Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7) (27 page)

"I only have one nightgown," Tawni said, "and you're wearing it. Besides, I'm hot."

Yes, you are,
Sheryl thought.

"How did you get into my secret stash?"

"I just messed around until I figured out how to open it."

Tawni furrowed her brow.

"Seriously," Sheryl said, "are you going to put something on?"

"Why? Am I bothering you?"

"You're certainly distracting me."

Tawni smiled. "It's funny. A lot of men have seen me naked and none of them told me to wear clothes. I guess women are different."

"Have you slept with a lot of men?"

"Over a hundred."

"Why?" Sheryl said.

"Different reasons." Tawni shrugged. "I never felt like settling down. I used sex to get food, shelter, transportation, whatever I needed. It was easy for me."

Sheryl looked down.

"You think I'm a slut. I can't say I wasn't one. But I grew up in a rough neighborhood in a shitty, little apartment without a father. My mother taught me to use my body to survive. That's how she lived."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't judge you. My childhood was a lot easier than yours. Everything was planned, predictable, and safe. An exciting night for us was going out for Mexican food."

"Don't worry about it," Tawni said. "I'm used to being judged. What about you? What's your sexual scorecard look like?"

"I had one boyfriend in high school. That lasted until I decided I liked his sister a lot more. Ever since, my love life has been spotty at best. It's hard to maintain a relationship when I'm always travelling from venue to venue. A few girlfriends tried to follow me around, but never for long."

"Your travelling days are over, sister. You're stuck here forever." Tawni cocked her head. "If you want, you can go pick something for me to wear tonight."

Sheryl raised her eyebrows. "You're teasing me."

"Do you want to or not?"

Sheryl went off in search of the bedroom.

She found it in the back of the house. Tawni had a queen-sized bed in a room suited for something smaller. The sheets and blankets were dark blue. The yellow walls were blank except for a few cracks in the paint. A black clock radio was on the nightstand. Again, the generic décor disappointed Sheryl.

She checked the closet and found it empty. There was a dresser, but it only contained underwear and socks.

"Where are your clothes?" she asked.

"Other room," Tawni said.

Sheryl went next door to a second bedroom which had been turned into a giant walk-in closet. Hundreds of shirts, pants, and dresses were hung on long racks. Shoes filled an entire shelving system.

"You think you have enough clothes?"

"Aaron told me I could buy what I wanted," Tawni said, "so I went shopping."

Most of the outfits had drab colors and a very plain style. Long sleeves and long skirts were common.

Sheryl touched a sweater with particularly baggy sleeves. "Your skin is so lovely. Why do you cover it up?"

"I have to hide my weapons."

"Oh, right."

Sheryl found some lingerie at the end of a rack. She picked out a black satin chemise that looked comfortable. She showed it to Tawni.

Tawni shook her head. "That's not very exciting."

"You want this instead?" Sheryl pulled out a fishnet teddy that bordered on wearing nothing at all.

"That's more like it." Tawni put on the teddy. "How do I look?"

Sheryl sighed. "Too good to be true."

Tawni studied Sheryl for a long moment.

"What?" Sheryl said.

"Come to bed with me." Tawni took Sheryl's hand and pulled.

Sheryl's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"I've never been with a woman. I want to know what it feels like. Maybe I'll like it."

Sheryl followed Tawni into the bedroom. "Why are you suddenly so eager?"

"Seeing you in my nightgown made me curious. You got that cute, white chick thing going on."

"Well, I'll do my best to make your first lesbian experience a good one."

Tawni smiled. "And maybe I'll teach you a few tricks, too."

* * *

Neville Cantrell yawned. The grand opening party was finally winding down. As the host, he had felt compelled to stay until the end. Now he could go back to his hotel room and get some well deserved sleep.

The celebration was taking place in one of the private party rooms in the Pot of Gold Casino. An abundance of golden helium balloons and golden streamers made the spacious room bright and cheerful. A champagne fountain produced a distinctive and expensive scent.

One of his bodyguards handed a phone to Cantrell. "Sir, you have an urgent call."

