Nevada Run

CHAPTER NINE

“What’s that, pard?” Hickok asked.

The four Warriors stood near an intersection over a half mile from the alley.

Blade flipped through the pages of the small black book he’d removed from his right rear pocket. “I found this on the body of the stranger killed at the scene of Mindy’s abduction. I’m double-checking the address for the Golden Crown Casino. That’s where Pucci told Ted we’d find Mindy. And the mobster in the alley confirmed the Golden Crown Casino is Pucci’s personal casino.”

“We never did figure out why the stranger was killed,” Geronimo mentioned.

“Maybe Pucci will tell us,” Hickok said.

Blade found the address he wanted, then closed the black book and returned it to his rear pocket, slipping the book alongside the wad of two thousand dollars and the piece of blue plastic. “This is the correct boulevard. The Golden Crown Casino should be just up ahead.”

Helen hefted her Carbine. “I pray she’s all right.”

“She will be,” Hickok assured her.

“Let’s go,” Blade declared.

The quartet crossed the intersection.

“Any sign of a tail?” Blade inquired.

Geronimo, bringing up the rear, shook his head. “Nope. Don Giorgio must be waiting for us at his casino.”

Blade scrutinized the buildings ahead as he sauntered along the sidewalk. They passed several casinos, liquor stores, one food store, and a gas station crammed with cars. He stared at the pumps, puzzled. Where did the mobsters obtain their fuel? Gasoline was a precious commodity elsewhere; the Civilized Zone and California stringently accounted for every gallon. Las Vegas, though, possessed gas in abundance. He gazed up at a flickering neon sign. There was another rarity: electrical power. The Outlands were totally devoid of such a luxury, and even California and the Civilized Zone, where generating plants were scrupulously maintained, were forced to conserve their usage, primarily supplying power to the urban centers.

The mobsters, though, were under no such limitations.

How did they do it?

Blade walked ten more yards and happened to glance at a casino sign fifty yards distant.

“Blade,” Geronimo said, his alert eyes having already spied the sign.

“I see it,” Blade stated, halting.

“See what?” Helen inquired.

Blade pointed toward the sign.

Helen took one look and started to head for it.

“Hold it,” Blade directed, gripping her right wrist.

Helen angrily attempted to pull free. “Let me go! Mindy is in there!”

“We need a plan,” Blade said.

“Plan, hell! I want to go to Mindy!” Helen snapped.

“Calm down!” Blade instructed her.

Helen’s lips tightened, but she relaxed her arm. “Okay. What do we do?”

“We can’t all go in at once,” Blade said. “Pucci would spot us too easily.”

“Do you suppose he has our descriptions?” Geronimo asked.

“Could be,” Blade said. “Remember, he asked for me by name. He must have some idea of how I look.”

“Yeah,” Hickok quipped. “It isn’t every day you run into a seven-foot giant with big ears.”

“His ears are no bigger than your mouth,” Geronimo cracked.

“We’ll go in two at a time,” Blade proposed. “Geronimo and I will go in first. Hickok, give us three minutes and come in with Helen.”

“I want to go in with you,” Helen said to Blade.

“No.”

“Why not?” Helen questioned in annoyance.

“Because I know you,” Blade said. “If you spot Mindy in there, you’ll start shooting every mobster in sight. I’m going in first to see if she’s there.”

“I’ll watch over Helen,” Hickok promised.

Blade inspected the Commando, insuring the safety was off. “Then let’s get to it.”

“Not so fast,” Geronimo cautioned. “We have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Blade asked.

Geronimo nodded at the opposite sidewalk. “See for yourself.”

Blade turned, surveying the far sidewalk, perplexed until he recognized two faces in the seething crowd. “Damn!” he exclaimed.

Mousy and two other mobsters were standing on the opposite walk, and Mousy was gesturing at the Warriors and talking rapidly.

“Where’d he come from?” Hickok queried. “How’d he get here so fast?”

“He had a car, remember?” Blade reminded the gunman.

Mousy and his two companions unexpectedly began running, rudely shoving pedestrians aside, heading in the same direction as the Warriors.

“What’s that all about?” Helen wanted to know.

Blade studied the casinos on the far side of the boulevard. Fifty yards away was the answer, a casino with its name in bright red letters overhead.

Mousy and the two mobsters were heading for the Palace as swiftly as the logjam of pedestrians permitted.

“Johnny’s Palace,” Geronimo said. “It’s right across the street from the Golden Crown Casino!”

Blade stared from the Palace to the Golden Crown, feeling frustrated.

He’d never expected this! Why were Don Giorgio’s Palace and Don Pucci’s Casino directly across the boulevard from one another? Was the territory on the far side of the boulevard Giorgio’s? Was this side Pucci’s?

