“Actually, I’m calling you to update you and to see if you might have any idea on how to handle this. I’m heading over to the office. We’re keeping the Vegas cops out of it, for the time being.”
“I’ll get with Bob and Rae,” Lucas said. “We’ll be in touch.”
—
BOB AND RAEwere early-to-bed types and looked stunned when they stumbled into Lucas’s room. Lucas, a night owl, felt fine. But after fifteen minutes, they concluded that they didn’t have much to offer. Lucas called Tremanty and told him such.
Tremanty told him to hold on for a few seconds, apparently walking somewhere, and Lucas could hear voices in the background. When Tremanty came back, the voices were silenced.
“Listen, Lucas... Man, the thing is, Harrelson looks like you. Like us, actually, but I’m skinnier, I don’t have the shoulders, and I’ve got to run the team. And he’s clean-shaven, and all. What I’m saying is, we need somebody to put on a golf hat and a golf shirt and be Harrelson tomorrow for the money drop. If thereisa money drop.”
“I can do that,” Lucas said. “What’s the plan?”
“Harrelson has to go to the bank to get the money. They may be watching him—in fact, I’m betting on it—so we’re flooding the zone. Our idea is, Harrelson goes to the bank at nine o’clock, when it opens, in a pink golf shirt and khaki slacks and a baseball cap. He takes the cap off out on the steps and looks around so that if they are out there, watching, they’ll see him. You’re already in the bank, in your pink shirt and khakis, and he gives you the cap, you put it on, and you come out fifteen minutes later with the bag.”
“That should workifthey’re watching the bank,” Lucas said.
“It’s what we’ve got right now. At least we’ll have somebody in play if they call.”
“What do you want me to do right now?” Lucas asked.
“Go back to bed. Try to get some sleep. We’ve spoken to the bank manager and we’ll get you inside at seven o’clock. So, set your alarm for six. Or I can call you then. We’ll brief you when you’re at the bank, what we know at that point.”
“What do you want from Bob and Rae?”
“If we need to go in heavy somewhere.”
“I’ll tell them,” Lucas said.
The situation felt weird to Lucas: he was usually the guy in charge, running the team, and was not used to being one of the pawns. He told Bob and Rae what they’d be doing. And then they all went back to bed.
—
HE WAS UPa few minutes before six, and Tremanty called right at six o’clock and said the plan hadn’t changed, except that the agent in charge had talked to the sheriff. The FBI would handle it, but the Vegas cops now knew what was happening.
“It’s a political thing, you know, after the mall,” Tremanty said.
—
LUCAS CLEANED UP, found the bank on Google Maps, called Bob and Rae to make sure they were awake—they were, but they’d be going to the FBI office with their gear, and Bob would be going out to a shooting range—and took the Volvo to a parking structure near the bank and walked over right at seven. Tremanty was waiting inside the door with two other FBI people, including the Las Vegas agent in charge. Lucas could smell the stress.
“We’ll have seven more agents around you, running a box,” the AIC said, poking a finger as Lucas’s chest. “Don’t try to beat any yellow lights.”
“We want you to talk to Harrelson on the phone,” Tremanty said. “He’s already up, but he won’t be here until nine. We want you to hear the way he speaks. You’ll have his cell phone in the car. We’ll be tracking the cell and any incoming calls. And we’llhave both a Cessna and a chopper in the sky, tracking cars. And there’ll be a GPS tracker inside the money bag.”
“What if he asks for identifiers? What if he asks, what tattoo does your wife have on her ass?” Lucas asked.
The AIC said, “Ah. We got that. When you answer the phone, you’ll make sure it’s on speaker. You’ll be carrying a handset that’ll come back to us, and Harrelson, and you’ll have an earbud in your ear. If Deese asks about the tattoo on his old lady’s ass, Harrelson will say, ‘Property of the Hells Angels,’ or whatever, and you answer the question.”
“Cool,” Lucas said. And he laughed. “‘Property of Hells Angels’?”
“The problem is, of course, that they’ll think about aerial surveillance, and all that, and they’ll try something tricky,” Tremanty said. “They’ll have two or three vehicles, maybe a stolen one in addition to the Cadillac and the Lexus, and they’ll dump one or two of them. Something tricky anyway. Like driving into a parking structure and running out on foot. Or whatever.”
Lucas asked Tremanty, “How’s Santos? Is he going to make it?”
“Yes, but he’s messed up. Lost a kidney, a chunk of his stomach. A slug barely missed his spine, but he might have some nerve damage that’ll affect his legs. Won’t know about that for a while.”
“I’m asking because he lost us in Caesars and we were right on his tail,” Lucas said. “He dumped his car with the valet and disappeared into the crowd. I’m thinking Deese and his crew could do the same thing, and we could wind up with guns in a crowd again.”
