Craig Kreident #2 Fallout by Doug Beason Kevin J Anderson Page A

performances.
    The Russians sat astounded.
    After the grand finale, Waterloo stood patiently with the Russians as they chattered among themselves.   He could tell from the sparkle in their eyes, the smiles on their faces how much they had enjoyed the show.   He continued to play nice, nodding, unable to understand a word they said.  
    It galled him to be so pandering.   The Russians, every last one of them, took undue advantage of the U.S. hospitality.   At least Ursov had the decency to be enraged at the death of his team leader — but these men seemed to be having the time of their lives . . . and from what he knew of the squalor in Russia, that could well be true.  
    He urged them through the casino away from the long galleria, because he knew he would never get out of there if they began to look into the stores.   For himself, he would rather be home, even if it meant an empty house without Genny . . . at least he could find peace in the surrounding quiet.
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 10
    Tuesday, October 21
    6:45 P.M.
     
    Excalibur Hotel and Casino
    Las Vegas
     
    With the evening, Las Vegas lit up like the Fourth of July.   Up and down the Strip, casinos and hotels pulsated with enough light to dazzle the sensors of a weather satellite: bright green illuminating the MGM Grand, Caesar’s, and Harrah’s; cool blue on the Imperial Palace and Bally’s; golden yellow on Treasure Island and the Mirage; crimson on the Rio and the Flamingo Hilton.
    Craig took his rental car down Tropicana Avenue past the MGM Grand’s monumental crouching lion.   To his left, the enormous black pyramid of the Luxor blazed its white beacon into space.   When he found the Excalibur, he had to stop himself from laughing at the pearlescent turrets topped with scarlet and blue conical roofs.   It was what Craig had expected, but not quite so . . . exactly what he had expected.
    Knowing Craig needed a place to stay, Goldfarb had enthusiastically recommended the Excalibur.   He and his family had vacationed there a year before, and the kids had adored the faux castle, the waving colorful pennants, and the clean fantasy adornments.  
    “Every hour on the hour an animatronic dragon rises out of the moat, and a knight fights it,” the other agent said, grinning as if the casino paid him to be a public relations specialist.   “Just make sure your room isn’t directly above it, or it’ll keep you awake all night.”
    “I’ll remember that,” Craig said.  
    “If you want to see a show at night, they have a medieval spectacle, a jousting tournament, knights riding horses right in the arena,” Goldfarb continued.   “You sit in the stands and eat a Cornish game hen with your bare hands, just like in the Middle Ages.”
    Craig had laughed.   “I’m not sure how many Cornish game hens were consumed in the Middle Ages.”
    Now, as he drove under a plywood portcullis, attendants in colorful uniforms trotted up to help him.   A young man in pantaloons and a Henry VIII outfit offered to park the car.   Craig took his overnight bag and went to stand at the crenelated reception desk where women in medieval costume stood assisting customers.
    Clutching his room key as he went in search of the elevators, Craig glanced at his watch — barely enough time to shower and change clothes before he meeting Paige Mitchell.   Despite his exhaustion, he was looking forward to seeing Paige again.   It would be a pleasant end to a wild day. . . .
    After showering, Craig considered wearing the one set of casual clothes he had packed, jeans and a polo shirt . . . but he came to his senses and dressed nicely again.   Paige probably wouldn’t recognize him otherwise.
    He fondly recalled working with her to solve the murder of a prominent scientist at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory.   There, he had uncovered a web of intrigues and complicated schemes, security breaches and classification infractions . . . but the real killer had not turned