March 5th, 2018
It wouldn’t matter if he waited until nightfall, as Vegas was a city that didn’t sleep much like New York. But unlike the Big Apple, America’s Playground didn’t keep a close eye on the clock at all times. For all the people in the casinos knew the sun could rise and fall a dozen times so long as they were kept buzzed enough to keep plunking their quarters and the deeds to their home yielded enough spending money to lace the tables for a while. He’d seen people burn through fortunes at the tables while walking the floors, and had always shaken his head to think how many suckers came to Vegas with the belief that they’d spend just a little and catch a show with a meal later. Most of them were lucky if they had enough for one of the shitty buffets down the street when they were done.
Going down Frank Sinatra Drive was the best way to get to the back, and with the outfit he’d changed into from his stash, which was updated as much as could be, he’d be indistinguishable from any of the staff. The key card he’d had made for him by one of his people on the inside was hopefully still good, but he know other ways in if it wasn’t. They’d see him coming if he walked through the casino, which was why he was going in the back, which they’d likely expect just as well. At least going in through the back wouldn’t set off any metal detectors that could derail him before he reached his destination.
If he was correct in his thinking the mugs that had left him for dead would think that the job was done and over with, while the one that had been in charge of them would likely be waiting for him. The Brit, which was what everyone called him on account of the fact that he was a British hitman, or ex-hitman as he liked to say, was the only guy between him and the boss that had been the only man that could have ordered his hit. Once he got through the Brit, assuming he was still standing, the boss would be next. Then it would be a full-on run towards freedom.
He almost felt bad that he wouldn’t be returning Sal’s truck like’d said, but he needed a mode of transport. He’d see if he could get as far as Reno and then see about switching up, but for now the truck had been sufficient to haul the load of supplies he’d taken with him from his storage unit. He’d just about cleaned the unit out, leaving only a few hangers and outfits that were going to be no good to him soon.
After he was done, if he was standing, he would have to run. He didn’t mind that part, only a fool stuck around once his luck had run out. But he believed in spreading the luck when it came around. As he pulled into the back parking lot of the Bellagio hotel, a place that was like a small city unto itself, he breathed deeply through his nostrils as he checked his personal inventory, making sure he had enough weaponry on him to take down a small army if need be. Everything was small enough to be concealed, and was easily accessible.
It was time to go spread the luck.
(to be continued)