Free Agent of Influence: A Thriller by Russell Hamilton

breakfast, Alex suddenly realized.
    Could it be coincidence? He admitted it could, but now that he had seen him three times in less than twelve hours, his first guess was that the fat man was somehow connected with the woman.  Alex stole a glance at him again, keeping his gaze on the man until the set of tired eyes came up from the table, locking with Alex’s for a brief moment. They quickly returned their focus to the hand being dealt. Did the eyes turn away a little too quickly? There was something odd about the way he looked, but Alex could not place what it was. As the dealer finishing shuffling the deck of cards Alex eyed the man one more time, implanting his image in his mind. His short height was given away by his feet, which were dangling in mid-air as he sat at the table. The man’s obese physique, along with his glistening hair reminded Alex of the stereotypical gangster character. The man had the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his face, and the bags under his eyes betrayed a lack of sleep. Alex involuntarily shivered as he realized what was so odd about him. The stranger was wearing the same suit as the night before.
                  “Hey boys, how’s it going?” Cindy snuck up, slapping them each on the back with one hand. The dealer immediately turned up a natural twenty-one and swept everyone’s money off the table. Alex wondered if she was bad luck.
                  “Ready, Alex? I think that last hand may be a hint to get out of here,” Michael suggested.
                  “That’s fine, let’s go.” They both cashed their small chips in for larger denominations, and Alex downed the last of his drink before flipping the dealer a ten-dollar tip for his services. A few seconds later they pushed through the front doors of the hotel, and stepped out into the desert heat, heading towards the South end of Las Vegas Blvd .  It only took a couple more minutes before the drastic rise in temperature began creating sweat beads on the men’s foreheads. Alex’s mind raced with the thought of the man at the other table. He admitted it still could be a coincidence. The man could easily have a gambling problem. There was no shortage of those here after all.
    The crowd on the sidewalk already was large as the weekend was officially under way. They headed south down Las Vegas Boulevard at a brisk pace. Alex turned around to see if they were being followed. The morning sun obstructed his vision, and he squinted as he tried to spot the large man. Unable to see anything he turned his attention back to his friends.
     
 
Chapter 11
     
     
    “Yeah?” Aman’s gravely voice at the other end of the cell phone sounded agitated.
    “It’s me.” Despite his boss’s constant assurances, Solomon did not like using the phone given to him. Aman insisted numerous times that they were encrypted; a small gift from a friend in Washington. Aman swore the phones could not be detected, tapped, or bugged in any fashion. Solomon still thought it best to keep his conversation short, to the point, and as cryptic as possible.
                  “Oh, how’s our situation?” Aman did not expect a call so soon. The blaring of his phone had caused him to slice a drive out of bounds and into the rock strewn desert surrounding the fairway. His mind quickly diverted roads, and he motioned to Zach to go back to the cart.
                  “The woman has been spotted several times this morning. She slipped away though. I told you that you should have let me hire my own guys.” Solomon warned Aman several times about his lax security personnel, but he was always rebuffed. He still questioned what most of the “protection” was really for. They were lousy at surveillance and none of them were proficient fighters. Solomon thought there was a strong possibility that they were secretly being trained for some sort of suicide mission in the States or somewhere abroad. He was