It occurred to him, that if Joan was arrested, at least she hadn’t been retained. That was good news.
Getting back to the debate in his head, Antonio decided he would not gamble.
He’d do the right thing and hang onto the money he had. He’d get his car out, pay off the mob on Monday and deal with his other problems as they came up.
Thinking about all that money he left under the bed, made him anxious. What if the housekeeping staff came across it while vacuuming? Had he even remembered to put up the do-not-disturb sign?
He risked spending the last of his pocket money, and hailed a cab.
On the cab ride back to the hotel he fantasized about what his life would be like if he could break his addiction to gambling. Once he got his car out of the impound he’d sell it and use the money to get caught back up on his rent and his tabs at the clubs. Then he could cancel his lease, close out his tabs and move into a more modest residence. He could put his money into some safe investments and stop trying to live like an international playboy. He’d buy a nice, but far cheaper car. Maybe after he’d gotten his life together he could try to patch up things with Joan. This time, he’d do right by her.
He was feeling hope for the first time in a long time as he stepped out of the cab and walked into the lobby. It faded quickly when two men in suits stood and walked towards him. He recognized the thugs who’d cracked his ribs in the empty lot and instinctively bolted to the elevator, jumping inside and slamming his fingers on the close-door button. A thick hand thrust through the gap, stopping the closing doors. The two thugs stepped inside, smiling maliciously at him.
“What do you want?” Antonio said, as his body tense.
“We hear you made a killing up at a poker game in the hills last night.” said the thug with vocal skills. “The boss thinks you should pay him now, in case you get any ideas about risking your money on another bet.”
Antonio’s chest, which had been heaving with anxiety, managed to settle down. This was great news. He’d hand over the money, no temptation, and be able to get on with his new gambling-free life. “Great, gentlemen, I’m happy to pay now. Saves me the trip later.”
“Now we’re talking,” said the talking thug. “Glad you’re listening to reason.”
Antonio could see light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe he’d never would have to gamble again. Maybe he could be like Elbow Patches, happy because he wasn’t gambling and hadn’t gambled for years and years.
He thought about his car and what it might cost to get it out. There would be plenty of money left over for that after he paid the ten thousand, and with the cash out of his hands, he wouldn’t be tempted to go back to that poker game and double his money. But he wasn’t sure he could trust these thugs to just take the ten thousand he owed. He wanted to get into his room first and pull out the correct change, and not let them know just how much he had.
In the hallway, he took out his key.
“Give me a minute?”
“I don’t think so,” they said and they followed him into his room.
Antonio knew that plan was unlikely to succeed so he tried to think of another distraction that might work. He took his time, making a deal out of removing his tattered overcoat and laying it over a chair.
“Stop stalling,” said the thug with vocal chords, and the other thug made a threatening lunge for Antonio, then stopped short and showed him a gold capped tooth.
Antonio sighed.
“It’s under the bed,” he said. Maybe he could open the bag, pull out the right amount of cash, and then leave the rest of the bag behind – that might work.
He got on the floor and swept his arm under the bed, fingers reaching for the bag. He couldn’t feel it. He bent down lower and stretched his arm, and still, he couldn’t feel it.
Tendrils of sweat broke out on the back of his neck and his heart began to race.
“What’s taking you so long?” said the talking thug.
He ducked his head down just to be sure, then stared in disbelief at the empty space, occupied only by dust bunnies. His bag of money was gone.
“It’s not here,” Antonio said miserably.
“What?” said the thug, and a second later Antonio was pulled roughly to his feet. The silent thug waited for a signal from the talking thug, which he apparently received, because a second later Antonio took a hard punch in his gut.
“Wait, I made a mistake,” Antonio said, coughing as he held out his hands and backed away.
“You’re damn right you made a mistake.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I forgot where I put it. I remember now, I took it to my car. Whoosh, I almost had a heart attack. Too much alcohol last night. Sorry, gentlemen.”
Silent thug looked like he wanted to hit Antonio anyhow, but talking thug held up his hand.
Antonio blew out a breath.
“Follow me to my car, gentlemen,” Antonio said as he moved around the unhappy thug towards the door. He opened the door and stepped into the hall, but before the other men could come out he pulled the door shut and sprinted towards the stairs as fast as he could. They were out in the hallway a second later, shouting for him to stop, but Antonio wasn’t the star forward for AC Milan because he was slow. Despite sore ribs and a massive bruise in his gut, he rocketed down the stairs three steps at a time. He’d gone down three flights before they even came into the stairwell. Their shouts and footsteps echoed in the contained space, but Antonio kept going.
A bullet whizzed by his head, blowing his hat off. The bullet ricocheted off the metal rail and slammed into the concrete wall, sending a shower of dust in the air. Antonio covered his mouth and nose, squinting his eyes, but didn’t stop moving. When he got to the next level, he lunged for the door to the hall. Before he could open it a second shot rang out. He heard the talking thug yelling at the trigger-happy thug. “Don’t kill him, he’s no good to us, dead” he shouted in Italian.
Once on the new floor Antonio made a beeline for the bank of elevators, and thanked God when the door was open. He pressed the down button and prayed that the elevator would arrive at the lobby level before the thugs could make their way down.
He lunged out of the elevator the second it opened, running into a cart full of luggage and toppling it over. People yelled and the bellboy cursed, but Antonio didn’t stop.
He flew out into the front of the building, trying to think what to do next.
“Cab?” asked a doorman, moving towards him. Antonio noticed that there were several cabs waiting in line. The sounds of a fresh upheaval in the lobby and of approaching sirens made up his mind. “Si, a cab, por favor.”
The man blew his whistle and a cab drove up just as two police cars screeched to a halt at the curb behind it. Antonio kept his head down and let himself into the back seat, motioning for the cab driver to get back inside. “Where to?” asked the cabby. “The airport. And hurry
, I’m late for a flight,” Antonio shouted, hoping that the cabby wouldn’t linger, curious about the police and what might be going on at the hotel. He also hoped that if the thugs were in the lobby looking for him they’d have second thoughts about chasing after him with police storming the building.
As the cab began to move out of the turnabout, Antonio turned in his seat to watch just in case. No sign of the two thugs. He sat back and let out a breath. He was alive they hadn’t beaten him to a pulp, that was good, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He hadn’t left his money in his car. He’d left it under the bed, and the fact that it wasn’t there meant only one thing. Vince had broken back into his room and had stolen all of his money, that dirty rat.
“I changed my mind about the airport,” Antonio said.
“Fine, by me.”
“Is there a casino nearby?”
“There are several. What kind of action are you looking for?”
“Which one has roulette?”
“They all do, but the table at the Casino Poblenou has the best payout. If you like American and French Roulette – that’s where I’d go first.”
“Great, take me there,” Antonio said, hoping it wouldn’t be far.
The cab took him away from the heart of the city and into the old industrial district, El Poblenou. The area was home to factories and smokestacks belching smoke into the sky. It reminded Antonio uncomfortably of where he’d been taken by Dante Bissacco’s thugs the previous day. He was grateful to see the sparkling casino rise up before him.
He suddenly remembered something.
He let out a yelp of relief as he found a lump in his inside coat pocket. The money he’d stashed from the bag before stuffing it under the bed. He’d completely forgotten about. He counted it out. Just over two hundred Euro.
If he didn’t find Vince maybe he could check out the action in the poker room, before trying to track down Vince at the next casino. He hadn’t intended on ever gambling again, but this was an emergency.