John sat in an interview room, there was a uniformed officer standing just outside the open door. He checked his watch; ten past nine. This was a gamble that could backfire; he didn’t want to get stuck here but it was important that Pablo and any corrupt cops knew he wasn’t going to be intimidated. He was well aware the police had nothing on him; this was nothing more than a tactic to scare him and find the money. So he didn’t need to worry about that, he just had to avoid being detained for too long. He looked out the window; he could see sporadic traffic on the road behind the police station and intermittent rain pattering lightly on the glass.
He heard voices outside and a woman wearing a smart business suit entered the room. She was in her early forties and attractive, holding herself in a ‘I am way out of your league’ kind of way. John liked her immediately.
‘Hello John, I’m Helen Greengrove. Your attorney.’
‘Hi Helen, good to meet you.’
They shook hands then Helen walked over and ignoring the officer outside pushed the door shut firmly.
John gave her a brief rundown; the police were looking for him, he hadn’t done anything and George had offered to help.
She nodded. Clearly she had been given some details and it was obvious she already knew exactly who and what George was.
‘No problem John. How long have you been here?’
‘In this room? Maybe twenty minutes, but I’ve been in this station for a couple of hours now. Maybe a bit longer. George said you’d be a while which is fine, no problem at all but I could do with getting out really.’
‘Two hours? Right.’
She jumped up, then walked out pulling the door open and demanded a senior officer attend immediately, or John would leave. The cop outside was immediately out of his depth and scurried off. A sergeant appeared and started to tell her about ongoing investigations in progress but she cut him down.
‘You have three minutes. If a senior officer is not here before then we will leave. Mr Smith is not a US citizen and is therefore allowed the full courtesy offered by International law. He has committed no crime and came here of his own accord. He has done nothing wrong, and yet has been held here for over two hours. Every second late he is waiting while you attempt to get him to stay after the three minutes are up I will personally ensure that he earns the same in hourly compensation. I advise that you do not doubt my word.’
She returned into the room, smiled widely at John, sat down and crossed her legs.
Less than three minutes later Lieutenant Frank MacMillan entered the room and took a seat opposite them. The officer from outside followed him in and closed the door, standing to one side.
‘Ah, Lieutenant MacMillan. The one and only,’ Helen said sardonically. ‘You still have a job then? That’s amazing, congratulations.’
MacMillan pursed his lips then forced a tight smile.
‘Ms Greengrove, Mr Smith.’
Helen wasted no time.
‘I’d like to know what the hell is going here Lieutenant MacMillan. Mr Smith is here on vacation. He is wasting his time seated in a police station after coming here of his own volition and has been here over two hours. I am very unhappy about his treatment.’
‘Why did you come here Mr Smith?’ MacMillan asked; totally unsure of the situation but at least trying to be business-like.
‘This police station? Civic duty I suppose. I heard the police were looking for me.’
‘No Mr Smith, not the police precinct, why here. Las Vegas.’
‘I’m looking for someone. Abby Cromwell.’
‘What’s that, a missing person? That’s a PD matter Mr Smith, whoever she is.’
‘That’s exactly what I said. But I was asked to come regardless and actually I think I’m very close to finding her now.’
‘OK, So … what was the reason that you came to the police precinct.’
‘Because when I got back to my hotel I was told the police had called and were looking for me.’
MacMillan nodded slowly.
‘Which hotel is that? Where are you staying?’
‘Bellagio, room twenty-seventeen,’ John lied smoothly in return with a smile.
MacMillan turned to the officer and asked him to check that.
‘Lieutenant, perhaps you can explain why you were looking for Mr Smith and why you deem it necessary to find out where he is staying?’ Helen was clearly ready for a fight.
‘Ms Greengrove, there has been an allegation of car theft against Mr Smith.’
Car theft? John hadn’t expected that. Interesting.
‘I see. And what car is this?’
‘A dark blue Lincoln Navigator. The property of the Acropolis Hotel. A complaint was made, we have to investigate. I’m sure you understand.’
Helen sat back, and looked at John, who shrugged and smiled.
‘No idea,’ he told her.
‘Lieutenant, I assume you have evidence of this?’
‘We are waiting for a full report from the examiner.’
‘OK, so you must have witnesses who have seen Mr Smith steal the car, or even drive it?’
MacMillan kept quiet, buying time.
The officer returned and spoke in MacMillan’s ear. The lieutenant pursed his lips.
John Smith was registered and checked in at the Bellagio, room twenty-seventeen. That asshole Pablo, he couldn’t do anything right. The guy was right in front of him.
Helen heard every word and tapped her fingernails on the desk impatiently.
‘In that case lieutenant, I assume then that Mr Smith is free to go?’
MacMillan said nothing in reply, turning instead to John.
‘Mr Smith, I have to ask, if you are here looking for this person, in an unofficial capacity, then surely you would have contacted the police in the city on arrival? And now you are here, as an innocent party who has done nothing wrong, why would you wish to engage an attorney? Especially one as expensive and Miss Greengrove.’
