Wild Card

Chapter 5

Valentine’s Sicilian grandmother had a favorite expression. He doesn’t know that he doesn’t know that he doesn’t know. She liked to use it when describing really stupid people. Valentine had never thought it applied to him. But it did apply to Mickey Wright. Mickey was a fixture in Atlantic City, and for years had worked as a concierge at hotels around the island. When Resorts opened, Mickey had pulled some strings, and wound up running the casino’s surveillance department. The fact that Mickey had no casino experience hadn’t fazed the people running Resorts. Mickey was their man.

Mickey had shown Doyle and Valentine the basics of casino surveillance. He taught them how to operate a VCR, how to start the Time/Generator machine so each video tape was properly certified, and how to fill out Incident Activity Reports.

Mickey also liked to play on the job. He used surveillance cameras to pick up hairpieces and patchwork suits, and watch pretty girls wearing red clothes, which became invisible under the camera’s invasive eye. And, he was into games. Find the prettiest girl in the casino was one. Find the ugliest guy another. Mickey loved to have fun.

One afternoon, Mickey got a call from Sergeant Banko. The chief was bringing Bill Higgins, the Nevada Gaming Control Board special agent, to the casino, and wanted Mickey, Doyle and Valentine to meet him. Mickey hung up the phone shaking his head.

“What the hell am I gonna learn from this guy?” Mickey said aloud.

They met in one of the hotel’s swanky conference rooms. Bill Higgins was a lean, unusually handsome Native American with a mop of black hair that touched the collar of his shirt. He wore cowboy boots and a suit that had gone out of style years ago, yet still looked good on him. He came around the table where Mickey, Doyle and Valentine were sitting, and shook their hands. Valentine noticed Higgins was holding a video tape in his other hand, and wondered what it was.

“Bill is in town helping us prosecute a crooked blackjack dealer, ” Banko said. “I asked him to give us some pointers on catching casino cheaters. Take it away, Bill.”

Higgins faced the three men. There was a tension in his movements, like the news he was about to give them wasn’t so good. “I’d like to start with a question,” he said. “How much experience policing casinos do you guys have?”

“None,” Mickey said brightly.

“That’s what I thought.” Higgins crossed the room to where a TV with a VCR sat, and inserted the tape into the machine. The TV came to life, and he paused the tape.

“Do any of you know what a candy store is?” he asked.

Mickey, Valentine and Doyle shook their heads.

“A candy store is a casino that’s wide open to cheating. It means the people running things are clueless. It’s what you have here in Atlantic City.”

“Hey — watch it!” Mickey exclaimed.

Valentine knew there were problems in the casino — with so much money flowing in, it was hard to imagine there wouldn’t be — but he hadn’t expected Higgins to waltz in, and call them morons. He decided to take the high road, and said, “You sure about that?”

“Yes, I am,” Higgins said.

“How recently did you see this cheating?”

“About an hour ago.”

Exactly one hour ago, Valentine and Doyle had canvassed the casino floor — all thirty thousand square feet — and seen nothing to indicate they were being swindled.

“I think you’re wrong,” Valentine said.

Higgins pressed the Play button on the VCR. “See for yourself.”

“This tape is of a blackjack game in your casino,” Higgins explained. “Sergeant Banko had one of your techs video tape the table for me.”

The tape was in grainy black & white. Six people — one woman, five men — were playing blackjack with a mustachioed dealer. In the lower right corner of the tape was the date and time. The tape had been made sixty minutes before.

Valentine watched in silence. He wasn’t seeing a single bad thing happening at the table. He glanced at Doyle, then Mickey. They weren’t seeing anything unusual, either. Sensing their discomfort, Higgins shut the VCR off.

“Had enough?” he asked.

“What are we missing?” Valentine said.

Higgins used the chalkboard to draw a blackjack table. He assigned the players numbers, then turned the VCR on, and let them watch the action while he explained the scene-behind-the-scene. He was low-key, and would have made a good teacher.

“Six players and a dealer. Each player is doing something dishonest.”

“All of them are cheating?” Mickey said.

“Afraid so. Let’s start with the sweet little lady at spot #1. If you watched her all night, you probably wouldn’t catch what she’s doing. Hustlers call her scam ‘Excuse me!’ At the start of each round, she puts a hundred dollar chip in the betting circle. Only the chip isn’t completely inside the circle. That’s on purpose. The dealer deals her a card, which is face up. If the card is a Ten, or an Ace, she doesn’t say anything. Know why?”

Valentine had been reading a book on casino games, and was halfway through the section on blackjack. “Because high-valued cards increase her chances of winning,” he guessed.

“Correct. With a Ten, she has a 12% advantage over the house. With an Ace, a 50% advantage. What happens