Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(126)

Vail pressed forward, pushing through the masses, weaving in and out, down a slight incline, then past Sensi, a futuristic bar with a water fountain cascading down the wall, its countertop a mirror of black liquid.

LOWIS went dark—then the green and purple LEDs popped on. Vail looked up and swung right, her only choice. Shorter corridor. Dominating the wall to her left—the Jean Philippe Patisserie—the coolest pastry shop she’d ever seen. Multilevel, furrowed blown glass troughs formed what was surely the most unique chocolate fountain ever created.

Vail elevated onto her toes and peered over the heads of the people milling about the wide hallway, but despite Robby’s height, she did not see him. She was beginning to think that LOWIS, with her high-tech proximity sensors and smart ping digital signal processing abilities—or whatever the hell Clar had called it—was leading her on an old-fashioned, low-tech wild goose chase.



THE CHOPPER HOVERED over the main artery, South Las Vegas Boulevard, southeast of the Bellagio’s main entrance. A tree-studded grass-carpeted knoll stood nearby that separated twin three-lane drives leading up to the property, where the bellmen worked feverishly to unload new arrivals.

Slow-moving traffic came to a stop to watch—and steer clear of—the hovering helicopter. Dixon and DeSantos dropped to the ground, then Clar retracted the rope and took the chopper higher, away from the roadway.

DeSantos slapped Dixon on the arm. “Let’s go!”



VAIL FOLLOWED THE CORRIDORS past the conservatory on the left, then ahead into the bright and expansive Bellagio lobby. Decorative molding-edged squares checkerboarded the ceiling. At its center sprouted an oblong bouquet of blown glass flowers bursting with colorful hues, from blood red to lime green.

Her rubber soled shoes gripped the cream-and-brown granite tile as she ran toward the location LOWIS directed her: the front entrance. The LED glowed green and brown, which meant she was close. And headed in the right direction.

Vail exploded through the doors into darkness—her eyes had to adjust from the brilliant lights of the lobby—and she emerged in the carport. Doormen and bellhops were moving about, ferrying new arrivals into the hotel, and departing guests into waiting taxis.

The screen added purple to its array of colors—they had turned. But which way? If I lose them now, they’ll blend into the crowd. Even with the homing device, there’d be myriad places they could go. It’d be near impossible for her alone to search all the buildings, alleyways, ancillary roads, and casinos. And how long will that cell battery last? What if it wasn’t Robby she was pursuing?

Directly in front of her stood a curving roadway that slanted down and away, to the left and to the right, split by a central tree-covered island where people seemed to be gathering to watch something ahead of them.

Vail climbed atop a short cement column—and saw two men running along the roadway to her right.

She jumped down and took off in that direction.



ROBBY BURST THROUGH a crowd in the Bellagio’s lobby. Two men, who had engaged him as he exited the Vdara elevator, remained in close pursuit.

He’d knocked down three women a hundred yards or so back, but it couldn’t be helped. If those pursuing him pulled a weapon, there’d be a lot of people permanently on the floor. And he didn’t want that to happen.

Robby pulled Diego’s phone and once again pressed various buttons, but in brief glances as he ran, it didn’t appear as if the keypad was working. He had already removed and reseated the battery, but it had no effect. He flipped the lid closed and shoved the cell back into his pocket in time to stiff-arm a door with a large brass B on the handle.

He exited the hotel and ran through the carport, then angled right onto a walkway beside a dense row of privet hedges. To his left, throngs of people lined a cement retaining wall that bordered a large manmade lake. Loud music began blaring from the speakers. Jets of water spewed forth into the night sky.

Robby chanced a quick glance over his right shoulder and saw the two men paralleling him on the other side of the tall, wide row of hedges. If he could get to the end of the road before they did, he’d be on the main strip, where, despite his height, it’d be easier for him to get lost in the throng of milling tourists—or find a circulating Vegas police cruiser.

He pushed forward and began picking his way through the crowd.



VAIL RAN TOWARD the cement walkway that snaked along the periphery of the manmade lake she had seen from the Huey.

There—bobbing up and down, the unmistakable form of the head and shoulders of a six-foot-seven man as he twisted and bumped his way through the dense mass of humanity.

Vail felt a swell of excitement—Robby was alive, and he was only a few dozen yards away.

But off to the right, two large Hispanic men ran alongside the hedges, one slightly behind Robby and the other considerably ahead.

As Vail opened her mouth to scream his name, the roar of bass-booming music blared from the large, camouflaged speakers, followed almost immediately by the spurting of high-powered water jets. As if vacuumed away, her shout was swallowed by the noise.

Vail pushed forward, forcing her way through the crowd, twisting sideways and using her shoulder to part the masses.

Robby’s only fifty yards away.

And an armed hit squad was in pursuit.

Either Robby or one of the two men pursuing him was carrying the cell phone she’d been tracking. As long as she could maintain eye contact with Robby, it didn’t matter. The dense wall of privets was, for the moment, preventing the men from reaching him. But in the distance, the hedge—and the path—came to an end.