Authors: Victor Methos
36
Night fell over Las Vegas
, and the city came alive like a great hibernating animal awakened by the pang of hunger. The streets were packed with luxury cars, limousines, and SUVs just out of the carwash. On the sidewalks, crowds swarmed like ants over honey, and large swaths of people would suddenly divert into this or that casino to catch the latest show. Just above the cityscape, the tram zipped between casinos, carrying those who were too drunk to walk or families who didn’t want to push strollers through the crowds.
A
bove it all, Bill James sat sipping a Manhattan. The blonde between his legs bobbed up and down, then she finished, wiping her mouth with a napkin before standing up and sitting in the seat next to him on the massive balcony.
“How’s the show going?” James
asked, lighting a cigarette. Although the dancers at his casinos were used as a comp for the high rollers and management, he always treated them well. He took three hundred-dollar bills from his wallet on a side table and handed them to her.
She took the money and stuffed it in her bra. “Making weight’s pretty hard. I’m down to just eating an egg and carrots all day. If we’re more than two pounds over, we’re taken off the show
, and if we’re more than five pounds, we’re fired. But you’d never fire me, right, Slick Willy?”
He chuckled at the nickname
he’d earned by ripping off tourists at three-card Monte on the sidewalks when he was a fifteen-year-old kid. Every casino pit boss had chased him away. He would run down the street and wait for them to go back inside before setting up shop again. The group of street acts in those days were a tight-knit bunch. They went to a diner at the end of every day to laugh and joke about the day’s experiences, always talking about their big dreams of someday riding in the limos they saw driving past every day.
He suddenly realized that the dancer had been speaking the entire time he was lost in thought
, and he grew impatient. “I have business to attend to. You should leave.”
“Oh, okay.” She stood and leaned over him
to kiss him on the cheek.
James blew smoke out of his nose then shouted, “Before you leave, bring me a drink, will ya?”
She brought him a gin and tonic, gave him one more kiss, and left. He sipped his drink and lit another cigarette before he had even finished the one he was smoking. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, staring at the lights, when the intercom buzzed in his suite.
“Mr. James?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Kamal and Mr. Henry
are here to see you.”
“Send them in.”
A minute later, Raj and Milton walked in. They fixed themselves drinks and came out onto the balcony. Raj stood at the railing and looked down at the street below, while Milton relaxed in a leather chair and put his feet up on a footrest with gold-leaf trim.
“Who the fuck did you get, Milton? A fucking school teacher?”
“He came highly recommended. I’ll send someone else. Someone more experienced.”
“No, it’s too late. I know him
, and he’s gonna be prepared now.”
Raj looked from one man to the other. “What’re we talking about?”
James glanced at him then out over the city. Milton cleared his throat and took a drink. He slipped off his Italian loafers and crossed his legs.
“Wait, hold on,” Raj said
. “Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you’re talking about.”
“We didn’t want to get you involved,” Milton said. “The fewer people who knew, the better.”
“Bill, tell me he’s kidding.”
James wouldn’t look at him.
“Bill, tell me he’s kidding!”
“That’s life sometimes, kid. It’ll have you by the balls
, and you gotta fight your way out.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Are you crazy? Cal’s on the fucking board. You’ve known the guy for thirty years.”
“It wasn’t an easy choice to make.”
“No shit it wasn’t an easy choice to make.” Raj shook his head and began
pacing frantically around the balcony. “You put the whole fucking company in jeopardy. We got seven thousand employees. If shareholders lost faith in you, our stock would plummet. It would destroy this entire company if this got out.”
“It’s never gonna get out, kid. Relax.”
“Fuck you, relax!”
James threw his glass over the balcony. In less than a second
, he had Raj by the throat and was pressing him against the railing.
“I did what I thought was best, you little prick. I built this company with my sweat and my blood
, and I’ll be damned if some Polack bastard or some elephant-worshipping pissant is gonna take it away from me.”
Raj
pushed back, but he was no match for James’s wiry strength. He began slipping backward, his feet coming off the balcony.
“Let him go, Bill,” Milton said calmly. “We have enough to deal with.”
James let him go, and Raj collapsed, gasping for air. He looked up at James with venom in his eyes as he got to his feet.
“I quit
,” Raj said.
As Raj stormed out, James leaned against the railing and folded his arms, gazing down at the imported carpet that covered the balcony floor. “We really fucked this. We fucked this good this time.”
Milton shrugged. “You did what you thought was best. That’s what leaders do.”
“Cal’s goin’ to the
Feds. I know the whiny prick, and he’s gonna go straight to the Feds.”
“With what? A story about how some Russian broke into his house
, and he must’ve been sent by you? Where’s the evidence?”
“Not that. He’s got everything else.”
“What else does he know?”
