The Voting Machine

Players in Babylon

He removed some photos from the folder and set them in front of me.

First, pictures of two Hispanic men in expensive suits meeting in a hotel lobby. I recognized the first man as my cellmate during the night in the Twin Towers.

"This is Juan Ricardo Fernandez, whom the DEA has identified as a ranking lieutenant in Los Empresarios. He is one of the masterminds behind their expansion into the southwestern United States."

"Who is the other man?"

"The second man is named Felix Alexander Espinoza. He is an established business man, he runs a consultancy focused on NAFTA-related trade, mostly freight and logistics across the border."

"If he's legitimate, why he is talking to someone from Los Empresarios?"

Stevens ignored my question and showed me a second photograph. In this one, Espinoza was at a casino poker table, a luxury game room in one of the big hotels. They were playing Texas Hold 'Em.

Most of the rooms for the high rollers had glass walls so spectators could watch the action. This room had solid walls, sealed off from the public. There were several other men in expensive suits playing at the table, plus a sheikh in a headdress and a few women in ten thousand-dollar dresses and glittering jewels. Teresa was one of them.

"The sheikh in the photo is Mohammed al-Qassimi. He's a financier based in Dubai. He manages several corporate accounts that have transmitted money to the charity known as al Qasr."

"That's where Abdul Shahabi made his donations, the charity linked to the Messengers of God?"

Stevens nodded.

I studied the details of the photo more closely.

"Those chips on the table are blue, white, and gold. Those are the colors of the Babylonian."

"That's right."

I held the picture right up to my eyes.

"I don't see any dollar value printed on the chips."

"There is none. You know about these chips. Don't be coy, Temo. You've heard about these secret games at the Babylonian, the games that aren't supposed to exist."

Stevens continued. "Agent Weisbein has been involved in an undercover operation for the past several months, working on political fundraisers with Marvin Perlson, the billionaire owner of the Babylonian. His real purpose was to find out about these games."

"Is Perlson running them?"

"The best we can tell, Perlson is hosting the games for an anonymous client," Stevens said. "The Babylonian supplies the room, the dealer, and the decks. The client sets a date, provides a list of players, and deposits money to Perlson through a Swiss bank account. Then Perlson provides the players with access to the secret game room in the bottom of the Babylonian."

"How often do the games happen?"

"We're not sure. Maybe a few times a year. The schedule varies. It seems like they're announced with very little lead-time. We think the client must pay a premium to have the room on hand any time at short notice."

"Why do they play with chips for no money?" I asked. "I don't understand that."

"We don't know why they are playing. We don't think hotel staff members who are running the games know either. The chips are never cashed in. The house never pays out any winnings."

"Who are these people playing the game?" I asked.

"They have a variety of backgrounds. Some are consultants; some are investors. They are from different parts of the world. The only common link is that they all seem connected to someone powerful, either to a hedge fund or a company or a royal family. We have records from a few of these games and the players seem to change. We can't even identify some of them. They've checked in under names and passports that turn out to be fake."