far.”
“Precisely.”
“And your general manager—” Simon glanced at his notes. “Mr. Quan. He agrees?”
Billie hesitated, carefully considering her answer. “Li Quan is a good man, but he…” She hesitated again, clearly struggling to find the right words, the politically correct words. “It’s a cultural thing. He has a propensity to attribute all things to fate and fortune.” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Joss.”
“So he thinks the accidents are nothing more than bad luck?”
Billie nodded. “ Joss is like a religion here, good luck, bad luck, it all flows from the same river of faith. And like all religions, you can’t argue faith with fact. It’s foolish to even try.”
“But you think the accidents have something to do with the Alliance? Someone literally trying to throw a wrench into the works?”
“No. Absolutely not. Besides the people in this room, there’s only one other person in all Macau who knows about the negotiations.”
“And that is?”
“A man by the name of Atherton. James Atherton. He runs an international consulting firm. The State Department hired him to act as an undercover liaison between us and the three countries involved. He’s a straight shooter. Very professional.”
Simon nodded, being careful not to show his growing skepticism. “Okay, so if it’s not about the Alliance, what is it about? Who would benefit from these accidents? Your competition?”
Billie shook her head emphatically, her silver-blond hair swirling around her finely chiseled face. “It’s true, if that bad-joss tag became synonymous with the Pearl, it would hurt us…no one believes in luck, good or bad, like an Asian gambler…but our competition is well established, they’re not afraid of us, nor should they be. The Pearl will attract droves of new customers to the province. It’s going to help everyone.”
He couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t like the old days in Vegas, when the Mafia ran everything. Most of the gaming now was controlled by large international conglomerates. “Okay, so if it’s not the competition, and it’s not the trade agreement…?”
“Extortion,” Billie answered without hesitation. “Someone looking for a payoff to make the accidents go away.”
“Have there been demands?”
“No, but Jake received a call intimating as much. He got it the same day he was shot.”
Kyra jerked upright in her chair, as if someone had injected hot lead into her veins. “Are you saying it wasn’t a random street crime? That there’s a link between the accidents and the shooting?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Billie answered. “The shooting had nothing to do with the problems at the Pearl.”
But the answer came too quick, and Simon had a feeling she was holding back. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I was there, dammit! We were taking a walk and ended up in a maze of backstreets where we shouldn’t have been. Before we could find our way back, some guy popped out of the shadows and demanded Jake’s wallet.” She shook her head, as if to erase the memory. “You know Jake, he didn’t take kindly to that. He pushed me aside and tried to grab the guy.” She glanced toward her unconscious husband. “You can see how that turned out.”
But what he saw and what he heard didn’t make sense. Something about the street-crime scenario didn’t fit. Jake had been hit twice, from two sides, which meant the impact of the first bullet had spun him around before the second found its target, or—a big or—there were two shooters. And two shooters did not sound random or botched. “The guy was alone?”
Billie dipped her head, her lips set in a tight seam.
“Where was your security?” he asked, being careful to keep his tone inquisitive, not accusatory.
“Jake had already dismissed them for the night. Taking a walk was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Nobody really knows us here. We had no reason to expect trouble.”
Simon
“Precisely.”
“And your general manager—” Simon glanced at his notes. “Mr. Quan. He agrees?”
Billie hesitated, carefully considering her answer. “Li Quan is a good man, but he…” She hesitated again, clearly struggling to find the right words, the politically correct words. “It’s a cultural thing. He has a propensity to attribute all things to fate and fortune.” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Joss.”
“So he thinks the accidents are nothing more than bad luck?”
Billie nodded. “ Joss is like a religion here, good luck, bad luck, it all flows from the same river of faith. And like all religions, you can’t argue faith with fact. It’s foolish to even try.”
“But you think the accidents have something to do with the Alliance? Someone literally trying to throw a wrench into the works?”
“No. Absolutely not. Besides the people in this room, there’s only one other person in all Macau who knows about the negotiations.”
“And that is?”
“A man by the name of Atherton. James Atherton. He runs an international consulting firm. The State Department hired him to act as an undercover liaison between us and the three countries involved. He’s a straight shooter. Very professional.”
Simon nodded, being careful not to show his growing skepticism. “Okay, so if it’s not about the Alliance, what is it about? Who would benefit from these accidents? Your competition?”
Billie shook her head emphatically, her silver-blond hair swirling around her finely chiseled face. “It’s true, if that bad-joss tag became synonymous with the Pearl, it would hurt us…no one believes in luck, good or bad, like an Asian gambler…but our competition is well established, they’re not afraid of us, nor should they be. The Pearl will attract droves of new customers to the province. It’s going to help everyone.”
He couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t like the old days in Vegas, when the Mafia ran everything. Most of the gaming now was controlled by large international conglomerates. “Okay, so if it’s not the competition, and it’s not the trade agreement…?”
“Extortion,” Billie answered without hesitation. “Someone looking for a payoff to make the accidents go away.”
“Have there been demands?”
“No, but Jake received a call intimating as much. He got it the same day he was shot.”
Kyra jerked upright in her chair, as if someone had injected hot lead into her veins. “Are you saying it wasn’t a random street crime? That there’s a link between the accidents and the shooting?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Billie answered. “The shooting had nothing to do with the problems at the Pearl.”
But the answer came too quick, and Simon had a feeling she was holding back. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I was there, dammit! We were taking a walk and ended up in a maze of backstreets where we shouldn’t have been. Before we could find our way back, some guy popped out of the shadows and demanded Jake’s wallet.” She shook her head, as if to erase the memory. “You know Jake, he didn’t take kindly to that. He pushed me aside and tried to grab the guy.” She glanced toward her unconscious husband. “You can see how that turned out.”
But what he saw and what he heard didn’t make sense. Something about the street-crime scenario didn’t fit. Jake had been hit twice, from two sides, which meant the impact of the first bullet had spun him around before the second found its target, or—a big or—there were two shooters. And two shooters did not sound random or botched. “The guy was alone?”
Billie dipped her head, her lips set in a tight seam.
“Where was your security?” he asked, being careful to keep his tone inquisitive, not accusatory.
“Jake had already dismissed them for the night. Taking a walk was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Nobody really knows us here. We had no reason to expect trouble.”
Simon
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