Stone Cold (Camel Club 3)

“Then you came to the wrong place.”

He laughed. “Story of my life. I’m Roy.” He put out a hand.

She shook it. “Angie. Where you from?”

“Someplace a little south of here. You a native?”

“I started life in Minnesota, if you can believe that. Been here long enough I guess I qualify for native status. Once the casinos moved in how many people can say they’re from Atlantic City? I mean, it’s a place you go to, not come from, at least not anymore.”

Reuben raised his glass. “I toast your eloquence.” He stared around at the expensively decorated interior. “Must be some big-ass corporation that owns this place. It makes the Bellagio or Mandalay Bay look cheap.”

Angie shook her head. “No corporation. One man.”

“Get out of here, Angie. I thought all casinos were run by fat-cat companies.”

“Not this one. It’s owned by Jerry Bagger.”

“Bagger? Name sounds familiar.”

“He’s pretty memorable. You meet him once, you don’t forget it.”

“From the way you say it I take it he’s not your basic, loving humanitarian.”

“You don’t build a place like this being a human anything.” She suddenly eyed Reuben with suspicion. “This isn’t some trick, is it? You don’t work for Mr. Bagger, do you? I’m not saying anything against him. He’s a good boss.”

“Angie, relax. I am what I look like, a poor sucker from out of town who blew his wad early at craps and decided to spend his last evening here having some real fun before hitting the road with my tail tucked between my legs.” He looked behind him. “But thanks for the info. I don’t want to run into this guy and say something I shouldn’t. He sounds pretty tough.”

“Not to worry, he’s out of town. Saw him leave with his boys yesterday.”

“Oh, he travels a lot?”

“Not really, even though he has his own jet.”

“Then he’s probably going to Vegas to check out the competition.”

“He was run out of Vegas a long time ago. I actually know where he went, because my best girlfriend is dating Mr. Bagger’s pilot.”

“So where’s the big honcho off to, then?” Reuben said in a bored tone as he swallowed a handful of nuts.

“Washington, D.C.”

Reuben gagged so badly Angie had to pound him on the back.

Recovered, he said, “Damn reflux. It’s closed my throat down to almost nothing.”

“Jeez, you gave me a scare. Never had anyone die on me yet, though.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “Can’t say the same about everybody else in this place.”

Reuben said slowly, “You have somebody kick the bucket here recently?”

“Let’s just say we had a couple top-level employees in the hospital. We were told they had the flu. I got a friend who works over at the hospital they were taken to. Since when does the flu cause cuts and bruises? Tell me that.”

“But they’re still alive.”

“They are, but we had another guy here, a computer whiz type. He disappeared. They said he left to take another job. Well, he didn’t tell his family and he forgot to clean out his apartment.”

“Damn, what could have happened to him?”

Angie eyed Reuben’s big frame appreciatively. “I get off work at nine, Roy. You buy me dinner and I’ll tell you some more. Okay?”

After he left the bar Reuben called Stone on his cell phone and told him about Bagger being in D.C.

“Good work, Reuben,” Stone said. “I’m on my way to see Susan now.”

“I thought you said she was gone.”

“Let’s just say I convinced her to give us another chance. You didn’t find out why Bagger’s in Washington?”

“Figured I’d try and get that out of her tonight. Didn’t want to push too hard. You know what I mean?”

“Absolutely. Keep me informed.”

“And tell Susan I still want a date.”

CHAPTER 25

REUBEN CONTINUED WALKING around the casino, trying to memorize as many key details as he could. He didn’t know exactly what sort of intelligence Stone wanted so he decided to be over- rather than underinclusive. In any event it beat the hell out of working on the loading dock.

He finally decided to hook back up with Milton at the blackjack table. When he got there his jaw dropped. Milton had huge columns of chips stacked neatly in front of him.

Reuben said, “Milton, what the hell happened?”

“What happened,” the bettor next to Milton said, “is that your buddy’s up about four thousand bucks.”

Reuben stared at the man and then at the beefy pit boss glaring at Milton and his winnings.

“Holy hell, Batman,” Reuben exclaimed. “Four grand!”

The pit boss leaned down into Milton’s face. “You’re cheating.”

“No I’m not,” Milton said indignantly.

“You’re counting cards, you little slimeball. Is that how you get your kicks? What, the ladies a problem for you? You have to come here and cheat? And then you go home and jack off. Is that it?”

Milton flushed red. “This is the first time I’ve ever been in a casino.”

The pit boss roared, “Do you really think I’m buying that bullshit?”

Reuben said politely, “Look, I’m sure it’s nothing really—”

Milton cut in. “And so what if I am counting cards? Is that illegal in New Jersey? I don’t think so, because I looked it up. And you can employ countermeasures against me, but only if I’m a ‘skilled player,’ which I’m not, and by law the countermeasures you can use are limited. Now, in Vegas you can claim I’m trespassing, read me the Trespass Act and ban me from the casinos for a year, but this isn’t Vegas, now is it?”

“You know all this stuff and you say this is the first time you’ve been in a casino,” the pit boss scoffed.

“I looked all that up last night online. Gee, what a concept. So back off and let me play my cards.”

The thick-necked boss looked like he was going to come over the table at Milton, but Reuben stepped between them. “I think my friend will cash out now.”

“But Reuben,” Milton protested. “I’m on a roll.”

“He’ll cash out now,” Reuben said very firmly.

Later, Milton said to Reuben, “Why wouldn’t you let me keep playing?”

“How about that whole living thing, Milton, you still interested in that?”

“Oh come on, this is the twenty-first century. They don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“You think so? Forget the laws, a casino can pretty much kick you out for any reason they want. You’re lucky the pit boss was probably slow to get to the table. Dollars to donuts we gotta couple goons tailing us right now.”

Milton whipped his head around. “Where?”

“You can’t see them!” Reuben paused. “So how’d you win all that money?”

Milton said in a low voice, “I started out employing a multilevel Hi-Lo scheme with a side count add-on based on the Zen Count system. Of course I was utilizing an overall true count methodology to take into account the multiple decks being played. Later, I took it up a peg to the Uston Advanced Point Count method and paid particular attention to strategically optimizing my bets using the three-color chip scenario to disguise my wager.”

Reuben gaped. “Milton, how the hell do you know all this stuff?”

“I read twelve Internet articles on the subject last night. It was very interesting. And once I read something—”