John Miller - Smoke and Mirrors

“If Finch wants to see the sights, seeing he’s a foreigner and all…And naturally they want someone to show them around. What time did Finch say he wants to go out?”

“Around eight-thirty.”

“I give you my approval,” he said with a big smile. “Go and have fun. I’ll tell you all about it when you come back. One thing…”

“Yes?” Tug asked.

“When we move out there to the new resort, you’re going to be getting a big raise and expanded duties.”

Kurt Klein should have felt an inner peace, since he had made one of the most difficult decisions of his life. Once he had decided that Styer had to be sacrificed, he knew how to accomplish the task. Kurt had used Paulus Styer’s skills for more than a decade, and so he was very familiar with Styer’s methods. Styer would have infiltrated the casino in disguise in order to blend into his larger theater of operations. Klein had monitored the employees closest to Mulvane carefully, and only one employee had come in after Styer was given the nod to deal with the Gardners. That hire was a man Mulvane had asked for, but a man Mulvane didn’t know very well. He was a man recommended as being capable of performing difficult assignments, who could also be trusted to take secrets to the grave. Although Klein had never met Paulus Styer face-to-face, he was certain Styer had met him.

When Steffan Finch came into the suite, Kurt Klein closed the computer, lit a Dunhill, and nodded for Finch to speak.

“White is on, but Murphy says he has personal business he has to attend to. He says he can meet us at the blues club later. Do you want me to force the issue?”

Kurt thoughtfully expelled a stream of smoke. “He said ‘personal business’? Are you sure that is what he said?”

“His exact words.”

“Don’t press it,” Kurt told him, comforted by hearing the expression Styer had used in his message. “I’ve got that covered.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely,” Kurt said, nodding. “That will be all.”

After Finch left him, Kurt crushed out his cigarette, opened the computer, and typed his contact in D.C. a short message. After he had finished, he felt no relief at all. He knew that in business a man had to do things he didn’t want to do for the greater good. He trusted that Finch and his associates would be capable of performing the future business-related jobs that he had earmarked for Styer. He reviewed the note he had typed out and nodded.

Confidential: FYI-it may be of interest to your shadow friends now operating in the South that Cold Wind is disguised as Tug Murphy, Roundtable’s GM, Pierce Mulvane’s personal assistant. Payment will include a double amount as bonus and will be credited to your account when Cold Wind stops blowing.

Klein parked the cursor on the SEND button and, inhaling slowly, pressed it with his trembling finger. He knew that his name would not be passed along as the source of the information, and he didn’t think it intelligent to tell anyone that he had been employing Styer. He doubted the shadows would botch things again. But if they somehow did, there was no way Styer would put together that Kurt had figured out who he was.

Alexa watched Styer clipping his fingernails over an ashtray. The tape on her mouth prevented her from saying anything.

“Now,” Styer told Alexa as he dropped a final clipping into the glass bowl. “If you want to save the Gardners, and I assume you do, you and I are going to walk out of this casino together. While Mrs. Gardner and Massey and others, I presume, are conducting their business here with Mr. Klein, we will go to the Gardners’ home. I will collect the explosives I put there during the funeral of the unfortunate young lady with the ruined cranium. After that, I will leave Massey a note and you and I will take a ride in the country. Winter will come alone to rescue you, and he and I will have our reckoning. It will be a fair fight and I will kill him. If you try anything now, I will explode the device, and whoever is in the house will be vaporized. Do you understand?”

Alexa nodded.

“If you scream, I will set off the device, stroll up to Massey and Mrs. Gardner, which we both know I can do, and kill them inside this establishment. On all of this, and I mean every bit of it, you have my word. Please tell me you understand.”

Alexa nodded again.

“Oh, and there’s one other thing you should see. Just in case you don’t grasp the entire situation.”

Styer stood and went into the bedroom. When he came back, he was not alone. Cynthia Gardner’s eyes were wild, her hands behind her back, her mouth covered with tape. Around her waist was a belt containing a brick of explosives with a detonator and a receiver attached to it. Styer pushed her roughly onto the couch and she blinked rapidly, looking from Alexa to Styer, confusion and fear clouding her features.

Styer came around the table and jerked the tape from Alexa’s mouth. “Alexa, do you know Cynthia Gardner? I told you she was all right. Cynthia, meet FBI Agent Alexa Keen. She’s an abduction specialist who has found you against all odds.”

Cynthia turned toward Alexa, alert and terrified.

“So you didn’t know I had her?” Styer said. “You being the world’s leading abduction expert?”

Styer picked up Alexa’s purse, took out her Glock, removed the magazine, jacked the receiver, and caught the round in the air. He slowly thumbed each of the rounds from the magazine into the bowl along with his nail clippings. That done, he slammed the empty magazine into the gun’s handle, tossed the other loaded magazines on the couch, and put the Glock back into her purse.

“I won’t hesitate to kill her. You believe me, I hope. Cyn’s explosive is rigged to the same signal and will go off in sync with the one in her home. Double jeopardy, you see. I think I’ve covered all my bases.”

Lifting his cell phone, he checked the readout, and put it into his left hand, thumb on the SEND button. “One queer move and I’ll press it.”

“Okay,” Alexa said.

“I know you may think I’m bluffing so I want to show you something.” He reached into his jacket pocket and showed her a Polaroid of him holding a bomb made of eight blocks of explosive in the foyer of the Gardner house.

“I’m pretty photogenic, don’t you think?” he said.

“Jesus,” Alexa said.

“Do as I say and you will live. I want your word.”

“It’s your game,” Alexa said.

Styer cut the cable ties on Alexa’s ankles and unlocked her handcuffs. She sat up, rubbing her wrists slowly.

Cynthia was sobbing hysterically.

“It’s okay, Cynthia. He won’t do anything if we do as he says.”

“Now, Cynthia,” Styer said. “You are going to make a call. If you say exactly what I tell you, you’ll be fine. If you screw this up, you are going to be very dead.”

Cynthia nodded slowly as she locked eyes with Alexa. “Cynthia, do exactly what he says,” Alexa told the girl.

Pierce Mulvane had explained to his wife that with Kurt Klein visiting he wasn’t going to make it home tomorrow for his usual Sunday visit with her and the kids. He listened patiently to her long litany of complaints, all the while going over the stack of gamblers’ complaints passed up to him from his managers. Most of the complaints were no more important to him than the tripe his wife came up with about him missing his son’s soccer finals, or his daughter’s hidden candy stashes, or his wife’s inability to find decent shoes in her size that were the right color. Why they couldn’t live in Vegas, where they had everything, was simply beyond her. He promised her that when River Royale was up and running, the shops would stock her sizes and colors, and she’d never have to mention Las Vegas again-and neither would anybody else.