Loaded Dice

“It’s all right,” Mabel said. “They’re leaving. Tony fixed everything.”

Yolanda went to the window over the sink. Parting the curtains, she peered outside at the neighbor’s house and said, “You’re right. He’s climbing down off the roof.” She walked into the living room with Mabel behind her. Through the front window they saw the car with tinted windows that had been parked in the driveway speed away. Yolanda put her arms around Mabel and began to cry.

“There, there,” Mabel said.

Yolanda’s cell phone chirped. Mabel pulled it from her pocket. “Hello?”

The caller identified himself as Director Fuller of the FBI and asked to speak to Special Agent Reynolds. Mabel remembered Fuller from his picture in the newspaper. Blond and handsome, his only flaw was his mouth, which was too thin for his face.

“He’s right here,” she replied.

Going into the kitchen, she put the cell phone next to Reynolds’s ear, then listened as Fuller told Reynolds that the bureau had acted on bad information, and that the job was to be aborted. Reynolds closed his eyes and muttered under his breath.

“Yes, sir,” Reynolds said. “I understand. We’ll leave the premises once Ms. Struck releases us.” Looking at Mabel, Reynolds said, “Director Fuller would like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Mabel said.

Putting the phone to her ear, Mabel listened as Fuller apologized for what had happened. His voice was flat and unemotional, the way so many law enforcement people were. Taking the handcuff key from her pocket, she released Reynolds and his partner.

Valentine listened to Fuller apologize to Mabel, then hung up. As he pushed himself out of the chair, a strange thought occurred to him. His house had been raided by the FBI.

His house. The FBI was probably the best law enforcement agency in the world. They could be world-class jerks and arrogant as hell, but it didn’t belie the job they did. They were pros, which meant there had been a really good reason for them to raid his house. His business card, and a gym bag that resembled one he’d purchased six months ago, had been found at the murder scene. A coincidence? Someone much smarter than him had once said that there are no coincidences in police work.

His business card, his gym bag.

He picked up the phone and redialed his house. The phone lines had been restored, and he heard Mabel’s cheery voice say, “Grift Sense. Can I help you?”

“Just calling to see how you and Yolanda are doing.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you. We’re making out fine. Those two FBI agents turned out to be real gentlemen. They apologized up a storm and actually took the garbage out when they left. It was quite a shock.”

“Glad you didn’t shoot them, huh?”

“Listen to you!”

“Look, I need a favor.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Go into my bedroom and open up my closet.”

Mabel put him on hold. When she picked up a few moments later, she was talking to him on the speaker phone in the bedroom. “All right, I’m opening up your closet. Oh my, would you look at this mess.”

Valentine had never left a mess a day in his adult life. “What are you talking about?”

“Dirty clothes. They’re shoved in the corner in a pile. There’s a dirty jock strap, a dirty judo uniform, and a T-shirt with holes in the armpits that you must throw away.”

“Is my gym bag there?”

He heard Mabel shuffle some things around.

“Why no,” she said. “It’s gone.”

He sat back down and for a long moment stared at the phone. Only one person would throw his dirty clothes on the floor and take his gym bag without asking.

Gerry.

He glanced up. Nick was standing in the doorway, ready to go downstairs and bang some heads.

“I need to run,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”

26

When Pash and Gerry returned from Pahrump, they found a much different-looking Amin waiting for them at the motel. His beard and mustache were gone, and he’d trimmed his hair. It was short and choppy, and looked like the punk kids you saw walking around. He’d also changed his wardrobe, and now wore chinos and a striped rugby shirt.

“You get laid?” Amin asked his brother.

Pash took off his windbreaker and sat on the bed. “Yes. It was wonderful.”

“I hope you wore a rubber.”

“I did not have a choice. The woman put it on me.”

Amin made a face like he couldn’t imagine anything more disgusting. He was a handsome guy, and Gerry guessed he had no problem getting action when he wanted to. Pash, on the other hand, was always going to have to pay for it.

“They also wash you down,” Pash threw in for good measure.

“You let a strange woman wash your penis?”

Pash flashed a smile. “Oh, yes. With antibacterial scrub. When it starts to tingle, it actually feels quite good. There is one drawback, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Whenever I smell Betadine, I get an erection.”

Amin let out a rare laugh. Pash had promised to soften him up so Gerry could sell his idea of card-counting in “easy” casinos. Seeing his opportunity, Gerry pulled up a chair and launched into his sales pitch.

First, he explained the concept of how he planned to use his father’s information to target casinos, and saw Amin nod in agreement. Then he went into the numbers. Three hundred grand apiece was his first year’s estimate.

“These casinos you describe are small,” Amin said. “Surely they’ll notice such large losses.”

“My father has access to the daily financial sheets of every casino he works for,” Gerry said. “He examines them to see fluctuations in the holds of the various games.”

“How does this help us?”

“Certain times of the day the action is heavy, others it’s not. You’ll only play when the action is heavy and there’s money flying around. That way, your winnings won’t be noticed the way they would if the place was dead.”

Amin steepled his fingers in front of his chin, deep in thought. Then he spoke to Pash in their native tongue. Gerry hated when he did that, and planned to mention it when their relationship got farther along. Amin ended the conversation by standing, and slapping Gerry on the shoulder. “I think we should become partners.”

Gerry looked into his eyes. Amin bought the pitch.

“You’re in?”

Amin nodded approvingly.

Gerry nearly let out a shout. “How about I buy you and Pash a steak? I think this is cause for celebration.”

Amin glanced at his watch. “We can eat later. There are some friends of mine I want you to meet. Do you mind driving?”

Gerry tried not to laugh. Did he mind driving? Amin was about to make him rich. He’d drive Amin wherever he wanted, and even wear a chauffeur’s cap.

“Ready when you are,” he said.

Amin sat in the passenger’s seat and had Gerry drive through Henderson, then get on Highway 93 and head east. The road was long and ruler-straight. Ten miles outside of town, Amin pointed to an unpaved road sitting off