~ SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS / PROLOGUE 3/0 ©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©© The Most Dangerous Man In Lost Wagess: They had followed him from the CypherPunks physical meeting to the outskirts of Las Vegas, before losing him. Two days of frantic searching by a variety of law enforcement agencies led to the Plaza Hotel and Casino, where he was playing the penny slot machine and associating with a variety of local riff©raff and no©accounts. An in©depth consultation with the Plaza head of security revealed that they had been keeping a close eye on the subject for the last two days. "He doesn't cause any real trouble, or anything," the head honcho said, shrugging, "but everything about him seems just a little strange, if you know what I mean." This comment seemed designed to elicit some sort of response from the poker©faced men questioning him, but they failed to respond, merely waiting for him to continue. "He buys ten dollars worth of pennies," and tips the change lady a dollar. "He plays for hours on end, also tipping the waitresses a dollar every time they bring him a free beer. Hell, he even tips the cleaning people when they clean his ashtray." The honcho shook his head, as if this type of behavior from someone spending most of their time playing the penny slots was puzzling and also disconcerting. "Sleeps in his car, with his dog. Only leaves the slot machines to feed, water, and run his dog around our parking lot. It's kind of unnatural, the way he seems to dote on that animal." the security honcho winked knowingly. "Has he met with anyone who doesn't usually frequent your casino?" one of the men asked, impatiently, tired of hearing odd details of the man's lifestyle which seemed intriguing to the denziens of normality that they were constantly having to interview in regard to the subject's movement and activity. "He ran into some legal©eagle named Larry Joe," the honcho said, noting the first sign of interest shown by his interrogators. "My second©shift security chief says he's a middle©weight poker player, taking part in a tournament at the Rio..." adding with a knowing tone, "but the mouthpiece is hanging with one of the heavy hitters on the local poker scene." "Larry Joe Dowling, an Austin attorney." one of the interrogators said to the others. "He usuallyÜj We'd better shift our surveillance team into high gear." The man rose to leave, telling the others, "Dig up all you can here, file a report, and get some sleep. You're going to need it." Boogers? We don't need no stinking boogers!: The agent pulled out his hanky and wiped the disgusting mess off of his jacket sleeve. "I can't believe that they pulled us off of the Tim May detail to check out this fucking loser." "Shit!" he screamed, as he brushed his arm against the steering column and picked up another piece of disgusting slime on his jacket sleeve. "I've shaken down this guy's personals before." the man's partner said, with a grin. "That's why I gave you the driver's side of the vehicle to check out." "He feeds his nose©candy to his dog, and he always leaves her a little desert on the steering wheel for her to chow down on after he brings her back from her walk." He laughed as he saw the bile rising to his new partner's throat. He couldn't help himself©©he reached over and plucked a booker off of the horn button and told his partner, "I'll trade you a green one for a yellow one..." His partner lurched out of the vehicle and concentrated on tossing his lunch while not messing up his shiny new shoes. The more experienced agent finished snapping photos of the gathered items and then replaced them carefully in the same position they had been in before their intrusion. "He usually walks Baby for about ten minutes, to give us time to make a complete pass of his vehicle, so our time is about up." The agent closed and locked the doors of the vehicle, motioning his green©faced partner toward their vehicle. It's A Nuke! No, It's Anthrax! No, It's...AAARRGGGHHHH!!!": Justin Case, Special Agent in Charge of the current investigation, was bothered by the fact that the suspect had seemed to be doing nothing more than wandering around various sites and casinos in Las Vegas, with no apparent pattern or plan to his movement and actions. Until he read the report of the suspect's lingering interest in the placement of the columns serving as the foundation for the Stratosphere Casino, and the layout of the preliminary work on the new Foley Federal BuildingÜj "Soft targets." agent Case said out loud, causing a considerable amount of disconcertment to his fellow agent, Bobby Siller. "Damn!" Siller swore, "We have reports of him having met with Leavitt and Harris, but we didn't have any taps on them, so we don't have any details of what they are planning." "Don't worry about it," Case seemed unconcerned, "if he's scouting soft targets, then he's not planning any sudden moves." "Patience comes to those who wait." Justin Case said, softly, quoting the Author, and making a mental note to have agent Siller shake the Anthrax Twins down a few days after the suspect departed Vegas. "Hold it!" agent Siller shouted, motioning for his superior to remain silent, as Siller adjusted his earpiece to more clearly hear the live report he was receiving from his agents at the Riviera gun show. "The suspect went into the gun show empty handed, and left with several copies of 'Gun List' and then returned to his vehicle. He took his dog for a walk and our agents discovered a 'Dalian' watch wrapped in tear©outs from the firearms paper, dealing with Romanian AK rifles and Bulgarian SLR©95's. The 'Dalian' watch is some type of Polish/Chinese make, or something." Justin Case rolled his eyes, but remained silent. The suspect was yanking the chains of the agents who were shaking down his personals, and it looked like Siller's men didn't have the experience to know when they were being toyed with. The agent that Case had pulled off of the Tim May detail would be wise to the suspect's shenanigans, but it was unlikely he would get in the way of Siller's men making fools of themselves. "He's returning to the casino, using the copies of 'Gun List' to hide whatever it is he's carrying." agent Siller said, with great excitement. "I think we ought to take him in the parking garage, before he reaches the main building at the Riviera." Siller anxiously awaited the word from his superior. "Maintain." was Case's nonchalant reply, causing Siller to have an ill©disguised internal shit©fit. If this operation went totally to hell, it would be Siller's ass on the line, being the Las Vegas station chief.