Rebecca slipped behind the bar and crouched to check her phone. During her shifts, she wasn't supposed to even touch it, but while waiting for Gianni to pour two Cosmopolitans, she could have sworn she'd heard the familiar ping telling her someone had sent a text. Six texts, actually. "Fuck," she mouthed, and just missed banging her head on the counter as she stood back up.
Everyone at the gaming table was in the midst of betting, so relaying anything to Le Bon posing as Benson was impossible. She slipped away and hurried down the hall. Her jaw dropped at the sight of Robbie half in and half out of the door at the end, signalling to her. She gestured angrily for him to go back in and followed him into the room, easing the door shut behind her. "What the hell is going on here?" she hissed.
"Money's missing," Jimmy said.
An image flashed in her mind of earlier in the evening on her way through the lobby when she saw Burkhard whispering to two men in off-the-rack suits, who then disappeared. She'd never seen either of them before or since.
"Stay here – I'll check his office. Robbie, give me ten minutes and we'll go to plan 'B' as we discussed." She saw Jimmy's eyes blaze but what could she do. She'd done her best to argue against that idea and she wasn't about to try to reveal that aspect of the heist now. Not that she felt no guilt; she absolutely did. But more important tasks demanded her attention right now.
She crept out again, muttering, "That goddamned crook." Most of the other doors were locked but inside the janitorial closet, one of the passed-out hotel managers had a ring of keys attached to his belt. She took them and went to the door for Yushenko's office. The first three keys were too small and the next several were either too big or didn't fit. Another one fit, but wouldn't turn. There might be a few more to try, but she had to get back out there.
She returned to the lounge, Gianni scowling at her from behind the bar. Two strawberry daiquiris stood in front of him. He pointed to the landing beyond the railing and said, "Take those up Lachlan's girlfriend and her friend."
"Sorry," she said, almost spilling the drinks as she set them on her tray. She concealed the keys underneath. Where on earth would all that money be ... Ten million cash took up a helluva lot of room even if everything was in c-notes. She set the drinks down in front of the preppie pair and scooped up an empty cognac glass. When she came back behind the bar, Gianni was busy making a Pousse Café, holding the spoon against the inside of the glass as he dribbled Kahlua down over top a layer of grenadine.
"Looking for some bitters," she said, rummaging beneath the counter. "Someone saying they have an upset stomach and soda water alone wouldn't cut it." She found no door or compartment hidden in the back of any of the cubby holes, not that she thought there would be. However, taped to the underside of a lower shelf, she found a key that might come in handy.
She palmed it and stood just in time to catch the bartender slipping something into a pint of Indian Pale Ale. That would explain some of the bad bets Lachlan had been making earlier. Interesting ... Who wanted him out and why, she wondered. He'd been no real threat to Yushenko at any point. At least the heavies he had stationed around the players' guests hadn't noticed Robbie and Eddie entering. But they still had to get out again.