“We can still find Mindy,” Helen declared. “This doesn’t change a thing.”

“Yes, it does,” Blade said, disputing her. “If we go into the Golden Crown and rescue Mindy, we’ll undoubtedly have to take on Don Pucci’s men to free her. And when we come out, Don Giorgio’s men will be waiting for us. I don’t like the odds.”

“We could leave,” Geronimo suggested, “then try and get inside the Golden Crown after dark. Maybe we won’t be spotted by Giorgio’s hit men.”

“I’m not leaving!” Helen vowed.

“I have a plan,” Hickok mentioned softly.

“Even if we do leave,” Blade said, ignoring the gunman, “there’s no guarantee we can sneak into the Golden Crown undetected after nightfall.

Look at all those neon lights. This whole city must be lit up like one of those ancient Christmas trees.”

“I have a plan,” Hickok repeated quietly.

“Then let’s march into the Golden Crown, and hang the consequences!”

Geronimo advocated.

“I have a plan,” Hickok said.

Blade sighed and faced the gunman. “I know I’ll regret this, but what’s your plan?”

“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Hickok assured them. “We need to keep Don Giorgio occupied while we’re savin’ Mindy. So one of us should go into the Palace to keep Giorgio busy while the rest go into the Golden Crown and find Mindy.”

“I’m surprised,” Geronimo remarked. “He has a good plan.”

Blade ran his left hand through his hair. Hickok’s idea did make sense.

With Giorgio preoccupied, three Warriors should be more than enough to quickly effect Mindy’s release. “It might work,” he grudgingly conceded.

“Then I reckon I’ll see you yahoos later,” Hickok said, and took a step toward the curb.

“Hold it,” Blade said. “I’ll go to the Palace.”

“Don’t be a donkey,” Hickok objected. “You’re the brains of this outfit.

If anyone can figure a way to get Mindy out of the Golden Crown, it’s you.

Helen should go with you because she’s Mindy’s mom. And Geronimo has to go with you too, because he can’t hoodwink folks the way I can.”

“I can hoodwink as good as you any day!” Geronimo responded, then paused. “What’s hoodwink mean, anyway?”

Hickok stared into Blade’s eyes. “You can see I’m right, can’t you?”

Blade reluctantly nodded. “You go.”

“Why am I so blamed brilliant all the time?” Hickok mumbled, and stepped to the curb.

“Wait!” Blade declared. “Cross at the next intersection!”

Hickok looked at each of them. “The direct approach, remember?” He winked at Geronimo. “Take care of that mangy, low-down, lyin’ Injun butt of yours.”

Geronimo started to reply, but the gunman was gone.

Hickok darted into the traffic, swinging his Henry from side to side, weaving between the cars. Some of the drivers slammed on their brakes at the sight of the Warrior. Others ducked for cover when the Henry swung in their direction. There was a lot of metallic squealing and grinding intermixed with curses and screams, but the gunfighter reached the opposite side of the boulevard unscathed.

Geronimo expelled a deep breath. “I wish he wouldn’t pull stunts like that.”

“If he didn’t,” Blade commented, “he wouldn’t be Hickok.”

“Too bad he’s married,” Helen remarked.

“Hickok will give us the time we need,” Blade said, heading for the Golden Crown. “Let’s make sure his sacrifice is not in vain.”

“Sacrifice?” Helen repeated. “You sound like you don’t expect to see him again.”

Blade watched the gunman wade through the stream of pedestrians on the far walk. “We may not,” he said grimly, then stalked toward the Golden Crown Casino.

Don Anthony Pucci’s personal casino was an imposing, stately structure 15 stories in height. Ten glass doors faced the boulevard, each with its frame painted a metallic gold. The trim on the windows was also gold.

While the exterior on the upper floors was an opaque black glass, the lowest floor was a clean, white stucco. Patrons were flocking in and out of the casino constantly.

Blade walked up the three cement steps to the first door and gripped the handle. He paused long enough to glance across the boulevard at Johnny’s Palace.

Hickok was just entering Giorgio’s casino.

Blade opened the door and stepped inside, the Commando in his right hand.

Geronimo and Helen followed.

Blade walked several yards and stopped to get his bearings.

The lobby of the Golden Crown was opulently, tastefully furnished with plush red carpet, subdued blue walls decorated with paintings, and chandeliers to provide the illumination. Customers were everywhere.

Geronimo tapped Blade on the left arm and pointed at a sign on the nearby wall.

Blade surveyed the enormous lobby, scanning the hundreds of people engaged in a variety of activities; some were seated at tables, playing cards; some were seated around a large wheel; others were at tables where cards were pulled from wooden boxes; and over two hundred were yanking levers on odd machines with flashing lights and twirling fruit emblems.

“How will we ever find Mindy in here?” Geronimo wondered aloud.

