Nobody Dies in a Casino by Marlys Millhiser Page B

footage of you is to further entice Mitch Hilsten.”
    â€œWhen’s he getting here?”
    â€œSaturday, I hope. His plane from Nairobi was delayed due to nascent rebellion among the downtrodden with access to explosives.”
    â€œMitch is in Nairobi?”
    â€œYou didn’t even know where he was? He knew you were here.” Evan was down to his purple shirt now, sitting on the floor, where servers and barmen picked up plates and glasses while pretending he and Charlie weren’t there. He and Charlie pretended the same back.
    â€œI got an E-mail yesterday. Guess I didn’t check all the address and routing crap ahead and after it.” Damn stuff took up more room on the screen than the message.
    Her client’s barely contained elation had to mean he was under the mistaken impression his had been a successful screening. Talent is hard to fathom. The more successful, the more deluded they can become, denying the haunting fear they can’t do it again. This time, someone will figure out they’re faking. They’re not sure how they accomplished the success they’ve become addicted to and fear losing it.
    Personally, Charlie was convinced success in the entertainment business had mostly to do with being at the right place at the right time with the right idea. Plus business acumen. Plus a lot of sheer dumb luck. Talent is not that uncommon and few are chosen. When it happens, though, you really need a damn good agent.
    This agent thought Congdon and Morse’s hot new client was losing it. Or was it just that she was too tired, hadn’t really gotten a start on her vacation yet?
    â€œSome of the footage came from satellite, some we swiped off the Net, and a lot of it we’d taken on previous trips. You haven’t even seen most of it—the ground stuff. You haven’t seen the best yet.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t you show the best to backers?”
    â€œBackers … oh, yeah.” He slipped out of his shoes and socks, reached for his toes and lifted them and what followed toward the ceiling, and held the balancing act on his tailbone. “You know the best part about this backing, Charlie? No interest, no taxes, no payback.”
    â€œThere’s no such thing as free money.”
    â€œCharlie love, trust me.”
    â€œTrust you? This screening involved you, and me by association, in a casino robbery and an illegal flight over Groom Lake. Evan, I have a kid, I don’t appreciate your exposing me that way. The mob may not run Vegas anymore, but the corporate-military complex is an incredibly lethal instrument.”
    â€œâ€˜Corporate-military complex.’ You are such a living, breathing example of my conspiracy theme, you’re wonderful.” He lowered his legs to pretzel them into a lotus position and did some more deep breathing.
    Charlie’d tried that lotus thing once and gotten a cramp in her leg. Her daughter and best friend, Maggie, practically had to sedate her to straighten her out. They were almost crippled themselves with laughter.
    By the time he was standing on his head, she bent over almost to the floor to assure Evan Black, “I’m not leaving until you tell me about Mr. Thug. And I don’t want to hear any magic shit either.”
    *   *   *
    Charlie rode back to the Hilton with Toby, the second-unit gofer, fuming about Evan’s denial of any knowledge of the curly-haired goon. “We didn’t check names at the door,” he’d said. “Anybody could have come in. People brought friends, you know. It was a party.”
    When she’d insisted the man was one of the two who had walked his pilot, Pat, to the curb and shoved him under traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard, her client insisted that since he hadn’t seen any of it happen, he wouldn’t have recognized him tonight.
    They were on the Maryland Parkway and Charlie looked up at the lighted billboard with