Valentine had brought the files of the seven ESD agents that Gerry had identified as their primary suspects, and spread them across the coffee table. “We’ve narrowed it down to these agents. Do any of them program laptops for ESD?”

Bill glanced at each file. “They all do.”

“So it could be any one of them,” Valentine said.

Bill nodded. He was frowning. It was rare for him to show any emotion. While waiting for their food, Valentine had read the files again, and seen something disturbing. Each of the seven agents had taken an extended leave three years ago, which Bill had approved. Something tied these agents together, only Bill wasn’t telling him what it was. Valentine said, “How many Universal slot machines are in Nevada?”

“About twenty thousand,” Bill mumbled.

“You need to take them out of commission.”

“Tony, you’re talking about a fifth of the slots in the state. That’s a lot of money.”

“I don’t care. Those slot machines can be corrupted, and shouldn’t be played.”

“I’ll have to get Governor Smoltz’s approval. He’s not going to like it.”

“You want me to call Smoltz?”

Bill shook his head. He took out his cell phone, and pulled up Smoltz’s number. His chair made a harsh scraping sound as he left the restaurant.

“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” Gerry said.

Valentine ate his New York strip steak in silence. Bill was holding out on him. Friends didn’t hold out on each other. Before this was over, he was going to find out why, even if it meant putting their twenty-five years on the line.

While eating a piece of warm apple pie, Valentine had another epiphany. This one was so obvious, he was surprised he hadn’t seen it sooner. Scooping up the files of the ESD agents, he threw down money for the meal, and rose from the table. Gerry was pigging out on an ice cream sundae, and in no hurry to leave.

“Where you going?”

“I need to run a little errand. See you in the morning.”

Valentine took the elevator to the main level. It was late, and the casino was filled with the drunk and desperate. The front desk was empty, and he rang the bell. A manager appeared who looked like he’d just snapped out of a coma. There was a reason they called it the graveyard shift; only the dead seemed to work it.

“I need to use your fax machine.”

“Business office is closed,” the manager said, smothering a yawn.

He shoved a twenty into the manager’s hand.

“That isn’t necessary,” the manager said, pocketing the money.

Soon Valentine was feeding the files of the seven ESD agents through the hotel fax machine. He knew why Bill had clammed up on him. These agents were Bill’s friends, and Bill didn’t want to see anything bad happen to them. It was a natural reaction, and he couldn’t hold it against Bill for feeling that way.

When the faxes had gone through, he checked the time. It was three A.M., which made it six A.M. back home. He hated calling Mabel so early, but saw no other choice. He punched her number into his cell phone, and heard the call go through.

Mabel awoke to the sound of her ringing phone. It was still dark outside, the birds singing softly. Only Tony called this early in the morning. If he hadn’t paid her so well and had such nice manners, she would have stopped working for him a long time ago.

“Yes, boss,” she answered.

“Sorry to wake you up. I’ve got a job for you.”

“Is that why you called? I thought it was to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”

“Later, beautiful.”

Tony explained what he needed done. Barely awake, Mabel didn’t tell him about all the excitement from the previous night, or how Running Bear had come to her rescue, or how she’d gone to the police station and filed charges against the man who’d attacked her. That was yesterday, and seemed like old news.

Ten minutes later, she shuffled down the sidewalk to Tony’s house with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. The humidity was starting to drop, the mornings feeling downright pleasant. She’d discovered that people from Florida didn’t like winter, and considered anything below seventy degrees cold. Back in her day, men went shirtless in thirty degree weather, and shoveled snow in their tee-shirts.

She entered Tony’s house and disarmed the security system, then went to the study. Lying in the fax machine tray were the files of seven gaming agents Tony had just sent. She removed the files, sat down in front of Tony’s computer, and got onto the Internet.

She typed in the homepage for the Nevada Gaming Control Board’s intranet. The GCB used an intranet to communicate with its employees, which could only be accessed through a special password. Because Tony did so much work for the GCB, he’d been given the password, which she now used to gain access.

A warning appeared on the page. Non-employees of the GCB were not allowed on the site. Anyone caught hacking the site would be punished.

“I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see that,” Mabel said.

She went to the Personnel Section, which contained a files for all nine hundred agents in the GCB. Each file contained the agent’s bio, and a recent head shot.

Mabel pulled up the head shots of the seven suspected agents, and printed their photos on a color laser printer. Putting the photos into an envelope, she walked out of the study with her coffee cup, reset the security system, and locked the front door.

She headed home. As she neared her house, she stiffened. A beat-up pick-up was parked in her driveway, a large man at her front door. She felt her heartbeat quicken. It was Running Bear. She had kissed him last night, and that was all. But it had been enough to tell her that there was something real between them.

“Good morning,” the chief said, coming off the stoop.

Mabel had left the house without makeup, and couldn’t remember if she’d brushed her hair. The bride of Frankenstein returns.

“Hello.”

“How are you this morning?”

“I’m well. What brings you out so early?”

“I spoke with the police a short while ago,” Running Bear said, holding his cowboy hat in his hand. “The man who attacked you last night and our crooked poker player are brothers. There is a third brother, whom the police cannot account for. They think it would be wise if you stayed someplace else until this man is found.”

“Do you really think he’ll try to hurt me?”

“I would hate to find out,” Running Bear said.

His answer made Mabel smile. She liked the fact that instead of calling, Running Bear had come over to tell her in person. “I’m doing a job for my boss,” she said. “Once I’m done, I’ll take your advice, and lay low.”

“Will you be going out?”

“Yes. I need to see an unusual lady in the next county.”

Running Bear did not seem comfortable with her decision, and Mabel guessed he didn’t like the idea of her being on the road by herself.

“You can drive me, if you’d like. I’d be happy for the company.”

“Of course,” Running Bear said. “May I ask who this person is?”

“She’s a face reader,” Mabel said.

“What is that?”

Mabel’s eyes twinkled. For someone who ran a casino, there was an awful lot the chief didn’t know. That was good, because it gave them plenty to talk about.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and went inside to get ready.

Chapter 45

Bronco took his time driving to Vegas.

Normally, he liked to race. It was not unusual for him to drive over a hundred miles per hour on the highway. But then outside of Reno he’d remembered something. Throughout the Nevada desert there were hidden surveillance cameras whose sole purpose was to photograph speeding motorists, and compare their faces to data bases of known criminals. The cameras were everywhere — in signs, trees, even road art. Avoiding them was next to impossible. It was better to drive slow, which was exactly what he’d done.