The Blackjack List

By John R. Downes

Thirteen million dollars remain buried from a Spokane bank heist ten years earlier. Only one of the five robbers was captured. The day hes released from prison, he hurries to a rendezvous with another at Becky Allisons blackjack table, where the two exchange the coded whereabouts of other gang members and two of five clues necessary to locate the cache. Sensing theyve been followed, both head for the casino elevator, after tipping Becky with large bills. The Blackjack List is folded inside one of them. Peril looms. The chase begins.

Being both the pursued AND pursuer is the double bind that confronts Becky Allison and Dr. David Baxter, her fianc. Whatever they do risks their lives. Bad guys galore turn up everywhere during forty-eight frenetic hours of fleeing, chasing, and deciphering the treasure map The Blackjack List.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490717920

John R. Downes

JOHN R. DOWNES proves his credentials as a master storyteller in this epic tale. His novels span diverse genres: historical fiction, spy thriller, literary fiction, and mystery. He resides with his wife, Susan, in Spokane, Washington.

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Copyright 2013 John R. Downes.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-1791-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-1793-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-1792-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013919334

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CONTENTS

THE FIRST DAY

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SECOND DAY

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE THIRD DAY

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

MacGuffen

The term coined by

Alfred Hitchcock

for a necessary element

in his movies.

It’s defined as

the object of everybody’s search.

To the reader:

The Blackjack List was initially written as a screenplay. Locations included Las Vegas and Tijuana. The script went through several drafts in the hands of two Hollywood producers and a literary agent during ten option periods over a five-year time span.

Subsequently, Kim Beatty, a producer affiliated with North by Northwest Productions in Spokane, suggested moving the principal locations to a tribe-owned casino and Eastern Washington/Northern Idaho.

The Blackjack List remained un-produced.

Ernest Hemingway wrote in his only non-fiction book about writing that producing a feature film required an army; one only needed to look at the closing credits of any movie to agree. He emphasized that it took three people to publish a book—the author, literary agent, and publisher.

Hence, I adapted the oft-rewritten movie manuscript into a novel. The story is set in Spokane, Washington. Following it in this book is the final draft of the screenplay. It may be the first time a novel and screenplay with the same title have been published together.

The reader will note some differences. The Becky Allison character narrates the movie version, but not the novel; the bank heist is characterized differently in each; Gabe Norton is middle-aged and crippled in one, but a healthy 32 year-old in the other; the getting-out-of-jail sequence is an addition to the novel. Those are just a few.

John R. Downes

November 2013

Seek thee out some other chase.

—SHAKESPEARE

What follows I flee; what flees I ever pursue.

—OVID

If it gets in the wrong hands . . . all bets are off.

—DOWNES

Cast of Characters

Becky Allison—Blackjack dealer

Dr. David Baxter—Becky’s fiancé

Gabe Norton—Bank robber

Eddie Mercury—Bank robber

Monica d’Angelo—Bank robber’s mother

Hernando Villanueve—Bank robber

Harry—Bank robber

Alex Pinkham—The man in the beige Buick

Officer Phil Talley—State Trooper

Lt. Bert McElroy—Deputy Sheriff

Luther Pagnotta—Father of Gabe’s cellmate

Tommy Sackmaster—Luther’s protégé

Rico—Nightclub bouncer

Nick—Nightclub bouncer

THE FIRST DAY

CHAPTER ONE

Washington State Penitentiary

Walla Walla

Tuesday, August 1, 2011

11:30 a.m.

F or the first time in ten years, four months, and thirteen days, thirty-two year old Gabe Norton gazed at the morning sun and the Blue Mountain foothills as a free man.

Jail time hadn’t changed his appearance much from the lanky, blonde, lady’s man, with an ever-present engaging smile. He was seated in the front seat of an unmarked prison van on the way to the Greyhound bus station, gripping a one-way ticket to Spokane.

Besides the brand-new casual clothes he was wearing, his belongings consisted of an heirloom pocket watch with gold chain, an Idaho star garnet ring, a small suitcase containing underwear, socks, Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt, Levi’s, cotton jacket, toiletries, and a cashier’s check for one thousand six hundred seventy-nine dollars that he’d saved from his job in the prison’s license plate shop. Ten brand-new twenty dollar bills were folded up in his shirt pocket.

