“Think he has something to do with it?”
“Yes.”
They watched the scruffy guy for ten minutes. The man shifted his position and once walked away, but then came back. He was definitely watching Lucy play.
“See anything that doesn’t look right?” Valentine asked.
Wily was smart enough to know when he was being baited. He stared for another minute, then said, “I give up.”
“Take a look at his shoes.”
Wily did, and spotted the discrepancy immediately. “Cowboy boots made out of alligator or snake. Doesn’t go with the cheap sunglasses, does it?”
“No, sir.”
Wily trotted over to the master console and began typing. The picture on the monitor froze, and the man’s reptilian cowboy boots became enlarged. Valentine walked behind Wily, trying to figure out what the head of security was doing.
“What are you doing?” Valentine asked him.
A surprised look crossed Wily’s face. In a loud voice, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention, please. Something historic has just happened.” Ten technicians in the room collectively lifted their heads. “I just did something that Tony Valentine—
“Just answer the question.”
“Loronix has this great feature. I can freeze an image—like this guy’s cowboy boots—and compare it to the last seven days’ worth of film on the computer’s hard drive. Loronix will find all the matches and pull them up. It’s a great way to gather evidence on someone.”
Valentine was stunned. He’d been given a demonstration of Loronix, and this feature had never been mentioned. He patted Wily on the shoulder and saw him smile.
“Good work,” he said.
A yellow light on the console began to flash. Wily punched in a command. The console had a small screen, and a bunch of gibberish appeared. Wily spent a moment deciphering it, then said, “Looks like our friend with the cowboy boots was in the casino twelve times in the last week. Want to look at him some more?”
“I sure do.”
Valentine returned to the wall of monitors. The retrieved films of the guy with the cowboy boots appeared on twelve separate screens. The guy was a stroller, and the films showed him walking around the casino, pausing occasionally to watch the action at roulette, blackjack, the craps table, and the Asian domino game called Pai Gow. Not once did he stop and actually play.
On one screen, he was standing at a pay phone. As he brought the receiver to his mouth, he lifted his face. The surveillance camera caught his profile, and Valentine felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
“For the love of Christ,” he said under his breath.
He stared across the room at Wily. Wily had been there the night the Acropolis had nearly gone down. “It’s Frank Fontaine,” he said.
“Fontaine’s in the slammer, doing thirty,” Wily replied.
Wily came over and put his face up to the monitor. “There’s a resemblance, but that’s it. Besides, this guy has a scar on his face.”
Frank Fontaine was the greatest casino cheater of the past twenty-five years. His scams were works of art, and always involved employee collusion. There was no doubt in Valentine’s mind it was him.
“You think I’m wrong?” Wily said.
“Yes.”
“Tony, you’re getting old.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to tell Nick.”
A look of apprehension crossed Wily’s face. “You
“Yes.”
Wily went to the console, punched in a command, then crossed the room to the laser printer in the corner. A printed sheet came out. He held it up so Valentine could see it. It was the photograph of Fontaine talking on the phone.
Walking over to a technician, Wily handed him the photograph and said, “Make a few hundred copies and distribute them to every employee. If anyone sees this guy, tell them to send up a flare.”
Valentine watched the technician leave. Then he looked at Wily. He hadn’t liked the crack about getting old. That was the thing he hated the most about Las Vegas. People didn’t stay your friend for very long.
Walking over to the printer, he removed Fontaine’s photograph and left without saying a word.
17
Mabel got up Saturday morning, fixed herself a fruit smoothie, and walked down the street to Tony’s house. She drank her breakfast while sitting at Tony’s desk, fielding e-mails and phone calls from panicked casino bosses that had come in the night before. In a business that never went to sleep, Friday nights were particularly hectic, and she spent an hour going through Tony’s messages. At ten o’clock the phone rang. It was Tony’s private line, and she snatched it up. It was Yolanda.
“Can you come over here?”
“Of course. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Yolanda said. “It’s about Gerry.”
“Be there in five,” Mabel said. She exited Tony’s e-mail, then shut his computer down. They lived in the lightning capital of the country, and leaving the computer on was an invitation for disaster. As she rose from her chair, the business line rang. She stared at the caller ID, then brought her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, no,” she said.
The caller was Richard Beamer, manager of the exclusive Liar’s Club in Beverly Hills. He had overnighted a certified check two days ago and been calling ever since.
Beamer’s check lay on the desk. It was for three grand, Tony’s usual fee. She’d grown up during the tail end of the Depression and could remember eating three-day-old bread, and standing on line with a wooden bucket to scoop sauerkraut and pigs’ feet from a barrel. She answered the call.
“Grift Sense. Can I help you?”
“This is Richard Beamer. Did you speak to your boss?”
“He’s on a job in Las Vegas,” she said truthfully. “He asked me to take the information. Once he figures out what these cheaters are doing, he’ll call you.”
“They were here last night,” Beamer said. “The other members want them thrown out. My job is at stake.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I can’t expel them without proof. They’ll sue the club.”
“What game are they playing?”
“Poker.”
Mabel had an idea and put him on hold. From the bookshelf, she removed one of Tony’s favorites: Poker to Win, by Al Smith. Tony said that 99 percent of the guys who cheated at poker used three scams described in the book: Top Hand, the Cold Deck, and Locating. She opened the book to the table of contents and picked up Beamer’s line.
“I’m back. Let me ask you some questions.”
