SIXTY-FOUR

I figured hanging out in the casino would be a good way to get Benjamin Moffitt’s attention.

I woke Carter at nine and told him I was going in. He shook the sleep out of his eyes and said he’d do his thing. I walked away from the truck, wondering if we could pull it off.

I roamed the gaming floor for an hour, keeping an eye out for anyone and anything that looked familiar. Walking in slow circles, I watched as the hardcore gamblers mixed with the day tourists who made the drive out to Bareva. I couldn’t help but wonder if Simington ever gambled at any of these machines.

After walking around for a little while longer, I took the elevators up to the fourth floor, where Carter and I had gone the first time. The same receptionist greeted me.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Ben Moffitt.”

“I’m sorry sir, but—”

“You told me the same thing a couple of weeks ago,” I said, my voice sounding hollow. “Get on the phone and tell him Braddock isn’t leaving until I talk to him.”

She hesitated.

“Now!” I yelled at her.

She jumped in her seat but picked up the phone. Thirty seconds later, the elevators opened behind me and Gus and Ross emerged. Gus was still sporting a bandage along his left temple. “Let’s go,” Ross said.

“You take me anywhere but to Moffitt and I’ll make hitting him with a pitcher look like fun,” I said, walking toward the elevator.

They stepped into the elevator behind me, and the doors closed. Ross pushed an unnumbered button, and the car began to rise.

Gus crowded in closer to me. “You think you’re a badass ‘cause you got off one shot? Why don’t you—”

I pivoted and drove my fist into his midsection. He gasped, and I brought the heel of my hand up under his jaw. His teeth clacked shut, and blood spurted out his mouth, probably from biting his tongue. I hit him again in the stomach, and he slumped to the floor.

I swiveled toward Ross. “You wanna go?”

Ross held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, man, I’m just taking you to Mr. Moffitt’s office.”

I turned back to the crumpled Gus, now breathing heavily. “If you fuckin’ move before I get out of this elevator, you will never move again.”

Gus just continued to squeeze his eyes shut as the blood leaked out of his mouth.

I wasn’t kidding. Gus had stepped into the wrong place at the wrong time. Anger was rippling through my body, and I didn’t need an excuse to unleash it.

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. I stepped out. The doors closed and sent Gus away.

Ross and I walked down the corridor toward Moffitt’s office and found him sitting behind his desk.

He looked up and smiled. “Mr. Braddock, nice to see you again.” He glanced past me at Ross. “Thank you, Ross. That will be all.”

Ross looked concerned, like maybe he should mention that I’d flattened Gus in the elevator. But he wasn’t confident enough to stand up to his boss’s dismissal. He hesitated, then sort of shrugged and left, closing the office doors behind him.

“So, Mr. Braddock,” Moffitt said. “What can I do for you today?”

“You’re going to tell me about Landon Keene,” I said.

A moment of forced confusion flickered through his features. “I think you mentioned his name last time and—”

I walked around the desk, grabbed him by the shirt, and lifted him out of the leather chair. Shock registered on his face, and he slapped at my hands. I shoved him over to the window and banged his forehead on the glass.

“Look carefully,” I said.

“What?” Moffitt said, his voice frantic. “What?”

“Two hundred yards in front of you,” I said. “Do you see him?”

He steadied himself, now looking out the window, probably wondering what the hell he was supposed to see. Then he said, “Jesus Christ.”

“That’s right,” I said, glancing up and spotting Carter outside, aiming the rifle right at us. “I’m going to let you go, but you aren’t going to move. If you do, he’s going to make your head a convertible before you get more than a foot. Do you understand?”

“Jesus Christ,” he repeated.

“I seriously doubt he will be the one to greet you in the afterlife. Do you understand me?” “Yes! Shit, yes! I get it.”

“And if anyone barges in here and you don’t tell them to get the fuck out, I’m going to signal to him and he’s going to kill you. Do you understand that?”

