black twenty-four,” Seth said, pointing to the spot on the roulette table. He stared into her eyes and stroked the mustache he’d reapplied in the elevator. “What do you think, honey? Twenty-four feel like a lucky number to you?”
“I don’t know. Is twenty-four in any of our birthdays or phone numbers?”
“No. But if you divide 327,115.2 by 13,629.8, you get exactly 24. I say we go for it.”
Miriam bit back a smile. The poor dealer had long ago given up his cute comebacks to Seth’s ramblings. He stared at them, mute.
“How much?” Miriam asked.
“All of it,” Seth said.
“I told you, there’s a thousand-dollar limit,” the dealer said. He tucked the steel ball under the lip of the wheel and sent it hurling around.
“That’s right, junior. I forgot. I’m not especially good with numbers. Ten thousand is a pretty big number.” Seth looked at her, eyes sparkling. He had purposefully lost many bets, as planned, but the pile of chips was growing steadily.
Seth raised an eyebrow. “A thousand, then?”
“That means if the ball lands on the black twenty-four we will win how much?” she asked, knowing full well.
“Thirty-five, I think.”
“Let’s do it.” She slid a thousand-dollar chip out on the space and winked at Seth.
A crowd of seven or eight onlookers gathered behind them, peering over their shoulders as the ball slowed to a crawl, dropped into the wheel, bounced around like a pogo stick, and then rattled into the small square. Twenty-four.
Someone gasped.
“We won!” Miriam exclaimed, throwing her hands up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Yes, will you look at that. We did win. I’ll be a toad on a stool at the bottom of a pool.” He reached out and pulled back a tall stack of black chips, each etched with $1,000 in gold. Seth tossed the dealer one of them. “That’s for you, junior. It’s our lucky day.”
Chips were as good as cash in Vegas. The thin dealer blinked, looked over at the pit boss, and palmed the tip. “Thanks.”
Seth dipped his head and smiled coyly. “Which number, honey?”
Miriam had never felt so bold and thrilled in all her life, pretending to be his starry-eyed lover, staring into his bright green eyes. They were sitting under the cameras Seth said were planted in all the black domes above them, winning at their will and doing so without breaking a single rule. They could win millions and millions if they placed the right bets. A man like Seth could never be poor.
This game of roulette was basic. Seth had another plan up his sleeve. Initially he’d calculated that they would need over a million dollars, but he told her in the elevator that they now needed less. Something had changed, but he refused to tell her what. It would be a surprise.
“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh, feigning reluctance. “Perhaps we should stop while we’re ahead.”
“We’re on a roll,” he said. “I say we go again.”
“Okay then. Again.”
“I say eleven,” he said.
“Is eleven part of our birthdays?”
“No. But if you divide 24, which was a pretty lucky number, by 2.18181818 ad infinitum, you get 11.”
She paused. His way with numbers was not a part of his ability to see into the future, she knew. He simply had that kind of mind. “Then eleven it should be.”
He reached for the chips, and his hand stopped just short of them. It trembled.
Miriam glanced up and saw alarm cross his face. She was growing accustomed to his morphing moods, and this time she took it in stride. “No? Maybe eleven is not the best choice.”
“No. I think our luck has just run out.”
Seth scooped up the thousand-dollar chips—over fifty of them—and stood. “The rest are yours, junior.” He turned to Miriam. “Let’s go.”
They walked from the table, leaving a stunned group of spectators.
“What is it?” Miriam asked as nonchalantly as possible.
“Clive has arrived.”
“Clive?” Her heart bolted. “Then we have to go! You didn’t see him coming?”
“No. No, it seems Clive has pulled a fast one.” A grin crept onto his face. “Pretty smart.”
“Where will we go? We have to get out! I can’t be taken into—”
“We can’t leave. Not yet. Besides, the exits have been blocked for over ten minutes now.”
“But you see a way out.”
“Yes and no.”
“What is that supposed to mean, yes and no? You are making me nervous. We should leave immediately!”