“We’ve been pumping our stock up since before I hired you. Cal knows where the right documents are and who to ask the right questions to. It’s all fake, Milton. All of it. It’s pumped with naked short
-selling, rumor mills, accountants I got on the payroll… this company’s going bankrupt. It would’ve been bankrupt a long time ago if it wasn’t for me. That’s why this Cuba deal is so important. It’s our last shot.”
Milton finished his drink and placed the glass down on the floor. “Well, then
, there’s only one option that I see.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s go to the Feds first. They tend to give immunity to whoever cooperates first. We’ll… adjust the paper trail and point the fingers at Raj and Cal. We’ll claim ignorance.”
James sighed. “I’d rather kill him than turn him in. I’m a lotta things, but
a rat ain’t one of them.”
“You can have your integrity and sit in a prison cell the rest of your life, or you can retire to a beach house in Florida and give testimony for two weeks at a trial. It’s your choice.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the first twinges of a painful migraine coming on. “Fucking business. You know where it all went wrong? We got the government involved. Gaming commission, regulatory committee, treasury department… it’s too much. It’s strangling us.”
Milton stood up and slipped on his shoes. “Strangled or not, we need to go to the
Feds first. We’ve lost control of this thing, Bill. It’s time to fold.”
As Milton left, James turned back to the city. He used to look at the lights, the naked women
, and the glittering casino floors and see his city. It was an extension of himself. As he lived and breathed, so did the casinos. If the lights were to go out and the glitter to turn to dust, he felt as if his heart would stop, and he would turn to dust as well.
He knew he couldn’t be a rat, no matter what the prize was.
Loyalty was ingrained in him. Back on the streets, when he was a kid, making one dollar here and five dollars there, the performers all knew there was a bond holding them together. If one street kid got busted, the others could count on him to never tell the cops anything. They were starving, broke, and hustling just to eat one candy bar a day, but they had their code.
James finished his drink and placed the glass down on a side
table. He took off his watch and placed it down softly next to the glass. He walked to the railing, climbed over it, and looked down at the people below. He thought about the headlines the next day—“Casino Mogul Takes Out Six People on Sidewalk”—and it made him laugh. He felt warm tears on his cheeks, and he looked up at the stars, which were hardly visible. The lights from the city drowned them.
He took a deep breath and climbed back to his balcony before going inside
to make another drink. There were times he felt absolutely drained, like a spent battery. Many people—including Hemingway, whom James had known for a time in the’50s—believed nature was where a man renewed himself. That had never worked for James. He thought of nature as a necessary evil. Where other men saw a mountain, he saw mining operations. Where they saw forests and fresh air, he saw condominiums and strip malls. There was one place he could go and feel the electricity of youth pump through him. He finished his drink then headed down to the casino floor.
37
It was nearly midnight, and Stanton was lying on his side, staring out the windows at the strip. The rumbling of the volcano display started every so often, and the deep bass of the drums pounded in his head. He sat up, knowing sleep was impossible for the night, and fumbled in a few of the drawers on the dresser before finding a packet of Advil liquid gels. He took two with a few swigs of orange juice and dressed before heading out the door.
The hallway was empty
, and the colors swirled before him. The multitude of designs, shapes, and hues of reds, oranges, and blues disoriented him, and he stared at the floor as he made his way to the elevator. A man in a bathrobe stood in front of the vending machines, holding a full bucket of ice. He was swearing and pushing the machine.
“Excuse me,” he said, “you don’t have change for a twenty
, do you? The machine ate my last dollar.”
“Let me check.” Stanton pulled out his wallet.
He had three dollar bills, which he gave to the man.
“Well, just owe me the rest
, I guess.”
“No, it’s fine,” Stanton said, refusing to take the twenty.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
Stanton went to the elevators and pushed the down button.
The man yelled, “Damn it!”
He looked over and saw that
the man’s next choice, a Twix bar, was stuck.
“My luck this trip,” the man said
. “Lost six grand at the tables and five bucks in this machine.” He tried rocking it back and forth then began pounding on the glass.
Stanton walked over.
“Let me try.” He reached under the flap where the items were dispensed and quickly withdrew his hand, letting the flap snap shut. The Twix bar tipped. He did it again, and it fell.
“Hey, how’d you do that?”
“It’s a closed system, so the air created from that motion shoots up the machine and then back down.”
“Wow. I’ll have to remember that. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Stanton went toward the elevators again.
“Wait a second. What’s your name?”
“Jon.”
“Jon, I’m Jason. Nice to meet you.”
“You
, as well.”
“Hey, what’re you doing tonight?”
“I was… well, nothing really.”
“Why don’t you come back to my room? I got a suite, biggest one on the floor.”
“It’s all right, thank you.”
“Now
, don’t be hasty. This isn’t an invitation I make that often. But I got my wife back there, and I think it’d be a blast if you fucked her. I’ve been hitting it all night, but she just can’t get enough. Why don’t you come join us? She just got her fake tits, and she’s looking pretty smoking.”
Stanton didn’t respond. The elevator dinged and opened
, and he stepped on.
