maybe ten."
I nodded to concede the point.
"What are we going to do?" Bill said. "I don't want to fall 20 feet onto a marble floor."
"Right now, we keep going. When we get to the fourth-maybe-third floor, I have an idea."
We made it down the rest of the floors without any real problems. On the sixth-maybe-fifth floor, someone was in the room, sitting at the table and counting stacks of cash. He yelped in surprise as we appeared, but we didn't stick around long enough to see him do much more than that.
"He's in for a big surprise when security storms his room," Bill said as we appeared in the room below.
"If we're lucky, maybe it'll slow them down."
Another jump down, and we were on the fourthmaybe-third floor. The room sat dark and empty.
"So what's the plan?" Bill asked.
"Lie down," I said. "Brace your legs against the floor."
"I don't think we have that kind of relationship, Jackson."
"Just do it," I said, and he did.
I laid down with my waist over Bill's legs, then let myself go through the floor. My head and chest pitched forward into the room below, but Bill's frame kept me from falling straight through.
The blazing lights blinded me for a moment and told me instantly that I'd been smart to look before I leaped. As my eyes cleared, I saw that I was hanging with my head and shoulders sticking down through the ceiling of the lobby, right over the antique paddy wagon that sat in the middle of it.
I hauled myself back up. "We're good," I said. "Remember that old police van sitting in the middle of the lobby? We're right on top of it. We drop down here, and we can slip on down the front and charge for the exit."
"Are you sure about that?" he asked. "I'd be surprised if they didn't have someone waiting for us near the doors. Look again."
I thought he was being paranoid, but if there was ever a time for that, it was now. I leaned back down through the ceiling and craned my neck for a good look around.
Sure enough, Bill had been right. Five men and women in dark suits stood near the exits, listening to someone squawking at them through their earpieces.
I swung back up. "Good call. That way's screwed."
I walked over to the window.
"Any other ideas?" Bill asked. "If we take the stairs or the elevator, they've probably got those covered too."
I looked out at the strip. We were facing the Thunderbird now, the ghostly blue mythic creature stabbing out from the front of the place's facade. Powi was there. She might be able to help if we could reach her.
"Hey," Bill said, "look – a rooftop."
I glanced down and saw that he was right. The window outside the room looked out over a broad expanse of roof that covered the vast casino floor out of which the revolving hotel tower rose.
I gave Bill a fist bump. "Ready?"
He nodded. Together, we took a running start at the window and leaped straight through it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Getting down off the roof wasn't easy, but we managed it. Given everything else we'd been through that night, climbing down the part of the facade farthest from the front door wasn't hard. We wound up behind some of the bushes lining the casino's front. We hunkered down there and tried to figure out our next move.
Then Bill's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at it, and swore. He turned it to show me the caller ID: Powi . I took it from him and thumbed it on.
"You two are prime idiots."
"Hi, Powi," I said. "Always great to hear from you. Now's not such a good time for a chat though."
"So I gather. From what I hear, Gaviota has every spare security guard from Revolutions and Bootleggers combing the Strip for you. He's put out the word to every other house in the city. You're as good as dead."
"Fine," I said. "In lieu of sending flowers to our funeral, please make a donation to the Prime Idiots Memorial Fund. Your dollars will help ensure no one ever
I nodded to concede the point.
"What are we going to do?" Bill said. "I don't want to fall 20 feet onto a marble floor."
"Right now, we keep going. When we get to the fourth-maybe-third floor, I have an idea."
We made it down the rest of the floors without any real problems. On the sixth-maybe-fifth floor, someone was in the room, sitting at the table and counting stacks of cash. He yelped in surprise as we appeared, but we didn't stick around long enough to see him do much more than that.
"He's in for a big surprise when security storms his room," Bill said as we appeared in the room below.
"If we're lucky, maybe it'll slow them down."
Another jump down, and we were on the fourthmaybe-third floor. The room sat dark and empty.
"So what's the plan?" Bill asked.
"Lie down," I said. "Brace your legs against the floor."
"I don't think we have that kind of relationship, Jackson."
"Just do it," I said, and he did.
I laid down with my waist over Bill's legs, then let myself go through the floor. My head and chest pitched forward into the room below, but Bill's frame kept me from falling straight through.
The blazing lights blinded me for a moment and told me instantly that I'd been smart to look before I leaped. As my eyes cleared, I saw that I was hanging with my head and shoulders sticking down through the ceiling of the lobby, right over the antique paddy wagon that sat in the middle of it.
I hauled myself back up. "We're good," I said. "Remember that old police van sitting in the middle of the lobby? We're right on top of it. We drop down here, and we can slip on down the front and charge for the exit."
"Are you sure about that?" he asked. "I'd be surprised if they didn't have someone waiting for us near the doors. Look again."
I thought he was being paranoid, but if there was ever a time for that, it was now. I leaned back down through the ceiling and craned my neck for a good look around.
Sure enough, Bill had been right. Five men and women in dark suits stood near the exits, listening to someone squawking at them through their earpieces.
I swung back up. "Good call. That way's screwed."
I walked over to the window.
"Any other ideas?" Bill asked. "If we take the stairs or the elevator, they've probably got those covered too."
I looked out at the strip. We were facing the Thunderbird now, the ghostly blue mythic creature stabbing out from the front of the place's facade. Powi was there. She might be able to help if we could reach her.
"Hey," Bill said, "look – a rooftop."
I glanced down and saw that he was right. The window outside the room looked out over a broad expanse of roof that covered the vast casino floor out of which the revolving hotel tower rose.
I gave Bill a fist bump. "Ready?"
He nodded. Together, we took a running start at the window and leaped straight through it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Getting down off the roof wasn't easy, but we managed it. Given everything else we'd been through that night, climbing down the part of the facade farthest from the front door wasn't hard. We wound up behind some of the bushes lining the casino's front. We hunkered down there and tried to figure out our next move.
Then Bill's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at it, and swore. He turned it to show me the caller ID: Powi . I took it from him and thumbed it on.
"You two are prime idiots."
"Hi, Powi," I said. "Always great to hear from you. Now's not such a good time for a chat though."
"So I gather. From what I hear, Gaviota has every spare security guard from Revolutions and Bootleggers combing the Strip for you. He's put out the word to every other house in the city. You're as good as dead."
"Fine," I said. "In lieu of sending flowers to our funeral, please make a donation to the Prime Idiots Memorial Fund. Your dollars will help ensure no one ever
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