A petite brunette in a red and black outfit, her red, ruffled skirt barely covering her thighs, approached the Warriors with a wide smile. A square blue plastic tag attached to her black blouse identified her as a HOSTESS.

“Hello,” she greeted them. “My name is Leslie. Welcome to the Golden Crown.”

“Hello,” Blade said.

Leslie raked them with a critical eye. “My! You certainly are armed to the teeth! Expecting trouble?”

“You can’t be too careful these days,” Blade commented, “May I help you in any way?” Leslie asked.

“We’re looking for someone,” Blade told her. “A young woman named Mindy.”

“Is she an employee of the Golden Crown?” Leslie asked.

“We know she was brought here,” Blade replied. “I don’t think she would be an employee.”

“Is she a guest?” Leslie inquired politely.

“She’s my daughter,” Helen interjected brusquely.

“I can check the casino register to see if she’s a guest.”

Leslie offered. “What’s her last name?”

“She doesn’t have one,” Helen said.

Leslie grinned. “Everyone has a last name.”

Helen leaned toward the hostess, her eyes flinty. “We don’t. Neither does Mindy. We know she’s here. Tell Don Pucci we want her!”

The hostess blinked twice. “Don Pucci?”

“Yes,” Blade stated courteously. “We’re here at Don Pucci’s invitation.

Tell him the Warriors have arrived.”

“The Warriors?” Leslie repeated quizzically.

“Do it!” Helen snapped impatiently.

Leslie’s eyes widened slightly. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, and walked off to the left.

“Why’d you give us away?” Geronimo asked Blade.

“I didn’t,” Blade said, glancing at Helen. “Blabbermouth here did.”

“I’m sorry,” Helen said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m tired of pussyfooting around! It’s obvious we could search for weeks in a building this huge and never find Mindy. So I decided to try Hickok’s method, the direct approach.”

“Now we’re in trouble,” Geronimo said.

“Why?” Helen queried.

Geronimo gazed around the casino. “Because Hickok’s method only works for Hickok. I call it the Blundering Idiot Principle.”

“The harm is done,” Blade stated. “We’ll have to play it by ear from here on out and pray for the best.”

“I’d like it better if Pucci didn’t know we’re here,” Geronimo observed.

Blade cradled the Commando in his arms. The colossal casino would be impossible to search completely from top to bottom, so Helen’s blunder was logically justified. But he was peeved at her for taking the initiative without his approval. He intended to submit her to a refresher course in the necessity for Warrior obedience after they returned to the Home.

If they returned.

“Here comes the bimbo,” Helen declared.

The hostess walked up to them, smiling sweetly. “I called the main office. They’re sending someone down to see you.”

“Thanks,” Blade said.

“Mind if I ask you a question?” Geronimo mentioned.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Leslie responded.

“This is our first trip to Vegas,” Geronimo revealed. “And there are some things I don’t understand. For instance, why do the casinos accept prewar currency? Without the Government of the United States to back the money, isn’t it worthless?”

“Prewar currency is not worthless because it’s backed by the casinos,” Leslie said. “Let me explain. I asked about this once, and this is what my supervisor told me. There is a lot of prewar currency floating around. Its face value is zero, but the Dons decided to use the prewar currency instead of printing their own money. All of the national mints stopped functioning during the war. No one has the capability to make money. So the Dons use the existing currency at an exchange rate of pennies on the dollar. It’s cheaper for them than manufacturing their own.”

“But eventually all the prewar currency will wear out,” Geronimo noted.

“What will they do then?”

“I don’t know,” Leslie said. “But they have a process for partially restoring really old bills. It will be a long time before all the prewar currency is gone.”

“I have a question,” Blade remarked. “How is it Las Vegas has so much gas and unlimited electricity?”

“You can get anything on the black market if you have the price,” Leslie said enigmatically.

“Are you married?” Helen unexpectedly inquired.

“Yes, I am,” Leslie answered. “Why?”

“How can you live in Las Vegas, you being a married woman and all?” Helen questioned.

“I don’t understand,” Leslie said.

“Look around you! All this gambling. Gangsters all over the place. Shootings on the streets,” Helen detailed. “How can you live in such an environment?”

“What’s wrong with Vegas?” Leslie responded. “Life here is good. We never have shortages of food, or clothing, or gas. The Dons protect the city from the looters and the mutants. And if you don’t carry a gun, odds are you’ll never be involved in a shooting. The standard of living in Vegas is higher than in most other parts of the country. The schools are excellent—”

“You have schools?” Blade interrupted.

“Of course, silly,” Leslie said. “How else would we educate our children? The Dons funnel a large portion of their profits into the educational system.”

“The Dons support the schools?” Blade asked in surprise.

