Chapter 23

Bobby

February 18, 1947

Bobby held his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding, and forced himself up from the floor. "Fuck! Do you got a back way out of here?" he yelled at the apprentice.

"This is a motel room on the second floor! Of course, there's no back door, jackass," the teen yelled back. "We gotta get to the first floor."

"Do we fight them like we did last night?" Ming asked, hiding behind the wall.

"We got lucky. I'm in no shape, and Bugsy's too angry," Bobby said, wincing as another bullet went through the window. He stared at the floor. "Do you think you can open a hole here?" he asked the apprentice.

He was silent for a moment. "Give me five minutes. You can't rush the math, and I don't have music."

Bobby went to the window and peeked out through the broken glass. Bugsy's men were standing at the corner, just outside the shards. "I've got a gun here, Bugsy. Tell them to step forward if you want to lose your men."

"Hold!" Bugsy said. The men stopped moving. "You dames have caused me a lot of trouble. I'm worried about you, Catherine. If I hadn't found your ex-husband tied up in your bathtub, why, you might have hurt someone else."

Ming gasped. "Jessica's father. Dammit. He must have heard us talking."

Nodding, Bobby glanced at the apprentice. He was sitting in the middle of the floor, tapping his knee to get the right beat. He raised three fingers.

"What do you want, Bugsy?" Bobby yelled down to the gangster.

"I want to talk." He put his gun away and opened his hands to show he was unarmed. "It occurs to me that, like Slazney, you could have knowledge that would benefit us. I want you to share what you know with me."

"You're going to die next month, Bugsy," Ming yelled. "Gunned down in your home."

"Don't tell him that," Bobby waved his good hand in an X at Ming. "You could screw up everything."

She glared at him and glanced at his shoulder. Gasping, she ran to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. She wrapped it around his shoulder and tied it tight. "What about the nanobots?" Ming asked. "I thought they would heal you."

"Long since past the twenty-four-hour limit." Bobby winced. "They don't last forever."

Ming stepped back. "You've lost too much blood. We need to get you to a doctor."

"No time." Bobby gripped the towel. "Thank you." He turned back to the window. Bugsy's men were inching closer. "Perestan' shevelit'sya, zasranets. I'll fire!"

Bugsy smiled. "What the hell were you speaking? That don't sound like English. Are you some sortta spy? I'm sure the government would love to get a hold of ya." Bugsy raised his head and pointed to room 204. "Boys, move in."

"Apprentice! You finished?" Bobby yelled at the teen.

"Yeah. Stand back," he said, and stomped down with his right foot. The floor gave a loud crack as the room shook. The floor buckled, then caved in, dropping the three to the first floor.

"What the fu---" Ming was cut off.

Dust spilled into the air, coating everything. Bobby closed his eyes as he bounced off the bed onto the floor. Ming landed on top of him with a grunt and rolled off. He didn't see where the apprentice went.

Bobby groaned as he got to his feet, hacking from the dust. The apprentice stood at the back of the room, feeling the wall. The reporter had already gone to the window.

"It won't take them long to find us here," Bobby said, spitting out more dust. "Do you have a way out of this room?"

The apprentice smiled and tapped a brick on the wall. "We always have a way out," he said. The wall opened, leading to a passageway between the buildings behind the motel.

"Ming! Let's go!" Bobby grabbed his shoulder and winced. The towel was gone, and blood dripped down his arm, leaving a pool on the floor. The room spun, making everything appear doubled.

"Stop!"

Bobby looked up. Two men stared down at them from the hole in the floor. He flipped them the bird and ran out the new door.

"Where are we going?" the reporter asked.

"To a safe house, I suspect. Right?" he asked the apprentice. "Same place as last night?"

The teen was silent but nodded and directed them to follow him. He was panting, sweat beading on his brow. He bit his lip. They could still hear Bugsy's men following them into the alley. The reporter was also breathing heavily, panting with each step. He kept his hand on his shoulder. It didn't hurt as much as it should.

"Fuck! I'm going into shock. Apprentice," he said to the teen, "If I pass out, leave me for Bugsy and take Ming. She needs to get away."

"Why should I help her?" he said, peering out at the street. It was clear of cars and no signs of Bugsy's men.

"She's an innocent caught up in all this. Besides, you had to use your inner energy for that stunt with the floor."

The apprentice grumbled.

"You're almost out of power, so is she." Bobby paused. "Her story's not yet written, or did Kansas not teach you about destiny yet?"

The teen scrunched down. Bobby couldn't see his face but imagined it wasn't happy.

A series of gunshots pinged off the side of the alley wall, sending chips of plaster raining over their heads. "Split up!" Bobby shouted. "Go with him, Ming!"

