From the thousands of acres of rolling woods ceded to the Pequot tribe two hundred years ago as their tribal homeland, the Pequot Woods Resort rose like a towering glass teepee, reflecting the sun across the banks of the Thames River.
Back in 1996, the United States Supreme Court, having recognized that Native American tribes, as “sovereign entities,” could open gaming facilities free of state regulation, the tribe, along with two large gaming and real estate conglomerates, TRV and Armbruster International, built the spectacular Pequot Woods, housing the largest gaming facility in the world. Not to be outdone, the Pequots’ natural enemies, the Mohegans, on the other side of the river, did the same. Now, two hundred years later, the two warring tribes were battling all over again for the gambling dollars of New Yorkers and Bostonians with the two largest casinos east of Las Vegas.
The setting sun glinted amber as Hauck wound his Explorer around a bend and onto the casino’s vast grounds.
He left the car at check-in in front of the lobby. A pretty, dark-haired receptionist in a well-tailored uniform came out from behind the reception desk.
“Mr. Raines is expecting you,” she told him. “I’ll have your bag taken up to your room and I’ll escort you to see him now.”
“Sounds fine,” Hauck said, smiling back at her. He tucked his sunglasses into his jacket.
She informed him her name was Katie and led him up a wide, carpeted staircase rising from the lobby, a vast, glass-enclosed atrium with lava-colored rock formations rising spectacularly to the sky. They shared a little small talk on the way, about the casino, whether Hauck had been there before, the new celebrity-chef steak place that had just opened. Hauck couldn’t help but admire her nice, long legs.
On the second floor, she took him down a long hallway to a door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. “We call it the Flight Room,” Katie said. “Mr. Raines asked if you would meet him here.”
She put an electronic key in the door and opened it. Hauck found himself in a massive, darkened room. The space was filled with hundreds of video monitors, many suspended high above, displaying wide angles of the entire gaming operation. Most were smaller-sized screens in workstations that seemed to be focused on individual betting tables, and observing them were security personnel in headsets.
Dozens and dozens of them.
It almost took Hauck’s breath away.
The hush of low-key voices penetrated the air like an airport flight tower.
“Everybody has the same reaction the first time.” Katie smiled, observing him. “We have the largest security operation in the East.”
A tall, lanky man in a dark sport jacket who had been talking to one of the security personnel came over to Hauck. “Thank you, Katie.”
She smiled and backed out of the room, saying, “Have a good stay.”
“I’m Joe Raines,” the man said. Raines was about fifty, with a pockmarked face, salt-and-pepper hair, sort of a military bearing, like a man who had worked himself up from the ranks.
“Ty Hauck,” Hauck said. His shake was firm but cool.
“Impressive?” the security man remarked.
Hauck took in a wide scan. “Yes, it is.”
“People always stare a bit their first time. Over four thousand slots, six hundred and eighty gaming tables. You know what the average daily take in an operation this size is?”
Hauck shrugged. “No idea.”
Raines pursed his bloodless lips. “Thirty-one point six mil. Not counting food and beverage, of course. Weekends you could double that.”
“I’ll look for that one the next time I’m on Jeopardy.” Hauck chuckled.
Raines gave him a smile. “And you know what the one thing is that holds the whole thing all together, Lieutenant?” He pointed to a large screen focused on a table of blackjack players. “Check out up there…”
On the screen, a man in a cowboy hat and aviators drummed his fingers while he studied his hand. The dealer showed a jack. The man in the hat had what seemed a troubled expression, deciding what to do.
“That,” Joe Raines stated. “That it’s the player who has to bust first—not the house. That the poor bastard has no idea in the world what to do because of that ten card showing there. That’s our edge. Our only edge, Lieutenant. If he knows the dealer’s holding a five, everything switches back against the house. But because he doesn’t, we keep the advantage.”
