Week 1 - Trust Everyone, but Cut the Cards
The Bellevue sign is loud and in a distractingly modern font compared to the old fashioned front of the hotel.
The midday sun is glinting off the windows, whose square framework clashes with the Rococo arches and columns.
Three kings and a whole world of difference in the architecture, thinks Chloe, and yet Vegas remains the same despite it: tacky and over the top.
Taline interrupts her musings.
“We're in, starting on the cameras now. Security feed will loop the past 48 hours.”
Chloe shakes her hair out behind her, carefully positioning it back in front of her ear and the bud that is too light to be part of her, squinting at the entrance of the casino, too bright even for the time of day.
The sides of the columns at the entrance are fitted with bright white lights, causing a sort of spotlight effect on the guests going in and the drunks being kicked out.
“Let us know when you've cut the alarm.”
A car pulls up, and an attendant appears to open the door.
A glamorous brunette steps out, diamonds around her neck catching everyone’s eyes.
Like they're supposed to, thinks Chloe.
“Would you stop that?”
Brendan is still playing with his knife, flipping and twisting it up to catch it, until Trask snatches it out of mid-air.
“Do you want to be caught before we even start?”
“Fuck's sake, man.”
Brendan rolls his eyes and Chloe looks away, scanning the entrance. The brunette is gone, already ushered into the casino by overeager employees looking for a tip.
“Please tell me you guys are close to done,” she mutters into her bracelet, connected into their system to Taline and Seb working their way into the electronics, “Because we're about to have another brawl up here.”
Seb swears in French at her.
“Exactly,” says Taline, “Tell them to cut their crap. At the end of the day, we've only got each other for this. We do the job, we do it well, we split the loot and then we never have to see each other ever again if we don't want to.”
Brendan smirks even though Taline can't see him, “Hey, you know you'll want to see me again.”
“Dream on, lover. Seb, how long?”
Through obviously gritted teeth, “Trois minutes, attends.”
Trask rolls his shoulder, gearing up for it.
Chloe pauses to admire him, briefly. His shoulders might be hidden underneath a custom-made, elasticated and reinforced suit jacket, but it is tailored to him, and the rolling of the shoulders leads to muscles in his back doing interesting things.
He catches her staring and she grins at him, unabashed.
Tonight they're going to have sex while rolling in money.
Tomorrow they can worry about the rest.
Once again, Taline ruins her fun.
“Ok, we're ready. Let us know when you're about the begin and we'll get the fuck out of here.”
A click and a swiping noise come through the buds clearly, followed by Seb's heavily-accented English, “Lobby?”
“One way in, our way in,” says Brendan, “Get rich or die trying. Fake it 'til you make it.”
“If you die, I'll never speak to you again,” Taline threatens, “Just so you know.”
“S'il meurt on aura du silence, au moins...”
“Shut up, you also love me,” says Brendan, “come up when you're done, ok?”
Trask grins at Chloe again, distracting her from the love triangle/threesome that should not have begun in the middle of planning the biggest job of her career so far, “You ready?”
Chloe pulls on her own jacket, guns hidden away from sight, and pats her various hidden weapons.
“Baby, you know me. I'm always ready to go.”
Brendan makes gagging noises in the background as he puts the knife away, clicking the joints in his fingers the way he always does before a gun fight before he picks up his briefcase.
“Ready?”
“Set.”
“Con on.”
They walk in the front entrance, confident that everything that could screw this up is down and going their way. There's no way to deal with it if it's not. They need to trust each other.
Attendants and floor staff nod and smile, pointing at roulettes and blackjack tables, waitresses with short skirts and tumblers of amber liquids moving smoothly between gamblers and hangers on.
Chloe wraps an arm around Trask, smiling up at him.
Brendan is following behind them, looking at his watch impatiently. He's faster than they are, and elbows them out of the way on a curve to the right, towards the hotel lobby.
He gets there first, Chloe and Trask smiling and giggling at each other as they amble slowly through the casino floor and over to the velour and silk-covered lobby and check-in desk.
