The Scam (18 page)

“Roger that.”

The doors closed and Kate slumped against the wall of the elevator.
Everything.
Holy cow. He liked her. Maybe he even loved her. She was pretty sure she'd never been
everything
to anybody before. Maybe her father. Everything was
big.
She wasn't sure if Nick was
everything
to her, but he was definitely
a lot.

Good thing she was such a badass, dedicated FBI agent or she might still be back there kissing Nick. Or worse, she might have dragged him into the elevator and pressed the hold button between floors. She looked around. Undoubtedly there were cameras, so good thing she didn't have her way with Nick between floors. They would have ended up on YouTube. She'd never hear the end of that from Megan.

She let herself into her suite and found that her bags had already been delivered. Nick had chosen blackjack as a way to unwind from a long flight. Kate opted for a run. She changed into a tank top, shorts, and running shoes and headed out.

Dumah was still on protection assignment and was caught unprepared for her jog. He was forced to keep up with her in his Dolce & Gabbana suit and dress shoes. Kate didn't make it any easier for him by running through the narrow, winding streets of the old town and up the grand staircase to the ruins of St. Paul's Cathedral. A three-story sculpted stone façade was all that remained of the ancient cathedral and was the required selfie backdrop for every Macau tourist.

She paused on the cobblestone plaza to look down at the tangled warren of European-style streets, the Forever 21 and Starbucks at the base of the grand staircase, and Dumah struggling up the steps. She smiled to herself as she jogged west across the plaza and up the much steeper steps to Mount Fortress.

Kate ran alongside the ramparts that bordered the park, all that remained of the fortress that had protected Macau for centuries from invaders. Now the dormant cannons that lined the battlements were aimed south at the Grand Lisboa and the invading forces of greed, democracy, and Forever 21. She noticed that there wasn't a single cannon pointed north anymore toward mainland China.

She headed back down the steps as Dumah was coming up. He was out of breath, his fitted dress shirt drenched with sweat, his wrinkled jacket clinging to his damp back.

He held up a hand to her. “Could we rest up for a minute?”

“Sure.” She stood in front of him, bouncing in place to keep her heart rate up.

“Thanks.” He leaned his back against one of the stone walls that were on either side of the steps.

“You're out of shape, Dumah.”

“I'm a security guard. All I need are muscles and attitude. My work doesn't usually involve chasing.”

“I wasn't running from you, I was jogging,” Kate said. “If I was running, I would have lost you long before we got to the grand staircase.”

“I wish you had,” he said. “That was a lot of stairs.”

“So what do you do when someone runs away from you?”

“They don't. I hit them or shoot them before they get the chance. Mostly I just need to look menacing.”

“I suppose that's enough to handle most people.”

“But you're not most people,” he said. “I'm still trying to figure out what you are.”

“Catch up with me and maybe you'll find out.” She started jogging down the stairs.

He took a deep breath.

“At least it's downhill from here,” he said to himself and jogged after her.

T
here was a fruit basket and fresh flowers on the coffee table when Kate returned from her run. The handwritten note stuck into the flower arrangement was from Evan Trace, inviting her to his penthouse for dinner in an hour. No mention of an invitation for Nick.

Great. Just fanfreakingtastic. Dinner with the megalomaniacal pervert. She shoved her earbud transmitter into her ear and she could hear the din of the casino floor and people shouting in Chinese.

“Do we still have money left?” she asked Nick.

“I'm on a roll,” Nick replied. “I'm up seventy-five thousand.”

“That's a relief,” she said. “I have flowers and a dinner invitation from Trace. What am I supposed to do?”

“Enjoy the meal,” he said. “But don't take the seat next to the piranha pond.”

Kate showered and left the bathroom to stare at the clothes in her suitcase. She didn't want to send the wrong message by looking too sexy. A dress was definitely off the table. She didn't want to give Evan Trace an opportunity to slide his hand up her skirt.

She pushed the earbud back into her ear and connected to Nick. “I don't know what to wear,” she said to him.

“Wear whatever feels comfortable. Go with your instincts.”

“My instincts tell me full body armor, but I didn't bring any.”

“Definitely not the red dress,” Nick said. “I have erotic dreams about you in the red dress.”

