Michael Connelly - Void Moon

"Son of a bitch. He used Hidalgo's card when he could've used his own."

"Because maybe he didn't have his on him."

"Because maybe he gave it – where's this woman you're talking about?"

The tech hit some memory codes and the tape on one of the screens reversed to a preset point. On the screen was a wide view of the baccarat salon. One table was in use and Hidalgo was the only player. Using a roller ball built into the console the tech moved the image forward a few frames at a time. He pointed to the bottom of the screen, his finger tapping it just below the image of a woman leaning on the railing that separated the salon from the rest of the casino.

"Her," he said.

"What about her?" Grimaldi asked.

"She's trying not to show it but she's watching him."

He continued to move the roller and the image moved forward. The three men watched the screen in silence. The woman on the screen appeared to be resting or maybe waiting for someone. She had a small backpack over one shoulder and a black gym bag gripped in one hand. She looked as though perhaps she had just checked in and was waiting for someone, perhaps a husband who had stopped to play a few hands of blackjack before they went up to their room. But twice she glanced into the salon and her eyes seemed to fall directly on Hidalgo. Each time her eyes held for what seemed to be more than a passing glance would call for. It was curious to Karch, but not enough.

"He's the only guy playing," he said. "Who else is she going to look at?"

"That's true. But I put her trail together, too."

He ejected a tape from the console and put another one in. Grimaldi came up closer behind him to look at the screen. Karch put his hands flat on Grimaldi's desk and leaned over for a better view. The tape showed the woman with the two bags entering the casino at 8 P.M. and proceeding to the VIP desk, where she was given an envelope.

"That's got to be the key," Grimaldi said. "Martin's fucking key!"

Karch was thinking the same thing but did not say as much. He was also thinking the dark flowing curls that framed – and concealed – the woman's face had to be a wig. He watched as she huddled against a phone in the lobby and probably opened the envelope away from any camera's view. She then turned and started moving toward the casino floor. She moved without hesitation, with a strong purpose. The bags she carried appeared heavy but she held them steady.

After her stop at the baccarat salon, the video trail followed her through the casino and onto an elevator in the Euphrates Tower.

"She was damn good," the tech said. "Never looked up once. We've got nothing. That hat and that hair, she might as well been walkin' under an umbrella."

Karch smiled as he watched. The tech was right. She was good, and already knowing what she had done upstairs, Karch found himself enthralled by the woman on the video screen. She was disguised but he was able to draw a sense of her from the videotape. Young, maybe early thirties, the skin beneath her chin taut, the jawline beneath the brim of the hat set with determination. No earrings, no rings or other jewelry that he could see. No distractions. Nothing but drive toward her goal. Karch wished he could see her eyes because he knew they'd be something to see.

On the screen the woman in the elevator used a card key from her back pocket to engage the penthouse button.

"There's the key all right," Grimaldi said.

Karch wished he would shut up and just observe but didn't say anything.

"Okay," the tech said while typing in a new command on the keyboard. "So she gets off the elevator on twenty. But then we see her two more times."

"Twice?" Grimaldi said.

"Yes, sir. First time she came back down to meet somebody but they never showed up."

He pointed at the screen and the video trail continued. The three men watched silently as video snippets showed her moving through the casino to the lounge, picking an empty table and ordering from a waitress. The trail jumped in time twelve minutes and showed the woman sitting alone but with two drinks on the table.

"What the fuck?" Grimaldi said. "I thought you said nobody showed."

"Nobody did," the tech said. "She ordered the drinks but nobody ever came."

"Let's just watch, okay?" Karch said, annoyed by their banter.

On the screen the woman casually glanced around herself as if to make sure no one was watching and then picked up the glass in front of her. It looked like a Coke to Karch. The woman reached across the small round table and tapped it on the glass of beer. Karch leaned in closer to the screen and watched her lips as she obviously spoke out loud.

"I think you've tailed the wrong person," Grimaldi said, his voice rising in frustration. "This broad's sitting there talking to herself. We don't have the time to be – "

"Wait, sir, check this out. She goes back to the elevators now and goes back up to twenty."

He fast-forwarded the tape.

"And then we don't see her again until four. She comes back down, and take a look at what she's carrying. She went up originally with two bags and she comes back down with two. But something's different."

The woman appeared again on the casino floor, moving quickly through the thin crowd of die-hard gamblers. Right away Karch saw that the tech was right. Things were different. She had the backpack strap over one shoulder but the gym bag was gone. Instead she carried a large black canvas bag with two hand straps. The tech hit a key and froze the image. The second bag contained an object that was rectangular, its dimensions clearly showing through the canvas. It was the mark's briefcase.

"That little bitch," Grimaldi said calmly. "She's got my money."

"You follow her out?" Karch asked.

The tech hit a key starting the video again and simply pointed at the screen. The cameras tracked the woman as she made her way completely across the huge casino floor to the VIP desk. From the canvas bag she removed an envelope and left it on the counter without speaking to anyone. She then proceeded to the south exit. It was not the main casino entry and exit point. Karch also knew that it did not lead to a parking lot or drive-up circle. Rather, it led to the sidewalk which took pedestrians to Las Vegas Boulevard.

"She didn't go out the front door, Vincent," he said.

There was enough urgency in his tone to draw Grimaldi's eyes away from the video console. The older man raised his eyebrows, picking up on the tone but not knowing the significance of it.

"She didn't park here because she didn't want the cameras to see her vehicle," Karch said. "So she parked somewhere else and walked in."

Karch pointed at the screen even though it was now blank.

"The south exit," he said. "She was heading to the Flamingo."

Impressed, Grimaldi nodded.

"Ace of hearts. You have someone there?"

Karch nodded.

"No problem."

"Then go."

"Wait a minute, Vincent. What about Martin? We should start with him."

"I'll take him. You follow the money, Jack. The money's the priority and we're on a fucking clock."

Karch nodded. He guessed Grimaldi was probably correct in his thinking. He thought about the ace of hearts he'd found upstairs. Follow the money. Follow the money card.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Karch broke away from his thoughts and looked at Grimaldi.

"I'm on it."

He glanced once out the door to the crow's nest and then headed toward the office exit. He stopped at the door.

"Vincent, you might want to send somebody back up to the second room up there to check the AC vents."

"What for?"

"She went up with two bags, a backpack and a gym bag. She came back down with the backpack and the briefcase inside a black canvas bag. Where's the gym bag?"

Grimaldi paused for a moment while he thought about this. He smiled, impressed that Karch had picked up on the missing bag.