‘Oh, I was really shocked to hear the police were looking for me. It was quite upsetting actually. So I spoke to a friend I have here. He suggested it would be a good idea, I don’t understand the law you see, I have very little to do with it.’
‘I see. And what friend was that?’
‘Oh it’s Pablo. Pablo Escola. He owns the Acropolis actually. So I am rather surprised about all of this I have to say.’
MacMillan stared at John. That was clever, too clever. What did this guy know? Jesus Christ, he could know everything! Helen gave nothing away, she continued to look at him.
There was a tap at the door, and the officer opened it. He was given a sheet of paper which he passed to MacMillan.
MacMillan read it, but had already guessed the content.
There was not one single fingerprint belonging to John Smith in the Lincoln.
He stood up and fixed a smile to his face.
‘Mr Smith, clearly this has been a mistake. I am very sorry to have held you up. Sometimes we are given misleading information, and I apologise on behalf of the Las Vegas PD.’
‘Lieutenant?’ Helen looked enquiringly at him.
‘Er … yes Ms Greengrove?’
‘I notice that none of this is being recorded. So, I assume that as Mr Smith is here on his own volition this entire episode has been a waste of all our time?’
MacMillan coughed.
‘Again, I apologise Mr Smith. Please enjoy the rest of your stay in our city, you are free to go.’
Without bothering to pick up the report MacMillan left the room.
Up in his office he called Pablo back and broke the news.
‘I’m telling you Mac, he is not staying at the Bellagio’
‘Pablo how exactly do you know this? You been over there yourself?’
‘Cos I have had guys watching out for him.’
‘Guys? You got nobody left.’
‘Whatever. This ain’t helping. What are you doing about this Mac?’
‘I can’t do anything. He hasn’t broken any laws. Helen Greengrove was in there with him, biggest ball-breaker in this city and she is already causing me enough problems as you well know.’
‘Well, you put a tail on him right? He will lead us to the money!’
‘Pablo, this ain’t the movies. No, I ain’t put a tail on him. I got nothing, there ain’t a single goddamn print in the car and he has a valid address which has been checked out by us and confirmed at the hotel. The captain is already gonna be looking real close at this, Ms Helen fucking Greengrove will see to that. This is no good Pablo, I cannot be in the spotlight. I gotta stay away.’
Pablo’s voice raised a few octaves higher.
‘Mac you got to do something! Listen to me I need your help. You got to keep on him and find my fucking money!’
‘Pablo, he’ll turn up. I don’t think he’s finished with you yet. He’s saying the reason he’s here is he’s gotta find that fucking Abby, and Christ alone knows what the fuck you done with her. It’s got nothing to do with money or any of your bullshit. He’s connected Abby to you and it’s my guess is he’ll be coming to see you, and I get the feeling it won’t be long.’
‘That’s not helping!’ Pablo squeaked.
‘You know what he did Pablo? He told me you recommended Helen fucking Greengrove; said you were old pals. This guy is way too smart; and I know that means he’s most likely heading for a fall, but no way am I taking a chance. If I were you I would get everybody you got around you and just keep watching out; you could get lucky, maybe, but I’m done. No more Pablo, no more.’
‘Mac! Listen. Fuck! I need …’
MacMillan saw the captain in the corridor and hurriedly hung up the phone, switching it off completely.
In his office Pablo stared down at the phone in his hand, and redialled. It went straight to voicemail. He threw the phone across the room and buried his head in his hands. He was a prisoner, he couldn’t leave the room in case he ran into Shaun Farley. His office was right in the centre of the ground floor administration area, there were no windows and outside his door was just a bland corridor, which led one way to the lift up to the penthouse and the other back to the hotel. He was totally cut off. He had no idea of what to do next. Abby. John Smith was over here looking for her. He should have thought of that. All this shit could easily have been avoided. But it wasn’t his fault. He had been given bad information and worse advice.
He sat there, perilously close to tears for the first time in many years then stood up, crossed the room and locked the door. Slowly he crawled around collecting the bits of the mobile phone and clipping them back together.
He needed help, but there was nobody out there. Nobody at all.
He needed to think. Maybe John Smith was staying at the Bellagio but Pablo didn’t have any friends there; Stefan had been the one with the connections. Pablo realised he should have done something, anything to keep Stefan. He had been a rock for years, and now Pablo really was on his own, he couldn’t rely on Skinny to get a cup of coffee without a detailed list of instructions and even then, it would most likely be screwed up. He could of course walk over to the Bellagio himself, but knew he would not be welcome there, plus that would put him back out in the hotel where Shaun Farley was apparently still waiting. Skinny had not done a good job at all of persuading him that everything was fine.
Now, the fact that he didn’t know what to do was bearing down on him, hard. The money had gone, the only person he knew that had any chance of getting it back had let him down. He picked up the mobile and scrolled down to Stefan then dialled.
He would make peace; Stefan would know what to do.
A phone shrilled on his desk, he looked around and then stared down at it dumbly and remembered then that Stefan had given the mobile back. He hung up.