip Chew. They helped me figure out what happened and who did it. They demanded we get their money back in exchange for their cooperation. I know we never like to have two clients at once, even if it’s one thief we’re chasing, but I said we would do what we could for them. I didn’t feel I had any choice.”
“How much?”
“Seven million.”
“Our usual fee?”
“Of course.”
