"No, Hank, I'm not turning into a Nervous Nellie." He wanted to say he'd turned into a Nervous Nellie a week ago, but he wisely kept quiet. Hank Owens was a snake, and Stu didn't trust him out of his sight. He made his decision right then and there. When he broke for lunch he was going to get in his car and head for God knew where. In anticipation of what was happening, he'd packed some of his belongings and stowed them in the trunk of his car. A week ago his plan had been to drive to California, then cross the border into Mexico and hang out there for a while before he split for safer climes.

"I don't know, Stu, you're looking strange to me. I hope you aren't thinking about doing something stupid. I want you down on the floor now. Check out those old ladies. Seven old ladies don't just appear out of nowhere. Not one of them is wearing a sweater. I want to know why they're not wearing sweaters. They usually come on a bus or in some church group. Check them out and get back to me."

Stu shrugged. Anything to get out of this stinking room.

Chapter 20

It all seemed to go down in slow motion, to the horror of Hank Owens, who was glued to the overhead monitors in the security room. He watched as Stu Franklin made his way across the casino floor to where one of the old ladies was banging away at a slot machine that promised if you played long enough you had a chance, with ten million other people, to maybe hit the jackpot of $65,778. His gaze swiveled to another monitor that covered the entrance to the casino, where a horde of men, mostly Asian, and led by Harry Wong, who was in charge of the martial-arts exhibition along with another man, were headed.

"Name's Jack Emery, he's the district attorney in Washington, Boss," Richards said. "No one has checked in yet. We sent a limo for Wong and Emery. The others came in two vans. I think there are about thirty-seven of them. They flew in from all over the world."

"Yeah, well, suddenly I'm not liking this," Owens snarled. "First the woman and Winters and whatever crap is going on at the Rabbit Hole, and now this shit with those old ladies who aren't wearing sweaters. I want every man and woman on our payroll on the floor right now, goddammit."

"Boss, you sure you want to do that? It's pretty crowded down there for this time of day. With all that action, the customers are going to get spooked," Richards said nervously.

"I don't pay you to think, Richards, I pay you to follow orders. Now, move your ass and get down there yourself. That goes for the rest of you, too. I'll man the monitors."