What Happens in Carcosa...
Chapter 4

Copyright© 2009 by Stultus

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Yellow Neon Lights - Part One. A resourceful Vegas Casino IT Manager discovers what his crime boss employer and family have been up to and loses his taste for voyeurism - and nearly his life! Mobsters, Morbid Mysteries and Mormon Death Squads, oh my! Grizzly revenge and the costs of loyalty lead to his hope for redemption, however unlikely in Lovett, Texas. This is a long slow developing story that is the start for several extremely critical Lovett County tales. Some sex later in the story.

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic   Coercion   Blackmail   Horror   Mystery   Zombies   Slut Wife   Cuckold   BDSM   Rough   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Food   Water Sports   Voyeurism   Slow   Violence  

It was with rather great shock that I learned one morning in the spring of early 2002 that my next drive with Mr. DeLuca would be my last. Oh, nothing untoward was going to happen to me, but The Boss was calling it quits after fifty years in Vegas and was retiring to Palm Springs. His office full of half a century of Vegas history had already been packed up and shipped away and I was to drive him to his new home.

I cannot express to you how sad this trip made me. It was as if something was now very wrong with the world and nothing would ever be quite right ever again. No exaggeration.

Most of the drive was made in relative silence as the old man was very lost in his thoughts, but near the end of the drive as we passed Joshua Tree and neared Palm Springs he began to open up.

"Jonny, my old friend ... there are going to be challenging days ahead for the both of us. Weston has new ideas for renovating the Casino operations and he deserves his chance. Youth shall have its day, as they say. Mine is now done and I'm looking forward to taking my rest. If I stayed in Vegas I'd only get mad at the boy and want to tinker with the business again. It's better off this way for everyone."

Weston was of course his manipulative and borderline sociopathic, but reasonably clever nephew Weston "Wesley" Briggs. He and I had never gotten on very well and I was more than a little concerned about what my place would be in the new operational scheme of things. Wes had his own trusted driver and bodyguards and never used me for much of anything except scut work, or disposing of our trash out in the deep desert. My wife Dawn and her sister Diana both adored the guy and pretty much worshiped the ground he walked on, so to keep the peace in the household I kept my mouth firmly shut about my own opinions of the 'boy wonder'.

I'd seen enough of him in his early days working for Rusty to believe that the arrogant boy who now grown to middle age would never continue to reward his loyal employees the way Mr. DeLuca had. The kid might be smart but he had absolutely no skills with handling people. He was going to rule the Casino and its underground empire like an autocrat upon a throne, and heaven help the poor peasant that failed to give the monarch his due.

"Wes has strict orders to keep you on ... full employment at your current salary and benefits." He continued. "Undoubtedly not in your current primary capacity, but he'll find something for you. I thought hard about offering you a place with me down here in Palm Springs, but you're really too young still to sit around watching an old man get older and more miserable by the day. Your old pal Rusty is going to take retirement and come down and watch after me and be my driver. Ben will of course be staying with me also and he's getting a bit old in the tooth himself. He's already looking after the new house and handling the moving arrangements. I'll be ok. They're both rock solid good and loyal men, like you Jonny!"

"Thanks Boss. You know to call me anytime if you need me Sir?"

"Quite so. I expect you to call me every month and let me know what's happening. I've got a few sources of information but they'll start to dry up pretty soon. Out of sight, out of mind. Never be afraid to tell me the complete unvarnished truth about what is going on from now on. It's going to be a whole new ballgame with new sets of rules and a lot of things are going to change, and probably mostly for the worst. You've always had a smart nose for trouble Jonny, keep using it and stay well away from it! I'm going to leave an untraceable cell phone here in the back seat for you to use when you call me. Use it only for that purpose and we should be able to speak candidly for quite awhile."

"What should I be looking for exactly Sir?"

"You'll be able to smell it before you see it, hopefully. The kid wants to bust up the status quo, in both the family business and the way our business gets done around town. He wants to make a splash and quickly get a bigger slice of the pie before everyone realizes that he's the new boss and not just speaking for me. He's going to push and some of the players aren't going to like that and will push back. It will get ugly for awhile ... do what the boy tells you to do ... within reason, but don't let yourself get caught alone out on the front lines! I would hate for you to become another Uriah, that Weston as King David would order his Joab to abandon you to the battlefield, 'That yee may be struck down, and die.'"

