Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7) (35 page)

"It meant one of God's enemies invaded your mind," Smythe said. "That equation is a weapon designed to destroy the human race."

"I don't understand."

"Is there anything else you can tell me? Did Cantrell have friends?"

"He had a lot of friends, especially girlfriends. I've never met anybody who was more socially adept. But underneath, he was always a loner. All his motivations were ultimately selfish. It's a shame, really. He's very intelligent. He understood the math, which was remarkable for a man with so little formal training. He was even able to design new machines from scratch." Santiago shook his head sadly. "You have to stop him."

"We will," Tawni said. "What else can you tell us?"

"Be careful. He's a tricky son of a bitch."

"We noticed."

She raised her hands. Rising shadows looked like black flames burning her fingers. The darkness had the texture of velvet.

"In the name of the Lord," Santiago said, "what are you?"

"Punishment. Do you have any last words, doctor?"

He took a step back. "I never meant to do so much harm. I got caught up in the thrill of scientific discovery. I knew I had found something truly different. It needed to be studied. The knowledge needed to be shared. Is it possible for God to forgive me?"

"No," she growled.

She pointed her fingers at his face. Shadows flooded into his mouth, nose, and eyes. He made a little choking noise, and his whole body shuddered. He collapsed to the floor, dead. The flesh on his face was withered and gray.

Smythe looked down at the corpse. "You're becoming a very scary woman."

"Thank you," Tawni said.

He opened his phone and made a call. "Aaron? It's me, sir. We've confirmed God's enemies are behind this. We also have some medicine that might help Jack. I know you're well past the point of forgiving him, but I implore you to reconsider. I believe these pills will work, sir... Yes, I understand... I'll see you back at headquarters." He hung up.

"What's up?" Tawni said.

"Aaron and Sheryl are still at the casino waiting for Jack to show his face."

"They've been there a long time. Is Aaron still going to kill him?"

Smythe shrugged. "I don't know. We'll see what Aaron decides when the moment comes. Our orders are to go home, but first, let's burn this place to destroy the evidence."

She checked the cabinets and discovered two full bottles of vodka. She smashed the bottles on the wooden floor. He used a cigarette lighter to ignite the spreading pool of alcohol.

He grabbed the box of pills as they left the house.

* * *

Jack was bored, frightened, and hungry at the same time. Even worse, the ringing of the monkey machines was pounding the inside of his skull. It wouldn't let him relax. He couldn't stop pacing back and forth in his cell.

The door opened. A tall man with brown hair and a very handsome face entered. A huge guard blocked the exit with his body.

The man was carrying a wooden box. He set it gently on the table.

"Sit," he said with a smile, "please."

Jack took one of the chairs, and the newcomer took the other.

"Who are you?" Jack said.

"I'm the owner of this casino, the man behind the scenes."

Jack remembered being told about Neville Cantrell.
This must be him,
Jack thought.

"What can I do for you?"

"You can answer a few troubling questions," Cantrell said. "Maybe I should back up a little and tell you a story first. A man walks into my casino carrying four hundred grand in cash. He proceeds to blow almost all of it in record time. I mean, he went through that money the way I shred incriminating documents. It was impressive." He grinned.

"This is sounding familiar," Jack said.

"This stranger then takes the last of his cash and plays poker with it. He is shockingly successful and cleans out several of my employees. Upon closer examination, my security team realizes this man is cheating. But he's very good, a real professional, and well armed, I might add."

"Hmm."

"At that point, I'm really curious," Cantrell said. "I have my security guys take his wallet and check his background. It turns out he's a plumber."

Jack nodded. He always carried fake identification.

"But here is where the story takes an even stranger turn," Cantrell said. "This plumber has no bank accounts. His credit cards are bad. In fact, he has no financial history at all. It's like somebody wiped out a big chunk of his identity."

Jack knew exactly what had happened. Aaron had cut off Jack's money supply.

"Which brings us to the questions. Who are you really? And where did you get all that cash?"

