“We’re partners now,” Gerry said. “My father can’t be bossing me around if we’re going to work in the same business together.”

“Even if he knows it’s for your own good?” his wife asked.

Gerry feigned a laugh. Yolanda was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was beautiful and wickedly smart and loved him to a fault. But she didn’t always back him up, especially when it came to disagreements with his old man.

“Even then,” he said.

People who lived in Tampa liked to say that their airport was the best in the country. Gerry had used the airport a few times, and joined the chorus. The place worked like a fine Swiss watch. He parked in short term, and got his wife’s suitcase out of the trunk along with his daughter’s stroller. They took an elevator down to the second level, and headed for the American Airlines counter. Within ten minutes the suitcase had been vetted by two TSA agents, and Yolanda had the boarding passes to San Juan.

They strolled around the main concourse, looking inside the shop windows, then bought two coffees at the Starbucks stand and an oatmeal cookie for their daughter. Yolanda glanced at her watch and said, “Well, I guess we should be going.”

The flight didn’t leave for another hour, and Gerry knew that Yolanda would pre-board because of the baby. He asked, “Had enough of me, huh?”

Yolanda kissed him on the lips, then looked into her husband’s eyes.

“What I mean is, it’s time for you to go to work,” she said.

“Think my old man will dock me if I show up late?”

“With that attitude, yes.”

“Do I have a bad attitude?”

“You do with your father. He brought you into his business to help you, Gerry. That says a lot about what type of person he is. I know he can be a bear sometimes, but he has your best interests at heart and always will.”

Gerry didn’t doubt what Yolanda was saying for a minute. His old man had been there for him through thick and thin. But he also knew that if he didn’t avenge Jack Donovan’s murder, he wasn’t going to be able to live with himself.

They walked over to the Concourse E shuttle and kissed again. Then he gave his daughter a kiss. His wife gave the security person her driver’s license and the boarding passes, and a moment later was let through. Gerry waved good-bye, and watched Yolanda and his daughter board a tram that would take them to their airline gate.

Gerry drove his car out of short-term parking and handed the ticket attendant his stub. Moments later his charge was printed on a digital screen next to the attendant’s booth. NO CHARGE.

“I get to park for free?” Gerry said.

“You just made it under the minimum amount of time,” the attendant said.

“What a great place.”

“Tell me about it. Have a nice day.”

He followed the signs out of the airport until he saw one that said AIRPORT RETURN. He got in the left lane, and looped back the way he came. A minute later he reentered the parking area, and headed for long term. He spent several minutes finding a spot, parked, and sat behind the wheel watching a jet depart on a runway. He imagined Yolanda and his daughter on that jet, and how he would feel if something happened to them and he was not by their side. Pangs of guilt swept over him, and he supposed that was the penalty for being untruthful with his wife.

He got his suitcase from the trunk. He’d stowed it there the night before, when Yolanda was sleeping. His wife believed she was a light sleeper, but ever since she’d had the baby, she slept like a log.

He took a tram to the main concourse, then an elevator to the second level. As he exited the elevator, he stopped beneath a giant electronic board that showed the morning’s arrivals and departures arranged alphabetically by city. There were three flights out that morning, and he didn’t think he’d have trouble getting a seat. He went to the Delta counter and handed a reservation agent his driver’s license and credit card.

“Where are we going today?” the agent asked.

“Las Vegas,” Gerry said.

8

One of the curses of the retired was the excess of unstructured time. Though not yet retired, Valentine had read that in a magazine published by AARP and had taken it to heart. Every morning, he followed a strict routine—twenty minutes of exercise, followed by breakfast while reading the paper. By nine he was ready to start work, and would go to his study and check his e-mails. More often than not, a panicked casino boss in some part of the world had contacted him the night before, and his workday would officially begin.

But today felt a little strange. He had plenty to do—with six e-mails having come in since last night—but his enthusiasm was not there. Perhaps it had something to do with the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his newspaper from Gerry. His son had taken his family to San Juan early that morning, and promised to call in a few days.

Valentine stared out the window onto his backyard, and tried to put his finger on why he felt out of sorts. It took only a moment for him to realize what was wrong.

He was alone.

He’d battled loneliness since his wife had died, and considered it his greatest nemesis. He needed to stay engaged, regardless of the task. He was still staring out the window when his office line rang. He answered the phone without enthusiasm.

“Tony, is that you?” It was the familiar voice of Bill Higgins. Director of the Nevada Gaming Control Board, Bill was responsible for policing Nevada’s casinos. They had been close friends for over twenty-five years.

“Sure is. You’re up early.”

“Just doing the Lord’s work,” Bill said. “I’ve got a problem that I was hoping you could help me with.”

“Help’s my middle name,” Valentine said.

“Good. Are you familiar with the World Poker Showdown?”

“Sure. Largest open poker tournament in the world, held in Las Vegas for eight days every year, over five thousand players competing for a ten-million-dollar grand prize. This year’s event is being held at Celebrity’s new casino.”

“I didn’t know you stayed up on the poker stuff,” Bill said.

“Beats playing shuffleboard.”

“There you go. There’s an old-timer entered in the tournament named Rufus Steele. His nickname is the Thin Man. You know him?”

Valentine smiled into the receiver. Rufus was the last of the true Texas gamblers, and had never met a wager he didn’t like. “I helped Rufus out of a jam in Atlantic City twenty years ago. You know what they used to say about Rufus? If he stood sideways and stuck his tongue out, he’d look like a zipper.”

“Well, the zipper is kicking up a storm. He got knocked out of the tournament last night, and started yelling that he’d been cheated. The tournament is being televised this year by one of the sports channels, so of course they interviewed him. It’s making all the casino owners in Las Vegas nervous.”

“How so?”

“Poker has been Las Vegas’s salvation since 9/11,” Bill said. “It draws more players with money than any other game. It’s keeping the casinos happy.”

“And Rufus saying that he got cheated in the biggest game in town might kill the goose that laid the golden egg,” Valentine said.

“Exactly.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Two things. The interview is going to be shown on television again. I’d like you to watch it, and see if you think Rufus has a legitimate beef. If he does, I’d like you to watch a surveillance tape of Rufus’s table in an e-mail I’m about to send you.”

Valentine stared at his computer screen. The six e-mails he’d received last night were from casinos that paid him monthly retainers. He needed to address them, but didn’t want to leave Bill hanging. He didn’t put money before friendship, and never would.