Karch remained on the other side of the desk but could see the screens. He glanced past the two other men and out the glass door that led to the crow's nest. Grimaldi did not bother to introduce the technician to Karch.

For the next five minutes the tech used tapes taken from several overhead cameras to intermittently show Hidalgo's last night in the casino. It was called a video trail. There were enough cameras over the casino floor – any casino floor in Las Vegas – to never lose sight of an individual once he entered the so-called video net. The best techs had the quadrants of the net memorized and with fingers flying across a keyboard could jump from one camera to another to follow a target.

Grimaldi's tech did that now, only it wasn't live action. He had pieced together Hidalgo's video trail from the night before. He showed Hidalgo playing baccarat and blackjack, even a couple of spins on the roulette wheel. Whatever game he was playing, he seemed to do it with a minimum of conversation with fellow players and casino employees. Finally, when the counter showed the time on the tape to be 10:38 P.M. they watched as Hidalgo headed to the VIP desk and retrieved the brushed-aluminum briefcase from the vault. He was met at the desk by a security escort who then walked with him to the elevators.

"Who's the escort?" Karch asked.

"His name's Martin," Grimaldi said. "He's a shift supervisor. Been here a couple years, coming over from the Nugget. I had him escorting the fat man all week."

"We'll have to talk to him."

"I don't know what it will get you but it will be no problem."

The tech pointed to a new screen where Hidalgo's trail continued. It showed the fat man and the blue-blazered Martin stepping onto an elevator. Hidalgo took his card key from his pocket and Martin took it and plugged it into the control panel before hitting the penthouse button. Though the tape did not have audio it was clear that the two men were not engaged in conversation.

"And that's the last we see of him," the tech said.

"No hallway cameras, right?" Karch said.

"Nope. We lose him once he's off the elevator in the penthouse."

"What about when the fire alarm went off later?" Grimaldi asked. "Any sign of him then?"

"Nope," the tech said. "I checked all elevator and stairwell cams. He didn't evacu – "

"Wait a minute," Karch suddenly said. "Go back. Back the elevator tape up."

The tech looked at Grimaldi, who nodded. He backed the tape up until Karch said he had gone far enough and then replayed it. They watched silently. It was clear Martin said something to Hidalgo, who then reached into his pocket and produced his card key. Martin then used it to engage the penthouse button.

"Vincent, you said Martin's a shift super?"

"Right."

"Wouldn't he have a key to the penthouse?"

Grimaldi was silent for a moment as he computed what they had just seen on the tape and the meaning of Karch's question.

"Son of a bitch. He used Hidalgo's card when he could've used his own."

"Because maybe he didn't have his on him."

"Because maybe he gave it – where's this woman you're talking about?"

The tech hit some memory codes and the tape on one of the screens reversed to a preset point. On the screen was a wide view of the baccarat salon. One table was in use and Hidalgo was the only player. Using a roller ball built into the console the tech moved the image forward a few frames at a time. He pointed to the bottom of the screen, his finger tapping it just below the image of a woman leaning on the railing that separated the salon from the rest of the casino.

"Her," he said.

"What about her?" Grimaldi asked.

"She's trying not to show it but she's watching him."

He continued to move the roller and the image moved forward. The three men watched the screen in silence. The woman on the screen appeared to be resting or maybe waiting for someone. She had a small backpack over one shoulder and a black gym bag gripped in one hand. She looked as though perhaps she had just checked in and was waiting for someone, perhaps a husband who had stopped to play a few hands of blackjack before they went up to their room. But twice she glanced into the salon and her eyes seemed to fall directly on Hidalgo. Each time her eyes held for what seemed to be more than a passing glance would call for. It was curious to Karch, but not enough.

"He's the only guy playing," he said. "Who else is she going to look at?"

"That's true. But I put her trail together, too."

He ejected a tape from the console and put another one in. Grimaldi came up closer behind him to look at the screen. Karch put his hands flat on Grimaldi's desk and leaned over for a better view. The tape showed the woman with the two bags entering the casino at 8 P.M. and proceeding to the VIP desk, where she was given an envelope.

"That's got to be the key," Grimaldi said. "Martin's fucking key!"

Karch was thinking the same thing but did not say as much. He was also thinking the dark flowing curls that framed – and concealed – the woman's face had to be a wig. He watched as she huddled against a phone in the lobby and probably opened the envelope away from any camera's view. She then turned and started moving toward the casino floor. She moved without hesitation, with a strong purpose. The bags she carried appeared heavy but she held them steady.

After her stop at the baccarat salon, the video trail followed her through the casino and onto an elevator in the Euphrates Tower.

"She was damn good," the tech said. "Never looked up once. We've got nothing. That hat and that hair, she might as well been walkin' under an umbrella."

Karch smiled as he watched. The tech was right. She was good, and already knowing what she had done upstairs, Karch found himself enthralled by the woman on the video screen. She was disguised but he was able to draw a sense of her from the videotape. Young, maybe early thirties, the skin beneath her chin taut, the jawline beneath the brim of the hat set with determination. No earrings, no rings or other jewelry that he could see. No distractions. Nothing but drive toward her goal. Karch wished he could see her eyes because he knew they'd be something to see.

On the screen the woman in the elevator used a card key from her back pocket to engage the penthouse button.

"There's the key all right," Grimaldi said.

Karch wished he would shut up and just observe but didn't say anything.

"Okay," the tech said while typing in a new command on the keyboard. "So she gets off the elevator on twenty. But then we see her two more times."

"Twice?" Grimaldi said.

"Yes, sir. First time she came back down to meet somebody but they never showed up."

He pointed at the screen and the video trail continued. The three men watched silently as video snippets showed her moving through the casino to the lounge, picking an empty table and ordering from a waitress. The trail jumped in time twelve minutes and showed the woman sitting alone but with two drinks on the table.

"What the fuck?" Grimaldi said. "I thought you said nobody showed."

"Nobody did," the tech said. "She ordered the drinks but nobody ever came."

"Let's just watch, okay?" Karch said, annoyed by their banter.

On the screen the woman casually glanced around herself as if to make sure no one was watching and then picked up the glass in front of her. It looked like a Coke to Karch. The woman reached across the small round table and tapped it on the glass of beer. Karch leaned in closer to the screen and watched her lips as she obviously spoke out loud.

"I think you've tailed the wrong person," Grimaldi said, his voice rising in frustration. "This broad's sitting there talking to herself. We don't have the time to be – "

"Wait, sir, check this out. She goes back to the elevators now and goes back up to twenty."