Chapter Two

A taxi pulled up in front of a large home in Las Vegas. A few cars were already parked on the street near it. Moira sighed and stepped out after paying the driver. As he drove off, she stepped up to the door and rang the bell. As she waited, she pulled out her pocket watch from the pocket of her vest. She was only a few minutes late, hardly enough to matter.

Less than a minute later, Reuben answered the door, cigar in hand. "You look like you stepped out of the 20s, Moira," he welcomed with a nod.

"Reuben," she said in return, stepping inside and taking off the item in question: a black cloche hat with a medium sized satin bow on the side. "I happen to like this hat."

"I see you're as English as ever," he commented, gesturing to her outfit. Even in the desert, Moira was wearing a white, wing collar shirt with a grey waistcoat over it. Her pocket watch chain shone over the dark grey fabric. She wore a neat, red bowtie around her neck. She also wore a black pencil skirt and heels reminiscent of Oxford shoes.

"Never. I'm a Scotsman to the bone," she returned, slipping into the accent she had attempted to hide for so long.

"Everyone's out back."

"Thank you," she said as she turned and strode out to meet the others.

Reuben's home, as she had expected, blended modern and casual as professionally as a casino. This was no surprise. Over the years, Reuben had picked up the style of the casino he owned, that is until Terry Benedict bankrupted it and bought it. Within a minute, she had reached the back. Reuben, as most rich people living near Las Vegas, had a pool, and quite a large one at that. A group of mostly smartly dressed people were gathered around a table near the pool, apparently making light conversation.

The first of these to notice her arrival was a tall, black man in a tan jacket. "Moira! I hardly recognized you, Luv!" he said with a bright smile, walking over to hug her.

"'Ello, Basher. Miss me?" she asked before kissing his cheek.

"Always, Darling," he said, breaking away to look her over.

"Thin as always, you lucky bugger," Basher said jokingly.

"Thick as ever, mate," she returned, mimicking his thicker accent.

"Come on over and get a drink, Mate. It'll help with the jetlag," he said, guiding her over to the table. Now, she could see that it was covered with a number of types of alcohol, cigarettes, cigars, and more.

"Ah! Woe is me that never prepared is that most wonderful of nectars," Moira lamented, shaking her head as she grasped a glass and poured herself half a glass of red wine.

"Yeah, Reuben never thinks to brew some tea."

"At least there's good wine," Moira said after taking a sip.

Before Basher could speak, Danny walked out of the house and said, "Gentlemen, welcome to Las Vegas."

"Moira's here, you tosser," Basher snapped quickly.

"Oh. Well, everybody eaten? Good. Everybody sober? Close enough. All right, before we get started, nobody's on the line here, yet. What I'm about to propose to you is both highly lucrative and highly dangerous. If that doesn't seem like your particular brand of vodka, help yourself to as much food as you'd like and have a safe journey. No hard feelings. Otherwise, come with me," Danny said before turning and walking into the house.

"Come on, Luv," Basher said, offering her his arm as Moira snatched a devilled egg and her wine, popping the former into her mouth quickly.

Rusty followed them, hoping to get a seat beside her. No such luck. Basher and Moira sat side-by-side on a sofa. Rusty fought back disappointment as Basher wrapped an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to lean her head against him. Rusty walked over to sit on the opposite arm of the sofa, folding his arms over his chest as he did. He barely stopped himself from staring Moira.

Once everyone was settled, Danny said, "Gentlemen and Moira, the 3000 block of Las Vegas Boulevard, otherwise known as the Bellagio, the Mirage, and the MGM Grand. Together, they are three of the most profitable casinos in Las Vegas." As he spoke, there was an image on Reuben's very large flat-screen showing a zoomed in map of Vegas with the three casinos in question labelled.

At his cue, Turk changed the picture on the screen to a set of blueprints. "This is the vault of the Bellagio. It's located beneath the strip, beneath 200 feet of solid earth. It safeguards every dime that passes through each of the three casinos above it. We're gonna rob it."

"Smash and grab job, huh?" a youngster, actually most likely in his twenties, said from the far end of the room.

"Slightly more complicated than that," Rusty said as the rest of the group turned to look at the cheeky blighter.

"Well, yeah," he responded ineloquently.

"Who's the tosser?" Moira whispered to Basher.

As Basher shrugged, Rusty said quietly, "He's Bobby Caldwell's kid."

"Really?" she asked in disbelief.

Rusty nodded, enjoying being able to look into her eyes.

"This is courtesy of Frank Catton, new blackjack dealer at the Bellagio," Danny continued, glancing at the man, who then nodded in recognition.

"Okay, bad news first: this place houses a security system that rivals most nuclear missile silos. First, we have to get within the casino cages, which anybody'll tell you takes more than a smile. Next, through these doors, each of which requires a different six-digit code changed every twelve hours. Past those lies the elevator. This is where it gets tricky. The elevator won't move without authorized fingerprint identification-"

"Which we can't fake," Rusty interrupted.

"And vocal confirmation from both the security system within the Bellagio and the vault below-"

"Which we won't get."

"Furthermore, the elevator shaft is rigged with motion detectors-"

"Meaning if we were to manually override the lid, the shaft's exit would lock down automatically, and we'd be trapped."

"Now, once we get down the shaft, though, then it's a piece of cake. Just two more guards with Uzis and the most elaborate vault door conceived by man. Any questions?"

A small Chinese man spoke a short sentence in his native language, gesturing as he did.

"No. Tunnelling is out. There are sensors monitoring the ground a hundred yards in every direction. If a groundhog were to nest there, they'd know about it," Rusty answered quickly.

"Anyone else?" Danny asked.

"You said something about good news?" Virgil asked.

"Yeah. The Nevada Gaming Commission stipulates that a casino must hold in reserve enough cash to cover every chip in play on its floor. That means on a weekday, by law, it has to carry anything from sixty to seventy million dollars worth in cash and coin. On the weekend, between eighty and ninety million. On a fight night, like the one two weeks from tonight, the night we're gonna rob it, 150 million without breakin' a sweat."

"Now there are eleven of us, each with an equal share. You do the math."

Most of them did. Someone whistled. "Exactly," Rusty said, pointing to them.

"You're a nutter," Moira said, laying her head back against the sofa.

Linus looked over at the woman, only actually looking at her now. She had the aloof yet intelligent air of Athena herself.