Upstairs, in one of the secret rooms, three men stared at the monitor that covered the entrance. A man monitoring the huge front door of the casino stared at the picture of Lizzie sauntering through the casino. She turned at one point and stood perfectly still, as though she were posing for a photo shoot. She deliberately did a slow turn so that every camera in the casino could get her full face, profile, as well as her back. She offered up a megawatt smile and waved before she headed for the slot machine whose numbers had last read $188,311. The numbers now read $195,832. She stopped, rummaged in her purse, and slid a ten-dollar bill into the slot. Unlike Ted, there was no return on her investment. She walked away, her gaze everywhere.

The man staring at the monitor that looked like it was featuring Lizzie Fox turned to his colleagues. "It's her! I knew it! She knows we're watching her. Gentlemen, this is one lady you don't want to mess with. She's the one who took on Renzo Savarone and lived to tell about it. There can only be one reason she's here. Dwayne, call the boss and arrange a meeting. I think he's out on the floor. I need to know how he wants to play this."

"Hold on, Mike, hold on. Looks to me like she's going to check out. That doesn't make any sense. She just checked in midafternoon. Yep, she's checking out. I can read the numbers on her credit card. It's a black one. The lady has resources. Okay, a bellman is going with her. You sure you want me to call the boss?"

"Hell, yes, I'm sure. What happened to the guy she checked in with?"

"He took a cab and was just dropped off at the Las Vegas Review-Journal. His name is Ted Robinson, and he works for the Post in Washington, D.C. He got real chatty with the driver. Told you it was worth it to put those cabbies on the payroll. Like you said, he checked in with the woman. I don't think they're an item—probably she's his boss or something like that. I assume she's checking him out, too, since they had a suite. We'll know when we see the bellman bringing down the bags."

Mike Oliver, one of the Babylon's best security agents, moved his 290-pound girth to the other side of the room to a monitor that covered the elevator Lizzie and the bellman were in. He watched, fascinated at the woman's boldness as she offered up a single-digit salute behind the bellman's back. The smile on her face made his blood run cold.

"Balls to the wall, boys," he muttered under his breath.

Chapter 8