CHAPTER 22--OPERATION RESCUE

June 1997

T

he drive back into Vegas took about forty minutes. And the whole way there I'm thinking I'm fucking nuts for going into town, haircut and all. All those eyes, all that paranoia. Then again, I kept looking at myself in the passenger side view mirror and thinking I really didn't recognize that clean-shaven, clean-cut, respectable man in the mirror. No fucking way anyone would recognize me. Nobody except those who knew me from way back when.

Glanced down at the ol' timekeeper: 10:30. OK, I thought. A whole day to find her. Of course, couldn't help but resent the fact that we had to deal with this kind of shit at all. Was so pissed, I wanted to smoke a cigarette. Fuck Louie and his whole anti-smoking attitude. Pulled one out and Louie came unglued as usual. But this time I was ready for him.

"Listen, punk, you want to go find your bitch fucking jailbait girlfriend, you just better shut the fuck up."

That shut him up, Queen, and within a few minutes, the guilt set in as I observed a tear rolling down his tan cheeks. Took a few more drags to sate that nicotine need, and ashed the thing.

Ahead of us rose the skyline of downtown Las Vegas. And I sat there in amazement, Queen, at how I could hate this town so much and still spend so much time there. Bob Stipak's newest phallic addition shot straight up in the air ahead of us. Thought about maybe climbing the thing just so I could jump off. But just the thought of suicide makes me cringe. Between you and Louie's mom, there was plenty of pain in our world because of suicide. Yeah, well, there are some that would say what I did in 'Nam was a form of suicide; that I got lucky. Maybe.

"OK, let's hit the Strip, and keep your eyes peeled. We'll drive to the Mirage and fan out from there."

And fan out we did, Queen. Must have walked a hundred miles between the two of us. Every hour on the hour we'd meet at an arranged spot and compare notes. "Yeah, somebody saw somebody that looked like her." "No, haven't seen her."

And, man, did this getting fucking old, or what?

Really was getting to the point where I just didn't care, Queen. Fuck her. Fuck Louie. If he really loved her so much, he could stay here, and I'd go out to Rooster's all by myself and have a million bucks to my head. Told Louie this is so many words as we stood outside Caesar's Palace on the sidewalk in front the place. And he just sat there and looked at me like he couldn't believe what he was fucking hearing.

"OK, amigo. Fine. Fuck you, fuck everything. Yes, and fuck the bitch. I just don't give a fuck anymore. I think I'll go off myself."

He stormed off down the street.

"The Stratosphere tower is the other way," I screamed at him.

He kept walking. OK, Queen, I figured he'd either come back, or else I'd just sit there and have a smoke, and if he wasn't back by the time I finished my smoke, then fuck him, and fuck her and the hospital she rode in on. When I was about two-thirds finished my Camel, it dawned on me that he had all the money. And the keys.

Louie!!!

The page came in a few minutes after our little spat. Found him at a pay phone just around the corner. Looked at me with an evil eye as I approached. Glanced over as he held the phone to his ear.

"Oh, it's you, what do you want?" He glared at me.

"Look, Louie, I'm really fucking sorry."

"Jack, the only reason you came to find me is I have the keys and all the money we have left."

"That's right. You do. But, look, I would have come back anyway. It's just that I..."

Louie cut me off suddenly.

"Uh, yeah, I'm returning a page," he spoke into the phone.

"What? Huh. Hey! What the … what do you mean Dad?"

A look of sudden understanding hit Louie's face. "OK, just a minute," he said as he turned and held out the phone for me. "She wants to talk to you, Dad."

Louie grinned.

"Shit," I said, grabbing the phone. "Hello."

"Daddy, I'm sorry. Can you come and get me, please?"

"OK, honey, just where are you?"

Silence.

A man's voice.

"Listen are you this girl's father?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well, you better learn to be a better one. Nobody her age supposed to be in a casino. Especially if she's winning the way she was winning."

"Look, I'm really sorry. Just tell me where she's at and we'll come get her."

"We're at the security office at the Stardust. You know where that's at?"

"I can find it."

"OK, well you better hurry up or we're going to have to call the authorities."

"No, that won't be necessary. We'll be right over."

"OK and one more thing. She's going to have to give back all the money she won."

"I understand."

Got to the Stardust in a matter of minutes. Was wondering the whole time about the box. The man said nothing about it. Did they find it on her? Maybe not.

They were holding her in a back room. Louie and I entered the reception area. This big fat ugly guard walked up to me and asked if he could help us.

"Sure," I said. "We're here to pick up my daughter, Ginny. Ginny Seton."

"Oh, thank God you’re here. Yeah, hold on. I'll go get her.”

Another woman guard shuffling paperwork at a desk behind the counter spoke up. “That daughter of yours sure must be a handful, what between her hysterical crying and pitching fits about wanting a cigarette."

"Why not just let her have a cigarette?" I suggested.

The women gave me a hard look.

"What kind of a father are you?" she said. "She's underage. We can't let her smoke in here."

"Luckily, I didn't have to answer her question. Ginny appeared in the doorway and ran towards me, screaming "Daddy!"