“We can’t. Not yet. What we can do is finish what we started here. It’s time to rock and roll.”
Omar took a room in the Tropicana, because that’s where Hilal had taken his room. Three doors down the hall, in fact. Like clockwork, Hilal made his calls to the general, growing more frustrated by the hour. He still received updates from Clive, but they were filled with meaningless drivel. Hilal was sure that Clive was withholding information, and he was just as sure the agent’s reticence had to do with this clairvoyance Seth evidently possessed.
Either way, everybody was coming to Las Vegas; Hilal had staked his reputation on it.
Omar knew Hilal’s every move, which meant he knew Clive’s moves and at least what Clive knew of Seth’s moves. The wait in this box high above the strip had been maddening, but that all changed an hour ago when Clive landed.
“I don’t like this,” Assir said.
Omar leaned back in his chair, one hand on the scanner that sat on the table. They’d been listening to police traffic for two days. The city was a sewer filled with lowlifes and prostitutes. One day, under better circumstances, he would have to return.
Hilal lived because Omar needed his information. But the chase was dragging out; he couldn’t risk Hilal’s interference any longer. Omar’s life would probably be easier if Clive just took the girl into custody. Without Hilal to whisk her back to Saudi Arabia, the State Department would have to make other arrangements. Even a short delay would give Omar all the time he needed. If he had to, he would kill Clive and take her then. Either way, Omar was where he wanted to be.
“Sit down, Assir,” he said.
Assir walked into the kitchen.
The radio crackled with endless police jargon. Americans were bent on crime. A few good laws could change that. Islam could change—
“Roger. We have Clive Masters with the”—Omar glanced at the radio—“NSA now. ETA Caesars Palace, fifteen minutes. We got a man and a woman, possible fugitives. I’ll call back in twenty. Out.”
Assir ran in from the kitchen. “It’s them!”
“Yes.” Omar stood. “It’s them.” He grabbed his bag. “Hilal first.” Caesars Palace lay only one block to the north, but getting in and out of these monstrous hotels quickly was a challenge.
Assir ran past him and entered the empty hall, silenced pistol cocked in his hand. They walked toward Hilal’s room, but the door flew open before they reached it.
Hilal had only just stepped into the hall when Assir’s first slug took him in the head and knocked him against the doorpost. He stared wide for a brief moment, then slid slowly to the ground. One less hassle for Omar.
Without speaking, Sa’id and Assir pulled the body back into the hotel room, quickly wiped the blood from the doorframe, and closed the door.
“Caesars Palace,” Omar said. “We have to hurry.”
They practically ran among the tables, dodging the gamblers as if running an obstacle course. Miriam lost her sense of direction, but Seth seemed to know exactly where he was headed.
They burst into a room where about twenty gamblers, mostly gentlemen, sat or stood around several tables. Two men hovered in the corners, arms folded, overseeing the action. A waitress served drinks to a large man dressed in a tuxedo. These were not your typical gamblers.
Seth scanned the room. To a man, the gamblers turned to face the intrusion.
“I would like a wager,” Seth said loudly.
No one responded. The man from the right corner, a bearded man who looked like he might have the power to break Seth’s neck with a single swipe, dropped his arms and walked toward them.
“One bet,” Seth said. “And then I will leave you to your small games.”
The fat man chuckled.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard said. “This room is reserved for invited guests only. You’ll have to leave.”
Seth ignored him. “I have fifty thousand dollars in chips.” He held up his full hands for all to see. “I’m willing to put these down on any wager that anyone here will make me.”
“You’ll have to leave now, sir.”
A thin man with white hair and large ears spoke. “Hold on, John. Let’s not be so hasty.” He approached and held out a hand. “Name’s Garland.”
“Hello, Garland. I would be polite if I had fewer chips.”
The man eyed him with a smile and then nodded to one of the dealers, who picked up five golden chips. “Fifty?”
“Count them.”
“Oh, I will.” This got a few chuckles. The dealer took Seth’s fifty chips and gave him the five golden chips. Seth shook Garland’s hand.
