James Swain - Take Down

“I don’t know,” Billy said.

He edged closer for a better look. The dance now over, the wedding party formed a new line, and the best man took several shots. Billy had no idea what they were doing.

“Hey, buddy, would you mind taking our picture?”

The best man motioned to him. Billy hesitated. This was cutting it too close.

“Go take their picture,” Rock said into his earpiece.

Billy relieved the best man of his cell phone. The best man slipped into the line and slung his arm around the groom’s waist. Everyone in the party broke into a smile.

Billy took his time. By staring at the cell phone’s screen, he counted heads without being obvious about it. Fourteen members of the wedding party had entered the casino; now there were only thirteen. One of them had disappeared right in front of his nose.

He scanned the faces. Dear old Papa was gone.

“Let me get a few more of the beautiful bride. What’s your name?” Billy asked.

“Candace,” the bride replied.

“Say cheese, Candace.”

The bride said cheese, and Billy took several shots of her. She was standing in front of a Money Vault progressive slot machine with her gown spread wide. Progressive slot machines let players from around the state compete for a gigantic jackpot. Not long ago, a nurse from Reno had won five million bucks playing a Money Vault machine, and it had made all the papers.

There was a paddle for everybody’s ass, and his ass had just been spanked. The Gypsies weren’t here to pull a blackjack scam. They were rigging the jackpot on a slot machine, and they were doing it right in front of his nose.

He didn’t need X-ray vision to know where dear old Papa had gone. Hiding behind the bride’s gown, Papa had opened the Money Vault machine with a skeleton key, the machine’s internal security alarm put on standby mode by a powerful earth magnet the bride had been carrying beneath her gown. Using a small handheld computer loaded with a DEPROM software program, Papa was now overwriting the machine’s jackpot code that resided on its random-number-generator chip and replacing it with a code of his own. It was so damn beautiful that Billy nearly cried.

Instead, he handed the best man back his cell phone.

“Thanks a lot,” the best man said.

“My pleasure,” he said.

“Hey, cutie, want to make some money?”

He spun around. A small army of gaming agents dressed in NV Energy uniforms had appeared behind Chase and the security goons. At the front of the pack was his old nemesis Frank Grimes; beside him, Mags. She flashed a sad smile and held up her shackled wrists as if to say, Look at me! He thought back to the page and realized it was Mags who’d tried to warn him. And for that little indiscretion Grimes had slapped the cuffs on her.

He glanced over his shoulder at the Gypsies.

“Last one out’s a rotten egg,” he said.

The Gypsies broke ranks and bolted into the casino. The bride was moving awkwardly, the earth magnet back beneath her gown. The door on the Money Vault machine was closed, and the machine looked no different than before. They were going to get out of this with their skins.

He shifted his attention back to the casino entrance. The gaming agents were bumping into the security goons, telling them to get out of the way. Not liking the treatment, the security goons were mouthing off to them. Testosterone was flying high and tempers were flaring. There was a real opportunity here, only he couldn’t see himself starting a ruckus. He was too damn small and would end up getting crushed.

But Mags was not so shy. She didn’t give a flying fuck on a rolling doughnut about her own situation, and she threw herself into Grimes while sticking her leg out. The gaming agent toppled to the floor along with several security goons in a massive scrum.

Fists started to fly. Within moments, bedlam broke out, and the goons and gaming agents began mixing it up in a good old-fashioned brawl. Seeing his chance, Billy ran forward, prepared to grab Mags and make a run for it. The girl of his dreams pulled back.

“No,” she said.

“No?” he said.

“I can’t run away anymore.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. You go.”

All the bad feelings he’d had toward her vanished, and it tore him apart leaving her behind. Grimes was pulling himself off the floor, and she sent a knee into his face.

Billy started walking backward into the casino. Not too fast, not too slow, his steps measured-don’t run if you’re not being chased. Rock shouted in his ear.

“Who are those fucking guys beating up my men?”

Someone was going to pay for this, and Billy wished he could be there to see it happen. He ripped the receiver off his belt and threw it onto the floor along with the earpiece.

The brawl could be heard on the other side of the casino. Ike, T-Bird, and the pretty girls from Billy’s crew exchanged nervous glances, knowing something was not right.

“What the hell’s that noise?” T-Bird asked.

“Ignore it,” Ike said.

Ike heard his name being called. Don the cage manager had opened up a new window, and motioned for Ike to step forward. Ike hurried over with the gym bag and began passing the gold beauties through the cage into Don’s waiting hands. Don removed a stack of real gold chips from the cashier’s drawer and compared them to the fakes, checking for both color and height. Satisfied, he held the fakes in his hand and let them cascade to the marble countertop to see if they had the same consistency as the chips he handled every day. Convinced that everything was on the square, he counted the fakes, then looked at Ike through the bars.

“We’re good. I’ll be right out,” Don said.

Ike tried not to grin. It was going just as Billy had said it would. A door beside the cage swung open, and the cage manager emerged carrying a leather briefcase with the money orders. Ike stuck his hand out for the briefcase, and Don scowled at him.

“This isn’t yours,” Don scolded.

Ike grinned foolishly and lowered his arm. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Why are you sweating so much?”

“I’m not feeling so hot.”

“If you’re sick, you should stay home. Everyone knows that.”

“You’re right, I should have stayed home.”

Don gave him a look that said he didn’t like Ike’s behavior. The cage manager shifted his attention to T-Bird. The disguise put Don at ease, and he handed T-Bird the briefcase.

“I hope you had an enjoyable stay,” Don said.

“We had a great time. Didn’t we, girls?” T-Bird said.

The girls knew better than to say anything. It was starting to get awkward, and Ike said, “We need to beat it. Rock’s got a plane to catch back to LA.”

“I need his signature for our records.” Don reached into his suit jacket and produced a pen and a chit for T-Bird to sign for the money orders. “Just sign on the bottom and we’re done.”

T-Bird passed the briefcase to Misty and took the pen and chit out of Don’s hands. He made a flourish out of signing his name before handing Don the pen and the chit.

“Thanks for the good time,” T-Bird said.

Don stared at the signature on the chit. “Who’s Terrell Bird?”

“Me,” T-Bird said without thinking.

“I thought your name was Rock.”

“Well, yeah. It’s actually my nickname. You see…”

Don whipped out his cell phone. “Stay where you are. I’m calling security.”

This was bad. Real bad. Ike couldn’t see them talking their way out of it, so he sucker punched Don in the side of the face. Don’s eyes rolled up and he sank to the floor.

“I’ve got a sick man here. Somebody call a doctor,” Ike called out.