“And the hospitals, and the utilities, and the senior centers,” Leslie divulged. “Didn’t you know that?”

“No,” Blade confessed, “I had no idea.”

“The Dons care about their people,” Leslie stated affectionately.

“Will wonders never cease!” Geronimo quipped.

A lean man with black hair, a square jaw, and glasses, attired in a white suit, was walking toward the Warriors with a hurried tread. He smiled as he neared them. “Hello. My name is Mario Pileggi. I’m Don Pucci’s Operations Manager.” He extended his right hand to Blade.

Blade took the hand and shook, Pileggi’s firm handshake and clear blue eyes disconcerting him. “I’m Blade. This is Helen and Geronimo.” He perceived that Pileggi was an urbane, confident man.

“I was told you want to see Don Pucci?” Mario said when Blade released his hand.

“We’re here at his invitation,” Blade stated.

Mario studied the three Warriors for a few seconds. “This is most mystifying. Perhaps you would be kind enough to accompany me to the main office. We can sort this out there.”

“What’s to sort out?” Helen demanded. “I want my daughter.”

“Where is your daughter?” Mario asked.

“Don’t play games! You know she’s here. The Don took her!” Helen said angrily.

“Hmmmm,” was all Mario replied.

“We would like to get this sorted out as quickly as possible,” Blade commented.

“Come with me,” Mario said, and turned and headed for the far side of the lobby.

Blade kept his finger on the trigger of the Commando as he crossed the spacious floor. If Mario was leading them into a trap, he wanted to be ready. They passed a row of those odd machines with the lights and rotating pictures of fruit. “What are those?” he inquired.

Mario glanced over his right shoulder, his forehead creased. “You’ve never seen a slot machine before?”

“No,” Blade said.

Mario halted and reached into his left front pants pocket. He withdrew a circular red plastic piece and handed it to the giant.

Blade took the piece. There was lettering on both sides.

“It’s a token,” Mario mentioned. “There’s a chronic shortage of coins, so we use tokens in some of the slots. This one’s on the house.”

“Thank you,” Blade said, pocketing the token, puzzled.

Mario continued toward the far wall.

Blade was feeling uncharacteristically tense. Something was gnawing at his mind, troubling him. What was it? Why was he so certain he was overlooking an important factor in this mission?

A glass-enclosed elevator appeared through the crowd. Mario was heading straight for it.

Blade surveyed the patrons for any sign of Enforcers or button men, but none were in evidence.

Mario indicated the elevator when they were ten feet away. “We’ll take this up to the second floor.”

“Is Don Pucci’s office on the second floor?” Blade queried.

“The main office is on the second floor,” Mario replied.

The elevator was large enough to accommodate a dozen occupants. A sign was affixed to the glass in the middle. RESERVED. RESTRICTED USE. Two glass doors comprised the front of the elevator.

“The public elevators are over there,” Mario said, pointing at four elevators 20 yards to the left.

“I was surprised to find this casino so close to Don Giorgio’s,” Blade absently commented.

Mario, about to reach for the gold handles in the center of the glass doors, froze and turned. “You know Don Giorgio?”

“No,” Blade said.

Mario’s mouth curled downwards. “Giorgio is an upstart. He deliberately built his casino across from Don Pucci’s.”

“Why?” Blade asked. “To increase his business?”

“Not hardly,” Mario answered. “He had ulterior motives.” He opened the elevator doors. “After you.”

“After you,” Blade said.

Mario shrugged and entered the elevator, standing next to a panel of buttons.

The Warriors stepped into the elevator.

Mario closed the doors and pushed a button marked with a 2. The elevator started upward.

“Are Don Pucci and Don Giorgio friends?” Blade questioned.

Mario laughed bitterly. “Friends isn’t the word I would use.”

The elevator coasted to a stop on the second floor. Below, the lobby was a jumble of bustling movement.

Mario turned. The rear of the elevator was a seemingly solid black plastic wall. He pressed a black button on the panel and the “wall” slid into a recessed slot on the right, revealing a lengthy corridor beyond.

Blade realized the glass portion only faced the lobby. Access to the corridors was through this rear door.

“Allow me,” Mario said, taking the lead and exiting. He took an abrupt right.

Blade, Geronimo, and Helen stepped from the elevator.

Mario had stopped and was facing them, grinning triumphantly. The rear door to the elevator hissed shut. “Would you care to tell me the real reason you want to see the Don?”

“We’ve already told you,” Helen responded testily. “I want my daughter.”

Mario sighed and raised his right hand. “I was hoping you would cooperate.” He snapped his fingers.

Doors all along the corridor suddenly opened, disgorging over a dozen somber men in suits, each armed with a machine gun. They trained their weapons on the Warriors.

“If you make a move,” Mario warned in a pleasant tone, “you’re dead.”