James Swain - Take Down

Every slot machine had a memory chip called an EPROM, which generated millions of numbers per second, making each play truly random. EPROM chips of inferior design could be scammed using a DEPROM software program, which added a lengthy code to the EPROM chip that tricked the machine into paying a jackpot. The additional code contained the usual rows of ones, zeros, and letters and appeared normal when inspected.

The hard part was adding the code to the machine. While hiding behind the bride’s gown, Papa had silenced the Money Vault machine’s internal antitheft alarm with the earth magnet, then opened the machine with a skeleton key. Using a handheld computer loaded with the DEPROM program, he’d added the code to the EPROM chip and rigged the machine.

The jackpot would be stolen later by a claimer. Claimers were female, often a schoolteacher or dental hygienist with a squeaky-clean background. The claimer would play the Money Vault machine using a specific sequence of coins. This sequence would trigger the additional code to assign a line of jackpot symbols to the game, and pay a jackpot.

The claimer’s cut was 5 percent. Not a bad payday for an hour’s work.

And I was there to see it, Billy thought.

The best man approached the nurse’s station and motioned with his hand. Billy followed him down the hall. The gathering at the door parted, all eyes on the stranger. The room was a single. Papa sat upright in bed with a pillow behind his head, surfing the hospital’s measly choice of cable channels. For an old codger he was plenty vain, his face freshly shaven and his hair neatly parted. Two of his daughters were also in the room. He spoke under his breath, and they departed.

“You, too,” Papa said.

“I need to stay with you, Pop,” his son said.

“This man is our friend. I’ll be fine.”

“How do you know he’s our friend?”

“Listen to what I say to you, and no back talk. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pop. I’ll be out in the hall if you need me.”

“I’m not going to need you. Scram.”

The best man reluctantly left the room. Papa pointed at the chairs. Billy sat, thrilled at the idea of spending time alone with him. The TV hanging over the bed went dark.

“You’re a cheater, aren’t you?” the older man said.

“Guilty as charged,” he said.

“When you made the crack about the earth magnet, I figured it was just a matter of time before the gaming board arrested me. When they didn’t come, I knew otherwise. What’s your name?”

“Billy Cunningham.”

“Mine’s Victor. Nice to meet you, Billy.”

“Same here. I’ve heard about your family for years. I didn’t think we’d meet while I was doing a job, but I guess that stuff happens sometimes.”

“You were ripping them off, too? That’s funny. So what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to warn you. The gaming board is after me, and they’re going to be scrutinizing the casino’s surveillance tapes for the next several weeks. They might get suspicious if you win that jackpot too soon, if you know what I mean.”

“You think I should wait awhile before I send in the claimer?”

“I would.”

“How long?”

“A couple of months, just to be on the safe side.”

“You’re a stand-up guy for coming here to tell me. Let’s have a drink.”

Victor produced a worn silver flask from beneath the sheets. Billy went to the bathroom and grabbed two paper cups into which Victor poured a liberal amount of whiskey. They saluted each other’s health and knocked back the drinks. Billy winced. It was like licking a nine-volt battery.

“So tell me, how’d you know we pulled a slot scam?” Victor asked. “Don’t tell me one of my kids screwed up. It’s always something with them.”

“I actually figured it out on my own,” he said.

“No kidding. You must be a smart son of a bitch.”

“Sometimes.” He paused. “Do your kids screw up a lot?”

“All the time. I train them the best I can, but they never get things right. On top of that, they’re always bickering with each other, causing me grief. Sometimes I think I’m running a babysitting service. It’s all I can do not to wring their necks.”

His problems sounded no different than those Billy had experienced with his crew, which he found surprising. Victor had been cheating casinos a lot longer than Billy had.

“Have you ever gotten rid of one of them?” he asked.

Victor blinked, not understanding.

“One of your kids.”

“Have I ever gotten rid of one of my kids?”

“For screwing up a job.”

“Of course not.”

“Why not? If they’re causing problems, isn’t that the smart thing to do?”

“Trust me, I’ve thought about replacing my kids with outsiders plenty of times. It would make dealing with day-to-day problems a hell of a lot easier. But at the end of the day, one thing always stopped me.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t buy loyalty.”

The words cut straight to the heart. Billy took the flask out of Victor’s hand and poured himself another drink. It didn’t burn nearly as badly the second time around.

“I know it’s none of my business, but what were you doing?” the head of the Gypsies asked. “Blackjack, craps? Or was it something else?”

“We made a run at the cage.”

“Wow. That hasn’t been done in a long time. Did you pull it off?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You must have some crew. You got a cell phone?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll give you my number. Next time you’re in Sacramento, give me a call. I’d like to get together with you, hash around some ideas. I’ve got some scams that require two crews working in tandem. I haven’t tried them because I don’t trust nobody. But you’re different. I could work with you. And from the sounds of it, your crew isn’t bad, either.”

He would have crawled on his belly through cracked glass to spend an hour with Victor Boswell, just to hear the stories. Taking out his Droid, he hit the icon where his contact information was stored. His hand was shaking, and he hoped Victor didn’t notice.

“Ready when you are,” he said.

The sun was doing a slow Hollywood fade when Billy and Mags arrived at Hotel Erwin. It was a funky spot, with wall-sized graffiti in the valet area and colorful surfboards in the lobby. They went to the rooftop lounge, where they enjoyed a glass of champagne while listening to a DJ.

“You sure know how to treat a girl right,” Mags said.

“I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? Want more champagne?”

“Actually, I had something else in mind.”

Their suite had a spectacular ocean view and a firm king bed. When they were done, he called room service and ordered one of everything off the limited menu. She dug that and rested her head against his chest. It felt perfect, and he wondered if he was dreaming.

“So when do I start?” she asked.

The question knocked him sideways.

“With my crew?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Yeah. That was our deal, and I’m holding you to it.”

“You’d go back into the casinos, after what happened?”

“You think I’m scared of the gaming board? Screw ’em.”

It was crazy talk, and he wondered if it was the booze. The gaming board was going to make sure Mags never cheated another casino. Her face and characteristics would be sent to every gambling establishment from here to Atlantic City, and they’d spot her before she placed her first bet. Her grifting days were finished.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked.

“Damn straight.” She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “So what’s my role?”