Jingle of Coins (32 page)

“I’m looking for a job,” Emily replied. “After what happened to Kate, I decided that I didn’t want to live in Vegas anymore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Stu warned as they turned into the construction entrance for the Silver Spires. “One more word and you and your friend won’t live another minute.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

The unmarked white helicopter circled the hotel twice before landing. “Make sure we’re not being set up,” Peruvador said to the two bodyguards as they stepped onto the rooftop of the Silver Spires Hotel. As the doors shut, he leaned forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Don’t cut the engine until I give you the order.”

The pilot nodded. “No problem.”

The two guards circled the small rooftop and then used binoculars to scan the surrounding area. They pivoted in a circle, checked the glass enclosure that led to the elevator bay, then one of them returned to the helicopter and thumped the door.

Peruvador slipped his Beretta 92G Centurion out of his shoulder holster, chambered a round, then tapped the pilot on the cheek with the barrel. “I won’t be long. Don’t leave the helo. Be ready to take off at a moment’s notice.”

The pilot stared at him for a long moment, then swallowed nervously. “You expecting trouble?”

“No, but in my business it pays to be careful.” Peruvador shoved his pistol back into its holster, then opened the door. “If you leave this helicopter, even for a minute, you won’t live long enough to pilot another one,” he warned. Grabbing a briefcase, he stepped onto the cement rooftop.

Hidden by the glass enclosure at the top of an adjoining hotel, Beaumont tightened his grip on his communication device. “Everybody, stay in position,” he ordered. “I don’t want them to even suspect that we’re here. If anybody gives away our positions, I’ll shoot them myself.” He raised his binoculars and watched as Dragonisi joined Peruvador near the glass enclosure, then led him into the building.

“Inside. He’s already isolated the master circuit to the security office. I’ve told him to make sure the parallel power generators don’t kick in once the circuit’s blown. We’re ready to trip the line.”

“Wait until I give the go-ahead. As soon as Peruvador and Dragonisi re-enter the rooftop, my sharpshooters have orders to disable the helo and pin the guards down until reinforcements come up the stairwell. Have your man ready to disable the elevators on my word.”

Stu parked his car at the rear of the hotel. “Move,” he ordered as he jerked Emily out. His revolver dug into her ribcage. “Don’t even think about opening your mouth. One squeak out of you and you’re dead. Same goes for your boyfriend.” He shoved her toward the service entrance. Glen followed, accompanied by Stu's men.

Conscious of the gun digging into her side, Emily moved forward. The bright sunlight hurt her eyes, and she could feel a light throbbing in her temples. “Where are we going?” she asked, scanning the immediate area for someone who could help.

“Shut up and keep moving,” Stu replied, pushing his gun further into her side. “This is a one-way trip. You should’ve stayed in Vegas,” he said with a sneer. “But no, you had to stick your nose in where it don’t belong.”

The cold, hard nose of his weapon was a painful reminder of the gravity of their situation. Ignoring the pain in her side, Emily twisted around to face Stu. “Look, I’ve told you everything I know. Let us go. We won’t say anything to the cops.”

“Too late,” he replied as he shoved her into an elevator. A few moments later, they lurched to a stop. He kept his gun in the small of her back as they walked down a narrow hallway and halted in front of a large wooden door guarded by two men with weapons.

“Open the door,” Stu ordered the guard closest to them. A cell phone in his jacket buzzed, and he flipped it open. “Right. I got it.” Moments later, he snapped the phone shut and motioned to his men. “Peruvador’s here. Get everything ready.”

The pressure of his gun disappeared, and a hand shoved Emily forward into a darkened room. “Can’t we discuss this?” she pleaded. “I can give you money, lots of money. Just let us go.”

The pressure of his gun disappeared, and Stu's men shoved Emily and Glen forward, into a darkened room.The sound of sardonic laughter filled the room as the door slammed shut.

“Glen, where are you?” she whispered as the lock clicked into place.

“Over here. On the floor.”

“Keep talking.” She crouched down and struck out on her hands and knees. “I’ll follow the sound of your voice.” The floor felt cool and dusty as she inched forward, and her shirt clung to her skin in damp patches.

Startled, she paused mid-crawl. “For God’s sakes, Glen. Can’t you think about anything but the fucking money?” she asked. “Stu’s planning to kill us.”

“I know. I just wanted to know if you won.”

“If you must know, yes. I won. Unfortunately that money’s not going to do us any if we can’t get out of here.” She rubbed her hands across her face. “Look, we have to figure a way out of this mess. Quickly.”

“I know. I’m sorry I got you into this. I should have listened to you earlier.”

“Forget it. Right now we need to concentrate on figuring out an escape plan.” She moved forward through the dirt, dust, and grime, and her flagging spirits rose when she made contact with a boot. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank God.” She inched her fingers up his torso until she reached his chin. Wiping her hands on the side of her pants, she gently caressed his face.

“I know,” she consoled him. She crept back to the doorway and eased her hands across the edge of the door, trying to figure out what kind of hinges it had. “The hinges must be on the other side,” she announced a few minutes later.

“I figured as much,” Glen replied. “Looks like we’re stuck for the moment.”

