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Chapter 957: Chapter 840: Cheaters Die (Subscribe please!)
Just as Tang Qing was looking at the rain.
United States.
Las Vegas.
The sun had just set.
Now, it was the busiest time in this city.
Felkloth Imperial Hotel.
The casino inside was bustling.
Every hotel in Las Vegas has a casino, and the casino in this hotel ranked among the top five in size here, attracting huge daily traffic of gamblers and tourists from around the world.
Here.
There were no weekends.
Because.
Wealthy people could come at any time.
They didn’t need to wait until weekends to rest. As this place was also a vacation destination in the United States, the hotels were almost full on weekends. To avoid the crowd, wealthy people preferred coming on weekdays.
Suddenly.
A commotion broke through this thinly veiled prosperity.
"Help, someone is trying to kill me, call the police, quick."
A young white man was seen running wildly in the casino, bumping and pushing people around, causing a series of screams. His hand was in a cast, as if he was injured.
Seeing the young man’s panicked face, many people moved back to a safe area.
There was a lot of discussion among the gamblers.
But no one ran away.
Because the person chasing him was a security guard of the place.
This young man being chased by security surely had committed some offense.
As for what it was, with Las Vegas having been in operation for so many years, if you were chased by casino security, it could only be for two reasons: you either harmed the casino’s interests or the interests of other gamblers.
A thief.
A troublemaker.
A cheater.
...
In any case, he wouldn’t be a good person.
Even though it was a case of many guards against one, no one stood up to "administer justice." Here, money was justice, the hotel side was justice, and the background of these hotels was not for them to question.
Seeing the gamblers watching the spectacle.
Ignoring him completely.
The young white man became desperate.
He knew that once caught by these hotel security guards, he might not be able to walk out intact. The young man thought to himself bitterly, damn it, learning from TV to calculate cards using probabilities. Yet, on his first attempt, he had got caught.
Until now, he didn’t know where he had gone wrong.
His name was Belle Caswell.
Months ago.
Having just been admitted to a University, he watched a movie.
It was about a mathematician, unusually gifted, who used his powerful mathematical brain to earn a lot of money in casinos using statistical knowledge, and the casino didn’t do much about it.
Because it wasn’t cheating, after all, you can’t expect people to leave their brains at the door.
Therefore.
They respectfully escorted him out.
After watching the movie.
He became inspired.
He called a few friends together and spent several months finally coming up with a mature ’plan.’ He knew that real-life casinos wouldn’t be so easy to negotiate with.
Murder was out of the question, the most likely scenario was taking back the money won and barring them for life.
Compared to the risk.
The potential gains were greater.
Thus.
After testing it.
Today was their first actual combat.
Eager and excited, he had ended up a street rat.
"Ah..."
Stumbling, Caswell fell accidentally onto the ground, face-down like a dog eating shit, his cast breaking and revealing the mechanical device inside. Witnessing this scene, the gamblers instantly understood everything.
At that moment.
Security guards had already charged forward and pinned Caswell to the ground, handcuffing him.
"Help, don’t let them take me away," Caswell bellowed.
He was just a university student, getting involved out of interest, fearless like a calf unafraid of tigers, plus some wishful thinking. That’s what had given him the courage to execute this plan, but he had no ’on-the-spot experience’ in handling the present situation.
"Bang."
A security guard’s baton jabbed into his waist.
The pain made Caswell break out in cold sweat, wanting to scream, but finding his mouth blocked. At that moment, a man in a white manager’s uniform approached and explained with a smile to the surrounding guests:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, as you all saw, this person brought unauthorized devices into our casino, compromising the fairness of our establishment. We merely intend to have a chat with him to get him to stop this behavior. We apologize for any inconvenience caused to you," he said.
Having said this.
The manager walked Caswell toward a special passageway, as security collected the broken mechanical parts from the ground and took them away, and noise again filled the space. 𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒑𝒖𝒃.𝙘𝙤𝒎
Watching the young man’s retreating figure.
The gamblers couldn’t help shaking their heads. Young people are so daring. Such tricks are nothing new—you still play them, truly desperate for money, and even in such a world-class venue.
They could only admire Caswell’s courage.
"Poor kid, they won’t do anything too bad to him, will they?" a woman overflowed with sympathy, covering her mouth as she spoke.
"Of course not. With so many of us watching, and the case not being too severe, the worst they’ll do is make him return the money," her male companion replied, sipping his wine and smiling.
"Really?"
"Of course."
...
Fifteenth floor of the hotel.
