The miles stretched into a long gray line as Sam made his way west. The drive to Vegas was not that far, only about ten hours by car, which gave Sam time to think and to continue planning.
Jared James, his target, was in Vegas. He was staying at the Top of the World Casino. The casino, in which he was a major stockholder, was opening a new nightclub, and he was there to attend the opening. Even though the opening would not be for another week, Jared had hit town early. He was a party boy elite, which gave the gossip rags something to write about. He seemed to be making the best of his time by staying out late each night, a beautiful woman on each arm, spending money like it was water, and playing the party circuit with all the big stars and jet set.
Sam had made up his mind that this was not going to look like an accident. This was going to appear like what it was, a hit, out in the open and messy. There would be no doubt that a message was being sent to anyone involved in big oil. Get in line, or be next.
As the hot miles of pavement raced past his window, Sam cranked up the air conditioner in the vehicle and mulled over several options on how to achieve the desired results, giving each one a short consideration before moving on to the next. Driving did not give him the opportunity to fully concentrate as he considered each option, but he would narrow down the possibilities by the time he reached his destination. Sam would be staying at the Empty Coin Purse Casino, where he would set up camp. It was located across the street from the Top of the World, and despite its name, was one of the most popular casinos in Vegas. Sam wanted to be close but not in James’ back pocket during the time he was there.
Keeping his mind busy worked well for Sam, and before he realized it, it was time to stop for gas and for a little refueling for himself as well. He pulled into a lone, dirty little station and shut off his engine. The place looked dry and dusty, like the ones in old westerns that had tumble weeds blowing through them. Sam didn’t have a good feeling about the place, but it was the only show in town for miles. So he calmly opened the glove box, took out the pistol nestled inside, placed it in the back of his jeans, pulled his tee shirt over the butt of the gun, and got out of the vehicle.
There was a sign on the pump that said you had to pre-pay before pumping gas, so Sam casually made his way into the station. As he opened the door, a bell jingled overhead and a blast of cold air hit him in the face. The place smelled stale and bad. Not bad like sweat or rotting food, but bad like mean.
Sam kept his eyes moving as he made his way farther into the store. It took him only a second to size up the man behind the counter. He had greasy black hair, a weeks worth of scruffy beard, stained, crooked teeth, breath that Sam could smell even standing ten feet away, dirty shirt and jeans, that had, from the looks of them, not seen the inside of a washer in weeks, and small beady, bloodshot hazel eyes. Those eyes looked calculating, flat, and hard, as they looked Sam up and down.
“Can I do something for you mister?” a gravelly, smokers voice came out of the man’s mouth to fill the empty store.
Sam turned his own flat, hard but calm eyes on the man, and with a slight nod of his head replied in a nonchalant voice, “Need gas and maybe something to snack on.”
“You have to pre-pay here, go out and pump your gas, then you can come back and get the eats,” the man told Sam.
Sam walked up to the counter, and pulling out his wallet took out a hundred dollar bill and laid it in front of the man. Putting his wallet back in his jeans pocket he said, “I’ll fill up and be back.”
Sam had not missed the way the man’s small, greedy eyes had lit up at the bills in his wallet. He had a suspicion that trouble was about to knock on his door, but he let it take its course as he went outside to tend to his gas. As he filled up, he looked at the attendant through the dirty glass of the station window, and wondered what he should do. To dispatch the man would bring unwanted attention.
Sam looked around for security cameras but could see none, feeling sure that what happened in this out of the way place was not something anyone wanted a record of. He put the nozzle back into the pump, capped his tank, and made his way back inside, steeling himself on the inside, but keeping his poker face on so as not to appear any different than any other traveler stopping for a fill-up.
Sam again made his way to the counter, only this time he noticed, in the back of the store and on his right stood another man, just as filthy and seedy as the one behind the counter. Sam made his way around the store, picking up a few candy bars, chips, nuts, and a couple of sodas that he figured should last him until he reached Vegas.