He ignored her pleading hand and ran in the opposite direction down the street. He heard her shout, but he was too far to stop. Still clutching his shoulder, he plowed ahead through the sea of people. Most of them stared at the woman in the sundress holding a bloody hand on her shoulder, but nobody stopped to help, and Bobby didn't give them the chance. He turned around to check if anybody was following him, but it was quiet. The only people looking at him were the other pedestrians on the street. Two were coming forward.

"Fuck!"

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Somebody asked. Bobby turned, and a worker pointed to his shoulder.

"Yes. Just cut myself shaving," Bobby said, ignoring the stares. He stumbled and fell to his knees. His head was spinning. He had to get back there. Ming was in trouble, and it was all his fault. Raving about destiny and then leaving her there. This was all his fault. Bobby tried to force himself up but collapsed onto his side.

"Call an ambulance!" somebody said.

"Losing too much blood now," he mumbled. "Fuckin' hell." He couldn't lose anybody else.

Ming Na Liu

Ming bit her lip and wondered if the apprentice was okay. Bugsy's men had pistol-whipped him and left him in the alley when they picked her up. She hoped he was breathing, but was more worried about Bobby.

She sat in Bugsy's car and stared at the gangster. She wished she had her notebook. She was still uncertain about time travel, but Einstein was convinced it could happen, and she was now living proof. Einstein was still alive. What she wouldn't give to pick his brain before it gets stolen.

"Where's the mother?" Bugsy said to one of his men. They were still in the motel parking lot, but sirens were coming. The hole the teen had made in the floor and the gunshots had been too noisy.

"We can't find her, but Sammy reported a woman being picked up by an ambulance on Third and taken to de Lima. According to the reports, she had a gunshot wound," one man said.

"That must be her." Bugsy waved to his men. "Call our man there. We'll get her later. Let's go!" He tapped on the driver's shoulder and pointed to the road.

She bit her lip and breathed a sigh of relief. Bobby was in trouble, but she was going to the hospital. The towel wasn't going to stop the bleeding.

Ming looked at Bugsy, her fingers twitching for a pencil. She had to take this chance. If she didn't, she'd regret it. Bobby was okay and would probably understand. What if it were Motley Crue?

"Mr. Siegel, can I ask you a few questions?" Ming asked, locking the guilt away.

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure, doll. Ask away." He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. The bandages across his nose and black eyes made him look like a skull.

"When you took over the ownership of the Flamingo, how did you deal with the pushback from the previous owner?" Ming asked.

"Huh? I threatened to shoot him in the face. What kinda question is that?" he asked.

"The probing kind," Ming replied. "In addition, how did you stifle resistance within your organization to your building plans? I know some weren't happy about moving here."

Bugsy just turned away from Ming and stared out the window. She heard him mumbling about stupid questions.

She clicked her teeth together. She'd had difficult interviews before, but usually, they gave her something. "How did you meet Slazney and what did he do for you?" she asked. She wanted to know so many things about who he was and why he did the things he did, but if he could answer this one, the others could wait.

"He came to me one day with a plan to buy the Flamingo. Said it would put my name in everybody's mouth. I believed him. He was very---," Bugsy paused on the word, drawing it out. "--- convincing. I wasn't that interested before. Vegas was a nothing town, but once I got here and took a look at the potential, I was all in."

He was distracted. Now was the perfect time for the punch.

"Aren't you worried that the accusations you and Ms. Hill were skimming the construction funds will come back to haunt you?" Ming asked.

"What? Gina would never do that!" He glared at her and raised a hand. "I don't like what you're getting at. No more questions till we get to the Flamingo."

Ming raised her hands, palm out in a non-threatening gesture, nodded and sat back in the seat. "Sorry. I just don't get to talk to important men like you very often."

"Apology accepted. Now be quiet." Bugsy stared out the window.

When they arrived, some of Bugsy's men dragged her to a room bigger than Jessica's house. She could get lost in this place, and nobody would ever find her. They shoved her in and shut the door. The carpet was a deep red, and the canopy bed looked inviting. Ming was tired, but this was no time to sleep. She still ached from the fight the night before and the chase through the streets. She hated violence. There was never a purpose for it. Ignoring the bed, she stepped up to the window and stifled a yawn with her fist. She moved the lace curtains aside and stared out over Las Vegas. "I hope Bobby's okay." She sighed. "Everything seems so small and quiet."

"Really? I thought it was pretty noisy," Bugsy said from the door.

Ming closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Why would I expect you to knock? Here I thought you were a gentleman."

