Organized crime is a trust-based operation. Every deal you make, every choice, boils down to predicting your business partners’ moves. Guess right and you make some money. Guess wrong and you get a gun in your face or cuffs on your wrists. We had one advantage, once the conference-room door swung shut and we were left to make a decision: we all knew Nicky Agnelli. Which meant we knew how he operated, what his pressure points were, and how likely he was to keep his word.
“If the weasel’s gonna be out there,” Eddie said, “I’d rather have him where I can keep an eye on him. Besides, hate to say it, but he has a point. After Chicago, it’s only a matter of time before somebody else steps up to test us. Be nice to have a little backup.”
Yong steepled his fingers on the table and frowned. “He was invested in being the ‘King of Las Vegas.’ His ego is more precious to him than his bank balance. How long, once he gets his footing back, before he comes to reclaim his old kingdom? Reno is a poor man’s throne by comparison.”
“Don’t forget,” Jennifer said, “that was before the feds made their move and pushed him into the shadows. Nicky is a fugitive now; his old lifestyle, that wannabe-celebrity-out-on-the-town deal, is over and done. He can’t have it back. He knows that. Nicky’s hungry, but he’s not stupid.”
A hush fell, the room settling into an uneasy impasse. Winslow took a pull on his bottle of beer and looked my way.
“I ain’t gonna kick one stray bullet into the pot before I see a plan that makes sense,” he said. “And he’s gonna need more than bullets. You in or out?”
He was right. Nicky was going to need my kind of help to get a foothold in Reno. There were only two magicians on the Commission, me and Jennifer. Jennifer was our chair; she couldn’t be running off to fight a border war. Which meant the entire decision—work with Nicky, or tell him to go pound sand—had just been dumped in my lap. If I backed out, that was that. No deal.
If Nicky had approached me alone, one on one, I knew what my answer would have been: no and hell no. Too much risk for the reward. But this decision would affect the entire Commission, our future, everything we were trying to build in Vegas.
Building a strong coalition, with a mutual-defense pact that swept the Mojave from north to south, was the smart-money play. Bad and risky for me, but good for the team. I had decided, along the line, that I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. Turned out stepping up was the easy part. Following through was where the real work came in.
“If Nicky’s plan checks out,” I said, “I’ll lend a hand. We could use a strong partner. And like Eddie said, at least this way we know where Nicky is and what he’s up to. My vote is a yes.”
Winslow snorted at me over his bottle. “The guy has spoken.”
*
We gave Nicky the good news and he gave us a promise to deliver a full plan of attack. That’s where we left it for the night. Jennifer banged the gavel, hotel staff wheeled a drink cart in, and we broke up into little pockets of conversation. I was mostly there for the booze. I was nursing a gin and tonic by the window, looking out over the neon wilderness, when Nicky sidled up alongside me.
“That couldn’t have been easy,” I said.
He clinked his glass against mine and tossed back a swig of deep-brown liquor.
“Easier than playing the punching bag for those Chicago pricks,” he said. “Never got the chance to thank you for getting me out of there.”
“You bounced back, looks like.”
“Physically.” He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the twins across the room. “Didn’t have much of a choice but to rest up for a while.”
“What’d they do, tie you to the bed, stick a funnel in your mouth, and pour chicken soup in until you felt better?”
He squinted at me. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
Neither of us had anything to say after that. We were going to be working together in Reno, for a few days anyway. Just like old times. But bringing up old times meant bringing up the reasons we’d burned the bridge between us.
Then again, maybe that made him the best person to talk to.
“You remember Melanie?” I asked him. “Emma Loomis’s daughter.”
He nodded, thinking back. “Yeah. Met her once or twice. Good kid.”
“She wants me to teach her.”
“Teach—” He paused, uncertain. Then the light went on. “Oh. Wow. How’d she take it when you turned her down?”
“How do you know I turned her down?”
He curled his lips into a humorless hook of a smile.
“C’mon, Dan. How long have we known each other?”
“Long time.”
“Long time.” He sipped his drink and looked to the city lights, glimmering in the dark like a carnival. “I’ve seen you low, I’ve seen you down and out…but I’ve only seen you broken once. Just the once.”
“It’s not just about the past. You know as well as I do that magic and the life go hand in hand. Melanie’s too smart, too good to get caught up in this gangster shit. She can do better for herself than we did.”
“Doesn’t have to go hand in hand.” He gave me an impish look. “I hear the FBI’s hiring.”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
“It’s not mandatory is all I’m saying. And c’mon. Don’t kid a kidder. It’s got nothing to do with wanting to keep Melanie pure and clean and away from a life of crime. It’s about Dizzy.”
I thought I caught the shadow of her ghost in the window glass. Desi’s easy stride, always with a little swagger. A smile that lit up the darkest of dive bars, two seconds before the crack of a pool cue. I drank my gin and tonic.
“She died on my watch.”
“She died because she didn’t listen to her teacher,” Nicky said.
My grip tightened on the glass. “Careful.”
“Am I lying? Why’s Melanie want to learn the trade, anyway?”
“She feels like she’s got a target on her back.”
“Does she?” Nicky asked.
Between being born a cambion—the absolute bottom rung of hell’s legions, free game for the monsters higher up the ladder—and the daughter of a ranking court official…yeah, she did. That was the one thing I couldn’t argue.
“She could use a little extra help,” I said. “The kid’s got to deal with the consequences of other people’s bad choices. Not her fault, but she still has to deal with it. That’s life.”
“And you could give her the tools she needs to survive. Just sayin’.”
“I gave Dizzy the tools, too,” I said.
“You can’t control what other people do, Dan.” Nicky chuckled into his glass. “Believe me, if I knew how to do that, I wouldn’t be standing here like a bum with my hat in my hand. All you can do is help, or not help.”
“You think I should teach her.”
“Didn’t say that. Do what you want. I just think you need to remember something. You know that thing you just said, about how Melanie’s got to deal with other people’s bad choices?”
“Yeah?”
“Dizzy made a bad choice, too. What happened to her wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t my fault, either. She just made a bad choice, a long time ago. Don’t make Melanie pay for it.”
I had to think about that. I nodded to his glass.
“Look at you, being insightful for a change. Must be the liquor talking.”
“A little lubrication greases the mental wheels,” he said. “So. Me and you in Reno. We’re getting the band back together, man.”
“With a few changes this time around. Number one, I’ll be there to work with you, not take orders—”
He held up his free hand in surrender. “Understood.”
“Number two, I’m not promising anything until I see the battle plan. If everything checks out, I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Also understood.” He looked to the window again. His gaze went distant, wistful behind his titanium glasses. “Won’t be the same. God. Reno. Was a time I wouldn’t have wiped my feet in that town. I hope you’re taking notes.”
“I’m not enjoying this, if that’s what you mean.”
“What I mean is learn from my mistakes. You know that poem by, who was it, Shelley? ‘Ozymandias.’”
“Look who’s all cultured tonight,” I said.
“I’m serious. It’s about this fallen, broken statue in the middle of a wasteland, and on the pedestal it reads, ‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.’”