She'd been crying. Turned and hugged Louie as well. The casino security just sort of sat there and watched our lovely little family reunion. Little did they know that as soon as we got outside, I was going to strangle the little bitch.

Figuratively, of course.

Then, just as we were going to turn to leave I felt it. The eerie feeling that somebody is giving you a real thorough going-over. Looking at you closely, asking themselves in the back of their mind, "Where have I seen you before? Don't I know you?"

Looked over at where he stood the guard that had escorted Ginny from the back room. And I just about died of a heart attack on the spot, Queen. No, not DDT. Butch Henderson. Same platoon.

Same war.

Gave too much away in that one moment of realization, Queen. Because that's when Butch remembered too, his face cracking into a wide smile. "Jack! Jack Morrison, that was you in Laughlin, wasn't it? Some speculated it was you. It was hard to tell from that lousy video footage, but I thought maybe, hey, just maybe and here you are. You cut your hair. Hey, look, as far as I'm concerned, that DDT business, you did the right thing."

Had to cut him off right there, Queen.

"Look, my last name is Seton. I don't know you. I don't know what you are talking about. OK, sorry."

Turned and split with the two in tow before ol' Butch could respond. But he yelled after us as we moved through the throngs of gamblers milling about "Hey, Jack, don't worry. You can trust me, I swear."

Poor stupid fucking Butch.

Yeah, maybe I could trust him, Queen. But not the other five folks in that room. And, sure enough, one of them must have called somebody and said something, because about ten minutes after we hit the road, a Nevada Highway Patrol pulled behind us. And stayed behind us. Never turned his lights on; it just made me plain fucking nervous, Queen.

"I've come too far to let them stop me now," I said.

Ginny, meanwhile, was in the back and kept crying. And her crying only got worse when we found out what happened to the box. And I guess it was for the best, Queen, but still. The little shit threw it away. She got scared and chucked it into a trash can when she had the chance. And it was gone. And I got mad and yelled at her. Then I felt guilty. It was gone. God's will and all that other shit. And that's when we learned something else about her.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Look, stop apologizing. And drop this dad nonsense!"

"I'm not talking to you, Jack. You asshole!"

Louie injected, "Who? Are you talking to your real Dad?"

"I'm sorry Louie," she said, not really acknowledging me at all.

"I just wanted to make some money, so I could send them some. His being sick is really hurting us. And my mom's always saying how broke we are, and how I'm such a burden, and how I'll never amount to anything. They could barely afford to pay for my prom last year. Or my graduation notices. And I just want to send my dad some money so he can ...."

Her voice trailed off.

She broke down and started to bawl again. Yeah, the little shit knew how to fuck with my sympathies, that was for sure. But hell, at that moment, I didn't have time for sympathy. I had to figure out a way to ditch this cop on my ass before more joined the posse.

Fortunately, I was clueless enough to end up on Boulder Highway. Really hadn't given it much thought, Queen, but this was a concert day. And as fate would fucking have it, concert traffic for a Virtual Grateful Dead concert provided a window of opportunity in the game with the guy on my ass. Was finding it harder and harder to keep my eye on my rear, so I shouted at Louie, who was sitting in the back with Ginny.

"Louie, get your ass up here I need your eyes."

"Jack, you got a smoke?" Ginny asked from in back. Yeah, I had a smoke, Queen. One.

"No, I've only one. And I need it. Right now."

I pulled it out and lit it.

"Can I share?"

"No."

Eyed her pout in the rearview mirror. Then a look in her eyes, a look like remember who played surrogate daddy and got your ass out of that detention room. Huh? Remember? "I'm going to take a nap," she said.

Please, get some sleep. And buy your own fucking cigarettes.

Louie took shotgun and checked out the action in the back. "Dude, there's a cop about five cars down, one lane over."

"I know that. Tell me something I don't know."

"Like what?"

"Like the first sign of an opportunity to ditch him without him knowing it. When his field of vision is blocked."

"Got it."

A space in the lane to my right opened. Slid the van into that lane. Moments later, Louie said, "Dude, in a just a second, a big RV is coming up in the center lane, and behind him several vans. I'll tell you when."

I said a little prayer.

Waited.

"When!" Louie said in no uncertain tone. Made a right into a parking lot, a strip mall. Dashed across that parking lot, turning every which way I could. Louie, meanwhile, kept his eyes on the stream of traffic. No sign of the law, thank God, Queen. We ditched 'em-Me 'n' Louie-what a team.

And like our sugar-spun sister in the back, we were also tired. Looked at my watch. It was 3:45. Show didn't start until 7, so I looked for a good place to stash the van for a few hours while we all caught up on our sleep. I was thinking about where I could park the van and not have it stand out. That's when I realized it was time to change the plates on the van again.

"Louie, the plates," I said, as I parked the thing in an overcrowded parking lot, where we'd be just another anonymous vehicle.

"Consider it done, amigo," he said, reaching under the seat into the compartment where we kept all our plates. Yes, living the life of a low profile fugitive, you do have to travel prepared. While Louie was dealing with the plates, I put my seat back and settled in for a much needed siesta.