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When we got to the Mint I parked on the street in front of the casino, around a corner from the parking lot. No point risking a scene in the lobby, I thought. Neither one of us could pass for drunk. We were both hyper-tense. Extremely menacing vibrations all around us. We hurried through the casino and up the rear escalator.
We made it to the room without meeting anybodyâbut the key wouldnât open the door. My attorney was struggling desperately with it. âThose bastards have changed the lock on us,â he groaned. âThey probably searched the room. Jesus, weâre finished.â
Suddenly the door swung open. We hesitated, then hurried inside. No sign of trouble. âBolt everything,â said my attorney. âUse all chains.â He was staring at two Mint Hotel Room keys in his hand. âWhere did this one come from?â he said, holding up a key with number 1221 on it.
âThatâs Lacerdaâs room,â I said.
He smiled. âYeah, thatâs right. I thought we might need it.â
âWhat for?â
âLetâs go up there and blast him out of bed with the fire hose,â he said.
âNo,â I said. âWe should leave the poor bastard alone, I get the feeling heâs avoiding us for some reason.â
âDonât kid yourself,â he said. âThat Portuguese son of bitch is dangerous. Heâs watching us like a hawk.â He squinted at me. âHave you made a deal with him?â
âI talked with him on the phone,â I said, âwhile you were out getting the car washed. He said he was turning in early, so he can get out there to the starting line at dawn.â
My attorney was not listening. He uttered an anguished cry and smacked the wall with both hands. âThat dirty bastard!â he shouted. âI knew
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