Jack leaned back in his chair. "Why should I tell you anything?"

"Because of this."

Cantrell lifted the top off the wooden box to reveal a miniature monkey machine. It had all the parts of its big brother but in a convenient travel size. The protective glass case gleamed beautifully. Jack's hands itched to touch the tiny controls.

"You want to play?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, please."

"Then it's very simple," Cantrell said. "If you give me valuable information, you can have your fun. I'll even let you use one of the private rooms for free."

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. He was fighting to stay in control.

"Is there a problem?"

"I can't tell you anything," Jack said. "I'm not allowed."

"You'll make an exception in my case. You won't be the first either. Many of my customers have become my employees. It's amazing what people will do to play my games once they run out of money. They'll lie and steal. They'll sell their bodies. They'll even commit murder."

Jack opened his eyes and glared.

Cantrell snorted. "Don't give me that look. I already know I'm a very bad man, and it doesn't bother me. Well?"

He worked the flippers on the beautiful, little machine. Jack's mouth watered.

"I'm not like those other people. My secrets are different."

"Yes," Cantrell said, "which is why I'm making this offer personally. You're obviously a special case."

Jack pounded his thigh with his fist.

Cantrell caressed the glass case. "These machines are amazing, aren't they? They look complicated, but really, they're just elaborations on a few basic principles. Strip away the window dressing, and you get down to a single mathematical relationship. But that's just theory. In practice, the math equates to power. I can control you without torture, imprisonment, drugs, or blackmail. I could let you walk out of my casino right now, and you'd be back in ten minutes, begging for a game."

Jack squeezed his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

"You're fighting hard," Cantrell said. "Let's start you off with an easy question. What do you do for a living? What is your profession? It's not plumbing."

Jack couldn't keep his eyes off the miniature monkey machine. His willpower began to crumble. "I'm a security expert. Surveillance."

"Ah! That's interesting. You must be very good to get paid so well."

Jack grunted. "Yes."

"Where do you work?" Cantrell said.

Jack shook his head violently. He was sweating.

"This must be one hell of a secret."

"It is," Jack said through his teeth.

"A secret worth killing over?"

"Yes."

Cantrell smiled. "My favorite kind. So talking to me is putting you in great danger."

"I'm already in great danger."

"Oh?"

"I shouldn't be here," Jack said in a strained voice. "My boss ordered me to stay away, and I betrayed him. I turned my back on all my friends. I'm a dead man."

"Your boss knows about my operation?"

"He's investigating you."

Cantrell furrowed his brow. "What does he know exactly?"

"I wasn't in those meetings."

"But I'm sure you heard things."

Jack groaned. Having a machine on the table in front of him was the worst form of torture. He was struggling to keep his mouth closed but words kept falling out.

"Tell me one thing," Cantrell said.

"He found the pinball machine factory."

Shut up!
Jack thought.
Shut the fuck up! You're making it worse for yourself!

Cantrell stiffened. "It seems providence brought you to me. Does your boss know you're here?"

"He can guess."

"My mysterious enemy could be in this casino right now looking for you?"

Jack bit his lip, hoping the pain would wake him up. It didn't. "Yes," he said, "probably."

"What do I need to know about him?" Cantrell said.

"He's the last guy in the world you want to mess with. The smart play would be to run away."

"There are a hundred and fifty guards in this casino. The most important positions are staffed by professional mercenaries. We have surveillance everywhere. I'm not worried about one man."

Jack was breathing so hard he was on the verge of hyperventilating. He was trapped in a horrible nightmare.

"He eats assholes like you for lunch."

"I've dealt with dangerous men before," Cantrell said.

"Not like him," Jack said. "He's a monster."

"Come with me."

Cantrell stood up. The guard in the doorway stepped aside to allow him to pass. Jack followed out of curiosity. No matter what happened next, it couldn't get any worse, and leaving his cell was certainly an improvement.

They walked down the hallway. More guards flanked Jack, and all of them were bigger than him.

