EXCERPTED FROM NORTHERN ESCAPE
Detective Benjamin Thomas was the rookie on shift when the call came on the robbery in the basement of The Bellagio. None of the seasoned detectives wanted to drag their asses out to the strip to investigate some rich broad’s purse being nabbed by a druggie. That’s what these calls usually amounted to: the have-nots versus the haves. By the time Thomas arrived on the scene, the area was cordoned off and a dozen police cars with lights flashing were blocking the entrance to the parking enclave. House security was also present. It looked like a three ring circus. Thomas ducked under the yellow tape, showed his ID and approached one of the uniforms, a guy he had ridden with for a short time.
“What gives, Tony?”
“Eh, you know. Same old shit. Arab comes into town loaded with cash. Gets waylaid here in the garage. I’m bettin’ it was an inside job, though.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Thomas.
“The perp that got shot works in security at the Fremont. Name of Roy Biers.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s on his way to Vegas Medical Center. Took two bullets in the leg. He’ll live.”
“He talking yet?”
“No, but he will. He looks like the sleazy type. All show, no go. Acts tough but folds under any pressure.”
“He working alone? Pretty big job for one guy.”
“No. There were two, but no one knows anything yet about the driver except that he was young.”
“Got a make on the car?”
“Yeah. One of the Arab’s guards said it was an older Chevy Impala. Brown. Shouldn’t be hard to spot. Impalas are few and far between.”
“Thanks, Tony,” Ben said. “Think I’ll wander over and talk to the chieftain.”
“Good luck. He’s being pretty uncooperative.”
Ben was used to victims often taking a hostile position, especially when they were foreigners. They always felt that the incident was racially or ethnically motivated. They seldom realized that they made themselves sitting ducks by the grandiose manner in which they traveled and conducted themselves.
The Arab’s bodyguards stepped towards Ben as he approached. Ben showed his badge but it seemed to have no effect, for they did not change positions. “Excuse me, I’m Detective Benjamin Thomas. I’d like to speak with the victim.”
“We have all been made victims by this atrocious, violent attack. Abdullah Mohammed Farooqui Oman Rhizouli does not wish to make any further statements.”
“Either Abdullah Mohammed Farooqui Oman…can answer my questions here, or he can be escorted downtown to answer them. You, too. You are now obstructing a police officer from performing his duty. Move aside or you’ll be arrested.”
The two bodyguards looked at each other. Neither knew what to say, so they simultaneously stepped aside.
“Mr. Abdullah,” Ben began.
“My name is Abdullah Mohammed Farooqui Oman-Rhizouli. Please address me accordingly.”
“Fine. Now, can you tell me what happened here?”
“I don’t know why I must repeat myself. I have already told the other officers.”
“Well, I’ll be the detective handling your case, so you’re going to have to repeat yourself again if you wish to have me solve this.”
The chieftain glared at Ben with anger and hostility. “A car came up as I was getting out. A man jumped out waving a large gun of some sort. He knew we had money. The boy took the bags from my car and put them in his car. My bodyguard shot the one with the gun in the leg. The boy left.”
“So only one of them had a gun?”
“That is correct.”
“Did you hear them call each other by name?”
“No.”
“Did you see anything about the boy that you can remember?”
“Young. Brown hair. Not too tall. Slender. Scared.”
“Scared? How?”
“He seemed surprised by the whole thing. He seemed like he did not know what was going on.”
“What makes you think that?”
“His actions. His face. It was very expressive. His eyes opened wide when he emerged from the car and saw the man with the gun. The boy seemed almost frozen. Almost apologetic. But he’s guilty. In our system he would have his hands cut off and be hung. Here he will get a slap on the wrist.”
Ben ignored the last remarks. “Get his eye color or any distinguishing marks?”
“No. I was worried for my life with the maniac waving the gun and yelling.”
“Do you remember what he was wearing?”
“No…clothes. Western clothes.”
“How did it happen that the older one got shot?”
“They had an argument about who would drive. I could not believe my ears. Shouting and swearing over who would drive the getaway car. Stupid men. The older one was getting angry. He lost his focus momentarily. My guard shot him.”
“I’ll have to have your guard’s gun. Foreigners are not allowed to have weapons. And weapons are not allowed in the casinos under any circumstances.”
Abdullah scowled at the detective, muttering what were surely oaths under his breath.
“I’d like you to come downtown tomorrow and go through a mug shot book for the other suspect.”
“I have business. Tomorrow will not be convenient.”
“Fine, then. I’ll see you at 10:00, or should I send a car for you?” Ben strode away counting to ten. What an arrogant asshole, he thought. He felt no pity for the victim.
