Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

“Get your ass out of bed,” Pitt said.

“What is it?”

“The Grant job. Come to the office for the info.”

Calvin glanced at the bedroom clock. Seven o’clock was way too early for Pitt and he had not gotten over his improbable story about the loan, or his worry about collecting from someone so prominent in Las Vegas. The closest Pitt had come to a big shot was Sanders, who Calvin thought didn’t count.

What was so important that it couldn’t wait until the afternoon?

Calvin hung up without saying goodbye. He’d been through the drill enough times that he knew what to expect. There was no need to panic or rush.

This is it!

He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, testing his knee. He looked around the rundown apartment and shook his head. Soon he’d be gone, so the state of the apartment mattered less than ever.

He climbed out of bed, noticing that Rachel was gone already, as usual. Most of the time he kept her away from his apartment because it wasn’t a pleasant place and it put Rachel at risk if someone tried to collect from the collector. But last night, knowing that this would be his last job, he was floating on air. He had been careless.

Still groggy from the painkillers, he walked to the bathroom and stubbed his toe on a fifty-pound dumbbell. “Shit.”

He rolled the dumbbell under the bed and proceeded to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He took a quick shower, then dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt that exposed the intimidating size of his chest and well-defined biceps.

He smiled at his reflection. Before the morning was over, Calvin would be starting his new life.

He reached the office before eight. It was rare that Calvin got there before the secretary, but the room was quiet and empty, except for Pitt, who was sitting at his desk. In front of him sat a half-empty bottle of cognac beside Pitt’s coffee mug.

Pitt gave a wide grin and shook Calvin’s hand.

Very un-Pitt-like. Unshaven and smelling bad, the man had bloodshot eyes.

“This is it, Calvin, your last one. We sure are gonna miss you around here.”

Pitt seemed unusually chipper. Where did the belligerent man go, the one who lectured him yesterday?

“Well, I ain’t gonna miss you.” Unsmiling, Calvin stuck his hand out. “The info?”

“Don’t be in such a rush. There are some things I have to explain to you first.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t have to tell you that everything I say is confidential, as always.”

“How many times have I done this? You’re treating me like a rookie.”

Pitt held his arms up in surrender. “Fine. No more chitchat.” He grabbed a file on his desk. “I didn’t tell you yesterday because you didn’t need to know. Now you do. The $200,000 you’re collecting from Grant isn’t a gambling debt. It’s payment for some jobs I did for him over the last couple of months. He had some work he didn’t want anyone to know about.”

“Like what?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Why would he come to a scumbag like you when he can afford the best and trust them?”

“That’s the point. He researched me, found out I wasn’t only a bookie but could do other things too, or arrange for them to happen. And he knew that no one would ever think that we’d do business together. Opposite ends of the social scale. Even I have to admit that.”

“What does all that have to do with my collecting this morning? Get to the real point.”

Pitt sighed. “Maybe I won’t miss you so much after all, Calvin. The point is that this whole situation is already very embarrassing for Grant, even though no one knows about it.”

“Sounds like he has to keep the whole thing secret.”

“He doesn’t want to drive to a meeting with two hundred grand in cash. That’s why the meeting is at his private office. He doesn’t have a secretary, so it’ll just be the two of you.”

Calvin said nothing.

“He needs you to be discreet in that building and seem more like a rich associate than the collector you are.” Pitt strode to the closet, opened the door and stepped inside. “Here’s his plan. You’re going to be disguised. He’s added you at the front desk to his appointment list, but not as Calvin Watters.”

Great. This was getting weirder by the minute.

“The cover story is that you’re Winston Coburn III, an heir who owns three casinos in Atlantic City and is thinking of expanding his operations to Vegas.” Pitt came back out of the closet holding two shopping bags. “Coburn is only in town for two days to check out available properties—small casinos. Start small and build. He’s meeting with Grant to get his advice about which casinos he should take an interest in and discuss the possibility of a joint venture, if not with Grant himself, then with his son, Shawn.”

“So I just walk in?”

“Yes. You’ll go in, flash a business card that states you’re the CEO of three casinos in Jersey and the security guards will confirm that you’re on the appointment list. Then you go up to Grant’s penthouse office on the twenty-fifth floor.”

Calvin scowled. “Do I look like I own three casinos?”

“You’ll have everything you need to complete the image. Besides, it doesn’t matter what the guards think about your appearance. They’ll assume you’re eccentric. You wouldn’t be the only one from New Jersey like that.”

He still didn’t like it. “Why the disguise exactly?”

“People know you, know what you do. You’d stand out anywhere unless we disguise you. And Grant doesn’t want you identified.” From one of the bags, he pulled a Panama hat with an encircling wide brim. “Here. Put this on. It should fit.”

Calvin donned the hat and tugged the brim down over his brow. He glanced over one shoulder and caught his reflection in the mirror by the bar. Shit…I look like a fool. Pitt was right, though. The hat distracted attention from his face and hair.

“Good,” Pitt said. “Now put on these glasses.” He handed Calvin a pair of large-framed sunglasses, which hid a good deal of his face.

“Last but not least…” Pitt reached into the second bag and pulled out a long, tan overcoat.

Without a word, Calvin put on the coat. It was roomy, even on him, with a loose neckline that he could tuck his woven dreadlocks into. The cuffs reached past his wrists and covered his body tattoos. The coat, which extended past his knees, was long and baggy enough to conceal his physique. “I look ridiculous. Is all of this really necessary?”

A black man with no distinguishing features.

Pitt shrugged. “I’ve seen worse…maybe. It’s an odd combination, but as a partial disguise, it’s great.”

“Well, I’m taking this off now.” Calvin removed the hat, glasses and coat. “I’ll put them back on when I get to the parking lot of Grant’s building.”

“Fine. Here’s your Winston Coburn III business card, engraved, embossed and on special paper.”

He studied the card. It was impressive and not something Pitt would have thought of or paid for. What the hell am I walking into? And who else is in on it? Grant? “Anything else?”

“In case there’s a problem with your listed appointment, you should know that Dixie called the front desk yesterday afternoon as your secretary. She said Grant was very interested in meeting you on your brief trip here and he’s agreed to your request for an early-morning appointment.”

“How early?”

“Nine thirty. The front desk isn’t going to disturb a man like Grant to confirm an appointment until you show up. Then they’ll call him to confirm. If he doesn’t answer, they’ll assume he stepped out for a minute because he’s intrigued by this unexpected opportunity to talk business with Mr. Coburn.”