“I figured that one out on my own. I'm going with jeans and a T-shirt. I wish you were invited, too.”

“I'll be there,” Nick said. “You'll just have to be my eyes, ears, and hot body.”

“Are you referring to my attributes or yours?”

“Yours, but I can see how that comment might have been confusing if you think I have a hot body, too.”

“Now you're blatantly fishing for compliments.”

“More like testing the water.”

Kate wriggled into the jeans. “Where are you?”

“In my room,” he said. “I've got a platter and a bottle of wine coming up.”

“Are Billy Dee and Boyd going to be listening in on my dinner when they arrive and power on their earbuds?”

“Nope. I brought my clicker with me,” he said, referring to the remote control, disguised as a key fob, that he used to control their transmitters, muting some and keeping others live. “You don't want too many voices in your head when you're trying to think.”

“I'm not sure I even want yours.”

She pulled out a red blazer that was stuffed into the corner of her bag.

“It would be there anyway, answering you when you ask yourself ‘What would Nick do in this situation?' ”

“I'd never ask myself that.”

“You should when you're conning someone,” he said. “I'd ask myself what you'd do if I was ever investigating something.”

“Like that'll ever happen.”

She checked herself out in the mirror. Her blazer was slightly wrinkled, but that was how she liked it. The only way she could be more comfortable was if she had her Glock holstered on her belt.

“Are you going to iron that jacket?” Nick asked.

Kate narrowed her eyes. “Have you got a camera in here?”

“Of course not. You swept the room for bugs already or we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

He was right. She had a nifty device built into her iPhone protective case that detected bugs, audio or video, and it vibrated if it picked up any signal besides the unique one emitted by her earbuds.

“I just know you, that's all,” Nick said.

“Then you'd know that I don't own an iron and I've never used one, at least not for ironing.”

“What have you used one for?”

“Hitting a guy. He was coming at me with a knife and it was the only weapon handy.”

“Irons are also handy for removing wrinkles from clothes that you've rolled up instead of folding.”

“That's how we pack for an op in the military.”

“Honey, this isn't an op in the military,” Nick said.

Kate blew out a sigh. “So sadly true.”

She laced up a pair of running shoes and headed to the elevators.

“Going silent,” she said. “Showtime.”

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, slid her key card into a slot, and pressed the button for the penthouse. When the elevator doors opened again, Evan Trace stood there to greet her.

“Thank you so much for coming, Kate,” Trace said. “I was afraid you might not accept.”

“Curiosity overwhelmed me.”

“You and the cat.” Trace led her into the circular foyer that was lined with marble and lit by an enormous dragon-shaped chandelier.

“I'm counting on ending up better than the cat did,” she said.

“That's a safe bet,” he said.

“Never believe a casino owner who tells you that,”
Nick said. It was like he was right there, hiding under Harry Potter's invisibility cloak and whispering in her ear.
“There's no such thing as a safe bet.”

The foyer opened onto a wide living room that, like in the penthouse in Las Vegas, opened onto a terrace with an amazing view and an infinity pool that seemed to spill out over the city. On a table in the center of the room was an intricately detailed architectural model.

“I wanted to show you this.” Trace stepped up to the table and swept his hand over the model. “It's the Côte d'Argent project that I'm building on the Cotai Strip.”

A tiny neon sign atop the hotel tower model glowed with the words “Monde d'Argent.” Lights were lit up in many of the windows, and tiny cars moved on the streets to create an illusion of activity. What grabbed Kate's attention were the actual flames that flickered from the water, in front of the casino mock-up.

“What's with the fire?” she asked.

“I was looking for a striking, signature image for the resort so I hired some engineers to create a lake of fire, fed by hidden gas jets. Spectacular, isn't it?”

“Sure,” she said. “But isn't it off-brand for you?”

“Brands evolve or they die. The attitude and décor inside the casino will still reflect a straightforward but elegant approach to gambling. But the fire is dramatic and it's going to be a big draw.”

“Like the Mirage volcano, which you supposedly hate.”

“The volcano is vulgar, crass, and over-the-top,” Trace said. “This is a work of contemporary art that's striking, frightening, even sensual. That's a big difference. These flames represent sin in all of its myriad temptations.”

“Clever,” Kate said, trying not to look horrified. “Very impressive.”

