Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (48 page)

“
O
ne and the same.
”

I explained Chang
’
s tender
-o
ffer proposal and my
subsequent
rejection.

“
How
’
d he take it?
”

“
Not too damn good. He
’
s contacted a couple of our
more nefarious shareholders about buying their shares.
”

“
Sounds like you could be lining up to be between the proverbial rock and a hard spot.
”

“
Could be. I wanted to check in with you and get up to speed
, the
n Cyrus and I are heading to Vegas to meet up with
a couple of our more nefarious shareholders.
”

Fish laughed
.
“
Okay. Well, on this end
, the
drilling
is
going good,
and
we
’
re
coring great
-
looking ore.
One thing, though
. B
y spring were going to be drilling on our
n
orthwest
-
most claims. If we
’
re still in ore, we should think about
staking
some additional claims.
”

“
I thought about doing just that
, Fish
.
I h
ad
our mineral surveyor
run the claim files at the B
ureau of Land Management
and at the Okanogan
c
ourthouse.
”

“
What
’
d he find out?
”

“
Seems every Tom, Dick
,
and Harry with enough money to stake and file a claim has tied up all of the open ground on trend with our vein. If we
’
re still in ore when we get to the boundary of our claims, we
’
ll have to make a deal with some of those claim owners.
”

“
Agreed
, b
ut
,
honestly
,
I
’
d be su
r
prise
d
if
these grades continue
beyond
our claim block. It
’
s already a world
-
class deposit
;
it won
’
t go on forever
. Plus, we
’
ve still got a fair number of claims to the
s
outheast of Montana Creek to drill.
”

“
My thoughts exactly
. If
a little
ore
does
run over on
to
mom and pop
’
s claims, good for them.
”

I spent the next day with Fish and Red going over the upcoming drill locations and looking at cores. As usual, the fellows had everything under control. I told Fish I
’
d
be
head
ing
back to Ellensburg early the next morning.

“
Good luck in Vegas
, and watch yourself
. A lot of folks involved with this
company
seem to get k
nocked
off.
”

“
Amen
,
brother
, b
ut
not to
worry
.
I
’
ve got
Cyrus
the Virus to cover my
ass
.
”

The following Friday morning I met Cyrus at the Spokane airport and we caught a flight to Vegas.
When we
exited the
McCarran
A
irport
terminal
,
a Comstock limo was waiting.

I looked at Cyrus as the driver stowed our gear in the trunk
.

“
F
irst class all the way.
”

“
Uh-huh
. J
ust be sure we don
’
t end up in the trunk on the return trip.
”

In twenty minutes we were checking in. Al
Pantelli
arranged for the
Casino
to comp
us
a
two
-
bedroom executive suite. When we entered the suite, I saw the red message light blinking on the bedside phone.

“
Looks like we
’
ve already got a message,
”
I said
,
to Cyrus

“
More likely a summons,
”
Cyrus replied.

I dialed the message center and was connected with Al
’
s office.

A man
,
who
se
voice I immediately recognized
,
answered.

“
Mr.
Pantelli
, it
’
s Trace Brandon. Cyrus is here with me
,
and we
’
re
at your service,
sir
.
”

“
Trace, damn glad you
’
re
both here. Listen,
my brother
Pino and I have a pretty busy afternoon. How about we meet for supper in the
Ruby Silver
dining room
? And
c
heck the desk drawer in your suite. There should be two velvet bags in the drawer. Each bag has
a
grand
’
s
worth of chips
. T
ry your luck on us
, and
w
e
’
ll
see you at seven.
”

“
Okay, Al. Thanks for the
comp
’
s
and for the chips. We
’
ll do our best to give them back to the house.
”

Al laughed
.
“
Y
ou do that. See you this evening.
B
usiness casual
is fine
.
Pino and I keep it pretty low key.
”

Cyrus and I freshened up and went down to the casino. We were both hungry and ate a burger in a small fast
-
food restaurant in the casino.
After the burgers, w
e split up to do some gambling
,
on the house.
I hit the blackjack table
,
while Cyrus
wandered over to
the craps table.

By five in the afternoon, I was down five hundred
,
and
I started feeling a little guilty about losing Al
’
s money
. So
,
I
went to find Cyrus.

He was at the craps table
with a
crowd of people around him
.
The gamblers betting with him were laughing and urging Cyrus on. Those betting he
’
d
crap out didn
’
t look too happy.

“
Damn, Cyrus
.
I guess you
’
re
winning?
”

Cyrus just smiled and shifted his eyes left and right to the
two
buxom beauties hanging all over him.

“
You
’re
guess
would be
correct.
”

I laughed
.
“
I
t
’
s getting late
.
I
’
m down five hundred and heading up to the room.
”

“
I
’
m right behind you
,
kid,
”
Cyrus said, tipping the croupier and slipping
a
hundred
-
dollar chip into the
cleavage
s
of
his
two ardent admirers.

“
How much are you up?
”
I asked
,
while we walked to the elevator.

“
About
eight
hundred, less the
tit
ty
tips,
”
he
replied
,
with a laugh.

We
each grabbed a
shower and changed. I
put on a
pair of cream
-
colored slacks with a b
l
ack silk
-
and
-
cotton
-
blend
sport
shirt. Cyrus wore gr
a
y slacks and a white
-
linen shirt.
Decked out in our business causal finery, w
e
headed
downstairs to the
Ruby Silver
dining room.

The restaurant was reminiscent of a mining boomtown eatery, circa 1890
’
s, with s
oft lighting, heavy
-
wood tables
,
and chairs. Period paintings
of
mine headframes
,
grizzled miners holding chunks of high
-
grade silver ore
,
and dance
-
hall
girls doing high kicks
,
adorned the walls
.

My kind of place, I thought
,
following
t
he
m
aitre
’
d
to
the
Pantelli
’
s
’
table.

Al and Pino
both
stood up to greet us.
They were both big men with dark hair and olive complexions
,
n
ot quite
handsome but
pretty
close, especially in their Armani slack
s
and sport shirts.

“
Hello, Cyrus, my old friend
,
”
Al said, shak
ing Cyrus
’
s
hand
.
“
I don
’
t think you
’
ve met my brother
,
Crispino?
”

“
No, but you talked a lot about him while we were
guests of the
s
tate of Oregon.
”

“
Yeah, that
’
s one way of saying it,
”
Al said
,
as Pino and
Cy
r
us
shook hands
.

“
Al, Crispino,
”
Cyrus said,
“
t
his is Trace Brandon, founder, CEO
,
and
c
hairman of Montana Creek Mining.
”

“
Nice to finally meet you
,
Trace,
”
Al said
, firmly
sh
a
k
ing
my hand.