James Swain - Take Down

“It’s Hinton, sir.”

The incoming caller ID on Hinton’s phone said that Billy was calling from a high-roller suite. “If you don’t get those meals up to my suite right now, I’ll check out of this crummy dump and tell the rodeo clown at the front desk you were rude to me. Got it?”

“Please don’t do that, sir,” Hinton said.

“I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“You’ll have your food in twenty minutes. I’ll deliver it myself.”

“I’m counting on you, Hinton.”

While waiting for the food to arrive, Billy went to work on the suite. He was about to sell a bill of goods to Ike and T-Bird, and to do that, he needed the suite to look just right. He started by positioning the chairs at the dining room table so that Ike and T-Bird sat together and would face him while they ate. He wanted to gauge their expressions while he made his pitch and know how each man was leaning. More importantly, he didn’t want them communicating with each other, even if it was with their eyeballs.

The suite’s bar was filled with top-shelf brands. He set a bottle of Hennessy XO on the marble bar top along with three snifters to toast their newfound partnership. By setting the bottle out ahead of time, he was signaling his desire to work with them.

Hinton arrived with a few minutes to spare and set the covered plates at the appropriate spots on the table under Billy’s instruction. When he was done, Billy shoved a hundred-dollar tip into Hinton’s breast pocket and made a new friend.

Ike and T-Bird arrived a short while later. T-Bird carried the money from the safe in a Nike duffel bag he’d taken from Billy’s closet.

The bag was popping at the seams, and Billy wondered how many other items they’d filched from his condo.

“What’s your fancy?” he asked from the bar.

“Whatever’s cold,” Ike said. “You having a party?”

He pulled three bottles of beer from the fridge, popped their tops, and brought them across the room. “Call it a celebration. Here’s to getting rich together.’

“Sounds good to me,” Ike said.

“Same here,” T-Bird said.

They took their spots at the table and started to eat. Ike and T-Bird were vacuum cleaners, weapons of mass consumption. Billy took his time and savored his shrimp cocktail. More shrimp got eaten in Las Vegas than anywhere on the planet, and the shrimp were always succulent and delicious. When he was done, he sprayed lemon on his fingers and washed away the remaining taste with beer. The punishers had already crossed the finish line and were watching him.

“Taste good?” he asked.

Ike grunted that his steak was decent, nothing great. T-Bird said the same. They did not act nearly as fierce with their bellies filled with red meat and potatoes.

“Want some dessert? The kitchen’s open all night,” he said.

“What we want is for you to talk to us about life-altering money,” Ike said.

“That’s right, tell us about the money,” T-Bird chimed in.

They wanted to hear about the payoff before they knew the risk. It was an amateur mistake, born out of desperation and greed. He took another swig of beer, just to make them wait. “Let me ask you a question. If I said there was a rich guy that could be ripped off, and that you’d walk away with enough money to retire on, would you do it?”

“Someone we know?” Ike asked.

“The right Reverend Rock.”

“What you smoking? It’s making you talk crazy.”

“Hear me out. Rock’s a drug dealer, and he’s using the casino to launder drug money. If Rock gets scammed while he’s here, he can’t call the police and file a report. Rock’s money is ours-he’s just holding it for us. It’s a perfect job.”

“Maybe for you it is,” Ike said. “If me and T get involved, we’d have to go into hiding, get new identities, the whole shebang. Rock has a long memory.”

“So what if you go into hiding? The way I see it, you guys have a problem. You’re too big to be thieves. Wherever you go, you stand out. That’s hard when you’re a thief. Look at me-I’m five eight and weigh a hundred sixty pounds. Stick a baseball cap on my head, and I look like your average schmuck.”

“You don’t look average,” Ike said.

T-Bird had pulled his chair closer to his partner. In the reflection in the mirror on the other side of the suite, Billy saw the bird man foot-tapping Ike on the leg the way cheating couples did at bridge, as if to say, Listen to the man.

“There’s another problem-you’re also famous,” he said. “You played football for the Steelers, won a Super Bowl, your faces televised to a billion people during the game. How many times do you get recognized? I bet it’s a lot.”

“Guy recognized us tonight,” T-Bird said.

“There you go. You’re not cut out to be thieves. You need to make one big score and vanish into the wind.” He paused to let the idea set in. “So what do you say? Do you want in?”

T-Bird gave his partner another foot-tap. Ike scratched his chin, thinking.

“All depends on what our take is,” Ike said.

“Twenty-five percent.”

“Twenty-five percent of what?”

“Twenty-five percent of whatever was in the bag Rock passed through the cage last night. It looked like six million. Twenty-five percent would be one point five million. That’s your take.”

“Try eight million,” Ike said. “That’s what gets laundered each week.”

“All right, then your take would be two million. That’s enough to spend the rest of your life eating cheeseburgers in paradise, don’t you think?”

“That’s a nice number,” Ike said. “We could live off that. Couldn’t we, T?”

“Fat and happy,” T-Bird said.

The vibes coming off the punishers were of the feel-good quality. Billy had planted the seed; now he needed to make it grow.

“On Saturday afternoon, the Gypsies are going to scam Galaxy’s casino, and Doucette is counting on me to stop them. If I tell Doucette that the scam’s going to happen in front of the craps pit, he’ll send every security guard to the craps pit. You couldn’t ask for better shade to make a run at the cage.”

“Shade?” Ike asked.

“Distraction. Every hustler uses it. By the time Doucette realizes Rock’s eight million is missing, you two gentlemen will be gone.”

“Are you talking about a heist with guns?”

“Hardly. I’m talking a scam. The cashier will hand T-Bird eight million in laundered money, and T-Bird will waltz out the front door. Does that sound like fun to you?”

“I dig the way you describe things,” Ike said. “But it won’t be cash. It will be eight million in money orders. Doucette uses a chain of check-cashing stores in town to launder the money.”

“Can the money orders be traced?” Billy asked.

“Nope. Each money order is for ten grand. Rock comes to the casino with two big leather briefcases, and he leaves with a small one.”

“That will make your job even easier. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

“Keep talking,” Ike said.

It was time for the reveal. From his pocket, Billy removed the souvenir key chain with the rubber casino chip he’d purchased at Galaxy’s gift shop, and let it dangle on his finger.

“See this hundred-thousand-dollar gold chip? I bought it in the hotel gift shop. It’s the key to the kingdom. We’re going to get rich off this.”

T-Bird jumped out of his chair. “Are you fucking kidding? That thing’s rubber. No one’s gonna be fooled by that.”

“Sit down, and let him talk,” Ike said, knowing there was more.

T-Bird dumped his body back in his chair and folded his massive arms.

“You’re right, it is made of rubber,” Billy said. “Now, look at the color. It’s the same color as the hundred-thousand-dollar gold chip in the casino. The exact same color.”