John Miller - Smoke and Mirrors

“I thought Tug Murphy was meeting me,” he said, smiling like a salesman offering up his private stash of brilliant white teeth.

“I’m Albert White, director of casino security. Tug was out of pocket, so I came. He should be waiting for us when we get back.”

“I was messing with you, Albert. Part of my job is to know what everybody at the casino looks like. Nice to meet you.”

He slipped off his sunglasses and shook White’s hand firmly.

“Welcome, Mr. Finch,” Albert said.

Finch looked directly into White’s eyes as if he was reading a sign hanging on the inside back wall of his skull.

White opened the rear door to allow the man to put his baggage inside the compartment. Usually RRI employees arrived in chartered aircraft, landing and pulling into a hangar to keep nosy people from seeing who was arriving or departing. This man was at the main terminal, and no commuter or commercial flights had landed within the last hour. A man who worked security at the airport took money from the Roundtable to steer arriving passengers their way. White had spoken to him and after giving the man Finch’s description, he’d told White that Finch had walked into the terminal from the parking lot to wait near the doors as though he’d just flown in. Very odd. White figured he’d been around scouting before he officially appeared. Supposedly he was good, and Kurt Klein could afford the best of everything.

“I hope your flight was okay, Mr. Finch,” White said.

“My flight was fine, Albert. Call me Steffan,” the man said, nodding. His accent sounded British, but White knew from his research that Finch was South African, and he’d spent years living and working in England with the SAS.

“Let’s be off,” Finch said, checking his watch, a matte black chronometer.

“So Tug is a recent hire, I understand.”

“That wasn’t in your files?”

Finch smiled. “Tug isn’t his real name, is it?”

White shook his head. “A nickname he had legally changed to his Christian name.”

“The nickname Tug,” Finch said. “What does that signify?”

“He told me that when he was a kid, he used to pull on his old man’s pant leg to get his attention. His dad called him Tug.”

“Oh,” Finch said. “I hoped it would be more interesting.”

Albert White put the SUV in gear and rolled off into the bright Delta day.

Finch turned on the radio, which Tug must have set to NPR, and tuned in a classic country music station. While White concentrated on his driving, George Jones told the SUV’s occupants about a relationship he had a few regrets about.

Although he’d had a warning from security, Pierce Mulvane didn’t look up when Jacob Gardner entered his office accompanied by a security guard. Pierce calmly finished reading the floor reports from the past twenty-four hours. Despite the fact that the numbers were very good, he held a frown on his face. Finally he looked up, feigning surprise at finding that someone had come into his office while he was engrossed in his business.

Mulvane dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand, waiting until he was gone to speak.

Jacob Gardner wore the sincere smile of a desperate used car salesman and did his best to appear relaxed, but Pierce could smell the anxiety radiating from him, just as strong as the stale odor of booze that wafted from his pores.

“How’ve you been, Mr. Mulvane?” Jacob asked.

“I guess if you didn’t have good news for me you would not be here,” Pierce said. “So I assume your ex-wife has accepted my generous offer.”

“Well, I was inches from getting this resolved, but there was an incident at her place yesterday, so there wasn’t any time for a business discussion. Unfortunate set of circumstances.”

Pierce said, “The hunting misadventure involving the young girl. I heard about it. Very unfortunate, but just as well it wasn’t your daughter or your ex.”

“Leigh’s pretty damned upset, as you can imagine. She was very fond of that girl. We might have to conclude this after the funeral,” Jacob added.

“When is the funeral?”

“Saturday, I think. I’m sure we can negotiate a deal before Monday, Tuesday latest.”

Pierce took out his pen and opened it. “I’m sorry, but this matter has to be concluded before Monday, or it will be out of my hands. This is what I am going to do. I want you to pass on an offer that should negate the need to haggle further. This is going to be the absolute top dollar we will pay and our absolute final offer. We have the political clout to have the land condemned and if I have to wait that long, your ex will be paid a sum for the land based on what we paid for the adjoining properties, which wasn’t very much.”

Jacob had his hands clenched together in his lap, waiting for the number. Not just yet, Pierce thought.

“If memory serves,” he said, “we have your checks totaling three hundred and twenty-one thousand dollars. One ten you lost here and the rest was consolidated from certain other casinos and individuals with the help of the list you furnished us.”

“Yes.”

Pierce stared at Jacob. “A substantial amount, secured by a piece of land you claimed to own at the time you agreed to these actions.”

Jacob’s fevered eyes darted around the room as he nodded.

“The last figure we discussed for the parcel was nine hundred thousand, which you told me you passed on to Ms. Gardner. My question is how this woman, an astute businesswoman, can refuse such an offer. You did present her with our offer, didn’t you? Nine hundred thousand dollars?”

Jacob Gardner’s eyes fell to his lap. “Well, I actually…”

“I thought as much. How could I be so stupid to believe anything an attorney-especially a disbarred one-says? What figure did you offer her?”

“Well, I had to cover my losses here in the deal.”

“I told you months ago we’d work that out. And each time we have discussed it, we’ve had to track you down. Each time I pressed you and like a wet eel you slipped away.” Pierce felt his anger rising and clenched his teeth. This was worse than he’d imagined. He should have figured Jacob would try to screw her as he had them.

“I am a patient man, Gardner. Truly I am, but there are people upstairs putting pressure on me who are not nearly as indulgent as I am. I have depended on my powers of persuasion as well as your intelligence, but obviously I badly misjudged you. Even for a degenerate gambler who lives by feeding off the labors of his ex-wife, you set a new record for sleaziness, dishonesty, and selfishness.”

“I know,” Jacob blurted. “I’m not a well man, mentally or physically. I might have cancer. They’re running some tests.”

“I can check that,” Pierce said, adding a note of warning.

“I’m going to have testing done,” Gardner mumbled. “I have some troubling symptoms.”

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” Pierce said, making notes on a piece of stationery. “I will pay Ms. Gardner two point five million dollars for the land. In the interest of rewarding you for brokering the deal, I will not merely cancel your debt to the casino, but I will give you an additional five hundred thousand dollars in cash, which is a net to you of eight hundred and twenty-one thousand. And we will all live long and healthy lives-assuming you don’t have cancer, naturally.”

Jacob Gardner straightened suddenly and his lips turned up at the corners. “Okay. I mean, man alive. That’s a very, very generous offer.”

“Now, use all of your persuasive powers to make sure she accepts it.”

“See, I haven’t told her who wanted the land because I know her and I thought that if she sees the intended use for the land, she’ll want more. It has taken a great deal of finesse.”