The Voting Machine

A Seat at the Table

We kept walking south on the Strip, past New York, New York, the MGM Grand, and Camelot, past the Luxor and the Mandalay Bay. It was 3:00 a.m. by the time we reached the storm drain next to the "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign.

We entered the tunnel, taking the same path as before. We passed by the tweaker camps and the tide pool of crayfish in a bed of algae. We were turning into the southern corridor leading to Zeke Junior's spot when we suddenly heard the loud clang of metal, followed by the sound of men's movements.

Luke pointed the flashlight ahead and we could three men in the distance. They had climbed down the manhole situated over Zeke Junior's hanging bed. These men moved with agility and precision. They searched through Zeke's bedding and belongings but he was obviously gone, along with his bicycle.

The three men saw our flashlight and started running toward us through the water. They whispered in Spanish. I recognized one of the voices as Juan Ricardo.

"Luke, those guys are from Los Empresarios."

Luke reached instinctively for his pistol, then cursed and put it back in his waistband. "Can't shoot down here in the dark anyway. The bullet could ricochet against the walls and go anywhere."

"Let's hide," I said, as the men charged toward us. "There's so many different passageways. It's our best chance."

"OK. Let's split up in different directions," Luke said. "It'll be harder for them to follow the sounds."

The men shouted in Spanish again as Luke and I started to retreat.

I returned to the tide pool, wading through the crayfish and dirty water toward a vent on the southern end of the passageway. It was only a couple feet wide, barely enough room to squeeze my body into the crevice.

Nestled in my hiding spot, I saw Juan Ricardo and his two men wade through the tide pool. They passed across an elevated step illuminated by a street grid high above, the neon lights from the Strip cast a reflection on the tide pool.

Juan Ricardo barked directions at his soldiers and they fanned out to explore different passages of the tunnel.

Twenty minutes later, Juan Ricardo and his men returned to the tide pool, dragging Luke. His jaw was bloody and he had fresh swelling around his eye.

Juan Ricardo's men held Luke on the elevated step. The neon glow from the surface provided the best light source to read their prisoner's face.

"I don't understand what you people want with me," Luke said. "I ain't been selling drugs for years."

Juan Ricardo laughed. "That's not what I am worried about. I am worried about your sister."

"What about her?"

"Why is she talking to the old man about the games?"

"What games?"

"You know what games. The games at the Babylonian, the ones where the chips have no money value. Zeke Junior tells people about them too."

"Zeke Junior only talks to people down here in the tunnels."

"Yeah, some of them are my customers. I always pay attention to what they're saying down here in the tunnels. Sometimes they have better information than the people on the surface."

Juan Ricardo laughed. His men ripped at Luke's shirt and stretched his arms back spread eagle. Juan Ricardo removed a device from his jacket. It was a portable curling iron, the kind of thing a woman would take on vacation.

"Whenever I take my girlfriend to Las Vegas she brings one of these in her overnight bag. It uses a gas cartridge for heating so you don't have to plug it in. Her hair is hard to style," he said, dangling the curling iron in Luke's face, "so she needs a lot of heat. This one goes up to four hundred degrees."

Juan Ricardo slid the iron underneath Luke's arm. The other men held Luke tightly as he wailed in pain. I could hear the sizzle of burning skin.

"This is my own personal lie detector," Juan Ricardo said. "The more you lie, the hotter it gets."

"I don't know anything," Luke shouted.

"That's bullshit."

"My sister doesn't trust me. She'd never tell me about her work."

"You live with her. You must know something."

"I don't."

"Why is she talking to David Stone?"

"She's afraid."

"Afraid of what? She's the fastest Texas Hold 'Em dealer on the Strip. The casino's not going to let something happen to her."

"That Babylonian doesn't run the games. Shiro does."

"So it's true. Your sister does know about Shiro. How much does she know?"

"I heard her talking in her sleep one night. She was worried she was getting too close. She was finding out too much about why Shiro ran the games. She thought that they'd need her until the election was over, then they wouldn't need her anymore. You can torture me all you want but I am telling the truth. All I know is she's scared. I guess she's hoping David Stone can help her."

Juan Ricardo seemed satisfied. He raised the curling arm away from Luke and turned it off to let it cool.

"We worked very hard to get a seat at the table, a chance to play in Shiro's games. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement with this country. We sell you the drugs to soothe your troubled hearts and you sell us the guns to protect our business in Mexico.-

"I didn't come to this country to kill civilians. You are a civilian now. So are your sister and David. So pass them a warning so I don't have to kill them. Tell them to stop asking questions about Shiro's games."

Juan Ricardo and his men slammed Luke into the tide pool. Then they disappeared down the eastern passageway back to the manhole. Luke was lying flat, submerged underwater. His head popped up in between the crayfish, gasping for air. He was struggling to get back on his feet. He was disoriented and off balance. I was worried he'd plunge underwater again, so I edged my way out of the crevice and waded toward him.

"You OK," I asked, lifting him up and draping his arms around my shoulders. I carried him on my back for ten yards, lumbering under the weight of his body, which was heavier than my own. Once we traveled past the tide pool, Luke set his feet on the ground and started walking independently.