Caswell was taken here.
The blow just now left his head dizzy, and Caswell didn’t know where he had been taken. He only knew that the security guards used a lot of force, rendering his whole body weak from pain and fear.
"Bang..."
Caswell was thrown to the ground.
Lying on the floor.
Feeling the soft, warm carpet, Caswell barely managed to prop himself up and looked around. It seemed like an office, yet it might not be, considering this was a hotel where many luxury suites had studies.
"Boss, we found that this guy was sending and receiving information through a device hidden in his cast. He also disturbed other guests while we were taking him away, sorry," the manager’s voice rang in Caswell’s ear.
Because of the high table in front of him.
He was lying down.
He couldn’t see the person across the table.
"No problem, with the current situation, being seen is also a reminder to those hiding in the shadows about how he got through security," said a middle-aged man’s voice from across the table, prompting Caswell to sit up quickly.
He could see the man’s face now.
A lean Caucasian middle-aged man.
With a sharp and cold gaze.
This eye contact made Caswell feel as if he was being watched by a venomous snake.
The manager quickly said, "When he came in, he claimed his hand had surgical steel pins and even provided a hospital certificate, so security let him in. Later, when we noticed something off about his eyes, we kept a closer watch and soon suspected that he might be cheating."
After hearing the manager’s explanation.
Caswell shuddered, finally realizing where he had failed. It wasn’t in his technique or methods, but in psychology; his nervous glances had given him away.
"Oh? A novice?" the man said with a cold laugh, looking at Caswell.
Caswell quickly said, "Yes, it’s my first time, I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have come to your casino or cheated. Please forgive me this time. I won’t dare do it again..."
Caswell begged tremblingly.
Unusual for a hooligan.
Caswell, being young and spirited, a university student, was not so deeply resigned to compromising in life. Crying profusely was something he couldn’t bring himself to do.
Which, to others, made his apology seem insincere.
The middle-aged man walked around the table.
Crouched down.
Then suddenly smiled amiably.
"No worries, everyone’s nervous the first time."
Seeing this smile, Caswell breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed there was still room to maneuver. He managed a smile and said, "Yes, I just wanted to test if it would work. Don’t worry, I won’t come again."
Seemingly accepting this answer.
The middle-aged man patted Caswell’s shoulder and chuckled, "I believe you. However, we still like having guests come to play, just don’t bring the cast next time...haha.
By the way, what about your friends? You know, as a casino owner, I just want to get to know some promising young people. Why don’t you call them over to have a chat? I would also like to learn some anti-cheating techniques."
Caswell, inexperienced and naïve.
Thought for a while.
It seemed a reasonable excuse.
"Okay," Caswell nodded happily.
"Tell me the address, and I’ll send someone to pick them up."
"Sure, they are on the fifth floor of your hotel, E511," Caswell truthfully said, and upon hearing this, the middle-aged man gave the manager a look, who immediately left with some men.
Half an hour later.
A black cargo truck left the city.
The original office.
"Boss, all taken care of."
After hanging up the phone, the manager respectfully informed the middle-aged man.
"Hmm," he nodded slightly.
Dealt with.
Of course it was Caswell and his group.
Dealing with corpses had long become an industry here, with professionals handling it so there was no trouble, even if the last place the deceased were seen was here.
But within the boundaries of the law in the United States, they would be untouchable.
Although several had died.
There was not a trace of joy on the middle-aged man’s face; instead, his brow was deeply furrowed.
"It’s not them, these people, who are they, where are they?" he mumbled to himself, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the tabletop, growing more irritable the more he thought.
The casino’s books over the last few months were so dismal he felt like killing someone, not just him; he had also secretly investigated and found that other Las Vegas casinos were the same, with very poor results in recent months.
In his view.
There had to be expert gamblers manipulating things.
But.
He had secretly investigated for a long time.
And found nothing.
Everything was normal.
But not the casino’s profits, he knew, this time he was up against an expert, a master of manipulation, who had played their casino and others as well.
He did not make a big fuss about it.
For a simple reason.
Such an expert.
Once found.
Wouldn’t it be better to employ him? Why expose him? Moreover, these people must have made a lot of money, and once he found and understood them, he could earn a substantial amount just from hush money.
But dreams are beautiful.
Reality is harsh.
The investigation had stalled from the beginning, to deter others and to firmly confirm the suspicion of being manipulated, the middle-aged man had decided from the moment he laid eyes on Caswell.
Starting today.
In his casino.
Anyone caught cheating.
Dies.