Cantrell put the phone against his ear. "Hello?"

"This is Mr. Harper at Yellow Tower."

"Is something wrong?"

"We were expecting your final payment tonight," Harper said.

Cantrell checked his watch. "That's right. Two hours ago."

"It never happened."

"I gave specific orders. The money is available. I'll call my man and find out what the holdup is."

"Please, do," Harper said. "There is a substantial sum involved."

Cantrell hung up.

He dialed a number he had memorized and had never written down. Lenny was supposed to answer immediately, but instead, it kept ringing until it went through to an answering machine. Cantrell didn't leave a message.

Suddenly anxious, he called a different number.

Konstantin answered in his thick Russian accent. "Yes?" He made even the smallest word sound threatening.

"We have a problem. My man at Golden Spiral isn't answering the phone. Contact your guys and find out what's going on. Call me back."

Cantrell ended the call. He tapped his foot while he waited.

A few partiers were still staggering around the room. The dress on one woman had fallen off a shoulder, partially exposing a breast. A man was missing a shoe and didn't seem to care. Another man had fallen asleep under a table. It had been a good party. Cantrell had remained sober, of course. He had allowed himself just one glass of wine and a sip of champagne.

The phone rang.

Cantrell answered immediately. "Yes?"

"My men aren't responding either," Konstantin said.

"Send somebody over there!"

"I already did, but it will be a while before I get a report. You're not too far away. Maybe you should investigate for yourself."

Cantrell inhaled. Something very bad had happened at Golden Spiral Investments tonight, and going there was dangerous. He didn't like taking personal risks. He paid other people to do that for him.

"That's all right," he said. "I'll wait for your report. I'm sure it will be sufficiently detailed."

Konstantin muttered something under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Golden Spiral handles the payments to me and my men," Konstantin said. "I trust those payments will still occur on time. The Shkotovo Company does not extend credit, and we specialize in debt collection."

"Don't worry. Now that my new casino is finally open, I have more money coming in than I know what to do with. I can give you suitcases full of cash."

"Cash is acceptable. Is that all?"

"Yes," Cantrell said, "for now." He hung up.

He returned the phone to his bodyguard.

He walked over to the champagne fountain and kicked it over. Booze gushed across the floor.

"The party is over!" he yelled. "Get the fuck out of here, everybody!"

* * *

Jack had somehow become a small, wooden ball. He was rolling along a metal track, helpless to stop himself. A rubber flipper smacked him. He flew through a metal hoop and dropped into a hole. He bounced around in darkness for a while, unable to anticipate the violent impacts. A spring-loaded piston shot him back into the light, and he landed in a spinning bowl. He quickly became nauseous as he rolled back and forth at high speed.

He was trapped in a machine. Through a sheet of glass, he saw the person playing the game. It was a monkey.

He woke up screaming.

Dripping with sweat, he sat up in bed. The room was dark. He fumbled until he managed to turn on the light on the nightstand. The sheets were wrapped around his legs.

Nancy's voice spoke through overhead speakers. "Jack? Are you OK?" She had the graveyard shift in the security booth.

"It was just a nightmare." Jack tried to swallow but his mouth was dry.

"You yelled."

"I'll be OK. Don't worry about me."

Jack got out of bed. Going back to sleep now was impossible. He put on his underwear so Nancy wouldn't see him naked on the surveillance feed.

His legs were wobbly as he left the guest room where he was staying. Only a few lights were on in headquarters. He looked around, uncertain of what to do next. Aaron and Marina were sleeping in the commander's suite, so Jack had to be very quiet. They were extremely light sleepers.

He needed a stiff drink, but there was no alcohol in headquarters. Aaron wanted his people sober all the time.

Jack went into the living room and closed the door. He turned on the giant television and quickly lowered the volume until it was barely audible. He sat on one of the comfortable padded recliners. Maybe a late night movie would calm him down.

He flipped through the channels without paying much attention. His focus was elsewhere. The jingle jangle of the monkey machine was in his head again, and it was grinding away his sanity. Feeling angry and frustrated, he turned off the television.

The only escape was unconsciousness.