“I hope you'll be equally impressed with dinner,” Trace said. “We're having a Matsuzaka steak, the best in the world, and also the most expensive. The meat comes from three-year-old virgin cows raised in the Mie prefecture of Japan. The cows are massaged each day, fed tofu and beer, and entertained with classical music. The result is perfectly marbled meat that literally melts in your mouth. I'm willing to pay the price because I appreciate the best of everything. That's why you're here, Kate.”

Eek, Kate thought. She was getting massaged like a virgin cow.

“I appreciate the thought,” she said, “but you don't know anything about me.”

“I know that you're an exceptional con artist and a highly skilled killer.”

“He must have read your dating profile on DesperateSingles.com,”
Nick whispered into Kate's ear.

Kate took a beat to clear Nick's voice from her head.

“What makes you think that I've killed anyone?” she asked Trace.

“I didn't say that you
have,
but it's obvious that you
could.
I believe that my men who fought with you are lucky they're still breathing.”

“I had no reason to kill them.”

“Did you come to Nick's rescue because you're lovers, or was it simply to protect your business interests?”

“What difference does it make to you?”

“I want to know how committed you are to him,” Trace said.

“If you're asking if I'd ever betray Nick, or cheat him out of his share of a deal, the answer is no,” she said. “But I'm a free agent.”

“In all respects?”

“I don't belong to anyone.”

The answer seemed to please Trace. “There's a reason why I wanted you to see the model of Monde d'Argent. It's a huge project, crucial to the future of my business, and it's going to come under attack from my competitors, criminal syndicates, and professional cardsharps. I need someone who can protect my interests from them and any other potential adversaries.”

“You're offering me a job?”

“Head of security for Monde d'Argent,” he said.

“Even though you think I'm a professional crook and a stone-cold killer.”

“That's what makes you exceptionally well qualified for the job. I was a gambler, a swindler, and a cheat before I got into the management and ownership side of the casino business. A criminal background is an asset in this business. It gives you savvy.”

“There's nothing like firsthand information,” Kate said.

“Exactly. For instance, some of my management style comes from a mistake I made a long time ago. I got caught cheating by a casino, so they had one of their men smash my hands with a mallet.”

“Like the man who works for you?”

“It's the same man. He did this to me.” Trace held his mangled hand out for her to see.

“Horrible,” Kate said. She'd noticed his hands at their first meeting and had tried not to stare, wondering if it was a birth deformity.

“Not at all,” Trace said. “It was a learning experience.”

Trace moved from the casino model in the middle of the room to a small table by the window. The table was set for two with candles and flowers and linen napkins. He selected a fork from one of the place settings, laid his hand flat to the table, and stabbed the fork hard into the back of his hand.

A wave of nausea rolled through Kate's stomach.

“So what did I learn from this?” Trace asked, clearly undisturbed by the fork stuck in his hand. “I learned that this is an excellent way to deter cheating. I learned that there are more monetarily rewarding ways to make a living than cheating. And I learned that I like extreme sensations.” Trace pulled the fork out of his hand as if his hand were just a piece of meat. “My hands work fine, but I hardly feel a thing. Nerve damage.”

Kate swallowed back her revulsion and put on her game face. This was a man who fed on fear and suffering. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing any of her real emotions. And she especially didn't want to show him anything he would interpret as weakness.

“Is stabbing yourself with a fork a regular part of your job interviews, or is that just your favorite parlor trick?” she asked him.

“Both,” he said.

He set the fork on the table, and casually pressed one of the linen napkins to the bleeding wound. Natasha swooped in from the back of the room and reset the table with a clean fork and napkin.

“Are you interested in the job?” Trace asked Kate.

“I'll keep the offer in mind,” Kate said. “It will be a year or more before Monde d'Argent is built. A lot could happen between now and then.”

“I'm prepared to hire you now. You could run security here in the meantime. You've certainly proven that it needs to be beefed up.”

“No, thanks,” she said.

“We haven't even talked salary or perks.”

“Maybe another time. I've had a long flight and I'm afraid the jet lag is catching up with me. I need to get some sleep before we host the junket tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he said. “You need to be at your best for your guests. Would you like me to send your meal to your room?”

“That would be appreciated.”