It wasn’t much of a stake, but he wasn’t concerned. By week’s end, he expected to receive his four-way split of thirteen million dollars that was stolen from a Spokane, Washington bank in 2001, then buried. All he had to do was to find out where.

Odds for a four way split were favorable, because one of the five gang members had been murdered, allegedly by one of them, shortly after the heist. Three, besides him, remained alive, including Eddie Mercury, who planned to rendezvous with him that very evening at the Northern Quest Casino & Resort near Spokane in Airway Heights. Subterfuge was required, since the warden’s underlings read all of Gabe’s mail, commencing the first day of his incarceration—and jailers before that during his trial.

During the previous three months, Eddie wrote perfume-scented love letters with female flourishes that disclosed in double-entendre language the meeting place. He signed them as Edie Lovelace, although he would have ripped the face off of anyone who called him gay. The ruse was necessary to get past the eavesdroppers.

Every day of Gabe’s imprisonment was dominated by a single euphoric thought—money! Lots of it! His twenty-five percent share amounted to three million, two hundred fifty thousand dollars—$325,000 for each of his ten years of confinement. $6250 per week! What license plate maker anywhere in the world ever earned that much? He shared his jubilation with nobody except his cellmate, Vincent Pagnotta, whom he’d come to trust over the previous three years. Vince was a lifer, convicted for murdering his fiancé, her boyfriend and two dogs, with no chance at all for parole, so there were no worries about him wrangling a share. When Gabe promised to send him a carton of cigarettes every week forever to keep silent, he was overcome with tears of gratitude.

Gabe’s release date was no secret. Newspapers throughout the state played it up with banner headlines, reminding readers about the years before, brazen, yet unsolved, thirteen million dollar bank robbery in broad daylight, then editorializing disgustedly that the only captured perpetrator was being released.

Where’s the money? . . . who are the robbers? . . . why should we believe he doesn’t know? it asked rhetorically.

Parole Board members certainly weren’t aware of Gabe’s knowledge about buried loot, or else they would not have awarded him with early release from his fifteen-year sentence, until he revealed its location. On the other hand, if he did know, and spilled the beans, that would prove he was more complicit than he’d claimed at trial. That could be grounds for increasing his sentence—not early release. Such were the vagaries of cooperating with the law.

His court trial only proved that he was one of the getaway car drivers, not a mastermind, or one of the inside-the-bank perpetrators, wielding guns. Good behavior and feigned ignorance earned him points.

The State of Washington was going through a budget crisis and had trimmed the penitentiary’s budget substantially. Thus, hundreds of prisoners were being released from prisons throughout the state to save money—and make room for other dangerous criminals.

Although Gabe had hoped to do some sightseeing from the bus while traveling through Waitsburg, Dayton, Dusty, and Colfax, he slept most of the way to Spokane, then took a fifteen minute cab ride to the Northern Quest Casino & Resort in Airway Heights. He certainly was not aware of the maroon 2003 Pontiac Grand Am following a discreet distance behind the Greyhound bus from Walla Walla. Or the beige 2013 Buick Regal far behind the Pontiac.

*     *     *

Vincent Pagnotta’s uncle, Luther, knew how to tail vehicles and remain anonymous. The Greyhound bus from Walla Walla never drove out of his sight. During a restroom and coffee stop in Dusty, he gassed up his Pontiac at the pay-outside pump, and watched bus passengers—but not Gabe—emerge and buy snacks inside the small mercantile. His blue chambray shirt, Levi’s, cowboy boots, and Stetson hat, gave him the appearance of a local rancher/cowboy.

Other vehicles came and went, including the 2013 Buick Regal, driven by a thin, balding man wearing thick glasses and a summer-weight business suit.

Gray-haired, fifty-eight year old, Luther Pagnotta had been a driver and hit man for a mob family in New Jersey, and was provided the safety net of the Federal Witness Protection Program for testifying against his boss and cronies years earlier. His alias became Busby (Buzz) Miller.

He resided in Deer Park—twenty miles north of Spokane—where he was the resident manager of a trailer park and owned a tattoo shop on Randolph Street. He’d gotten well-acquainted with various law enforcement officers in Eastern Washington and Northern Idaho over the years.