Stopping in front of the counter, Sam kept his body angled to the right so both men were in his sights. The man behind and to the right of him moved closer trying to crowd Sam and box him in. Sam put his food on the counter and looked at the man he had talked to before. “This will do it, along with the gas,” he said, one hand on the counter, one down at his side.
“Well,” came the same shitty voice as before, “me and my brother here have kind of done some calculations and we think it is going to cost you more than the hundred dollars you have laying here.” He paused looking Sam in the eye, “In fact it’s going to be a lot more. Let’s say about a grand in all,” he challenged moving a dirty chewed up toothpick around his crusty lips.
With this said he pulled an old, worn baseball bat from under the counter and laid it out in plain view, so Sam could not miss the meaning of what would happen if he refused to make the payment. The man to Sam’s right folded his arms over his chest and grinned with malice.
Sam sized the men up deciding that neither of them were really ready for a fight, and confident that he could take them out without ever really breaking a sweat. They must have done this many times before and got away with it to feel at ease with the outcome. Scaring travelers must be a daily business for them, and was probably quite lucrative as well. But then they had never come up against Sam.
“Well, demanded the first man, “what are you waiting for? Unless of course you are thinking about refusing payment, which me and my brother there would not recommend,” he said puffing out his chest and hitching up his pants. “You better be digging for that fat wallet of yours right about now,” he finished, bouncing the bat on the counter to once again draw Sam’s attention to it in a meaningful way.
Sam looked from one man to the other, smiled, and slowly shook his head. “You don’t want to do this. I don’t want trouble and I’m sure you two don’t either. So how about if you just ring up my stuff, and let me be on my way? We’ll forget this happened and everyone goes about their day. No harm, no foul”
Sam noticed the tightening of muscles as they drew themselves up, realizing he was not going to pay up and leave with his tail between his legs, like all the others victims these two thieves had terrorized.
“Hand over your money mister, or we’re going to each have a turn at you until there won’t be enough left of you for even your mama to recognize,” brother one threatened.
Sam looked down and slowly shook his head, “You don’t want a piece of this,” he said again in a low, ice cold voice, “Just let me be on my way and no one gets hurt,” he said giving them one last chance to back down. The tone of his voice, the ice-cold deadliness gave the brothers pause, but they had come too far to back down now, and the greed in their eyes would not be denied.
Smashing the bat on the counter brother one yelled in rage, “Give us your money you dumb fuck. We won’t ask again!”
Sam took a deep breath, figuring he had given them every chance to back out and let him leave. So be it. With one smooth motion he drew his gun and had it between the eyes of the vocal brother. “Now,” he said with deadly calm, “I’ll ask you one more time to ring me up and let me be on my way. You do not want a piece of this,” he promised. He paused to make sure he had their attention then continued, “Listen as if your life depends on it, because it does. You have no idea what you are getting into. You do not want to piss me off,” he warned. “Now why don’t you move real careful like over to the register and let me see you do as I’ve asked.” He motioned with the pistol at the man behind the counter.
Not turning his head he addressed the brother to his right, who had backed up just a little at the previous exchange. “You, come on over here and join the fun. Now.” Sam’s voice left no doubt that this was a demand and not a request. He waited until both men were side by side behind the counter before he let a cold, mirthless smile lift his mouth. He pushed the hundred-dollar bill closer to the register and looked, without blinking, at the men. Sweat popped out on their brows without him saying another word. Sam saw the one reach for the bill at the same time the other made a move to come over the counter and wrestle the gun from him.
With the barest of motion, Sam moved the gun to point between the two greasy heads and calmly squeezed off a shot. The retort rang in the small store, and the smell of smoky sulfur hung in the air. Sam had not moved an inch, letting his snake cold eyes move from one to the other of the men, while an evil grin danced over his handsome features.
“More?” he asked into the sudden quiet that had overtaken the room.
There was a scramble as the items were rung up, money exchanged, and change given. Sam then motioned for the brothers to raise their hands into the air, picked up his bagged items, and then backed out of the door, smiling to himself. The little encounter had not been planned, but had put him in the right frame of mind for the job to come.
Trouble was coming, and its name was death.