The Scam (17 page)

E
van Trace walked his Cotai Strip property. Right now it was just a ten-acre patch of dry earth and sand, dredged up from the bottom of the Pearl River Delta and moved around by a battalion of bulldozers, but Evan pictured a thirty-nine-story Côte d'Argent tower rising from a lake of fire. Flames would swirl atop the water and reflect off the black glass of the building.

The flaming water would be the signature image of his new resort and a radical departure from his
No freakin' gondolas
philosophy. But that was never based on a deeply held belief anyway. It was based on having
no freakin' money.
Now, in order to remain competitive and lure the international high rollers, he needed to think big, like everyone else around him.

Across the street was the massive Venetian Macao, the seventh largest building ever constructed by man and nearly twice the size of the Pentagon. To either side of the Venetian, Trace could see dozens of construction cranes, hurriedly building mega-casinos, a re-creation of New York's Broadway theater district, and a monorail system that would carry hundreds of thousands of tourists each year to the Cotai Strip. Trace would either become part of that explosive growth or he would be buried by it.

Natasha crossed over to him from one of the half dozen construction trailers on the edge of his property. She wore a white hard hat, which was a ridiculous safety requirement. Grading was the only thing being done now, and there was nothing that could possibly fall on her head. He wore a hard hat, too, but that was because his was gold-plated and identified him to everyone as the boss.

“Are you familiar with the Tiki Palace in Las Vegas?” she asked him.

“It's a cheap downtown casino that caters almost exclusively to Hawaiians, offering them cheap plane tickets, budget rooms, lots of nickel slots, and spam for breakfast,” Trace said. “It's strictly small-time.”

“Mr. Goodwell called me. He was asked by Sammy Mokuahi, who runs the Tiki, if Nick Sweet and Kate Porter are bona fide junket operators with us here.”

There was no reason that Trace could think of for Nick and Kate to be interested in a dump like the Tiki. There wasn't any real money to be made there for junket operators in their league.

“Did Mokuahi say why he wanted to know about them?”

“He was asking as a favor for one of his good customers, a Hawaiian named Lono Alika,” Natasha said. “So I checked out Alika. He's a big shot in the Hawaiian mob and runs the Yakuza's heroin, cocaine, and ecstasy sales on Oahu. He also exports Hawaiian-made meth back to Japan for distribution there. What should we tell Mr. Mokuahi?”

Now it all made sense to Trace. He could think of only one reason why Alika would ask somebody he trusts in the casino business about those two. Nick and Kate had invited Alika to Macau on a junket. “Tell him that Nick and Kate do big business with us and that Evan Trace personally and enthusiastically vouches for them.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “May I ask why you'd do that?”

“Those two obviously have an amazing range of contacts. Canadian mobsters, Somali warlords, and now the Yakuza as well,” Trace said. “Those are some major high rollers they're bringing us. So hell yes, I want their business, and I am going to get it.”

Natasha did a slight bow. “Very well, sir.”

Once again, Trace was amazed with himself. The $2.6 million that he'd given back to Nick and Kate was a daring gamble, and it was already paying off. It was gratifying to know that his instincts bordered on clairvoyant and that his powers of persuasion were nearly irresistible.

And he had to admit, he was looking forward to welcoming Kate Porter back into his life and enticing her into his lair. He had romantic plans for her, and he was sure she'd find those plans to be
excruciatingly
pleasurable.

The turquoise water was eighty degrees and clear at Kailua Beach. The stretch of sand was lined with multimillion-dollar homes, widely spaced apart and set back among tall, slender palms, flowering plumerias, and colorful hibiscus hedges.

Nick had rented a plantation-style retreat with an ocean-facing veranda. He and Kate were hanging out on the porch, enjoying the view and sipping pomegranate iced tea. They were side by side on a thick-cushioned wicker chaise longue that was as big as a king-size bed.

“I'm feeling lucky today,” Nick said, looking out at the surf. “Let's go swimming.”

“How does ‘lucky' equate to swimming?”

“You would put on a little bikini, and we'd go into the water together, and then I'd get even luckier.”

“That's a fantasy.”

“True, but I plan to make it a reality.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“It's inevitable. I always thought we'd eventually get together,” Nick said.

“Well, so did I, but I imagined it would be in an interrogation room, a courtroom, or your jail cell.”

“This is better.”

“I suppose, but it was fun when I hit you with a bus.”

“Yeah, and I enjoyed crashing into you with the armored car.” He moved close and kissed her just below her ear. “Thinking about it gets me feeling romantic.”

“Listen, mister, there's no romance.”

“Okay,” he said, “no romance. Just hot, sweaty sex.”

“No!”

“Just a little.”

“No.”

“A kiss.”

“Maybe a kiss.”

His mouth found hers and some tongue got involved. It might have been Kate's tongue that started it. Or it might have been his. It was definitely Nick who started the groping. Then again, she wasn't far behind. His hand was under her shirt, cupped around a breast when a shadow fell over them.

Kate looked up to see if a cloud was blocking the sun, and gasped when she saw that it was Lono Alika standing over them.

“Mr. Alika,” Kate said. “What a nice surprise.”

“Dis a bad time fo' you?” Alika asked.