"Being a gentleman was tossed out the window when your mother broke my nose." Bugsy went to a fancy red velvet chair and sat. "Now, let's continue the conversation we started in the car. Why are you here, and what's your connection to Slazney?"

Ming moved to the desk and opened the drawer. "What, no paper? You should keep note paper and pens in the room, in case someone has to write something down."

"I'll keep it in mind. Now stop stalling. Talk!" Bugsy was no longer playing the playboy.

She went to the chair opposite Bugsy and sat. Leaning forward, she kept her shoulders back. He had all the power in this room, and she needed to let him think she was intimidated, but not too much. Besides, his reputation as a hound was quite famous, and Jessica was beautiful. If only she were wearing a low-cut blouse.

Ming closed her eyes and said a little prayer. "No, I can't use her like that. Sorry for even thinking about it." She couldn't shake the disgusting feeling.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I wasn't talking to you." She opened her eyes and stared at Bugsy. "Slazney is responsible for us being here. He sent us to tell you what you're doing in Vegas is wrong, and if you continue on this path, you will die within the month." Ming bit her lip. It was the truth, but if he believed her, it could change history.

He stared at her. His mouth was a thin line, a smile slowly tugged its way up, and he started chuckling. "I see." He shook his head and sighed. "One last chance. Why are you here?" The smile disappeared. "This time, I want to believe you."

Ming shook her head. "The truth too unbelievable for a liar? Fine. I'm here by accident. I have no connection to this Slazney and no idea where he is. In fact, if you can tell me anything about him, I'd really appreciate it. I've been looking for him for years." She crossed her arms and glared at the gangster.

"Why is that?" Bugsy asked. He pulled out a cigar and lit it. Taking a deep drag on it, he released the smoke directly at Ming.

Ming coughed. The stench invaded her throat. She turned her head and took a breath of clean air. "I'm convinced he's the secret mover behind most of the Vegas mob scene, and an expose on him would propel me into the top level of journalism." He didn't need to know the second reason.

Bugsy started chuckling. It turned into a gut-aching belly laugh. "You're lying. I can tell."

Ming betrayed nothing on her face.

"I see." He stood up. "No matter. I don't need you. Your mother, I'm undecided about. I was worried when Slazney said to be careful of strangers asking questions, but I think I can relax." He went to the door and knocked; two men walked in. "I need you two to take her to the desert and lose her."

"You can't do this," Ming said. She glared at Bugsy. She stood up, thrust her hands to her side and moved into a fighting stance. There was no way she was going to let anybody touch her.

"I can. Though rest assured, I'm not going to kill you. That's not gentlemanly, and a man should always strive to be polite to a beautiful dame, such as yourself." He smiled. "That doesn't mean you'll survive." He bowed to her. "It was a pleasure to meet you." Straightening his tie, he left the room.

Ming watched the two men close in on her, leering. The one on the left glanced at the bed and loosened his tie. She may not have Dean's sense for people, but why do men go there?

Ming stepped away from the front of the chair and moved behind it, bringing up what her Aikido teacher said about defending herself, forcing them to separate. It would give her a few extra seconds if they needed to go around the furniture. The first man reached for her shoulders. Ming grabbed his elbow with her left hand and thrust her palm up into the man's chin, staggering him. He fell backwards and tripped over the chair, slamming his head on the ground.

The second man was stunned, probably surprised that a girl could fight back. Ming used his hesitation to spin towards him, drop between his legs and punch his crotch. He screamed and dropped, holding his hands between his legs.

She stood up, looked at the two men and said a silent thanks to her teacher Richard. His advice to go for the crotch always paid off. Ignoring the two men twitching on the floor, Ming ran to the door. The fight you avoid is the fight you always win, or so he'd like to say. It was unlocked. She took a deep breath, grabbed the knob, slowly twisted it to the open position in case someone was standing outside and yanked it open.

The hallway was empty. She gripped the door frame to keep from falling, but she wasn't finished yet.

Running back to the unconscious man, she patted his pockets and found a set of car keys in them. He was starting to groan and rub his head. Raising her leg, she stomped on his face and heard his nose crunch.

"Come back here," the second man groaned. He had pulled himself up and was hanging off the chair. His face was white, and he was reaching into his jacket.

She dashed over to him and smashed her palm against his nose. He dropped back to the ground, unconscious.

Spinning, Ming raced back to the door and went for the stairs. She jumped down the three flights, skipping the steps and pausing on the platforms to catch her breath. At the bottom, she burst into the empty casino. The grand reopening was coming soon, but for now, it was quiet.

Ming took the keys in her pocket and threw them into the corner. Let them think she tried to steal a car. She knew how to get to de Lima, but first, she needed some help.