bright emergency lights. A fireman with a megaphone was telling restless, uneasy patrons to stand back and clear the rotunda.
“What the hell’s going on?” someone asked.
A woman to his right commented, “Who ever heard of a power outage in Las Vegas?”
Entering the check-in area, he saw a way around the huge crowd clogging the central atrium with its marble fountain and statues of half-naked nymphs. For once, the casino was quiet. No jangling slots, no clinking of chips. Soon, he figured, an emergency generator would be started up somewhere and the machines would be active again.
He found Walker’s office, which was lit by a battery-powered torch. Jeri stood in its penumbra, the harsh light transforming her face into a Halloween mask, speaking quickly into a cell phone. “I don’t care how the fuck they get here. I want all agents in the area contacted and told to report. Now!”
She sighed, took a sip of something out of a paper cup, and announced to the half-dozen people standing in the room, “NPC says the transponders at Henry Allen station overloaded. They’re trying to patch in other sources now.”
“Jeri—” Crocker started.
“Walker? Where’s Walker?”
“Jer—”
He was cut off by a man standing in front of him. “What kind of time frame are they talking about?”
“I don’t know. Has anyone seen Walker? Why are all you people standing around?”
Jeri spotted Crocker, crossed over to him, and grabbed his shoulder. “Crocker, oh god…”
“I got here as soon as I could.”
“Good. Good.” He could feel the anxiety coming off her body as she leaned into him and whispered, “Those slick fucks set their suite on fire and escaped.”
“The guys from before? The diplomats?”
“Yeah.” Remembering something, she called out, “Where the fuck is Walker? Somebody find him, now!”
Jeri took Crocker by the elbow, led him toward the door, and whispered, “Your colleague’s on his way to Parking C,” she said urgently. “He’s trying to stop those two assholes before they get away.”
“Mancini, good. I’ll find him.”
He turned toward the door and simultaneously reached for his cell.
Jeri shouted at his back, “Nelson here will show you the way.”
She pushed a heavyset, balding man through the door toward him.
“Nelson, Crocker.”
“Follow me.”
Jeri shouted, “Wait!” She ran to him, pushed a walkie-talkie into his hand, and said, “Talk to me, Crocker. Channel C.”
“Lead the way.”
They pushed past crowds of gawkers clogging passageways to the back of the casino. Nelson knew a shortcut down a hallway, out an emergency exit, down a long concrete corridor, and up a flight of stairs.
“This way.”
He held a flashlight to illuminate the floor in front of them as they ran. Crocker found his cell phone and hit Manny’s number on speed dial.
“Boss, where are you?” Mancini answered.
“Headed for the garage. You?”
“Reserved parking, level two.”
“Jeri told us C.”
“There is no C. It’s level two.”
“Two. Copy.”
“How far away are you?”
“I think we’re close. Hang on.”
He stopped and turned back. Nelson, who had been lagging with the flashlight, stood ten feet behind him clutching the back of his leg.
“What’s the matter?” Crocker asked.
“I think I pulled a hamstring. You better continue without me. There’s an elevator at the end to the right. The security code is 9114.”
Crocker nodded. “I’ll radio Jeri and tell her to send someone.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll be okay.”
“I’m calling her now.”
He held down the button as he ran. “Jeri? It’s Crocker.”
“This is a fucking disaster. What the hell is happening?”
“I’m about to find out. Nelson pulled a muscle. I left him in the security hallway to the right of the casino. He’s near the ground-floor elevator.”
“I’ll tell Walker to send someone if I can fucking find him.”
Emerging from the elevator Crocker realized he
“What the hell’s going on?” someone asked.
A woman to his right commented, “Who ever heard of a power outage in Las Vegas?”
Entering the check-in area, he saw a way around the huge crowd clogging the central atrium with its marble fountain and statues of half-naked nymphs. For once, the casino was quiet. No jangling slots, no clinking of chips. Soon, he figured, an emergency generator would be started up somewhere and the machines would be active again.
He found Walker’s office, which was lit by a battery-powered torch. Jeri stood in its penumbra, the harsh light transforming her face into a Halloween mask, speaking quickly into a cell phone. “I don’t care how the fuck they get here. I want all agents in the area contacted and told to report. Now!”
She sighed, took a sip of something out of a paper cup, and announced to the half-dozen people standing in the room, “NPC says the transponders at Henry Allen station overloaded. They’re trying to patch in other sources now.”
“Jeri—” Crocker started.
“Walker? Where’s Walker?”
“Jer—”
He was cut off by a man standing in front of him. “What kind of time frame are they talking about?”
“I don’t know. Has anyone seen Walker? Why are all you people standing around?”
Jeri spotted Crocker, crossed over to him, and grabbed his shoulder. “Crocker, oh god…”
“I got here as soon as I could.”
“Good. Good.” He could feel the anxiety coming off her body as she leaned into him and whispered, “Those slick fucks set their suite on fire and escaped.”
“The guys from before? The diplomats?”
“Yeah.” Remembering something, she called out, “Where the fuck is Walker? Somebody find him, now!”
Jeri took Crocker by the elbow, led him toward the door, and whispered, “Your colleague’s on his way to Parking C,” she said urgently. “He’s trying to stop those two assholes before they get away.”
“Mancini, good. I’ll find him.”
He turned toward the door and simultaneously reached for his cell.
Jeri shouted at his back, “Nelson here will show you the way.”
She pushed a heavyset, balding man through the door toward him.
“Nelson, Crocker.”
“Follow me.”
Jeri shouted, “Wait!” She ran to him, pushed a walkie-talkie into his hand, and said, “Talk to me, Crocker. Channel C.”
“Lead the way.”
They pushed past crowds of gawkers clogging passageways to the back of the casino. Nelson knew a shortcut down a hallway, out an emergency exit, down a long concrete corridor, and up a flight of stairs.
“This way.”
He held a flashlight to illuminate the floor in front of them as they ran. Crocker found his cell phone and hit Manny’s number on speed dial.
“Boss, where are you?” Mancini answered.
“Headed for the garage. You?”
“Reserved parking, level two.”
“Jeri told us C.”
“There is no C. It’s level two.”
“Two. Copy.”
“How far away are you?”
“I think we’re close. Hang on.”
He stopped and turned back. Nelson, who had been lagging with the flashlight, stood ten feet behind him clutching the back of his leg.
“What’s the matter?” Crocker asked.
“I think I pulled a hamstring. You better continue without me. There’s an elevator at the end to the right. The security code is 9114.”
Crocker nodded. “I’ll radio Jeri and tell her to send someone.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll be okay.”
“I’m calling her now.”
He held down the button as he ran. “Jeri? It’s Crocker.”
“This is a fucking disaster. What the hell is happening?”
“I’m about to find out. Nelson pulled a muscle. I left him in the security hallway to the right of the casino. He’s near the ground-floor elevator.”
“I’ll tell Walker to send someone if I can fucking find him.”
Emerging from the elevator Crocker realized he
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