Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [102]
A white Mercedes pulled up to the curb and a valet jumped out. Jasper gave the valet his stub. “Put the suitcases in the trunk,” Scalzo barked.
“Yes, sir,” Guido said.
Guido dragged his boss’s suitcases to the back of the car. The trunk was locked, and Jasper came around, holding the keys he’d gotten from the valet. Jasper popped the locking mechanism and the trunk opened by itself. Guido hoisted the first suitcase off the ground, then froze. Inside the trunk was a leather satchel. The mouth of the satchel was wide open, exposing a half dozen bundles of hundred-dollar bills, all of them new. The suitcase slipped out of his fingers and hit the ground.
“What the hell are you doing back there?” Scalzo yelled, having climbed into the passenger seat. “Hurry up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Guido lifted the suitcase off the ground while continuing to stare at the money. A slip of paper lay on the bundles with handwriting on it. He glanced at Jasper, who’d gone to the driver’s side but hadn’t gotten in, then pulled the slip out and read it.
There’s more where this came from.
Guido dropped the note into the satchel. He didn’t know what was going on, then noticed a dark blanket lying inside the trunk. Something was lying beneath it, and he pulled the blanket back to have a look. A shovel.
“Need some help?”
Guido looked up. Jasper stood by the driver’s door, watching him. Their eyes briefly locked, and the look in Jasper’s eyes was unmistakable. It slowly dawned on Guido what was going on. Then he made a decision.
“I’m fine,” Guido said, and resumed putting the suit cases into the trunk.
“Scalzo’s getting away,” Gloria said, standing with Valentine and Gerry by the front door. Valentine had come out of the men’s lavatory after confronting DeMarco and walked right up to Scalzo, Jasper, and his bodyguard, in the hopes of eavesdropping on their conversation. When the three men had beaten a path out of the casino, he’d decided to follow them, and grabbed Gloria and his son.
As Jasper’s Mercedes drove away, Valentine took out his cell phone and called Bill Higgins. He got a busy signal and felt Gloria tug his arm.
“Come on,” she said.
“Where are we going?”
“To my car. We’re going to follow them.”
Gloria’s rental was parked with several expensive foreign cars near the entrance. She’d bribed the valet attendant to park it there, and had told Valentine it was a common trick with reporters, in case they needed to run down a story. She got her keys from the guy manning the key stand, and Valentine turned to his son.
“I want you to stay here. Someone needs to watch DeMarco, and make sure he doesn’t continue to cheat the tournament.”
His son started to protest, then bit his lip. “Okay, Pop. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll stay out of trouble. You scare me sometimes.”
There was real concern in his son’s voice. Valentine gave him a hug then jumped into Gloria’s car.
In a hurry to get out of her spot, Gloria ran over the curb and burned rubber pulling away. At the bottom of the exit she hit the brakes and looked both ways.
“Which way did they go?” she asked.
Valentine hopped out of the car, climbed on the hood of the rental, then got back in and pointed to his right. “That way.”
She gunned the accelerator and the rental flew down the road. Celebrity was on the southwest side of Las Vegas in an area that had not yet felt the wrath of bulldozers and earthmovers. It was still desert and sage brush; the land stretched out like an artist’s canvas. Gloria got a quarter mile behind the Mercedes and slowed the rental to sixty-five. Valentine tried Bill again, and got another busy signal.
Several miles passed. Then a sign for a regional airport popped up.
“He must have a plane waiting for him,” Gloria said.
She sped up. The Mercedes pulled into the airport entrance, but instead