ODESHI

Frank Whitman looked anxiously at his watch and then back at the elevator door. Marty should have been here seconds ago, exactly fifteen seconds. Had something gone wrong he wondered. They'd gone over this a thousand times in the last few days, considered every possible scenario. He knew what he was supposed to do, what his exact parts were.

The door at the end of the corridor opened and a waiter balancing a tray of champagne walked in. Someone was celebrating, perhaps they'd won something big tonight.

Soft music wafted in from the casino floor below. Frank smiled wryly as he considered all these things, he'd won big too tonight in a way.

Everything had gone exactly as he'd planned it, now there was twenty million dollars cash coming to him any minute now.

He pulled out his mobile phone and pretended to be on a call as the waiter walked past him.

"Honey I'll be back before dinner...no I'm not gambling again tonight. Why would you say that..." he said into his phone.

The waiter offered an understanding smile as he passed, though he said nothing. They were thoroughly trained about these things. The casino frowned seriously at any action by staff that could lead to a customer leaving.

If you were silly enough to walk in through their gold plated doors, then it was up to them to ensure you left light. They made sure, though subtly, you gambled away your last dime. You were kept entertained with a constant supply of booze and pretty women.

Casinos were rigged so that the house always won in the end. Sure a few people sometimes walked away with cash winnings but those were too few in comparison to the majority who left their money daily on the gambling tables. Too few to matter.

The waiter rapped softly on a door at the end of the corridor. It opened and he walked in.

Frank put back the phone and continued to look at the elevator door. The downward pointing light came on now and gave him a boost of hope.

Martin bounced out of the car into the corridor pushing his cleaning things in front of him and dressed like the cleaning guy.

This was Franks cue. He walked towards him and as the two men passed each other Frank deftly hoisted out a seizable sport bag.

He walked quickly to the same elevator. It wouldn't do to walk across the casino floor with a sport bag bursting at the seams with dough, someone would definitely notice.

He pressed the elevator button and waited impatiently. Time was ticking. He knew that in a matter of minutes the casino would find out something was wrong. Then all hell would be let loose. The entire complex would be shut down and security would make sure everyone left through one door.

He had seconds to flee the building. Frank would meet him in the parking lot. He must have ditched the mop bucket and changed clothes by now in the casino bathroom.

The elevator door swished open and he got in, pressed the ground floor button. A young woman who couldn't have been more than twenty was the only other occupant in the car. She looked unhappy about something, though she was expensively dressed and was remarkably beautiful.

Frank nodded curtly and kept his face forward, this was not the time to get distracted, he thought, though he realized now his heart was racing wildly.

The lift went down quietly, the numbers over head decreasing with each floor it passed.

Third floor, second, finally ground floor. Frank waited, breathless. It was too good to be true, that he was going to walk free.

The doors slid apart and Frank walked into the lobby. Nothing still. A celebrity arrived just now and as usual everyone went wild. Frank didn't know her, not that it mattered now. The distraction her arrival created was exactly what he needed. As security struggled to make way for her entrance, he quietly slipped through the wide open doors. He was out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

William Little hobbled into the corridor and was followed closely by the Floor Manager in charge for the evening. It was another routine day. His orders were simple. Each time the 'take' hit two million, he was to take the whole cash to the strong room and make sure it was all accounted for and put safely away.

His left knee hurt badly from an old wound of years ago and moving about like this pained him badly. It was why he hated weekends when all the degenerate gamblers came into the house for some fun. The money rolled in fast and his trips to the strong room were endless.

He was no fool, he knew there were men who truly ran the show from behind the scenes. Men who didn't take kindly to money falling short, men who accepted no excuses for failure and would mete out adequate punishment.

The trick to success in this field was simple. You kept your desires as frugal and as damn plain as you possibly could.

The last accountant had learned that lesson the hard way. He'd fallen in love with one of the casino girls, a shark of a broad named Emily Trudeau. John Hardy the bookkeeper resembled a bull frog so to receive attention from such a girl was more than his fragile mind could handle. He threw caution to the wind and joyfully became her provider. By the time the mob found out they were getting light, he'd gone too far to care. Emily was living in a penthouse all paid for by John.

One day men in a big Chevrolet arrived at the joint and told John he had to come along with them. It was the last time anyone ever heard from him. Some staff said it was the IRA others said the men were the FBI. Both stupid assumptions. Little was immediately directed to take his place and he was wise enough and weary enough to keep his eyes away from the chicks. He knew it was a game no man could hope to win.

For the job he did, the casino paid him well, at least it was far better than that last business he worked for; a used car dealership that sold 'funny' cars and had way too many dissatisfied customers to be profitable.

It was a miserable existence, having to convince old and weary folks to part with the precious savings, they'd spent a lifetime gathering.

The day he was offered the job as assistant accountant at the casino, he just stood up from his desk at the dealership and walked off like a man going out for an ice cream break. He simply walked away into the afternoon sun without bothering to inform the manager he'd quit.

He pressed the elevator button and waited, dabbing his forehead from the stress. In a few minutes the car came and the doors opened.

The two men walked in with their load and pressed the button to close the door.

Little reclined on the wall to rest his throbbing leg. The car moved quietly down till it stopped on the ground floor.

The doors opened and the two men rolled out the heavy cart into the corridor.

Little unlocked a door and pushed it in. As they got behind the door, he shut and locked it.

They wheeled the cart down another corridor to a door at the end.

Using his body to block-off the keypad, even from the Floor Manager, he typed in a series of numbers in quick succession.

A short snap followed and the door opened. Little pushed the door in continued into a large room that was so clean it was shinny and looked sterile.

Little shuffled to a small table in the center and motioned the manager to pour the cash out.

They'd gone through this procedure several times and worked now in efficient silence. He didn't like to talk much, it stressed him.

At length he completed the task. Then he proceeded to the safe and held the knob, which promptly came off into his hand.

'What the...' he began, with a befuddled look on his face.

Out of curiosity, though he already knew what this meant, he tried the lever and the door quietly opened. Little gapped into the safe as though what he was seeing could somehow not be true. The safe was empty.

Suddenly he came to himself. Spinning quickly on his heels, he shoved the Manager who looked just as confused aside and bolted to the buttons near the exit.

He pounded on the alarm button with all his might.