Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

get kicked out. But I figure she’s taken in fifty grand or so over the last few days.”
    “Not murder,” I said, nodding. “You’re a thief.”
    “I don’t want her money, just her secret,” he snapped. “And she’s been stealing from the casinos anyway—somehow.”
    “That gives you every right to sit in here with a gun in the dark, does it?” I asked dryly.
    “You’re in here too, armed just like me.”
    “Yes, but I was invited. Now drop the gun or I drop you. Which is it?”
    He finally let his weapon thump down onto the carpet. I decided that Jenna had spent long enough in the hallway. I pulled out my cell and told her it was OK to come in. She did so, and was startled to see our friend the pit boss. After she found out what he was doing in her room, she became angry.
    I waved away her threats and recriminations after a while. “Bernie, please take a seat over here.”
    Bernie moved with ill grace, sitting in a padded armchair. It was the sort of thing they often had in nice hotel rooms. It was upholstered with a busy green print of washable microfiber. It would be a pity to put a bullet hole in it.
    “You should really flip on the safety,” Bernie complained as I kept my pistol aimed at him.
    “I feel safer with it flipped off.”
    Jenna sat on the bed and watched him with slit-like, glaring eyes. “I’m calling the police,” she said.
    I waved for her to stop. “Wait just a minute.”
    “Yeah,” Bernie said nervously. “There’s no need for that.”
    “Let’s talk, Mr. Kinley,” I said. “Here’s a scenario for you: a disgruntled, recently disciplined employee turns up armedinside the room of a lovely female guest. In order to get into her room, he must have used a keycard he’s no longer authorized to possess. What’s more interesting is that the female guest has recently lost her husband in that same room.”
    “That’s not what I—” Bernie sputtered, interrupting.
    “Let me finish painting this picture for you,” I said, pressing onward. “The ex-employee blathers about supernatural gambling powers and revenge. He claims the guest has cheated the casino—but he himself has recently told other witnesses the opposite.”
    “Who are you going to tell that crap to, Draith?” Bernie asked me. “Oh yes, I know your name. I know you are wanted for murder as well. I doubt anyone is going to take your word in this fabrication.”
    “They certainly won’t take yours either,” I said. “But our lovely bride is very believable, isn’t she? Her man is missing, and you definitely are involved somehow.”
    Bernie slid his eyes to her, then back to me. He looked defeated. I thought that Jenna rather liked playing the part of the lovely female guest. Either that, or she was enjoying Bernie’s discomfort, which was now obvious.
    “The question for us is whether to shoot you and put together a cover story,” I said, “or to perform a citizen’s arrest and call the police.”
    “Shoot me? Why the hell would you do that?”
    “What if we had a system to make a vast amount of money off the casinos? A system that is so perfect, it compelled you to come in here and risk everything, just because you suspected we had it. Wouldn’t we want to protect that?”
    Bernie was sweating now. He slid his eyes from one face to the next. Neither of us smiled. “You two are in this together,” he said. “You were working the con from that very first night I saw you at the blackjack tables.”
    “What you need to be thinking about is your own skin,” I told him. “You need to bargain with us to keep it intact.”
    Bernie snorted. “What have I got to bargain with?”
    “Information.”
    “What information?”
    “About Rostok,” I said. “Your former boss. And about something called Ezzie.”
    Bernie looked more than surprised now. He looked positively sick.
    “I’m not talking about my employer,” Bernie said. He crossed his arms above his ample belly.
    “Jenna, use your cell to take a picture of our good friend,” I said.
    She did so, and he scowled at us.
    “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I can’t talk about that stuff,” he said. “If I do, I’m a dead man.”
    “You’re a dead man anyway if you don’t.”
    Bernie looked at me and twisted his lips. “You talk big, but I don’t think you have the balls for a murder, one right here in this hotel room.”
    “Well I do,” Jenna said. “You pushed your way in here and I had no choice. It