in the night, when she’d asked whether the evening would be a dangerous one, that if I told her to leave, she should do so. Don’t question me. Don’t argue. Don’t fucking dawdle. If I say go, you go. No questions asked. Those were my exact words. I thought my instructions were clear but apparently not clear enough.
Well, I’ll deal with her later. I have something more important to address right now.
“I have to say, a night at the Fortuna is never boring,” Maurice, who is still sitting at the poker table, says. He lights his cigar and leans back in his chair, apparently unperturbed by what has transpired. “I was wondering what tricks you had up your sleeve tonight.”
“No tricks,” I shake my head firmly.
“But a plan.” He arches his eyebrow, a swirl of cigar smoke creeping above his head. As always, he’s immaculately groomed, wearing a dark charcoal suit with thin white pinstripes. A giant golden ring adorns his pinky finger, carrying the crest of the Royal Family of Monaco. Supposedly he won it from the prince in a bet. I know better than to ask. And Maurice knows better than to ask further about the night’s events. “In any case, looks like the table is cold for the night.” He pushes his chair back and stands, extending his hand to me. “A pleasure as always. Hope to see you again soon in Monaco.”
“Count on it. And…sorry about the game.” I shake his right hand while he dismisses my need to apologize with his left, then watch him disappear behind the red velvet curtain.
I turn to Jeremy as he’s casually making his exit. “See you soon, Milner.” I give him a wave. I don’t have to worry about him. He’s like furniture at Fortuna and Destino. He knows how things work and it’s not the first time he’s seen cheaters get caught…which explains his earlier behavior. He might be careless with his money but he’s no snitch.
“Now,” I turn to the staff members still in the room, “I’d like to thank you both for your hard work tonight. And your discretion.” I dig a wad of hundreds out of my pocket. The bartender gets a grand. Tessa gets two grand for her extra work. As I slip the money into the palm of the panic stricken bartender, I give him a reassuring smile. There’s no need for me to say anything further. Tessa will make it clear to him that he’d better keep his mouth shut about what she saw here tonight. With a last nod to Tessa, I head out the door, off to deal with Tony and Bobby.
By the time I arrive at what we call the Wet Room, Ben and Mike already have the two men in chairs, with their hands cuffed behind their backs and their ankles cuffed to the chair legs. It looks like they’ve been roughed up a bit but nothing serious.
The steel door falls shut behind me heavily with a thud. Tony eyes me warily, his eyes filled with hate. Bobby, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to cry. He’s drenched in sweat, his shirt soaked fully through. I take off my suit jacket and fold it neatly, leaving it on a table by the door.
“Mr. Milner! Look, I think youse got the wrong idea ‘bout what we was doing during that poker game just now!” Bobby starts blubbering the second he sees me.
I walk towards him, rolling my sleeves up slowly. My feet click on the cement floor, echoing through the room. It’s an open, barren space, with high ceilings. This used to be a an industrial-grade restaurant kitchen. That was decades ago, before I owned the casino and remodeled it.
Some hints of what this room used to be remain. There are old steel counters, now a bit rickety—but still serviceable, cutting through the room. Tony has one next to him. There’s also some clunky old steel refrigerators, unplugged and empty, as well as a massive wash basin and meat grinder. Everything a wet room needs. The only object that’s out of place, that has nothing to do with a kitchen or cooking, is a giant steel chest with a heavy lock on it, pushed to one side of the room.
“I don’t think I’ve got the wrong idea at all.” I stop in front of Bobby, who is looking at me with pleading eyes. Like a dog. “I think you two are in cahoots. I think you cheated.”