“No, not at all,” Kate said, sitting up, rearranging her clothes. “We're glad to see you.”

“Da bruddah don't look so happy.”

“Maybe you could come back in an hour,” Nick said.

“You tink it take dat long?” Alika asked.

“Nick's just kidding,” Kate said. “What have you heard about us?”

“Good tings or yo' face be buss'up already, yeah?” Alika sat down on the edge of the chaise. The wicker crackled under his enormous weight, but it held. “I'm in for two mil. When do we go to Macau?”

“In two or three days,” Nick said. “I'll make all of the arrangements and get in touch with you.”

“One ting,” Alika said and held up one of his huge hands. “You see dis?”

“That's a big hand,” Nick said.

“Look closah. You see da lines here?” He pointed to faint white scratches that crisscrossed the dark skin on the back of his hands, between the knuckles. “You know wat dat from?”

“Breaking faces,” Kate said.

“Dat's right. Back in da day, I used to hammer a lot o' faces, yeah? I'd get all kine o' teeth stuck in my skin. Dat my old life.” Alika leaned close to them. “But I will do worse to you if I get screwed.”

“We can't guarantee that you won't lose everything,” Nick said. “That's up to you and your luck.”

“I lose my money, dat's okay,” Alika said. “
You
lose it, dat's death. Fo' you, fo' sure.”

The threat didn't bother Kate. It reassured her that at least Alika would behave as they'd hoped and that maybe, barring any more bad luck, like Dumah showing up, Nick's ballsy con would go exactly the way they'd planned.

“Fine,” Kate said. “We're in business.”

Nick and Kate spent the rest of the day and the next making all of the necessary financial and travel arrangements to get themselves, Lono Alika, Boyd Capwell, Billy Dee Snipes, and $15 million to Macau.

On the morning of their third day in Hawaii, Nick and Kate met Alika in front of their private jet on the tarmac at Honolulu International Airport. Alika was in his usual tank top, board shorts, and flip-flops, as if he were heading out for another day at the beach instead of to a casino in Macau.

“Ho, brah, dis is choice,” Alika said, referring to the plane.

“The only way to fly,” Nick said.

“I like yo' style.” Alika climbed inside, grabbed two beers from the galley, and dropped himself into one of the big chairs. “I'm gonna chillax, dat okay witchu.”

“Go for it,” Kate said.

Once they were in the air, Alika washed down a pill with a bottle of beer. Kate assumed it was a sleeping pill, because thirty minutes and three beers later, he was out cold. Loudly snoring and farting his way across the Pacific.

Kate and Nick moved to the rear stateroom, settled onto one of the couches, and watched three of Nick's favorite movies:
The Sting
with Paul Newman and Robert Redford,
The Thomas Crown Affair
with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway, and the original
Ocean's 11
with Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack.

“I'm sensing a theme here,” Kate said when the movies were over.

“Just getting myself in the mood.”

“For what?”

“For work.”

The plane arrived in Macau in the late afternoon of the following day. Two Rolls-Royces, one for Lono Alika and his enormous girth and one for Nick and Kate, were waiting at the airport to transport them the seven miles to Côte d'Argent.

Natasha Ling greeted them in the lobby with the key cards to their eighth-floor rooms. Boyd and Billy Dee wouldn't be arriving until later, so the games in the VIP suite wouldn't be starting until the next day.

“Two questions, yeah?” Alika said. “Where da women an' where da buffet?”

“We're going to leave Mr. Alika in your very capable hands,” Nick said to Natasha.

Natasha smiled politely and inclined her head. “Of course.”

Kate couldn't blame the hostess for going pale under her makeup. If Kate had been tasked with keeping Alika happy she would have handed in her employee name tag and taken the first plane off the island.

Nick walked Kate to the elevator. “I'm going to the casino floor for some blackjack,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

Kate shook her head. “No. I'm going to my room to take a shower and do some paperwork.”

“What paperwork?”

“Our expense account, for one thing. Helicopters, private jumbo jets—”

“It wasn't a jumbo.”

“You order expensive wines and caviar. You rent sports cars.”

“You should be happy I'm not stealing them.”

“And you buy me designer dresses that are too small. How am I going to explain all this to Jessup?”

“They aren't too small. They fit you perfectly, and you look amazing in them.”

“Thank you, but that's not the point.”

“Of course it's the point. You're a distraction.”

“Oh great. Oh joy.” Kate flapped her arms. “Now my role is reduced to being a
distraction.
That's all I am in the grand scheme of our partnership.”

“You're more than just a distraction,” Nick said.

“Oh really? Like what?”

He pulled her flat against him and kissed her. Their tongues touched, and Kate got a rush that rivaled the time she parachuted out of a rust-bucket plane in the middle of the night over Mount Athos.

“This isn't the time or the place for me to go into detail about what you mean to me,” Nick said. “So let's keep it simple. You're
everything.
”

“Um, okay then,” Kate said, inching back, adjusting her shoulder purse. “G-g-good to know.”

The elevator doors opened, and Kate stepped inside and pushed the button for the eighth floor.

“Be careful what you put online or on paper,” Nick said. “I'm sure the instant we leave our rooms someone combs through them for information.”