Fast and Loose (Men of the Sisterhood #4) - Fern Michaels Page 0,2

right; he could feel it in every fiber of his body. Something here at Babylon. Something he had missed, which was unlikely because he knew more about the inner workings of the casino than the security firm and the owners knew. He had all their banking records on file, encrypted, of course, all the private e-mails between Bert Navarro and Dixson Kelly and, of course, the entire security force. He knew what was going on minute by minute. He even knew everything there was to know about the entertainers, the regular dancers, and the showgirls. Right down to every last penny of their bank balances. He knew who was in arrears, who was up to date, who was dodging bill collectors, and whose vehicles were about to be repossessed for lack of payment. He knew every high roller to enter the doors of Babylon, knew if they could afford to gamble or were just winging it on a hope and prayer.

Knowledge, Philonias Needlemeyer told himself daily, was the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world. He loved the power. He loved that he could choose to crush a reputation the person with the reputation deserved to have destroyed. He also loved to make one soar to unbelievable heights if the universe was moving too slow to suit him. He also loved that he was never wrong. And yet, somehow, someway, he knew the day would come when he would make a mistake. He tried not to think about it and worked extra diligently to make sure he covered his tracks.

His neck and shoulders at peace with each other, Philonias hit the keys and brought his world within view. He scrolled and tapped and pecked for ninety minutes, just long enough to let him know nothing had gone wrong during his sleepless night. He was about to exit Dixson Kelly’s Babylon e-mail account when something caught his eye. He sat back and eyeballed a message that, on the surface, was innocent enough at first glance. Call me. We need to talk. That meant ASAP. Philonias scooted his chair to another computer, where he brought up a new screen that logged Kelly’s in-house in and out calls. No calls to Macau, where Bert Navarro was living these days, while overseeing the building of Babylon II. He moved to yet another monitor to check Kelly’s personal Verizon cell-phone account. Also no calls to Macau. He knew Dixson Kelly had nine burner phones that he used for his dating life. As always, he had at least three women on what he called his love chain. The reason for the burner phones was so that none of the women knew they were part of any daisy chain. He wanted to keep it that way, too. Phelonias checked those, too. No calls to Macau.

Philonias nibbled on his lower lip. When Bert Navarro spoke, Dixson Kelly hustled. A call had been made; that was for sure. Otherwise, there would have been a storm of incoming calls from Bert, but there had been none following his initial call. That had to mean Kelly had gone outside Babylon’s doors to make the call. But why?

Philonias moved his chair to yet another in-house monitor to check the entrances and exits at the casino for the past eight hours to see if Kelly had left the premises. It took him a full ten minutes before he spotted the temporary head of security leaving the casino sans jacket and tie. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he was wearing a Boston Red Sox ball cap. Just another customer hooked on gambling. Philonias blinked. He’d never seen Dixson Kelly in anything but his Hugo Boss suits, of which he had twenty-two. To anyone else, it would have been a dead end. Not for Philonias Needlemeyer.

Philonias moved back to computer number three and pressed more keys, which would show him the traffic on the street. He was able to track Kelly all the way to the Wynn resort and casino, where he entered through the massive front doors with a gaggle of people, even though it was three o’clock in the morning. Vegas never slept. And it was true, there were no clocks in the casinos. Deliberately so.

Another program suddenly filled the screen, one that, had he known about it, would have sent Steve Wynn, the owner of the Wynn Las Vegas, screaming to the authorities.

Philonias continued to track Kelly across the main floor, never losing sight of him for even a second. He acted