Chapter 12

Just as the security center of the Bellagio was finally quiet, it was disturbed by Doyle storming in with Emily right behind him.

"What the hell is going on in the vault?" he asked quickly.

"Nothing, sir," said a security guard as he brought up the image. "It's all normal." Doyle put the phone up to his ear again.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken; my vault is unbeatable," the Irish man smirked.

"Are you watching your monitors? Okay, keep watching." The monitors flicked as images of upright guards were replaced by unconscious, bound ones and a destroyed vault. "In this town, your luck can change just that quickly."

"Find out how much money's down there," Doyle said to Hankel who nodded.

How the hell did that cell phone get in my pocket? Emily thought. I own a Galaxy S4, not a prepaid flip phone. Unless… She remembered how Spencer kissed her cheek. He must've slipped the phone into her pocket. And, with Spencer, came Gatsby.

"Emily." There was a pause. "Emily." She was jolted out of her daydreams.

"Yes?" she said to Doyle.

"Perhaps you should…"

"Perhaps I should what?" she asked indignantly. He sighed.

"It would be better if you weren't around for this." Emily huffed and quickly strode out of the security center. "Alright," he said to the caller. "You've proven your point. You've broken into my vault. Congratulations, you're a dead lass."

"Maybe," was the calm reply.

"Maybe? How do you expect to leave? Do you honestly think I'd let you walk out of my casino doors?"

"No, you'll carry it out for us."

"And why would I do that?"

"As your manager's probably telling you, you have a little over 160 million in your vault." As she spoke, Hankel handed his boss the number of money in the vault on a slip of paper. "You may notice, we're only packing up about half of that; booby-trapped as insurance." Gatsby continued her stroll through the casino, not noticing the figure following her. "You let our half go, and you'll keep the rest of your money. That's the deal. If you try to stop us, we'll blow up both sets of cash." She turned around and came face to face with Emily Prentiss-Reid who had a glare that could rival Spencer's. "Mr. Doyle, you could lose 80 million privately or 160 million publicly. The choice is yours." Gatsby took the phone away from her face. "Hey, Emily. What's up?" she said in a charming voice.

"Make the call," Doyle told Hankel.

"911 emergency response," said a voice on the cordless phone.

"Where's Spencer?" Emily ground out, her eyes flashing.

"Spencer? He's fine; he's just giving his brain a rest. He requests that you go upstairs and watch TV."

"He does, does he?" She crossed her arms and Gatsby knew to tread carefully. They went to the same college after all.

"….three men have taken control of our vault." Hankel nodded to Doyle.

"Okay, we have a deal," Doyle said into the phone.

"You should learn to relax. Everything's fine, Emily. Trust me." She quickly walked away as Emily raised an eyebrow. "Great," she said into the phone and walked away. "Here's what you'll do." Gatsby was glad that Emily wasn't following her because she just might kill her.

"The guys in the vault will deposit six bags into the elevator, which will then rise to your cages. Three of your guards will carry the bags out of the casino. If they take more than twenty seconds to reach the floor or if there's been any indication that a switch has been made, we'll blow the money in the bags and the money in the vault."

"She's in the casino by the slots," Doyle whispered to a guard as he heard the ringing of the machines.

"Of course, I'm in the casino by the slots. In fact, I'm staying in your hotel. And I got two words for you: mini bar." Gatsby was having fun now. Nobody messed with her friends. "As soon as the guards hit the casino floor, a white, unmarked van is going to pull up in your valet station. Your guards will load the bags into the van's rear. If anyone so much as approaches the driver's door, we'll blow everything. When I hear the van's away and the money's secure, my men will leave the building. Once their safety is confirmed, you'll get your vault back."

"The S.W.A.T. team is here," Hankel whispered to his boss. Doyle nodded.

"Alright," Doyle said calmly to the caller, too calm. "I have complied with your every request, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because now I have one of my own: Run and hide, asshole. Run and hide. Because if you're picked up buying a $100,000 car in Newport Beach, I'll be sorely disappointed. I want my people to find you and when they do…" he laughed as his employees shuddered. "…rest assured, we won't hand you over to the police. So, my advice to you is this, run and hide. That is all I ask." He waited for a response but none came.

The abandoned, untraceable phone lay on a barstool in the empty suite.

"Mr. Doyle, our guys say that the van is headed for McCarren Airport," Hankel said.

"Get everybody into position; I want my vault back before that van hits the tarmac," Doyle replied.

The SWAT team on the scene was stealthily dropping down the deactivated elevator shaft that led to the vault.

"Night goggles on," said the SWAT leader through the walkie-talkie. "Prepare to cut power."

"Cutting power now," Doyle said as the lights where the team was went completely dark.

"Breaching elevator doors now. We have two guards, bound and unconscious. Wait a minute!"

"Guys, guys; someone's here!" said a frantic voice.

"Take them down now," the leader said.

Shots were heard, quickly followed by an explosion.

"I got him," said the panicked voice.

"Lights, lights. We need power now," said the leader.

"Give it to them," Doyle told the guards. The screens showed the illuminated hallway and vault. The SWAT team was aiding the guards but the vault looked blown to pieces. "What's going on, talk to me," Doyle said to the team.

"It appears that a high explosive device has been detonated, repeat, has been detonated," said the leader. "We will continue to search for survivors."

Doyle breathed nosily and turned to Hankel who shook in his shoes. "Tell them to take the van," he said as he started to exit the room. "And find out HOW THE BLOODY HELL THEY HACKED INTO MY SYSTEM!"

"Yes, sir." Hankel said quietly

The Bellagio team followed the van as it stopped beside a small jet. The team quickly got out of the cars and held out their guns. "Step out of the van," said the leader. Nothing happened. "Tires," he said to his teammates and they did as they were told and shot the tires. There was still no movement from within the van.

Doyle the damaged vault and was blowing out a little steam. He was interrupted by the SWAT team leader.

"Sir, our search found no suspects. Nor can we determine how they entered or exited the premises."

"Take your men and get out." The voice was deadly calm.

"Sir, may I suggest you wait outside until the bomb squad…"

"Now." The team leader shrugged.

"It's your vault. Blue team, move out!" They picked up their bags and left the tycoon alone.

"Tobias, where are we with the van?"

The team leader inched his way toward the driver's door and quickly opened it only to find that a robot was in the driver's seat. He lowered his gun and raised an eyebrow.

Across the lot from the van, a black sedan was parked. Shawn was grinning from ear to ear in the passenger seat as he looked at the guard's surprised face.

"Okay, I just wanna try something," he said as he started to move the van with his joystick, which freaked out the Bellagio team. "Ha, ha! Suck it, Bellagio!" Shawn saw one police officer try to chase the van and decided to play cat and mouse with him. "Come get the cheese, little mousy." Shawn smiled. Rossi finally had enough and smacked Shawn upside the head.

"Ow, what was that for?"

"Enough monkey business, just do it already!" Rossi replied.

"Okay, okay. Party-pooper." Shawn muttered as he pressed a red button on the remote control.

When he did, the back of the van exploded, startling the Bellagio police.