Page 97 of The Best Trick

Suddenly a police car came up behind us. The guys argued about whether to make a run for it. “He’s running the plates,” Thor said. “It’ll check out.”

“You sure?” I squeaked.

“The plates will check out,” Thor said evenly.

I breathed a sigh of relief when the patrol car zoomed past us.

After a nerve-wracking drive with choppers and sirens going everywhere, it seemed, we got out of L.A., driving through the night until we reached Las Vegas. After finding a doggie boarding kennel, we checked into a posh room at Caesar’s Palace.

It was like old times, except really, really not.

Odin had a million alerts on his phone, but it was all just more trouble. We ordered room service. Paid in cash. Roamed around in disguises.

The weather was bright and sunny on the fifth day. Zeus and I came back from our walk to find Odin and Thor glued to the TV.

“Arrests!” Thor said.

We crowded in, all four of us on the small hotel couch. In the corner of the screen was footage of what looked like a mass grave. The main picture was lawyers and security leading a group of men through a crowd of reporters. You couldn’t see the men’s faces—they had coats pulled over their heads—but it didn’t matter. We knew who they were.

ZOX.

One of the figures looked familiar, walking hunched. “You think that’s Denko?” I asked.

“If there’s karma,” Zeus said.

* * *

There was karma,as it turned out. Lots and lots of it.

The papers the next day were full of accounts of arrests “stemming from a decades-old cover-up.” A giant swath of the top brass of ZOX was being held without bail. Congressional hearings were scheduled. There was talk of war crimes.

“Can we celebrate yet?” I asked.

My guys thought it was premature. Odin wanted proof our names were clear—of everything.

“Blanket immunity,” Zeus said. “That’s what I want to hear.”

Odin was in constant contact with his guy in the CIA. Why was it still going on? Why did we still have to hide?

Finally one afternoon there was a call. A team of federal attorneys wanted us to come down to the Las Vegas courthouse.

Zeus got on the phone and argued. He informed them that they would be meeting at a restaurant, and it would be him alone with a lawyer, and that the three of us would stay back. There were lots of arguments.

“Excuse me if I am not in the mood to trust the goodwill of the United States government,” he said at one point. He informed them that he'd be heavily armed. “And if you screw me, I will go full Rambo.”

“I don't like it,” Odin said once he hung up. “It doesn’t seem safe.”

“Life isn't safe,” Zeus said. “But we have to trust somebody at some point. We saw the arrests.”

* * *

The restaurantthey chose was a small fine-dining restaurant a block off the strip. There were white tablecloths, candles, and heaps of pasta, rich with oregano and garlic.

Odin and I were dining in a dark booth, both in wigs. Thor sat up at the bar in his hat wig. Three feds—two men and a woman—had settled into a corner table some time ago. Those were the people Zeus was meeting.

Zeus strolled up wearing a suit and tie. He was with a woman with black and gray hair and a no-nonsense expression. Our lawyer.

The five of them shook hands and sat. Appetizers and drinks were set down. The meeting looked lively. Intense.

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