“They’re owned by O Palácio, Brazil’s largest and most powerful organized crime syndicate.”
I froze.
Shit, shit, shittity shit!
“I see,” I said. “Spiteful bunch, are they?”
“Yes. They’re the old-fashioned, ‘kill you to make a point’ kind of mafia.”
“Wait…no…that can’t be right. I’ve never even heard of these guys.”
“It’s possible—just possible—that I know more about organized crime in my city than you do.”
I put my forehead in my hands. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Why the hell does the Brazilian mob own a lunar aluminum company?! The aluminum industry’s in the toilet!”
“They’re not in it for the profits,” Rudy said. “They use Sanchez Aluminum to launder money. Artemisian slugs are an unregulated, largely untracked quasi-currency and the city has iffy identity verification at best. We’re a perfect haven for money laundering.”
“Oh God…”
“You h
ave one thing going for you: They don’t have a strong presence here. This isn’t an ‘operation’ to O Palácio. It’s just an avenue for creative accounting. But it would seem they do have at least one enforcer on-site.”
“But…” I started. “Wait…let me think this through…”
He rested his hands on the table and waited politely.
“Okay,” I said. “Something doesn’t add up here. Did Trond know about O Palácio?”
Rudy sipped his water. “I’m sure he did. He was the kind of man who researched everything before making a move.”
“Then why did he knowingly fuck with a major crime syndicate to take over a failing industry?”
For the first time in my life, I saw confusion on Rudy’s face.
“Stumped, eh?” I said.
I glanced out at the Arcade and froze.
There was Lefty. Right next to the bench where I’d hidden my Gizmo.
I guess Rudy saw the color disappear from my face. “What?” he asked. He followed my gaze out the windows.
I shot him a glare. “That guy with his arm in a sling is the killer! How’d he know where my Gizmo is?”
“I don’t know—” Rudy began.
“You know what else organized crime does?” I said. “They bribe cops! How the fuck did that guy track my Gizmo, Rudy?!”
He held both hands out. “Don’t do anything rash—”
I did something rash. I flipped the table and hauled ass. Rudy would have to fight off a slowly tipping table before he could give chase.
I’d worked out my escape route in advance, of course. I ran straight across the casino floor and through an “Employees Only” door in the back. They were supposed to keep it locked but they never did. It led to the main delivery corridors that connected all the Aldrin casinos. I knew those tunnels well—I’d made hundreds of deliveries there. Rudy would never catch me.
One thing, though…he wasn’t chasing me.
I slid to a stop in the corridor and watched the door. I don’t know why—I guess I wasn’t thinking well. If Rudy had barged through I would have lost valuable running-like-hell time. But he didn’t.