"Some kind of publicity stunt would be my guess. Yeah, yeah, they broke into our FBI lab and stole some ashes. Yeah, yeah, we were asleep at the switch. I admit it. Let's not beat a dead horse here, Peter."

"So you won't help me."

"Not won't. Can't. Is there more, something you haven't told me?" Not that he cared one whit, he just wanted to get away before he tripped himself up somehow.

"I suppose. Homer Winters is the sole owner of the Babylon. For the past few years he's been living on Chesapeake Bay near his two daughters. He was hands-on 24/7 until his twin daughters gave him an ultimatum. They want nothing to do with the gambling industry; they say it's sinful and unhealthy. For a few years they wouldn't allow Homer to see his four grandchildren. They told him to give it up or to get out of their lives. It was a hard decision for that old bird, but he buckled. He's eighty-six, time for him to retire, anyway. His two sons-in-law wanted nothing to do with the business, so what the old gent did was pretty much turn it over to Hank Owens and his inside ring to run. There was a condition, though, and that was that Owens had to put the Babylon on the map by doing things for the community. That was to appease the daughters.

"You probably don't know this, but yesterday Owens made an announcement that the Babylon was going to host a gala to celebrate the Paiutes winning an exhibition softball game. The whole world is invited, and he pledged a million dollars for breast cancer research. The teams that compete are all made up of doctors, nurses, patients, and medical personnel. The members of the NGC pledged $5 million. This morning the Babylon stepped up to the plate and changed the amount and met our pledge. Stuff like that makes Homer and his daughters happy.

"The Babylon is also hosting a martial-arts exhibition. I'm not sure where the entry fees go. I think some children's organization. The Babylon gives out free space, food, drinks, and publicizes it. They seem to do something every week. The NGC thinks it's all a cover-up. It's my personal opinion that all good deeds are a smoke screen when it comes to Vegas.