James Swain - Take Down

“I’ve got Cunningham with me-where are you?” she said into her phone. “You’re having lunch? We’ll be right in.” She turned to him. “Rock has some business to discuss with you.”

“What kind of business?” he asked.

“Our business.”

The café had a checkerboard tile floor and metal tables and catered to the pool crowd. A hostess escorted them to a doorway with a velvet rope stretched across it. The rope came down, and the hostess led them into a second dining room, where Rock sat at a corner table, eating lunch. The drug kingpin wore ridiculously small bathing trunks and could have passed as a chocolate Buddha. His bodyguards wore bikini bottoms and T-shirts with long sleeves to hide the knives they kept strapped to their forearms.

“Leave,” Rock said to the hostess. To Ike and T-Bird he said, “Stand in the corner.”

The punishers moved away from the table, and the hostess disappeared.

“You two pull up a chair,” Rock said.

Billy and Shaz made themselves comfortable. Rock resumed eating an artery-clogging double-bacon cheeseburger. When it was gone, he picked at a mountain of french fries covered in ketchup. The conversation would not begin until he was ready for it to begin. Back home, Billy had known drug dealers who’d drag a subject into a bathroom stall and make him watch while they crapped. It was a form of intimidation, designed to remind you who was boss.

“I hear you killed a woman last night,” the drug kingpin said. “That your first time?”

Billy realized he was being tested and grew rigid in his chair.

“Yeah,” he said.

“How did it make you feel?”

He shrugged, not sure what to say.

“Answer me.”

“I was numb, but then it wore off,” he said.

“What did you do after you buried her?”

“Had dinner.”

“You were hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not bullshitting me, are you?”

“No. We were hungry, so we went out for a late dinner.”

Rock gave him a cold stare. “Which restaurant?”

“We went to a Brazilian steakhouse called Fogo de Chão on East Flamingo. You should try it sometime. The steaks are great.”

“You don’t say.” Rock addressed the punishers. “Is pretty boy telling the truth?”

“Uh-huh. Best steaks in town,” Ike said.

“Don’t fuck with me, asshole. Did you eat there last night?”

“Yes, suh,” Ike said.

Rock crossed his hands over his enormous belly and belched. “I once had a guy working for me went by the name Freeway. Freeway’s deal was that he sold bags of coke at exits off the freeway. Freeway wanted to move up and become a lieutenant in my organization, so I decided to test him. I needed a rival killed, so I ordered Freeway to take the guy out. I drove Freeway there so I could watch. He walks up to the guy on the corner, caps him, and jumps into my car. As we’re leaving, he pukes on the upholstery. The blood upset him.”

Rock shook his head at the memory. His Mexican bodyguards laughed to themselves.

“Freeway was a weakling, so I got rid of him,” the drug kingpin said. “You, on the other hand, have the right stuff to join my organization. You interested?”

It was a job interview. Billy tried to keep a straight face.

“You want me to push drugs for you?” he asked.

“I got a hundred guys selling drugs for me,” Rock said. “I want you to police my casino, keep hustlers from stealing my money. I’ll pay you real good, give you a car, penthouse, all the blow you want, pussy, too. You won’t regret coming to work for me. Will he?”

“Rock’s the best,” Shaz said.

“What do you say?” Rock asked. “You in?”

Billy believed in seizing opportunities whenever they presented themselves to him. Only one person stood in the way of him ripping off Galaxy’s casino this afternoon, and that was his old pal Crunchie. If Crunchie’s grift sense kicked in, he’d blow the whistle on Billy and his crew and bring everything crashing down on Billy’s head.

“The last time I checked, Crunchie was policing your casino,” Billy said. “Is he staying? If he is, then my answer is no. I won’t work alongside that prick.”

Rock was not a man to be challenged. He picked up his walking stick from the floor and dropped the handle on Billy’s shoulder, causing the young hustler to wince in pain.

“You got a lot of balls, little fellow. I’ll answer your question, but only this one time. Crunchie’s history.”

“Then I’m in,” he said.

“Good. We’re meeting in Doucette’s office at two to discuss how we plan to deal with these Gypsies trying to rip me off. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“Don’t make me regret this decision.”

“You won’t.”

“Get out of here, and let me finish my lunch.” To Shaz he said, “Hang around for a few minutes. We have some things to discuss.”

“Sure, Rock,” she said.

Billy tried not to laugh as he walked out of the café with the punishers. He’d pulled some major snow jobs in his time, but this one ranked at the very top.

His Droid was talking to him. Another text from Travis. His crew was camped out in the employee parking lot, waiting for Billy to show his face.

“It’s time for you to meet my crew,” he said to the punishers.

Billy had used casino employee parking garages to stage meetings in the past. The casinos were too cheap to install surveillance cameras or pay guards to police them, making the garages safe havens for thieves and scammers plotting their next big score.

The elevator was still out, and he trotted up the stairs to the garage’s fourth floor. The stairwell was as hot as a furnace, and Ike and T-Bird were gasping when they reached the top landing. He’d assumed that they were in good physical shape but was having second thoughts. Cheaters had to be fast on their feet for all the obvious reasons.

“You sure this is a safe place to meet?” Ike asked.

“You didn’t see any cameras in the ceiling, did you?” he pointed out.

“What if we run across some security or surveillance people? Those guys are suspicious of everybody. They see you having a meeting, they’ll know something is going on.”

“Security and surveillance people are required to park in a different garage and use a different entrance to the casino. The casinos don’t want them fraternizing with other employees, for fear if they catch them stealing, they won’t report it. So they separate them.”

“Man knows all the angles,” T-Bird said.

They exited the stairwell. Every parking space was filled except for two handicap spaces by the door. Cory and Morris’s Infiniti SUV was squeezed into the narrowest of spaces. Billy’s crew stood outside the vehicle engaged in small talk. To a casual observer, they appeared to be a group of friends out for the day. Nothing about their appearance said crook.

“Good afternoon. How’s everyone doing?” Billy said.

“We’re the only ones up here. I checked,” Travis said.

“Good. I want to introduce my friends, Ike and T-Bird. They’re going to be a part of our operation this afternoon. If you’re nice, they’ll show you their Super Bowl rings.”

The punishers mumbled hello. His crew responded in kind. Each side spent a few moments sizing the other up.

“Let’s see the goods,” Billy said.

Gabe removed the Nike gym bag from the SUV and passed it to Billy, who took a look inside. Eight million in glittering gold casino chips stared back at him.

“You tested them?” he asked.

“Every which way but Sunday. They’re perfect,” Gabe said.

“Good job.”

He stopped talking. A blinking light had caught his eye. It didn’t look natural, and he walked between two cars until he was standing at the wall that faced the rear of the casino, where there was a pool area and a pair of bright blue tennis courts. He tried to pinpoint the light’s origin but could not. Travis edged up behind him.