The Detachment

long-sleeved white tee shirt, buttoned a blue oxford cloth shirt over it, and slipped on a navy blazer whose sleeves were a touch too long. Taped wrists and long sleeves might attract some attention at one of the card tables, but I wasn’t going to be gambling, or at least not in the Vegas sense of the word.
    My mobile vibrated forty minutes later—Shorrock must have had the girl for an hour, and I supposed there were few professionals as punctual as a Vegas call girl. I stuffed a pair of deerskin gloves into one of the blazer jacket pockets and the sports tape into the other, then headed down.
    Dox was waiting when I arrived, and I was pleased to note the continued density of the crowds on the casino floor, which would offer plenty of concealment. “Let’s walk,” I said, and while we circumnavigated the resort, I explained the plan, and his role in it.
    When we were done, we walked back to the phone bank next to Blush. I stood close while he dialed Shorrock’s room, and he held the phone away from his ear so I could hear. Two rings, then a “Yes?” in a slightly nervous tone. I wondered whether Shorrock was concerned the girl, or her company, was calling, whether he was suffering from an afterglow comprised mostly of guilt and fear.
    “Mister Shorrock,” Dox said, in his deepest hick drawl.
    “Yes?”
    “I’ll get right to the point. My associate just left your room. While she was there, she placed a camera under the television in the main room. We used that camera to record a video of your escapades on the couch.”
    “What?”
    “May I recommend that you just walk over to the television in question and feel along its bottom edge? You’ll find the camera, and then I can tell you how we can settle this so no one else ever sees the video we made.”
    “This…this is ridiculous. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Sir, just go retrieve the camera if you would. Oh, and by the way, doggy-style is one of my favorite positions, too. Well done, sir, well done.”
    That was a nice touch, I thought, and not one I’d scripted. The trick was to feed the subject critical bits of information that would cause him to believe you had more. That, and his growing panic, would prevent him from thinking clearly, and from asking potentially show-stopping questions like, Oh yeah? What was the girl’s name, then? Which, if Dox really were her associate, he could be expected to know.
    There was silence for a moment, presumably while Shorrock examined the television and located the camera. Then he said, “What…what is this about?”
    “Sir, it’s about you compensating me for giving you the thumb drive on which your steamy encounter with a Las Vegas prostitute is now clearly recorded.”
    “This is a hoax. Who are you?”
    There was no conviction in his voice, and I decided he was just trying to be careful about what he said. At the moment, fear of being recorded would naturally be prominent in his mind.
    “Right now, sir, I’m the only person who can save you from personal and professional humiliation and destruction. Which I would sincerely like you to help me do.”
    “Help you how?”
    “Just by paying me a thousand dollars in cash. Which, I think you’ll agree under the circumstances, is a hell of a bargain.”
    In the business he was in, Shorrock would know something about blackmail, and his next question demonstrated experience. “Just for the sake of argument, if it were true that you had some sort of tape, which you don’t, because nothing untoward happened, but if you did, you’d keep a copy and turn your blackmail demands into an annuity. Why would anyone want to play your game?”
    “Sir, that is a reasonable concern and I can only assure you that I’ve been playing this game, as you call it, for a long time, and my discretion is the reason I’ve been able to continue without undue fuss. Have you ever heard about anyone being caught out at the Wynn? Of course not, and I’ll tell you why. It’s because every time this happens, I’m paid promptly for delivering the incriminating recording and that’s the end of the matter. But if you want to be the first person to get huffy and take a stand, that’s up to you. Personally, I’d recommend you do what everyone else does, which is fork over the thousand, chalk it up to experience, and live to fight another day.”
    There was a pause, during which Shorrock must have been mentally running the odds. His voice was tight, but he