Barry Eisler - The Detachment

“Don’t forget, the Wynn stamps guest names on the cards. They’re not just keys, they’re like credit cards for the resort.”

“He’d have to look awfully closely to notice that-he’s just going to see his red plastic keycard where he left it, not the little gold lettering on the bottom.”

“You’re right. Keep going.”

“I’ll head to the spa like I need to hit the head, and hand off the key to your partner. He lets you into our friend’s room, then heads back to the spa on some pretext, gives me back the key, and I swap it back. You take care of business in the room, perfect privacy, and we’re done.”

“The room’s too risky. Security detail might routinely check it just before our friend goes in.”

“Fuck, that’s true.”

“Plus these keys are smart cards. They can be programmed to log the times they’re used. No way to know whether the Wynn does that, but if they do, and someone were to check, it would look strange for the key to have been used to access his room while he was signed in at the gym.”

“Then why not take the key off him when the job’s done and disappear it? Keys get lost all the time, who knows where it’s gone. Anyway, no key, no evidence.”

Silence for a moment. Then Rain said, “That’s true. Still, if I let myself in and a bodyguard shows up for a sweep, the whole op is blown. But now that you’ve got me thinking, the key’s still useful. Do what you said. Call me if you can get the room number. If you can, I’ll call it from a hotel phone. If no one answers, I’ll take a chance on going in, plant one of the wireless cameras, and get out.”

“So we can know when he’s coming and going and then pick him up by the elevators.”

“Exactly. And maybe overhear something about his schedule, too. Better to anticipate him than follow him. I’ll let the others know what’s going on.”

“Understood. Okay, let me see what I can do here. I’ll call you back.”

He clicked off and put the phone back in his pocket. Shorrock had switched to sit-ups, twisting alternately left and right at the apex of each rep. Looked like a warm-up routine of bodyweight calisthenics. Treven took out his room card and undid the Traser watch he was wearing. He walked over to the dumbbell rack, squatted as though to select the one he wanted, and dropped the watch next to the base of the rack. As Shorrock came up, twisting to his left and away from Treven’s position, Treven hefted a dumbbell with his right hand and smoothly swapped the keycards with his left. He moved a few paces away, used the dumbbell to do a tricep stretch for a few moments, then set the weight back in its place and headed out.

The bodyguard was still pacing by the salon and paid Treven no particular notice. Why would he? Treven had come from the gym. The guard had already classified him as harmless. Mistake.

He stopped at the sign-in desk. There was another pretty woman stationed there, a new one whose nametag read Victoria, not the woman who’d signed him in two hours earlier. “Hi,” he said. “I’m going to use the spa now, but if I want to come back later, am I still covered?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Victoria said. “Spa privileges are always applicable for the whole day you’ve paid for them, or else they’re already included in your resort package. But you’re good either way.”

“Terrific,” Treven said. He glanced down at the sign-in sheet. The last entry read, Shorrock . And under room number, 5818 . “Do I have to sign in again?”

“No, sir, you’re fine. Enjoy the facilities. Joshua inside will give you a tour, if you like.”

Treven thanked her and went in. The place was huge and absurdly deluxe-half locker room, half gentleman’s club, all leather and granite and inlaid mosaic tile-and he couldn’t imagine what it must have cost. An attendant-Joshua, from the nametag-came over and asked him if he needed anything, a tour, instructions, recommendations. Treven told him he was fine and the man moved discreetly off.

Treven took out the phone, sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs, and called Rain. “Got the key,” he said quietly. “Room 5818. Repeat: 5818. I’m in the spa.”

“Good. My partner’s on the way.”

Treven clicked off and tried to look like he was relaxing. Three minutes later, Dox walked in. “Hot damn,” he exclaimed, the hick accent especially thick. “Have you ever seen anything like this? I swear, I love Las Vegas!”

Treven winced inside. There was something to be said for hiding in plain sight, but Dox was pushing it.

Joshua walked over. “Would you like a tour of the facilities, sir?”

“It’s good of you to offer, son,” Dox said, “but I’m already a believer. Wondered whether a glorified locker room would be worth forty dollars, but you’ve set my mind at ease. Just going to take a little look around so I can see what I’ll be coming back to.”

“Very good,” Joshua said. “If you need anything at all, please just ask.”

“Well,” Dox said, “now that you ask, you got anything to drink?”

“Cucumber infused water? Or citrus infused?”

“Oooh, a cucumber infusion. That sounds nice. I’d like to try one, if you don’t mind.”

Joshua walked over to a crystal cooler filled with water, ice, and cucumber slices, and began filling a glass. Treven got up and walked past Dox, palming him the keycard without looking at him as he went by. He went inside one of the toilet stalls, from which he heard Dox say with theatrical satisfaction, “I swear, that is refreshing and delicious. You’re a good man, Mister Joshua, and I’ll be back in a little while for sure. Going to be the best forty dollars I’ve ever spent.”

Treven used the toilet, then got himself a cucumber infusion and returned to the leather chair, where he leafed through a hotel magazine. A soft-looking guy in a plush hotel robe, his face red and dripping with sweat, presumably from the eucalyptus steam room, came from around the corner and sat nearby. Too bad. Well, they couldn’t expect to have the area to themselves. They’d been pretty lucky already.

Less than ten minutes later, Dox was back. He started to head toward Treven, then saw the guy in the robe. He stopped and called out, “Mister Joshua, I forgot to ask you. Will I need bathing attire to enjoy the hot tub? Or is a more natural state of affairs permissible at this facility?”

Joshua appeared from around the corner. “Uh, it’s, whatever you’re comfortable with, sir,” he stammered.

“Well, I’m comfortable with just about anything myself. It’s anyone else I don’t want to make uncomfortable. Some people, you know, they don’t like the sight of the naughty bits.” He smiled at the guy in the robe as though he might be a prime example.

In spite of the tension, or actually because of it, Treven had to suppress a laugh. Joshua said, “Really, sir, it’s entirely up to you.”

Dox beamed. “Thank you again, Mister Joshua. I’ll just help myself to another cucumber infusion and be on my way. Sorry for distracting you from your duties.”

“No distraction at all, sir,” Joshua said. “If you need anything else, please just let me know.”

Joshua disappeared around the corner again. Dox picked up one of the hotel magazines. “The Robb Report,” he said, flipping through it. “Lifestyles of the rich and famous. Look at this, a new Veyron Super Sport for two point four million dollars. Yeah, the old model just wasn’t doing it for me anymore. Maybe I’ll order one, if things go well at blackjack tonight.” He set the magazine down and walked off.

The guy in the robe started to get up. “There’s a new Veyron?” he said.

Treven was out of his seat so fast he might have been a Veyron himself. “Wow, I need to see that,” he said, snatching up the magazine. He held it in one palm and it opened naturally to the page where Dox had wedged Shorrock’s room key.