no ‘me and Rae’ except as marshals. She’s smart, she’s pretty, we like each other a lot, but nothing ever happened and nothing will. If I had a sister, she’d be Rae.”
“Huh. I mean, does that ever bum you out? Even slightly?”
“No. Man, I like her better than anybody I ever met. But no heat. Not that way. We gossip about our relationships like a couple of old hens, but nope. Sister and brother.”
“Okay. Sorry I asked.”
“Surprised you didn’t ask sooner,” Bob said. “Everybody else has. And . . . here she comes.”
Rae came over and said, “I didn’t even win a penny. They took the whole ten dollars. Didn’t win once. Oh, by the way, Santos is on the ground. He’ll be here in five minutes.”
Lucas took a dollar out of his pocket and said to Rae, “Let me show you how this is done.” He slid the dollar into a machine, pushed the button, and won five. He pushed the payout button, took the slip, tucked it in his wallet.
Bob said to Rae, “That’s all there is to it.”
Rae said, “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it? Who would have suspected: racist slot machines . . . Hey, there’s his plane.”
* * *
—
THEY WATCHED as the plane taxied up to the gate and then they followed Harlan onto the stairway landing behind the gray door. Two men and a woman, all in dark business wear, were the first off, followed by Santos, who wore blue slacks and a pale linen sport coat and open-necked French-blue dress shirt. As they watched, he put on a white straw hat and sunglasses. He carried a brown leather backpack and a brown leather overnight bag.
“Guy knows how to dress and accessorize,” Lucas said, peeking through the crack between the door and the jamb.
“Watch the hat,” Rae whispered to Bob. A minute later, the two of them launched from the stairway landing. Lucas held the arm of the second cop until they were almost down the concourse and out of sight, then pushed him and said, “Follow Bob and Rae, but don’t get closer than you are now. Not unless they yell.”
Lucas and Harlan went out through a security lane and down to Lucas’s car. On the way, Bob called and said, “He’s heading for the rentals. You want me to crank up the SOG guys?”
“Not yet, we don’t want a false alarm. Stay with him. I’ll try to get behind you so we can change up.”
* * *
—
BOB CALLED AGAIN when Santos was rolling down the Avis ramp. “Stay on the phone, I’ll keep you up on where we are. We rode all the way to the rental place on the same shuttle. We’re in the wrong vehicle, though. We’re too big and visible, and it sorta looks like a cop car.”
“This Volvo doesn’t, I’m embarrassed to say.”
Bob said, “He’s turned north. He’s in a dark gray Chrysler 300.”
If he were going to the apartment complexes off the airport runway, Lucas thought, he should have turned south. North would lead to the Vegas Strip and downtown.
Bob, a few minutes later: “We’ve turned west on Hidden Well Road,” and, a couple of minutes later: “North again on Las Vegas Boulevard.”
Lucas got on Las Vegas Boulevard, spotted Bob and Rae fifty yards ahead, accelerated past them, said into the phone, “I got him.”
“I’m turning here in case he’s watching his mirror,” Bob said. “I’ll be back behind you in a minute.”
Lucas was two cars behind of Santos, stayed with him through several traffic lights, got on the phone to Bob. “I’m afraid to pass him, he knows me. Are you back behind me?”
“Yeah, we’re catching up.”
“If he rolls through one of these lights on a yellow, I’ve got a problem. I think you ought to blow on by him. There are lots of Tahoes out here. Get ahead of him in case I get caught at a light.”
“Doing that,” Bob said.
A minute later, Bob and Rae’s Tahoe sped past Lucas, Rae at the wheel. She slowed a bit as they came up behind Santos, then went on by. Bob said, “I’m in the footwell, so all he could have seen is a woman driving a truck.”
“All right,” Lucas said. “Don’t outrun him.”
They all got stopped at Harmon Avenue, Santos a half dozen cars behind Bob and Rae, Lucas another half dozen cars behind Santos. They went through Flamingo together, then Bob said, “Shit, he pulled into the valet parking at Caesars. You’re on your own,