“What kind of bet do you have in mind?” the fat man said.
“An interesting bet. I now have five chips worth ten thousand dollars each, and I need to walk out of here with fifty of them in under five minutes. I’m afraid that’s all the time I have today.”
Despite the urgency in Seth’s voice, Miriam could not help but smile. The fat man humphed and turned away, dismissing them. Others followed his lead. They weren’t taking him seriously.
“Well, now. I’ve never turned down a donation,” Garland said. “Any bet?”
“Any bet that requires me to beat the odds.” Seth walked over to a table and set down his chips. “I’ll wager these five chips against a pool of fifty from five brave souls, that I can guess any number any of you writes down in five consecutive turns. I can do it blindfolded, and I can tell you the name of every man who writes a number.”
The skinny man turned slowly to the others and raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Any number or all the numbers?”
“All. But we’re running out of time.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” the fat man said. “We’re here to gamble, not to watch a magic show.”
“Please remain quiet, sir. You’re not going to play anyway. I see that.
But Garland here is and so are you, you, you, and you.” He quickly pointed out five men. “You’re going to play because a hundred thousand isn’t that much money to you, and no one has ever placed such an absurd bet for so much money in all your life, and you can’t just let it pass by without taking him up on it. So let’s do this. Who’s got the blindfold?”
Garland was enjoying this immensely, judging by the smile on his face. He pulled off his tie and handed it to Seth, who took it, wrapped it around his head, and turned his back to them.
“Each of you put your ten chips on the table and take a card. Write a number on the card. Then put your name on the card and give it to Mr. Garland here. Can I trust you, Garland?”
“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Are you writing?”
They each did what he said, although not quickly and not without exchanging cynical glances.
“I have the cards,” Garland finally said.
“Good, Tommy.” Garland’s eyes jerked up. “Now mix them up.” He did so.
“Now the rest of you children gather around Tommy for a look-see. The first card is a jack of spades, and Peter has written the number 890.34 on it. He was trying to be tricky with the decimals, but that’s okay.”
Three of the gamblers glanced around the room, looking for mirrors. “My God,” one of them said. “How did you do that?”
“God may or may not have anything to do with it,” Seth said. “I’m undecided on that point. The second card is an ace of diamonds and Don has written a 5 on it.”
Seth went down the list, reciting as though reading. He whipped around, pulled off the tie, and grinned at the stunned onlookers around the cards, ten now.
“Thank you, gentlemen. And by the way, the fat man is about to hit a winning streak, although now that I’ve told you, he will not win as much as he would have. Never turn down a sure thing. Good day.”
He swept up the stacks of chips and marched from the room, Miriam smiling at the gentlemen in his wake.
“Now that is what I call sweeping the board.”
“We have to hurry.” Seth’s stage persona fell away. “We only have a few minutes.”
“But we will—”
“Samir’s here, Miriam.”
She stopped. “What?”
“Samir. Your great lover. Remember? He’s here and he’s looking for you. We have a five-minute window. If we miss it, we miss him.”
“Where is he? How?” She knew it! He had come!
“I don’t know. But I knew while we were in your room that he’d be here.”
The kiss!
“At the moment he’s hurrying this way, searching the casino for you. I can only guess that he knows what Clive knows.”
Miriam craned for sight of him. People crowded the floor, blocking her view. “I don’t see him.”
He sighed. “You will, princess. You will.” It struck her that Seth was not thrilled about this development. But, Seth, don’t you realize, this is what I want! You are so dear to me, but Samir . . . Samir is my love!
For a moment she wanted to say that, but she knew as soon as she thought the words that they would only hurt him.
And then another thought filled her mind, the thought that she was about to leave Seth. What would happen to her then? She couldn’t leave Seth!
Of course you can. And you must. He is your savior, not your lover! She took a deep, settling breath.
They rounded a tall bank of slot machines and there, not ten feet away, stood Samir, neck stretched, looking the opposite way. She began to cry. This was the man she loved, the man who loved her and had been with her nearly every day of her adult life.
