That’s how I’ll escape.
Reaching under my mattress, I pull out a roll of money that I’d carefully concealed for such an occasion.
My plan is simple. Using my ability to remember numbers, I am going to visit a smaller, less-secure casino, where I’ll count the cards and make enough to buy my way out of Vegas.
Thanks to my father, I already have passports and credentials for three different aliases.
All I need is money.
Simple.
Hopefully.
I take the roll of bills and toss it on the bed as I get ready to change.
I’ve never been to one of the Vegas casinos before, but Russian gambling houses have fairly strict dress codes.
I can’t wear a gown while shimmying down balconies, but I have a pair of black dress pants that should do the trick.
Pulling them from my drawer, I add a sparkly top and then brush my long brown hair until it shines, before pulling it up into a twist.
Gloss goes on my full lips and dark eyeliner and mascara around my long dark lashes.
In Russia, both Katarina and I were considered beauties.
I don’t know about that. But my pink glittering top brings out the color of my cheeks and compliments the brown of my hair.
Satisfied that I won’t look like I don’t belong, I tuck the money roll into the back of my pants. In a small backpack I pack my passports, a toothbrush and a few pairs of underwear and then sit on the bed, waiting for dark.
Cameras line both the inside and the outside of the building.
I’ve timed them, of course, learned their schedules as they move back and forth across the side of the building, but I’m going to hedge my bets and wait for dark.
The later it grows, the busier the casino will be, and the easier it will be to blend in with the crowd.
The Vegas sun slowly sinks, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. I like the desert. It has its own beauty that is undeniable.
Too bad I’m not staying.
As the last rays disappear and the sky is shrouded in darkness, I move to the slider, watching the cameras on either corner of the building.
Just as they swing away, I slide open the door and close it softly again.
Pulling myself over the rail, I shimmy down the bars, dangling down until I get a toe on the rail below. If only I had Katarina’s height.
I just get myself balanced on a single big toe, and then I let go of the balcony above. My back tenses and I nearly fall but just manage to crouch and grab the railing under my feet.
For a second, I just catch my breath. But not for too long, I’ve got less than thirty seconds before the cameras swing back around.
Repeating the same process, I make it to the first floor. It’s easier this time and soon, I’m dropping to the ground.
Sneaking into the bushes that line the building, I wait, letting the cameras sweep back my way.
Softly, I count, timing it out until the cameras swing away again, before I dart out of the bushes and into the street.
The air whooshes from my lungs as adrenaline fills my limbs.
I’m free.
