“My pleasure. I will call you, and let you know how this works out, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much, chief.”

Running Bear hesitated. Standing beneath the moth-encrusted porch light with his hat in his hand, the chief wore a pained expression on his face, like there was something that he wished to say, but didn’t know how to say it. Embarrassed, he walked to his truck, and got in.

Mabel watched the truck drive away, its headlights swallowed up in the darkness. What was that all about?Closing the door, she started to throw the deadbolt when a hand clasped her throat from behind.

Judo meant the gentle way in Japanese. But it wasn’t gentle at all, the moves it taught designed to break bones and destroy joints. Mabel had learned that in the first judo class she’d ever taken, and never forgotten it.

She drove her elbow into her attacker’s solar plexis, and heard a sharp gasp. Then she stomped on her attacker’s instep, and heard another gasp. Throwing herself at the door, she grabbed the handle and attempted to jerk it open. Her attacker grabbed her by the shoulders, and she let out a scream.

“Shut up, old woman,” her attacker said.

That really made Mabel mad. Just because she was a member of AARP didn’t make her easy prey. Spinning around, she poked her attacker in the eye.

“Take that!”

“Ohhh!”

Momentarily blinded, her attacker staggered backward. He was native American, about six-two and heavy, with greasy, shoulder-length black hair and a face scarred by acne. Mabel guessed this was one of the crooked dealer’s relatives that Running Bear had warned her about. She ran to the door, and saw it open on its own.

Running Bear stepped into the house. He was barefoot, and wore a blank expression. He put himself between Mabel, and her attacker, then planted his feet.

“Hello Silver Fox,” he said.

Silver Fox grabbed a vase of flowers off a shelf and came at Running Bear. The chief’s right foot flew into the air, and kicked Silver Fox in the temple. Silver Fox’s head snapped sideways, and he crumbled to the floor in a heap, and did not move.

“Holy cow,” Mabel said.

Running Bear knelt down, and lifted up one of Silver Fox’s eyelids. He was out cold. The chief glanced up at her.

“I saw his car parked at the street’s end,” he explained.

“I’m glad you’re so observant,” Mabel said.

“So am I.”

The chief stood up and let out an exasperated breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your boss is going to kill me when he hears about this,” Running Bear said.

Mabel swallowed the lump rising in her throat. The chief had risked his life to save hers. She could wait her whole life, and not find a man like this. She grabbed the chief by the sleeve, and pulled him close to her. He did not resist as she put his arms around his waist, and brought her face up within a few inches of his.

“Let’s not tell him,” she said.

Chapter 42

Garrow was nearly dead by the time the Reno police broke down his front door.

Garrow lived in a fancy gated community with a guard at the front. His house had the best security system money could buy. Neither of those things had stopped Bronco from getting on the grounds and breaking into the house. He’d tied his attorney to a chair, and beaten him to a pulp.

Garrow was cut free, and laid on the floor with a pillow placed beneath his head. Bill called for EMS on his cell phone.

“I want to talk to him,” Valentine said.

“I don’t think he can talk,” Bill replied.

“He’s a lawyer. He’ll be talking five minutes after he’s dead.”

“Go ahead.”

Valentine got a cold beer from the refrigerator. It was a St. Paul’s Girl. He popped the top and poured some into Garrow’s mouth. The lawyer smiled weakly.

“That tastes good,” Garrow whispered.

“I want you to help me catch Bronco,” Valentine said.

“Give me some more beer.”

Valentine drained half the bottle into his mouth. “You want more, start talking.”

“Prick.”

Valentine took that as a compliment. “Tell me about the Asian. He was supposed to exchange scams with Bronco. A Pai Gow scam for Bronco’s slot machine scam.”

“Right. The Asian robbed me, stole my wallet. The slot machine scam was in it, although I don’t think he knows how it works.”

“What is the scam?”

“It’s an EPROM chip. The chip contains a special code. If you plug it into certain slot machines, they become rigged.”

“How does that work?”

“Beats me. Give me some beer.”

Valentine pulled Garrow’s head up and fed him more beer. Giving him liquor was a dirty trick, not that he cared. Garrow was scum, and scum deserved whatever they got.

“What’s the Pai Gow scam?”

“ The Asian showed me a pair of dominos. They looked normal. Then he said ‘Red not black.’ and laughed.”

“You examine them?”

“They were clean. More beer.”

Valentine gave him the rest of the beer. It was easing the pain and loosening his tongue at the same time. “So the Asian doesn’t know how the slot scam works.”

“Right. He needs Bronco to explain it . That’s why Bronco came to see me. He wants to hook up with the Asian, and do the exchange.”

“How they going to do that?”

“Easy. The Asian stole my cell phone. I told Bronco that all he had to do was call my number, and he’d get the Asian.”

“Is that why Bronco didn’t kill you?”

Garrow nodded weakly. Then his eyes rolled up into his head, and he passed out.

An EMS team came into the house and attended to Garrow, and Valentine got out of their way. A code. The slot secret was a code, whatever the hell that meant. Gerry stood in the doorway with a funny look on his face. He pulled his father into the next room.

“What’s the matter?” Valentine asked.

“I just figured out how the gaming agent is stealing jackpots,” his son said.

“Be still my beating heart.”

“Come on, Pop. I do have a brain, you know.”

“I never doubted that. Just your ability to use it.”

“Thanks. Bet you a steak dinner I’m right.”

“You’re on.”

“I’m in my bar in Brooklyn, eating lunch. White-haired guy comes into the bar who services the juke box. He serviced half the juke boxes in Brooklyn, and was always busy. I watched him open up the machine, and I realized that he used a key on his regular key chain, which was pretty small. For some reason, it didn’t feel right, so I stop him and said, ‘Look, I know you service all these different machines, how come your key chain is so small?’ And the guy gives me this sheepish look and says, ‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but they all can be opened with the same key.’ And I say, ‘All the locks are the same?’ And he says, ‘Yeah. The manufacturer did it to save money.’”

“What does this have to do with the slot scam?”

Gerry smiled. He seemed to be clearly enjoying the fact that he had his old man over a barrel. “Remember when we were in Bronco’s house, and I asked you about those key rings hanging off the wall in Bronco’s work area? You told me that Bronco had discovered that casinos used skeleton keys to open up slot machines, which is similar to what the juke box company uses.”

“So?”

“Think about it, Pop. Both these things share one thing in common: the manufacturer skimped on cost, and created an exploitable flaw. Well, I think that’s what we have here with the slot machines. Remember what Impoco told us at the Peppermill? He said that each slot machine had a 32-word and number fingerprint, and that a cheater would have to know the fingerprint in order to hack the machine, and gaff the Random Number Generator chip.”

Valentine felt goose bumps rising on his arms. “And you think that a manufacturer didn’t do this, and instead has the same fingerprint on all its machines?”