James Swain - Super Con

Introductions were made. Billy acknowledged each agent with a curt nod. The agents were not his friends and never would be. Billy had stolen so much money from the casinos that the gaming board had taken to plastering Billy’s face in every surveillance room while accusing him of more thefts than any human being was capable of committing. They were desperate to bring him down, and the irony of their working together was not lost on him.

Grimes explained how the bust would go down. Grimes and the agents would be in an unmarked van and would tail Billy to the meeting. The agents would wait outside on the street in the van, electronically eavesdropping on Billy’s conversation with Broken Tooth. Once Broken Tooth had handed over the money to bribe the Rebel players, the agents would show their faces and make the bust.

“Any questions, ask them now,” Grimes said.

There were no questions. With Grimes in the lead, the agents crossed the hall to a room where the heavy weapons were stored. A clerk working the counter assigned each agent a sawed-off shotgun along with a bulky bulletproof vest and a ballistic helmet. It occurred to Billy that he would be the only participant in this little drama who would not be armed or have a way of defending himself if things went south. He was trusting Grimes with his safety, and he hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

The gaming agents fitted on their body armor and loaded their weapons. Grimes watched them as they did this, then got dressed and loaded up.

“Let’s roll,” Grimes said.

They took an elevator to the main floor and piled out. Beads of sweat did a slow death march down Billy’s face. Grimes questioned him with a lifted eyebrow. Billy didn’t want to admit his fear and said, “Why the sawed-off shotguns?”

“They work better in close quarters,” Grimes explained.

The gaming board parking lot faced the intersection of North Las Vegas Boulevard and East Washington Avenue. Miles away from the glitz and glitter of the Strip, the most action you were going to find here was a tumbling sagebrush or a blue hair trudging back to his apartment carrying a sagging bag of groceries.

Billy sat in his car with the AC blowing on his face. Across the lot, Grimes and his posse stood next to an unmarked white van, going over last-minute details on how they planned to bust Broken Tooth and his gun-toting goons. Despite its Wild West culture, Vegas had strict gun laws, and agents of the law did not take kindly to criminals who used firearms while committing crimes. Often, these criminals got shot and killed for their trouble.

Billy’s cell phone lay on his leg. Using one hand, he texted different members of his crew to make sure they were ready to help bring their buddy Leon home.

You got the counterfeit money?

he texted Gabe.

Yessir. In two suitcases, like you said,

Gabe wrote back.

Billy had to tell Gabe something only once for it to get done right. Next up were Cory and Morris, the two members of his crew he was most worried about. They were both stressed out over Travis’s shooting and didn’t need the added worry of dumping his body.

Did you put T in your car?

Billy texted.

Yeah. Wrenched our backs dragging him,

Cory replied.

Anyone see you?

No. Put a screen in front of the unit like u said. Worked great

This will be over soon. You guys okay?

Cory didn’t respond. There was no doubt in Billy’s mind that he and Morris were both hurting. A few weeks from now, after this debacle had played itself out and they were home free, the three of them would get together for a long weekend and party up a storm. It was one way to start the healing process and get Cory and Morris back on track. Bad shit happened in their line of work; how a person dealt with it defined their careers and their lives.

His final text was to Pepper and Misty. The girls had a special role in the little charade they were about to pull, one that required them to get face-to-face with Grimes and distract him. Grimes was many things, but a rube was not one of them. If Grimes suspected that Pepper and Misty were trying to trick him, he’d haul them both in.

You ladies ready?

Primed and willing. When do we go on?

Pepper texted back.

Soon

Billy looked up. Grimes was marching toward him with a snarling look on his already ugly puss. The cell phone was balanced on his leg, and he flipped it so the screen was facing down and dropped it on the passenger seat. He rested both hands on the steering wheel.

Grimes stuck his head into the driver’s open window. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the beautiful outdoors,” he said.

“Don’t be a smart-ass. I saw you looking in your lap. Admiring your junk?”

“It’s worth admiring, or so I’m told.”

“Very funny. Did Broken Tooth contact you?”

“Not yet.”

Grimes breathed his foul breath on Billy’s face. Every cop he’d encountered, from the streets of Providence to the fancy casinos of Vegas, spouted noxious breath that could not be quelled by Tic Tacs or vigorous mouthwash. Billy had decided that it was a by-product of the job. Dealing with lowlifes and miscreants created a bile-producing creature in the stomach that simply could not be quelled.

“Then who are you texting? Your crew?” Grimes asked.

“I wasn’t texting and I don’t have a crew.”

“You’d better not be messing with me.”

Truth ran both ways. Right now, Billy wasn’t feeling any, and he exploded. “How do I know you’re not messing with me ? How do I know that you won’t shoot Broken Tooth and then turn your gun on me? Or have one of your men do it?”

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” Grimes said, playing tough.

“But you won’t?”

“No sir.”

“Like I should trust you? Right.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Billy, and on that you have my word. I need you to stand up in front of a judge and tell him the story you told me. Otherwise, I don’t have a case.”

“You’re not going to waste me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It was just like Mags had said. Grimes was determined to get that promotion, even if it meant getting in bed with his worst enemy, which happened to be Billy.

“But don’t think that changes things between us,” Grimes said. “If I catch you doing anything funny before this bust goes down, I’ll drag you out of that fancy sports car and kick your ass until your nose bleeds. Am I making myself clear?”

“Loud and clear.”

Billy’s cell phone vibrated on the passenger seat. “This is Billy,” he answered.

“This is Broken Tooth,” the caller said. “I’ve got the five hundred grand. You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“Good. You know Joyful House restaurant on Spring Mountain Road?”

It was the same restaurant where Cory and Morris had spotted Broken Tooth’s henchman picking up take-out food. “I’ve heard of it,” he said.

“Be in the parking lot in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”

“We’re going to do the exchange in the parking lot? We could get robbed.”

“Don’t be stupid. My men will meet you, bring you here. Then we’ll do exchange.”

“Got it. I’m leaving right now.”

There was silence on the line. Billy went rigid in his seat. He’d screwed up. The previous two times he’d spoken with Broken Tooth, he’d demanded that Broken Tooth put Leon on the line to confirm that his driver was still alive. Billy hadn’t done that this time, and he felt certain that Broken Tooth had picked up on the discrepancy.

“But first I want to speak with my driver,” he added.

“Your driver is taking a nap,” Broken Tooth said.