Sweat was running down his cheeks. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Don’t pull your forehead off that glass,” I said. “Don’t move until I tell you to.”

“Alright! What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Tell me about Landon Keene.”

His eyes were dancing back and forth between me and the rifle pointed at him from two hundred yards away. “What do you want to know?”

“He works for you?”

“No. Yes. He’s blackmailing me.”

That surprised me. “How?”

He was bent over at an awkward angle, but he was as still as a statue. “I pay him. He works out of my casino.”

“Works out of your casino. Hiring coyotes?”

His eyes shifted in my direction. “Yes.”

“Are you involved in his smuggling operation?”

“I was. I got out a few years ago as I was getting into the casinos. That’s what he’s holding over me,” he said. “It overlapped for a while.

He says he’ll go to the gaming board and let them know about my past if I don’t let him do his thing.”

That made sense. Moffitt didn’t need the smuggling money because the casino money was worlds better. But one wrong turn and it could all disappear.

“My back is killing me,” he said. “Can I stand up?”

“Do it slowly, but don’t turn away from the glass. Keep your eyes on our friend out there.”

Moffitt moved like he was in slow motion, rising until he was in an upright position. He kept his forehead on the glass.

“What about Russell Simington?” I asked.

He took a deep breath, looking for any measure of composure. “The three of us worked together. Keene, Simington, and myself. Smuggling. Keene and I worked together at first. He wanted to put together a larger operation. I wanted out, to do other things. I got interested in the casinos, he stayed with the smuggling. Keene was always the brains, the driving force.”

“You employed Simington, too?”

“Yes. But only because Keene made me. He wanted him working in the casinos to help scout.”

I believed him because it all fit together. “When did you get out?” I asked.

“After Simington got arrested,” he said. “I’d made enough, and it was getting too dangerous. I got in on the gaming contracts with the money I’d made from running the Mexicans and was able to open two more casinos. I didn’t need it anymore.” He let out a sigh. “Keene came to me a year later and wanted to use the casinos. More casinos meant more recruiting for him, more potential targets. I said no, and he threatened to ruin me. I gave in.”

All of what he was saying put things in line for me. But at that moment, I didn’t care about getting things in line. I only wanted one thing.

“Where do I find Keene?” I asked.

“Oh, man,” he said, getting close to a whine. “Come on.”

“One signal from me and he puts one bullet in your face,” I reminded Moffitt.

The perspiration cascaded down his red cheeks. “Shit. Alright. I don’t know where he lives. He jumps from house to house. But I know he’s going to El Centro tomorrow.”

El Centro. A little spark went off in my head. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. He said he was going down there for a few days. That he had to go tie up some loose ends.”

Loose ends. The widow of a man he had murdered.

“Why has what happened there become so important to him?” I said, as much to myself as to Moffitt. “Why is he now so determined to close the whole thing up?”

“I don’t know,” Moffitt said, glancing at me.

I nodded at the window. “I think his finger is getting twitchy on the trigger. Try again. Why now?”

Moffitt swallowed hard. “He said something about a woman talking to a cop.”

Lucia. And Asanti. And Keene was probably worried that she was telling him about the extortion attempt and that she might be able to tie him to Simington. I wasn’t clear on what was setting Keene off, but it seemed to me that while he was confident that he had Moffitt and Simington leveraged, he feared anything I might learn.

Loose ends.

I stepped in close to Moffitt. I held two fingers up to the window, and I saw Carter nod in the distance.

“I just told him I’ll be outside in two minutes,” I said. “If you move before he lowers that gun, he will shoot you. If I’m not out in two minutes, he will shoot you.” I leaned in close. “And if you talk to Keene before I find him, if I find out you told anyone about our conversation, I will get to you and make you wish he had shot you. Got it?”

He nodded, his forehead squeaking against the window. “Yes.” I hoped I never had to set eyes on Benjamin Moffitt again.