classified.”
“Okay.”
“The president’s brother had been kidnapped. I need to go down there and find him before he’s killed.”
“Whoa,” Tommy snapped back in his seat. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I was.”
It was Tommy’s turn to bet and he was receiving glares from everyone at the table. He was breaking the first rule of Lloyd’s Poker House: No cell phone conversations at the table.
Tommy said into the phone, “Hang on for a second.” Then he put the phone down on the table, pulled the toothpick from his mouth and pointed it at Rich. “You have a losing hand there, pal. You know it. They know it. The Pope knows it. The police know it. The only way you win is if I fold.”
Rich licked his lips with apprehension.
“So, here’s my proposition,” Tommy said. “I’ll fold my hand if you promise to cash in right now and drive to the hospital and pay for your father’s procedure. I know what he has. It’s called Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus. NPH for short. I had an uncle with the same condition. Every hour you wait can destroy more brain cells and keep him from making a full recovery.” Tommy held out his hand for a handshake.
Rich examined the pot of chips, probably trying to decide how much profit he’d have left over after paying the hospital bill.
Tommy cocked his head. “Last chance, killer.”
Rich must’ve known he had a losing hand, so he did the only reasonable thing. “Okay,” he said, shaking Tommy’s hand. “You have a deal.”
Tommy turned over his four Aces and watched Rich’s eyes go wide in shock. “Go,” Tommy pointed to the door. “Now. Take care of your father.”
Rich greedily swiped the pile of chips toward him and nodded.
Tommy looked over at a bulky man who handled the security at the poker house. “Cash me out, Phil. I need to get going myself.”
The man began the process of stacking and counting chips, while Tommy grabbed the phone and moved to the back of the room where a dozen empty tables stood bare in the dark. The fluorescent lights were turned off so Tommy couldn’t see the cigar and cigarette smoke, but he could still smell it.
He sat at the farthest table, pulled out a purple toothpick and dug it between two back molars. “Okay,” he said, putting the phone to his ear and crossing his legs. “What’s going on?”
“We need contacts down there. Anyone,” Nick Bracco said, suddenly in a whirlwind of background noise.
“Where are you?”
“I’m about to get into a helicopter to go to Sky Harbor. We’re flying to Miami to pick up some technology for the trip. Then on to Colombia.”
“Nicky, I’ll make a couple of calls, but how much time do you have?”
“Very little. I doubt this will last beyond tomorrow night. You think you can find someone who can help us track down a cartel in the Amazon?”
“Shit,” Tommy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got people all over the world, even in Colombia. But the Amazon?”
“This is important,” Nick said, the helicopter blades picking up in pitch. “The president is willing to do just about anything to get his brother home alive.”
A man came out of the shadows of the poker room and dropped a stack of bills on the table where Tommy was sitting.
Tommy took a couple of hundreds from the top of the stack and handed them to the guy. “Here you go, Phil.”
Phil took the money and nodded as he left.
“Tommy,” Nick said, “I need something. We’re desperate.”
In the stillness of the dark something came to Tommy. “Actually, I do know one guy who is familiar with that part of the world.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Well,” Tommy said, digging out stale pretzels from his teeth with his toothpick. “The guy’s not exactly a boy scout.”
“What are we talking about, some muscle?”
“More than just muscle.”
There was silence for a moment. Nick was smart enough not to pry. Tommy could practically see Nick running a hand through his hair while his
“Okay.”
“The president’s brother had been kidnapped. I need to go down there and find him before he’s killed.”
“Whoa,” Tommy snapped back in his seat. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I was.”
It was Tommy’s turn to bet and he was receiving glares from everyone at the table. He was breaking the first rule of Lloyd’s Poker House: No cell phone conversations at the table.
Tommy said into the phone, “Hang on for a second.” Then he put the phone down on the table, pulled the toothpick from his mouth and pointed it at Rich. “You have a losing hand there, pal. You know it. They know it. The Pope knows it. The police know it. The only way you win is if I fold.”
Rich licked his lips with apprehension.
“So, here’s my proposition,” Tommy said. “I’ll fold my hand if you promise to cash in right now and drive to the hospital and pay for your father’s procedure. I know what he has. It’s called Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus. NPH for short. I had an uncle with the same condition. Every hour you wait can destroy more brain cells and keep him from making a full recovery.” Tommy held out his hand for a handshake.
Rich examined the pot of chips, probably trying to decide how much profit he’d have left over after paying the hospital bill.
Tommy cocked his head. “Last chance, killer.”
Rich must’ve known he had a losing hand, so he did the only reasonable thing. “Okay,” he said, shaking Tommy’s hand. “You have a deal.”
Tommy turned over his four Aces and watched Rich’s eyes go wide in shock. “Go,” Tommy pointed to the door. “Now. Take care of your father.”
Rich greedily swiped the pile of chips toward him and nodded.
Tommy looked over at a bulky man who handled the security at the poker house. “Cash me out, Phil. I need to get going myself.”
The man began the process of stacking and counting chips, while Tommy grabbed the phone and moved to the back of the room where a dozen empty tables stood bare in the dark. The fluorescent lights were turned off so Tommy couldn’t see the cigar and cigarette smoke, but he could still smell it.
He sat at the farthest table, pulled out a purple toothpick and dug it between two back molars. “Okay,” he said, putting the phone to his ear and crossing his legs. “What’s going on?”
“We need contacts down there. Anyone,” Nick Bracco said, suddenly in a whirlwind of background noise.
“Where are you?”
“I’m about to get into a helicopter to go to Sky Harbor. We’re flying to Miami to pick up some technology for the trip. Then on to Colombia.”
“Nicky, I’ll make a couple of calls, but how much time do you have?”
“Very little. I doubt this will last beyond tomorrow night. You think you can find someone who can help us track down a cartel in the Amazon?”
“Shit,” Tommy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got people all over the world, even in Colombia. But the Amazon?”
“This is important,” Nick said, the helicopter blades picking up in pitch. “The president is willing to do just about anything to get his brother home alive.”
A man came out of the shadows of the poker room and dropped a stack of bills on the table where Tommy was sitting.
Tommy took a couple of hundreds from the top of the stack and handed them to the guy. “Here you go, Phil.”
Phil took the money and nodded as he left.
“Tommy,” Nick said, “I need something. We’re desperate.”
In the stillness of the dark something came to Tommy. “Actually, I do know one guy who is familiar with that part of the world.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Well,” Tommy said, digging out stale pretzels from his teeth with his toothpick. “The guy’s not exactly a boy scout.”
“What are we talking about, some muscle?”
“More than just muscle.”
There was silence for a moment. Nick was smart enough not to pry. Tommy could practically see Nick running a hand through his hair while his
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