Owens started to pace, his face full of rage. Something bad was going to go down, and he knew it involved him and his people. "Richards, find a hooker downtown, one who doesn't look like she practices her profession. Dress her down, promise her anything, but get her to the Rabbit Hole before that crew gets there. Tell her to find some old lady to take with her so it looks legitimate. Now, Richards! Not tomorrow. Quintera, see if you can pick up anything on the tapes where that chick was whispering to the old geezer."

Stu Franklin leaned back in his chair. His brain was spinning wildly as he mentally added up his portfolio. With what he had stashed in the Caymans and his portfolio, he could walk away and live very nicely, not luxuriously, for the rest of his life. He'd committed to one more year before getting out of Vegas. One more year would allow for a luxurious lifestyle. But sometimes careful plans just weren't in the cards. Any gambler knew when to hold and when to fold. His gut was telling him it was time to beat a strategic retreat.

"What's wrong with you, Franklin?" Owens snarled. "You look like you're up to something. What?"

Stu uncrossed his legs and stood up. "Actually, Hank, I was wondering what you'll do with whatever information you can get from the Rabbit Hole. It looks to me like there are a few too many people here who can cause trouble. Believe it or not, what happens in Vegas does not always stay in Vegas."

Owens stopped his frantic pacing to look down at one of the monitors. Today must be Fat Lady Day. Dumpy women wearing the kind of shoes his grandmother used to buy. Floppy hats and shapeless dresses. All old people wore sweaters because of the air-conditioning. These women weren't wearing any kind of wraps. Old people always wore sweaters. Some even wore shawls like his grandmother's. They came in with twenty dollars in free chips, got a free lunch, and left with the same damn twenty chips. He counted the dumpy women milling about as he listened with half an ear to Stu Franklin. Stu usually made sense.

"No one can prove a thing. This will stay in Vegas. We're in the clear. Our plan from the beginning was two years. We're acing it. Don't tell me you're turning into a Nervous Nellie."