He went next door to the medical lab which Smythe had designed as an emergency room. A respirator and other medical gadgets were near an operating table. Cabinets and drawers held instruments and supplies. The lighting was particularly bright in here.

Jack went to one cabinet in particular. He opened a frosted glass door and found little bottles containing pills of all shapes and colors.
Sleeping pills must be in here somewhere,
he thought.

"Jack, what are you doing?" Nancy's disembodied voice descended from above.

"Finding something that will make me sleep," Jack replied as he continued his search.

"Some of that stuff can hurt you."

"I know."

Nancy paused. "This doesn't seem very smart. You're not a doctor. You shouldn't be messing around in there."

"Mind your own business," Jack snapped.

He was trying to read the labels on the bottles, but the medicines had strange names like Baycadron and Mycostatin. He couldn't figure out what they were for.

"Maybe you should call Smythe," Nancy said.

"No," Jack said. "He's probably asleep."

"I'm sure he'll be glad to help you."

Jack pounded the wall with his fist. "OK. You win."

He had left his phone in the guest room. He jogged back and grabbed it off the nightstand. He pressed the wrong buttons a few times before he managed to make the call.

"Hello?" Smythe said.

"This is Jack. I'm going crazy here. I need a drug that will knock me out."

"Can you describe your symptoms?"

"I keep hearing the monkey machine," Jack said. "The bells are inside my brain, and every time they ring, I think about the game. I can't stand it anymore!"

"Sedation isn't my first choice of treatment, but it will do until the morning. I'll work out a real therapy for you tomorrow. I didn't realize you were feeling so bad."

"Just tell me what pill to take, sir."

"Go to the medical lab," Smythe said. "There is a black plastic case near the door. That's my field kit."

Jack rushed back to the lab. He found a black case on top of a rolling table and opened it. Inside, he found bandages, a thermometer, latex gloves, forceps, and other items.

"I got it."

"Look for a brown plastic bottle," Smythe said. "Small, white pills. Take just one, no more. Be in bed before you swallow it. That stuff hits hard and fast."

"Thank you, sir." Jack hung up.

He found the bottle. He spilled white pills on the floor as he was fishing one out. His hands were shaking badly.

He jogged back to his bed. The jingling noise was like a drill in his ear, and knowing it wasn't real only made it worse. He popped the pill and laid down.

He stared at the ceiling with his eyes wide open.

"Come on," he muttered. "Hurry..."

He passed out.

* * *

Cantrell was sitting on an outdoor chair on the balcony of his hotel room. The muggy night air had cooled to a comfortable temperature. He was only three floors up, but the surrounding buildings were low and didn't block his view.

Lines of street lights stretched to the horizon. Downtown Chicago was just a hazy yellow blur in the distance. A half-moon cast a surprising amount of light, or maybe his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness. Only a few stars were visible through the light pollution from the city.

A phone in his hand rang. He had been waiting for this call.

He answered, "Hello?"

"My men finally reported on the situation at Golden Spiral," Konstantin said. "There is police tape and blood stains but no bodies. The computers were wiped."

"The police have already come and gone?"

"That seems to be the case."

Cantrell stared into the distance as he considered this news. Lenny's disappearance and presumed death were extremely inconvenient. The flow of money would be disrupted for days if not weeks. Some large deposits might never be recovered.

"What are you going to do?" Konstantin said.

"I have no idea. Something else happened tonight. The sign in front of my casino was cut down, and my wallet was lifted. It's an interesting coincidence."

Konstantin was silent.

"I pay you to protect me from these kinds of problems," Cantrell said. "You're not doing a good job."

"This hasn't been enjoyable for me either. I've lost seven men so far. The rest of the unit is concerned, as am I."

"Maybe they'll be more alert next time. Fear is a great motivator. We'll talk again tomorrow. Bye." Cantrell hung up.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wasn't fair. After years of patient work, his casino was finally open. That vast revenue stream was supposed to finance the construction of more casinos all around the world. His plan would eventually make him one of the wealthiest men in history. That dream was now crumbling before his eyes.