“Samir.”
He whirled, saw her, and softened. They stared at each other as if caught in a trance. Moisture flooded his eyes and he smiled.
“Miriam.”
She walked up to him and he swept her up in strong arms. Like a tide, relief swallowed her. Seth would be okay. He would take one look at Samir and know she was happy with him. That would please him.
“I knew you would come, Samir! I knew it!” She stepped back, unable to stop the tingles that swept over her skin.
Samir saw Seth and for a moment his face darkened. “We have to hurry,” he said. “The authorities have sealed off the building.”
“Actually, you have a couple minutes to spare,” Seth said, studying Samir. “Where are you going to take her?”
Samir glanced at Miriam and then back. “And who are you?”
“He is my savior,” Miriam said. “Without him I would be dead.”
“Then you have my country’s gratitude,” Samir said.
“Where are you going to take her?” Seth repeated.
Samir searched Seth’s face. “There is a hall that leads to the—”
“I mean after you escape.”
“To . . . to Madrid. I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”
Seth frowned. She’d never seen him so serious. “The hall to the kitchen is a mistake,” he said. “There’s only one way out. Instead of taking the door to the kitchen, take the next one. It will lead you to a window with a fire escape. Take the ladder down to the back alley and head for your car. You’ll be safe for at least the next three hours.”
Samir blinked, confused.
“Samir, we must listen to him.”
Seth picked up a white bucket and dumped the chips into it. “Here’s five hundred thousand dollars. I doubt you’ll need it, but it’s Miriam’s. I would hide out for a while and then return to cash it in. Not all at once.”
Miriam saw that he was finding this difficult. She walked over to him and looked into his eyes. Her back was to Samir. “Thank you. So very much.”
“Your material needs are my spiritual needs,” he said, winking at her. “A Jewish proverb from my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Jewish. Crazy, huh?”
She raised an eyebrow, then let the insinuation slide.
Samir stepped forward and took her hand. “We must go.”
“Good-bye, Seth.”
“You should know something, Miriam.” Seth swallowed. “Someone besides me changed our futures yesterday. There’s no other explanation for what happened.”
She nodded at him, impressed by his admission. Frankly, she wasn’t quite sure what she believed anymore. Only that God was very real. Surely that much.
Samir pulled her, and then they were hurrying around the slot machines, running for the exit. They had just reached the door Seth advised them to take when she heard a yell over the cacophony.
“Police, freeze!”
She spun. Others stared at the spot where she’d left Seth, and she knew he’d been caught. He’d allowed them to apprehend him. Why?
Samir tugged on her arm. “Hurry!”
They ran.
Omar watched with five hundred other onlookers as the police handcuffed Seth. He’d arrived half a minute too late and seriously considered shooting the blond American right out from under them. This, after all, was the man who’d taken his wife and surely violated her.
He wasn’t foolish enough to risk his mission for the sake of revenge, however. He’d come for Miriam, not Seth. And Miriam was gone. Which meant she was either alone, hidden by Seth, or . . .
Omar worked his way closer to Clive and Seth, careful to avoid eye contact.
“Where is she?” he heard Clive ask under his breath.
“She’s gone.” Seth seemed at ease, not in the least bit concerned.
“Is she still in the building?”
“No.”
It occurred to Omar that Clive asked such matter-of-fact questions because he knew Seth would answer truthfully.
“Alone?”
Seth looked up into the detective’s eyes. “She’s gone, Clive. She’s in good hands and she’s no longer a concern to the State Department. You want me. You have me. Let’s go.”
Clive wiped his sweaty brow and gestured toward the four policemen who had drawn guns. “Put them away. Let’s go.”
They led him out under the gaze of the crowd.
She’s in good hands and she’s no longer a concern to the State Department. It could only mean one thing. Omar smirked. Khalid had said he suspected that the sheik sent his own man. Samir. So. Miriam was with Samir. Headed back to Saudi Arabia with her lover.
My, my, what a surprise she was in for.
Omar turned and walked for the rear exit. It was time to go home.