Detective Iandolli stopped when he saw the maids giggling in the hallway on the twenty-second floor. Two of the hotel security guards stood outside room 2232. Both of the guards smiled at Iandolli when he approached the door.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” one of the guards said as he opened the door. He let Iandolli pass into the room and quickly shut the door when the maids tried to peek inside.
Iandolli stopped dead in his tracks. Two men were tied together on a double bed. One man appeared to be unconscious. He lay on his back with his two legs wrapped and tied around the other man. Both men were dressed in Bellagio T-shirts and hats.
“Jesus Christ,” Iandolli said as he shook his head.
The man who was still conscious was tied on his knees between the unconscious man’s legs. A pair of white sweat socks had been jammed inside his mouth for a gag. A flesh-colored dildo jutted from his rectum.
Two emergency service workers waited while the hotel security guard untied the series of belts that seemed to hold the men in place.
“You two are mobsters?” Iandolli asked.
The conscious man spoke as soon as the pair of socks was pulled from his mouth. “Vincent Lano!” he yelled at Iandolli. “He did this! Lano! He’s registered in this room with me. Vincent Lano, the motherfucker!”
“You really want to press charges?”
“Fuck!” the conscious man said.
Iandolli pulled out a notepad. “Well?”
The conscious man remained silent.
The security guard brought a paper bag to Iandolli. “This was left here,” the guard said. He held it up so Iandolli could read the writing on the bag. “They wrote ‘FBI’ on it. See?” the guard said.
Iandolli took the bag and looked inside. When he saw the camera, he chuckled. “Right,” he said.
“Should we secure the area?” the guard asked.
Iandolli winked at the guard. “That or sell tickets.”
Minh Quan had circled around the neighborhood a few times before he spotted the commotion with the ambulance and police. Then he saw Charlie Pellecchia get inside the ambulance.
“Shit,” Minh said.
He waited for the crowed to disperse before he drove by the address where the police were now investigating. Minh wrote the address on an extra delivery menu and turned his car around to follow Charlie Pellecchia yet again.
“What’s going on?” Thomas asked Iandolli outside Francone’s room. He had come off the elevator with a contingent of hotel security.
The detective smirked as he thumbed at the room. “In there? A lovefest.”
Thomas pointed to the bag Iandolli was holding. “What’s that?”
“Lunch.”
Thomas saw the writing. “It says ‘FBI.’”
“Yeah, it does. Not ‘DEA,’ though. Too bad.”
Thomas motioned at Iandolli to hand over the bag. “I’ll pass it on,” he said.
Iandolli sneered. “Yeah, right. I don’t think so.”
Thomas stood his ground. “Then we both will.”
“Not anytime soon,” Iandolli said as he pointed to Francone’s room. “I’m heading to the hospital. From the look of things in there, so’s your boy.” He held the bag up. “I’ll have one of my guys bring this to Walsh, the FBI honcho in Vegas.”
Thomas scowled. “And I’ll go with him.”
Iandolli shrugged. “That’d be up to you, but he isn’t handing this bag to anyone but Walsh, so get used to the idea. It says ‘FBI,’ it goes to the FBI.”
Thomas clenched his teeth and motioned at Francone’s room. “Is Charlie Pellecchia in there?”
“Not exactly,” Iandolli said
“Cuccia?” Thomas asked as he crossed the hall to the door.
“Bingo.”