As the doors closed
, the man said, “Your loss.”
He leaned back against the mirrors lining the elevator and closed his eyes. One of the passages in Genesis had always
resonated with him, even as a child:
Then the Lord rained down upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of Heaven. And he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.
The last phrase was what had stuck with him. As a child, he’d imagined God sitting on a cloud, overcome with anger at the evil he saw in these cities, casting down fire and brimstone and causing earthquakes and floods. Filled with so much rage that his creation would disobey him, he destroyed everything that lived, even the grass and the trees. It had filled Stanton with terror. As he grew older, he no longer feared that image. Instead, he feared what had occurred in Sodom and Gomorrah. Good men, he knew, were only one decision away from becoming evil men. And no one was immune to the darkness.
The elevator came to a stop
at the lobby, and he stepped
out
and went to the casino floor
, which was crowded with drunken gamblers. Some were in evening wear, rolling dice, and others were chain-smoking at the three-card poker tables. The slot machines rang and rang, drowning out the sound of the Doors’ “L.A. Woman” that was playing over the speakers. Cocktail waitresses were moving at a feverish pace, getting as many drinks as possible into the crowd. They were rewarded with dollar chips.
Stanton left and walked the strip for what seemed like a long time. He came to the Havana and stood outside, staring up at the lights shooting into space. He made his way inside and went to the casino. It looked no different than the one he was just in.
Stanton walked around the edge of the floor, one hand in his pocket and the other running lightly along the smooth walls. The display of shining steel running along the ceiling in that area was made to look like a river flowing upside down. Stanton stopped and watched it for a long time before moving on. He eventually made his way to a lounge that had funky furniture from the ’60s. The Beatles’ “Revolution” was playing. The area was as crowded as the rest of the casino, and small groups of people were relaxing and enjoying fruity cocktails as they flirted and laughed. Stanton noticed a tall figure leaning against the wall, slowly sucking on a cigarette. He was about to walk past him when he heard one of the pit bosses walk by and say, “Evening, Mr. James.”
Stanton stopped. He was sufficiently far away
, and there were enough people around that Stanton thought Bill James wouldn’t notice him. He watched the other man. His simple movements were elegant. The way he lifted his arm and placed the cigarette between his lips, the softness of his exhalations as the smoke left his nostrils, and the way he crossed one foot over the other gave Stanton the impression of a 1930s leading man. He seemed to be from a different generation, one that was nearly gone.
Stanton walked over to him. James saw him
, smiled, and nodded hello before turning away. Then he turned back around, recognition lighting his face.
“I’ve seen you before,” James said. “I think you saw me in one of my weaker moments.”
“You mean when you assaulted an elderly man without provocation?”
“It wasn’t without provocation. Me and him go back a long time. Long time. I love the man. But you know someone that long, they’ll eventually give you a reason to hit them.”
“If you really loved him, you wouldn’t have done it, even with a reason. That’s what love is.”
James laughed. “What are you
, a Boy Scout?”
“My father once struck me when I was five. He was a pacifist, a hippie from the ’60s. Didn’t believe in violence at all. But I did something that just threw him
, and he snapped. He punched me so hard, it knocked out one of my teeth. He never forgot it. He’d come into my room at night sometimes and just hold me and cry ’cause he knew I’d never forget it either.”
“Did you forgive him?”
“Yeah, but I never forgot it.”
James stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray bolted to the wall next to him. “My old man was a one
-night stand. He’d come back from the war, fighting the Germans in France, and my mother got drunk with him at some bar. She told me once that she went to him and told him about me. He laughed and kicked her down the stairs.” James chuckled. “You know what, Boy Scout? I haven’t told that story out loud in thirty years. But I just told you. Now why do you suppose that is?”
“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.”
“Suppose so.” He pulled another cigarette from a gold carrying case in his pocket. “So, what’s your game?”
“I don’t gamble
, actually.”
“Really? Here for the shows
, then?”
“No. I’m a detective with the San Diego Police Department. I’m out here at your request.”
James’s demeanor instantly changed. He went rigid, frozen in place, before he replaced the cigarette and put the case back in his pocket.
“We were never supposed to meet,” he said.
“I’ve been asked to leave in a few days. I don’t think it matters.”
“I haven’t seen any news of catching the person who killed Daniel, so I can only guess you’ve failed.”
“I guess I have, but I’m not finished yet.”
“You gonna solve this thing in a few days?”
“No, but I’m not leaving. I said I was asked to leave. Your funding runs out, but I think I’m going to be sticking around awhile.”
“What the fuck do you care about Daniel Steed?”
“It wasn’t just him. A cop’s been killed now, too. A man who was kind to me when a lot of other people weren’t.”
“Yeah
.” He glanced away at the casino floor. “Yeah, I read about that. It was a shame.” He took a deep breath. “I got some business to look after. You’ll have to excuse me, Detective.” As he walked away, he said, “Come back and visit us anytime. We never sleep.”