They entered the surveillance control room for the casino. A grid of a hundred monitors covered one wall. Five guards were watching from behind sophisticated consoles. Most of the light came from the monitors.

"What's your professional opinion of my security?" Cantrell said.

Jack shrugged. "Not bad."

"You've seen better?"

"We use custom technology where I work. It's decades ahead of this stuff."

"You'll show me one day," Cantrell said. "I brought you here so you could identify your boss. If he's in the casino, you'll see him on one of these displays."

Jack's eyes scanned the monitors out of habit. He had spent a big part of his life staring at surveillance video. He identified threats unconsciously.

It took him only a minute to locate Aaron. The commander was lurking in a darkened corner and facing away from the camera, but his body was easily identifiable. Normal humans weren't built that way. Sheryl stood beside him. She had a blonde wig, but her pretty face was exposed.

Seeing them made Jack feel the pain of his betrayal again.

"Look." Cantrell pointed at one of the monitors. "A private room is available. You could be there in a minute, and all your troubles would be forgotten. The game is waiting for you. You can play as long as you like."

Jack saw an empty game room on the monitor. The high resolution display showed the colorful, intricate machinery in gorgeous detail. His desire was overwhelming.

"Do you see your boss?"

Jack nodded.

"Where?" Cantrell said.

Jack punched himself in the face.

"Where!" Cantrell yelled.

"Feed 311. The big dude in the corner with the leather jacket."

"And the girl?"

Jack gritted his teeth. "They're together."

"Thank you," Cantrell said. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Take him to a game room."

Two guards grabbed Jack by the arms and hustled him away. He went eagerly.

Chapter Nineteen

Sheryl was counting the seconds until she could leave the casino. The noise and crazy lights were giving her a terrible headache. The sight of gamblers destroying their own lives was sickening.

Aaron's hands were on the controls of a game. He wasn't actually doing anything except scowling at the mechanism.

"We have a problem," he murmured.

"What?"

"Look."

She saw a dozen guards in tan uniforms standing around the perimeter of the room. "There is suddenly a lot more security in here."

"They're blocking the exits."

"Why?"

"Only one possible explanation," he said. "Jack has betrayed us again. We're about to be attacked."

Her heart started beating fast as she realized the danger they were in.

"Don't panic. Focus on me."

"Yes, sir." Sheryl looked at Aaron.

His calm voice was comforting. "I'm going to move very fast and shoot a lot of people now. God's enemies are responsible for this mess, so I don't need to hold back. Your job is to keep up with me. Stay on my heels. Don't worry about anything else. If you fall behind, you'll be captured or killed. Do you understand?"

She was shivering. "Yes, sir."

Aaron took the paper bag full of money. He scattered the bundles of hundred dollar bills across the room. Gamblers rushed to grab the cash, and fights quickly broke out. The security guards became distracted.

Suddenly, Aaron was running with a gun in each hand. He was weaving through the crowd while shooting the guards in the head. Each trigger pull dropped a man. His speed and precision were uncanny. He seemed to have no problem with aiming while on the run.

Sheryl remembered she wasn't just a spectator. She sprinted to catch up with her commander.

The guards returned fire, and the gunshots boomed like thunderclaps. The civilians screamed and scattered towards the exits. Aaron ran behind the crowd so the enemy didn't have a clear shot at him.

She did her best to ignore the bodies falling on all sides. The guards' wild shots were taking out innocent bystanders left and right. Aaron never missed though. In just a few seconds, the way forward was clear.

Sheryl grabbed the back of his jacket so she wouldn't lose him in the scramble. He was very fast for such a big man. She was glad she was wearing running shoes.

The gun battle continued for another few rooms. Aaron went forward at a full run while she desperately tried to match his pace. He mowed down targets so quickly it didn't seem like he was bothering to aim. Finally, they left the ambush behind.

They hustled down the main staircase to the first floor. As they approached the front of the casino, she saw a big group of people bunched together. The crowd was pressing forward but not making progress.