His cohort, Tommy Sackmaster, knew nothing specific about Luther’s background, other than that he’d rubbed elbows with the highest ranking members of organized crime on the East Coast, was on a first name basis with regional lawmen, and was being protected by the Feds. What better mentor could there be?

Luther’s fashion advice to him advised short hair, tight-fitting white t-shirts to accent his muscular build, tan Levi’s, and Florsheim penny loafers.

They’d met in a downtown Spokane pool hall, where Tommy, aged twenty-four, defended himself with a knife against an opponent, who’d accused him of being a hustler, and refused to pay the two hundred dollar bet for a several-game match of 9-ball, then pulled out a gun. Everyone but Tommy and Luther ducked for cover. During the scuffle, shots rang out. Tommy stabbed the shooter—almost killed him. When police arrived and interviewed witnesses, the shooter was arrested, then rushed to the emergency room of Deaconess Hospital in critical condition. Luther’s detailed and compelling statement about the circumstances, that he claimed prevented a number of people from being killed, cleared Tommy right away. Friendship between them blossomed afterward.

After Uncle Luther (Buzz) learned from his nephew, Vincent Pagnotta, during two enlightening and invigorating prison visitations in recent weeks, about Gabe Norton’s buried fortune—including details of the bank heist, gang members, and Gabe’s imminent release—he informed Tommy about potential riches, offered him a 75/25 partnership, then quit his trailer park management job.

The twosome arrived together in Walla Walla the previous night, and stayed in a posh, two-bedroom, suite at the Marcus Whitman Hotel. Luther paid. Dinner talk contemplated the purchase of new automobiles— a Bentley Flying Spur Sedan for Luther, and a previously-owned Corvette for Tommy.

At 8:45 p.m., as the Greyhound bus made its final stop at the depot in downtown Spokane, Luther parked across the street. Gabe hurried off the bus with his suitcase to a waiting cab. Twenty-five minutes later Luther and Tommy followed him into the Northern Quest Casino.

CHAPTER TWO

B ecky Allison loved her job as a blackjack dealer. She’d been employed there for more than two years, following her graduation from Gonzaga University with an MBA degree.

She was born and raised in Omak, Washington. The wide assortment of people she got to play with and talk to meshed with her extrovert personality and caring nature; plus, the casino gave her flexible work hours to coincide with her fiancé’s ever-changing schedule at Spokane’s Sacred Heart Hospital.

Dr. David Baxter was a staff physician there—just six years out of medical school and two years out of the U.S. Army Medical Corps—and was completing a three month-long stint in the Emergency Room.

His long-range goal was to open his own full-service medical clinic in a small, low-income community in Northeast or North Central Washington. Medical specialties were fine, as were rich-patient practices—they led to big-bucks incomes—but he and Becky weren’t motivated by the high-life and an enormous stock portfolio after a few short years. The fictional television doctors, Marcus Welby and Dr. Kildare, were David’s role-models, and Becky loved him for it. They’d known each other since grade school in Omak.

David had no debts. He’d worked campus jobs as an undergraduate, and as a railroad gandy dancer during summer breaks. Financial assistance from his parents was nonexistent; they were both dead. He hadn’t applied for student loans, but accepted academic and athletic scholarships during his decade-long education regimen.

He and Becky desired to become the Dr. and Mrs. Marcus Welby prototypes in Nowheresville, USA, who got to know everybody in town by their first names, made house calls, and were willing to tolerate financial losses per patient, caused by the constant Medicare and Medicare cuts by the Obama Administration. He’d doctor the patients; she’d run the business end of the clinic. But, even that would require a small fortune to set up.

When the thirty-something blond man with a suitcase sat down at her crowded table and began a friendly chat with the player beside him, who, during the previous hour had introduced himself to her as Eddie, she had no idea about the perils she would soon be fleeing from—and, ironically, pursuing.

You’re right on time, Gabe, Eddie Mercury said. He sat in the first seat on Becky’s left. I’ve been playing two positions on the table, so we could sit beside each other.

He handed Gabe a thick envelope.

Becky watched him open it and remove one of several