Nic pointed his index finger at his uncle and said, “But don’t keep her at the damn bar, and no stories.”

“Forget about it. We’ll go do something fun. This is Vegas. It’s practically Disney World these days.”

Nic stood up and added, “Don’t make me regret this.” Then he walked over to LJ to explain what was going on.

Burke smiled awkwardly and said, “Thank you, Mr. Juliano. And by the way, if you get a SmokeBuddy and a dehumidifier, it would really help with the smell.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll look into that.”

Burke pushed himself from his chair, but then added, “One more question.”

“Ask away.”

“How long have you had that chair? Based on style and wear patterns, I would estimate eight years and three months. But I may not be accounting for all the variables. Are you the original owner?”

Chapter 53

Lamar Franklin had never felt emotions like this before. He didn’t even know what to call the way he felt. It was more than fear. Terror? But he was past that point as well. He was afraid for sure, but he also felt … hollow, abandoned, forsaken, by his partners, his country, everyone.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and he didn’t want to die. But those seemed to be the only two options left.

As he paced back and forth, he considered suicide. But how would he do it? Step out the front door and start shooting. That would be a blaze of glory in a way, but it would also be extremely painful, and who knew if he would even die quickly. He could unscrew the suppressor from the pistol and jam the gun in his mouth. But he had seen people botch the job like that before. Bullets could ricochet in strange ways, or he could end up a vegetable.

Then he remembered the C-4 strapped around his midsection. That would be the quickest and least painful way.

But his gran-mama had taught him that people who committed suicide could never be absolved of his or her sin. He wasn’t sure that he believed that, but then again, eternity was a long time.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate. He kept pacing and could do little more than focus on breathing in and out.

Where could the Doc and Mr. K have gone? They had simply vanished from a locked room.

He spun on his heels toward the hostages and located one of the two vault room technicians. He jammed the barrel of his M4 in the woman’s face. She was a sturdy-built Hispanic woman, probably in her forties. But all Franklin cared about was the specialized knowledge in her head.

“Could someone crawl down the shaft to the vault?” he asked.

She shook her head no.

“What’s stopping them?”

She wouldn’t make eye contact with him but said, “There’s no way. There are all kinds of security and detection devices to keep people out.”

“We broke into your computer systems. Maybe they disabled them.”