Monday, August 18, 2008

Shark Chum LuAnne IX: Who Guards the Guards?

Randall followed Cuba on a smoke break. It was going according to plan. All the players were in place. Temptation in a low cut dress was one seat change away from working her magic on Tran. As he walked he thought about how the kid had been playing.

Very solid. He was picking up on the same soft spots Randall had identified. He was betting with impunigty at just the right times and folding when he was narrowly beat. He had a real talent for it. He got into a bit of trouble only once or twice when his opponent hit river cards and so cheaply bet the kid had to call with losers but other than that he was good.

Cuba interrupted Randall's thoughts, "Hey, man you know anybody in Mississippi that can unload some laptops?"

Randall had been out of the unloading game for some time but his curiousity was piqued, "Laptops?"

Cuba grinned, "Yeah, we've been running the metal plate polka."

Even to Randall this was a new one, "Refresh me."

"Well, with all these long lines for security these days we run a variation on an old hustle," Cuba looked left and right even though everybody walking by was focused on something else and the slot machine chatter was drowning out the conservation even two feet away. "We buy a plane ticket for say 10 pm and get to the airport there at 10 am. We wait until we see a guy with a laptop bag and get in security in front of him. When we are about to get waved through the metal detector we stall until the laptop gets into the machine. Once it's in the X-rayer the first guy goes through. Then the second guy, lights up the metal detector like it's christmas. Oops, I forgot this huge belt buckle I'm wearing. Did my key chain do it this time? Did this metal pen I got from work do it? And finally, you know what, bossman, it must be this metal plate I got stowed in my pocket."

"Right. I get it," Randall nodded. "Meanwhile your buddy is making a U-Turn out the terminal with that guy's laptop. Not bad. You can pull off what three or four a day? Each terminal and maybe a shift change or two."

"Actually, a little better. We got a ton of busted laptops that we switch out. It used to be better when they didn't make people take their laptops out of their bags. We'd be able to switch it out with a comparable weight, and nobody would know until they were 10000 feet up. Now, we need to match laptops. We'd pull that scam 10 to 20 times a day the old way. Now 6 is pushing it. Kind of like that story you told me that one time about Chuckie D, in Austin," Cuba's eyes gleamed. "Sometimes the easiest place to steal something is where the people are too busy protecting something else. Didn't you used to say that."

"Chuckie D in Austin?" Stacey walked up. Randall still couldn't get over her dress, "Do tell..."

Randall looked back toward the table.

"I'm third man walking sugar, " Stacey said. "Hi Cuba, eyes up here please. Randall, the kid's not going anywhere. The four seat is tilting and Tran's just dying for a hand to snap him off again. Tell me about Chuckie D in Austin."

"Alright," Randall relented. "Short version. One night after a game of cards Chuckie D was showing off this gold plated pistol. Real James Bond Golden Gun shit. I knew Chuckie D didn't have the slightest clue where to buy something like that. He could afford it but it's not like he'd be getting something special made. He had to have stolen it. He starts claiming he killed a Vietnamese general during the war and took the gun then. People were eating it up.

"For whatever reason, maybe it's because Chuckie D's such a snake, I decide to mess with him a bit. I tell him he didn't and that he was lying. And you know how Chuckie D hates to get called out. He says, if he's lying I got to prove it or else I was getting a golden bullet to the skull. I bet him $5,000 grand I could prove it in three days. And since it was stolen, not only would I be able to prove to everybody it was stolen and I'd also steal it from him. I think I said because I didn't trust him, I'd bring the gun myself. Something like that. Anyway, when he'd show he'd give me the five grand and I'd give him the gun. To sweeten it, if I didn't have the gun he'd get 5 large regardless."

"Stealing from Chuckie D?" Stacey's eyes lit up. "No wonder you never told me. That's not the brightest thing you've ever done."

"I didn't steal from Chuckie D," Randall grimaced. "I stole from the police."

"Stole from the police..." Stacey shook her head. "Now, you are sounding like Chuckie D.... Go on."

"Tell her whatcha did," Cuba said nearly giddy.

"That's what I'm doing. So, before Chuckie D left that night, I call my friend at the force and ask him if anybody's 'lost' a golden gun. Sure enough some rancher had been burgalrized while he was at a card game across town. So, I tell my buddy to send somebody to the parking lot out back, to wait for a gunshot and they'd have their crook. 30 minutes later I get to talking to Chuckie D again and tell him the gun's a fake and it probably doesn't even fire. Within about two minutes he's shooting a round off in the parking lot and the troopers pull up."

"So he's in the tin and the gun is in the evidence room. Next morning, around the same time he was making bail, I had his golden gun in my hand. Had my partner at the time from El Paso walk right in there with a FBI badge and a fake warrant connecting the gun to a crime in L.A. Sure enough, Chuckie D came back three nights later fully aware everyone knew the gun was stolen because he got arrested, but confident he'd still win the bet because I wouldn't have the gun. He loves his technicalities. I gave him the gun and he gave me the 5k. Course, I made myself scarce around Austin for a while after that. Just to let him cool down."

"The easiest time to steal something is when everybody there is too busy protecting something else," Cuba inhaled deeply on his cigarette. "Now, let's get back to the table folks."

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