On the screen, Cowboy Hat tapped the table for a card and the dealer flipped over a king. He busted. The dealer took in the man’s chips. The next player in line stuck with a king and a seven, seventeen, and the dealer flipped over his hole card and revealed a six. Sixteen. He had to hit. He flipped over a ten and busted himself. Raines smiled knowingly. “You see…”
“You mind being a little clearer on what you’re trying to tell me?” Hauck asked, drawing his gaze back from the screen.
“You care for something to drink?” Raines asked. “A beer? Soft drink? Something stronger, perhaps?”
Hauck shook his head. “Thanks. Still on duty.”
“That’s what I figured. In this job you have to size people up quickly and you look like a man who’s serious about his work.”
“I think we both know why I’m up here, Mr. Raines,” Hauck said, growing impatient at all the dancing around.
“Yes, we do, Lieutenant. Sanger…” Raines nodded. His eyes were hooded and gunmetal gray. “Keith Kramer. Like I said, you upset that balance”—Raines looked at him—“it disrupts everything. You understand what I’m trying to tell you, Lieutenant?” He motioned around. “Everything you see here, all these fancy screens, these trained people, tens of millions of dollars—all of it’s just here to protect that one thing. So that what that dealer has facing down on the table remains in doubt. All it takes is one bad egg on the inside, and this whole big show doesn’t mean shit. Are you understanding?”
“I think I’m starting to see it,” Hauck replied.
Raines had thick eyebrows and a serious conviction in his gaze. “And there are several different ways to upset that perfect balance, Lieutenant.”
“You mean from the inside.”
“Yes. A dealer can execute what in the trade we call a ‘flash.’ Flash a glimpse of his hole card to an accomplice at the table. Doesn’t take a whole lot of skill. That’s what these operators are trained to look for. Or he can simply blink or just twitch his nose. A twitch to signal his accomplice to draw a card. Maybe only a moistening of the lips for him to hold. That’s why we watch tapes of every one of our dealers in action, over and over, observing their mannerisms.”
Hauck started to have a clearer sense of where this was going.
“Then there’s what we call capping, Lieutenant. And pinching. Placing more chips over a winning bet than it deserves. Maybe substituting a black five-hundred-dollar chip for a green. Or taking chips off the table in a loss. We monitor the one-on-one tables most closely. Look to see if the same player shows up with the same dealer on a regular basis…”
“What were Kramer and Sanger up to, Mr. Raines?” Hauck asked, growing tired of dancing around.
“Almost there.” Raines smiled. “There’s one more technique I didn’t mention. It’s called a false shuffle. A dealer, say one motivated to participate in such a scam, slips a series of prerecorded, unshuffled cards on the top of his deck. It’s called a slug.”
Raines took out a handheld remote control. He flicked it toward the screen at the desk where he and Hauck were stationed. A video recording came on. It was of a man in an open shirt and blazer at a table with his back to the screen. Short hair, sunglasses. He was the single player at the table. Blackjack. The dealer was a middle-aged man with bushy graying hair and thick black glasses, in his uniform of a white shirt and red vest. The first hand, the player with his back to the camera lost. He took a sip of his drink. The next hand, he drew nineteen. Won. A light bettor. Only a couple of chips.
The next hand he upped his bet significantly.
To Hauck it appeared he pushed in several thousand dollars, though he wasn’t familiar with all the denominations. This time, the player was dealt two face cards. Bingo. To Hauck’s surprise, he left all his winnings on the table and the dealer dealt again. Blackjack, this time. The man in the blazer quietly raked in his winnings. Thousands. Then he stepped away from the table. All in all, it took less than one minute.
As he did, for the first time Hauck could see his face.
It was David Sanger.
It was like a jackhammer bludgeoned him. He’d been so focused on the dealer and what Raines was trying to show him, he hadn’t seen.
The security chief stood up and flicked off the screen. A haughty smile on his face that at the same time was both condescending and all-knowing.
“Why don’t you go up to your room for a bit and relax. I’ll meet you down in the casino in the blackjack section at eight o’clock. I’ll give you a glimpse of what you’re after there, firsthand.”