Free Writ of Execution by Perri O'Shaughnessy Page B

said. She cocked her head and looked him in the eye. “If there’s one thing known to an Irishman, it’s that the most sensible course isn’t always strictly the one in the regs.” She gave him a melting smile, then noticed Paul, watching from across the room, pretending to gag.
    “It’s true that every jackpot is different,” Maloney said. “I suppose we have plenty of documentation. Certainly, we can get additional information later if necessary.”
    “Let’s talk it all out tomorrow,” Nina said. “I’ll be at my office just waiting for your call. Now, how about the check?”
    Through all of this, Jessie maintained a poker face. The gaming officials sneaked looks at her, trying to see behind the dark glasses. Maloney started folding up the paperwork, still not quite convinced.
    “Why does the company that made the machine pay the jackpot?” Nina asked, to keep him from thinking any more about the documents.
    “Global Gaming owns the Greed Machines,” Maloney said. “I forget that most people think the casinos make the payouts on progressive slots. Global Gaming has a control room at their factory in Reno where they keep the progressive slots running all over this country and the world. It sells the machines, keeps them repaired, and makes the payout when somebody wins. Thomas Munzinger, there, he’s the money man. Of course, the State Gaming Control Board watches over the operation. That’s Ully Miller. Been with them twenty-two years, longer than I’ve been with the service. Well, let’s get this stuff signed and sealed.”
    Thomas Munzinger came over and checked his share of the papers. The dour expression on his tanned face contrasted sharply with John Jovanic’s laugh as he swapped stories on the other side of the room with Paul. Perhaps that was because Prize’s was getting a sizable publicity boost, while Global Gaming was getting an enormous mark in red ink. Kenny’s earlier second wind was showing signs of blowing out. His face wore a fixed smile, ghastly in its rigor. He faded from the group at the desk and Paul rescued him, whispering into Nina’s ear.
    “Time to go, unless you want a startling show and tell from this front. His veneer’s cracking.”
    “I think that’s all of it,” Nina said rapidly to the room. “I wonder if I could have copies of the signed papers. Tomorrow would be fine.” More cards were exchanged.
    “Well?” Jovanic boomed. “All set?”
    “So it seems,” Munzinger said.
    “Then come on over here, honey, it’s time to make the payout. Andy, pop the corks. Thomas, you ready?” Munzinger left the room. Jovanic came over and put an arm around Jessie, saying to Kenny, “I’m sure you won’t mind if I do this. It’s the biggest jackpot any of us will ever see.”
    Then they all drank Dom Perignon from crystal glasses as the press settled into their task of taking pictures and running videocams. The champagne worked its usual magic, making Nina want to lie down on the floor and slip into a lovely pastel-colored dreamland. But the lateness of the hour was working to their advantage, as what might have been an endless party was going to have to be abbreviated before they all keeled over.
    Munzinger held up a hand and the place quieted instantly except for the reporters shifting around trying to get a good view. He walked over to Jessie, whose face, what was visible of it, looked pinched, and said, “Ma’am, in a minute I’m going to give you a real check. But first, I want to present this to you.” He unwrapped a brown-paper-covered poster of a giant check with the full amount of seven million and quite a few hundred thousand change written on the pay line in thick black marker ink. He held it up for photos and handed it to Jessie.
    They all applauded vigorously amid a blizzard of flashes. He shook her hand. “Thanks for being such a good sport!” he said, inspiring scattered laughter. More flashes. Munzinger’s smile was perfect, but the eyes