Brendan is already arguing with the girl at the desk about double-booking and typos in names, and demanding to see the person in charge because this is unacceptable.
Trask pulls out his charming smile, all white teeth and dirty promises, and the girl behind the counter blushes even as she stutters out to Brendan that she will get the manager, sir.
Seb swears softly, sharp intake of breath indicating that they're not exactly on time, but they're getting there.
Brendan checks his watch again, and taps it twice.
Security change happens in the next five minutes, and if the manager gets there soonish then this can all be done without the guards.
Luck is on their side, because the manager appears, already apologising profusely about the situation, stomach stretching out his black-and-turqouise uniform.
Brendan shuts up, and Trask leans over, jacket open and guns visible.
“Actually, sir, if you could take us to the vault, that would be great.”
The manager moves to the right and completely obviously pushes their panic button.
The panic button than has been disabled.
For safety, Chloe shoots the cameras. Closed circuits can be tricky, these days.
Taline chuckles into Chloe's ear as Brendan pulls out his rifle. Chloe never has quite figured how the skinny bastard manages to hide that on his person.
“I love it when they squirm.”
The desk clerk's eyes widen and she tries to walk away, but stops in her tracks when Chloe moves her Beretta from the cameras to her and grins.
There's a scream from another room, but no one comes in.
The manager's eyes widen when he realises nothing is happening, no one is coming to rescue him.
“Sir,” Trask says, reassuringly, “Just take us to the vault and you'll be fine.”
“No, I can't- I don't - I don't have the keys! I can't!”
Even banks hire better liars.
Brendan's rifle is aimed at him now.
“You'll want to be changing that answer, my man.”
“No, look, I can't take you down there, I don't even-”
Brendan shoots. Always too trigger happy, that one.
More French swearing spills into their ears.
“It doesn't go the head, what?!”
Taline translates, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“He's not hurt,” Brendan defends, “And now he knows we're serious. Lead on, my man.”
The manager wimpers.
Trask sighs and pulls out his favoured handgun as Brendan turns to deal with anything that might come up behind them.
“Are we going big or with a little subtlety?”
Seb and Taline fall out of a door and into the lobby, shutting it firmly behind them.
“So,” says Seb, “We found the room of the persons of security.”
Chloe frowns at him, taking half a step forward and moving her gun towards the manager. As if pulled by Chloe's sheer force of will, the desk girl follows the muzzle of the gun and steps behind her boss.
“I think subtlety went out the door when we walked in.”
Trask shoots one of the lights and waves at the manager.
“If you don't take us to the vault, we'll start shooting at people. Now, I can aim, but these three? Trigger happy and not really well versed in the art of pulling one.”
The manager's eyes flick to Chloe.
“Her? Well,” Trask pauses, picking through different adjectives as he rakes his eyes down her, “She's a deadeye, never known her to miss. She'll only shoot if there's a reason.”
The manager swallows. Trask grins again, white white teeth and predatory smirk.
“Don't give her a reason.”
The manager nods, pulling out his keys. With wobbly knees he walk to the safety deposit box behind the corner of the reception desk, opens it and pulls out another set of keys.
“I'm going to need a security guard's credentials,” he says, shakily.
Seb makes a triumphant noise and throws a wallet and a set of keys at Trask.
The smooth son of a bitch catches them without looking. Brendan scoffs.
“We found the security,” Seb explains, shrugging. “They were not very good.”
The manager lets out the tiniest hiccough of a sob, but slowly starts walking in the direction of the first tunnel.
Chloe knows there are tunnels and strange systems, but she also knows the maps. He's not lying to them yet.
As they walk, and Trask deals with the now-hostages, she can hear Brendan murmuring to Seb.
“Dude, did you really deal with all the security?”
“It was not so hard. They were on pause, and they like too much their guns. I prefer to fight, like Taline say, in your face.”
Brendan's laugh echoes through the hall until Taline shushes him.