Returning to Glen’s side, she reached out to caress his forehead. “Things might not be as bad as they seem,” she began. “Help’s on the way. Dozer’s coming. I called him from the Blue Lion after I hit the jackpot.”

“How can he help? He’s in Vegas.”

“No he’s not. He’s here. Oh my God, I almost forgot. The phone’s still on.” She eased her hand along her pants leg. A pale greenish light illuminated the inky darkness as she withdrew the phone. “Thank God it’s still working. Dozer, are you there?”

“The battery’s going dead. Crap. I only have a minute or two left. Listen, Dozer. Stu took us in the back entrance, through some kind of service tunnel, until we came to a bank of elevators. We got off in the basement. There’s a fire hose at the front of the hallway we took. We kept moving down a hallway until Stu got a phone call. Something important must have happened, because once he hung up, he locked us in a storage room.” She paused for a moment. “Did you get all that? Are you coming to rescue us? He’ll be back any minute, and when he does, he’s going to kill us,” Her voice rose several octaves. “You’ve got to come get us. Now.”

“Emily, listen to me,” Dozer ordered. “This is really important. Is there anything in there that looks like a long, skinny oxygen tank?”

“What the hell does an oxygen tank have to do with us being here?” She held her cell phone at arm’s length and tried to peer into the darkness. “No. There’s—” The light suddenly blinked out and the call disconnected. Frustrated, she flung the useless phone into the darkness. “Damn, damn, damn...” Her voice trailed off.

Glen rustled in the darkness. “I’m thinking. We need to find something we can use as a weapon on whoever comes through that door.”

“Right.” She moved away, and set out on her hands and knees.

“Where you going?”

“To find something to use as a weapon. And once I find something, I’m gonna knock the crap out of whoever walks through that door,” she replied. “I’m not ready to die just yet, and I fully intend to spend every dime of that money the casino’s going to wire transfer into my bank account. There’s no way I’m going to give up without a fight. Not to Stu or anybody else.”

“Me, neither,” Glen replied. “There’s got to be something in here we can use. Keep looking.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Do you have the merchandise?” Peruvador asked as he stepped into the private elevator.

“Of course,” Mike replied. He punched the button for the basement.

The elevator slid to a stop, and the doors whooshed open. Peruvador remained silent as Mike led him down a winding hallway. “How much further is it?” he asked, after they’d rounded several corners.

“Just ahead,” Mike replied. He pointed to three guards standing in front of a padlocked door. “Open it,” he commanded. One guard set his Uzi against the wall, unlocked the door, and stepped aside.

Two long, green cylinders stood atop a grooved, cushioned platform. Mike walked over to one and ran his hand along the outside. “Here they are, just like I promised.”

“Open them up so I can check the contents,” Peruvador insisted.

Stu appeared in the doorway, and Mike motioned him in. “Remove the canisters,” he ordered.

He and Peruvador stepped back as Stu bent over the first unit. Stu loosened the fittings and, a few minutes later, separated the upper portion. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow and dribbled down his face as he reached inside and removed a white metal tube, which he gently lowered into a foam-padded box. He repeated his actions on the second cylinder, and within a few moments, both units of nerve gas were freed from confinement.

Peruvador traced the Russian markings on the outside of each container. “It would appear that these cylinders are genuine,” he observed. “At least on the outside. Are you ready to perform the demonstration?”

Stu sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be right back.” He returned a few moments later, followed by a second man dressed in coveralls.

The man’s glance flickered from Stu to Peruvador, then back again.

Stu reached inside the first cylinder and withdrew a sealed box. Mike called to him from the hallway, and he handed the box to the man. “Hold this while I go see what the fuck Mike wants.”

The workman eyed the box suspiciously. “What is this?”

“Cocaine,” Stu replied as he strode toward the door. He removed his revolver from its holster, turned, and fired.

The door swung shut as the box burst apart. Peruvador and Mike watched through a small window as the man inside screamed, then grabbed his throat. He stumbled, then fell to the ground, coughing and choking as the VX gas worked its deadly magic. Two minutes later, he lay motionless.

Unperturbed by the man’s violent death, Peruvador glanced at his watch. “How long before the next test?”

“Just a few minutes.”

They watched in silence as Stu donned protective gear, then grabbed a metal wheel positioned on the outside of the room. Stu spun the wheel three times, and water spewed from the overhead sprinklers. He allowed the water to run five full minutes, then turned the wheel in the opposite direction.

The steady stream slowed to droplets as Stu unlocked the door and picked up the man’s limp body. He dumped the remains into a nearby hamper, then peeled off his protective gear and piled it on top of the lifeless corpse.

“Get the other test subject,” Mike ordered.

The second performance went exactly like the first, and while they waited for Stu to remove the second body, Peruvador opened the attache case and passed it to Mike. "Here's your money," he said. "Three million dollars, in used bills.”

Once Stu loaded the canisters onto a specially cushioned cart, the group returned to the elevator. “Have your man bring the canisters up separately,” Peruvador requested as Stu rolled the cart into their elevator.

“Take the other elevator,” Mike ordered.

“No problem,” Stu replied. He rolled the units back into the hallway. A minute later the elevator bell chimed, and he pushed his deadly cargo inside.

“Let’s do it. Now!” Beaumont’s voice screamed out over Dozer’s earpiece.