somebody you wanted to put down, but when it came to just common-sense business, he was lame. Joe stifled a flash of anger at his brother and tried to clear his head of sleep and concentrate. “Okay, this guy on any of our sheets?”
“No, sir. His name is Harry Price. Old guy in a wheelchair. He owns a car lot in Fresno. His nephew is named Douglas. Says on his credit-ap he’s an unemployed oil company geologist. The Eye-in-the-Sky was watching them. They’re either very good or they’re not cheating.”
“Okay, here’s what you do,” Joe said. “Put the table limit at fifty thousand. You let them roll once more to buy some time. While they’re doing that, go through their room. If it’s clean, plant something … dope, anything. Call the Bahamian Patrol. If your player gets angry or starts an incident, close the table for an accounting. Pay them slowly to stall them, but don’t let them out of the hotel with the money. We’ll bust ‘em for drugs and then take their winnings. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And tell my brother I wanna talk to him soon as you find him.”
“Yes, sir.” Buzini hung up the phone. “Okay, table limit is fifty thousand, you can roll,” he said to Duffy, who started to bitch that the no-limit was off. Buzini didn’t stick around to listen. He moved to another pit area, picked up the phone, and ordered Security to come to table three and to notify the Bahamian Patrol they had a possible drug problem. Then he called his assistant and told him what to plant in Duffy’s High-roller suite on the tenth floor.
“Same shooter, new point,” the Stick-man said. Beano bet the new lower table limit of fifty thousand dollars, grumbling at the casino Manager as he did. As they pushed the dice over to Duffy, he was quivering with anger.
“Buncha cheap fucks,” Duffy muttered, as he picked up the dice.
“Come to Daddy. Seven come eleven,” and he pitched the dice to the end of the table and they came up nine.
“Nine. The point is nine.”
Beano could tell from the phone calls and the furtive looks that they were about to get closed down. He nudged Duffy in warning, so Duffy didn’t go for the loadies and instead rolled the casino dice. After three rolls, he sevened out. The crowd around the table let out a sad collective breath and the dice were passed.
“Cash me in,” Duffy growled.
“This table’s closed while we do the count,” Buzini instructed, but the other players stayed there and watched as the old man’s chips were counted. The process took almost fifteen minutes.
“One million one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. How do you want that, sir?” Luke Zigman asked.
“Cash fucking money,” Duffy yelled, and the people at the table laughed.
They rolled a cart out from the cage and made a big deal of counting the money and laying the packs of bills in Duffy’s lap. Beano had brought the small, blue folding bag which, had Buzini and Zigman stopped to think, would have seemed very strange. Beano packed the money into the bag. Once it was all in, he started to roll Duffy out of the casino. Security guards were everywhere now and Duffy, with the bag on his lap, was stopped from leaving just a few feet away from the casino main entrance. Buzini stood in front of them, blocking their exit. “I’d like to buy you a congratulatory drink; maybe we could get some pictures of you with the money for the newspaper. It’s good for the casino to publicize big winners,” he said, as thirty or so spectators gathered around.
“Don’t drink. Hate having my picture took,” Duffy croaked, but now he was shaking so badly that he was actually wiggling all over the chair. Several of the Security men had their hands on the arms of the chair so Beano couldn’t leave.
“Harry, you’re about to have one a your seizures,” Beano warned.
“You sure we can’t put that money in the safe for you?” Buzini said.
Then the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance and Duffy looked up at Arnold Buzini, rolled his eyes back in his head, and suddenly convulsed. His legs shot out straight and his neck went rigid. He catapulted out of the chair, onto the floor.
“Oh, my God, he’s having an epileptic fit,” Beano screamed, pumping the atmosphere with adrenaline and confusion. “Call a doctor! Call an ambulance!” he shouted.
Duffy was on the floor; his legs