I'm ashamed to say it took me nearly two years to understand what he meant by this. Sometimes I can be rather dense.

We drove in silence for awhile further but as we reached the outskirts of Palm Springs he brought up at last his final and most important piece of business, my own private life.

"Son, I've made no secret of the fact that I was against your marriage with Dawn. In fact I still have serious reservations about it. She and her sister are close to their bosses Weston, John Samuels and Carl Greenwood, and probably far more loyal to them already than they are to you. Keep this in mind, after the kid takes over running things, both sisters are liable to be firmly by his side, so to speak. Be assured, any complaint you make to her will be in his ear before the echo of your voice is gone. If you're going to ride on the fence safely you're going to have to be extra careful ... and have a plan ready for the day you fall off on the wrong side. Jon, get a 'Run Kit' put together — someday you're going to need it! Along with the phone, I've left you a few notes and also a couple of names you might find useful. I can hopefully provide more help in the near future if you need it."

I'd never needed a 'Run Kit' before. My friendship and loyalty to The Boss had always kept me safe and I had never even considered the need to have to run for my life someday. The Boss had always taught me to be careful about money, and I did have some savings stashed away in a few obscure places where my wife couldn't get to it, but probably not enough.

My wife sure did like to spend money! She made a lot on her own, but somehow it was always my paycheck that got spent first. This was going to have to change soon.

After seeing that The Boss was settled into the protective custody of his old bodyguard 'Big Ben', I briefly looked over the items that my old friend had left for me. In addition to the disposable cell phone, there was an envelope with an address and a key to a safety deposit box and a long and sincere letter wishing me health and happiness for the future, with a reminder that he wanted to remain in contact with his friend. This was just goodbye for now, not farewell forever.

After returning to Vegas, I collected the contents of the safety deposit box and found a listing of 'friends' that all owed Mr. DeLuca uncollected favors over the years that I could 'collect upon' in his name. There was also another list of three names complete with matching overseas bank account numbers that he wished me to obtained identification for, along with a business card for a gentleman who would provide this service for me ... already prepaid and waiting for me to contact him.

Getting my new sets of identification took less time than I expected. The forger was a true artist and one of the top hands of his profession. I took a variety of photos for the driver's licenses and passports and everything was completed within a week. The three driver's licenses were each guaranteed to pass muster even if checked by any police computer, as were the matching birth certificates and passports that were promised could pass any close inspection, even by the new Homeland Security agency. Additionally, credit cards had been set up for each account name along with a suitable credit history at each of the three major credit tracking corporations. With these ID's, I could hide in near plain sight and fear for nothing even if I was casually investigated by law enforcement.

Using a rental computer at a cyber-café, I logged into the three separate off-shore banks, two Caribbean based and one Swiss, to check on the accounts. All were active and contained varying balances. The two Caribbean accounts each had one million dollars in them, and the Swiss account had ten million in it.

Clearly the idea was that I should use the ID's for one of the two smaller accounts for my initial 'run' account while avoiding pursuit and then switch later to the ID matching my larger Swiss account when I was safe in a new home and ready to start a fresh permanent life. The extra smaller account was to be held in reserve for a future emergency. The Boss had thought of nearly everything apparently, but then again he was a very smart cookie.


Life under the new régime was not dull, although I found myself increasingly and sometimes uncomfortably close to the front lines of trouble. There hadn't been a true gang war in Vegas for decades, but the new boss, Wes, seemed determined to start one. He gobbled up a few minor fringe players right from the start on day one and then took out the head of another mid-level operation and started to sweep up some the pieces a few days later. Wes had apparently wanted to make a few big public killings to sort of 'show the flag', but when every other major player in Vegas came down opposing him he backed down fast and things sort of quieted down a little bit, for awhile anyway.

Post-9/11 Vegas was a different time and place than the good old mob run days of the 1950's and 60's. Now, since the disaster, tourism was way down and business was bad. This was absolutely not the time to start a public full-scale range war. Someone eventually convinced Wes of this, but it stuck in his craw to be thwarted. In its place, a secret little war of assassination and 'mergers' began as Wes began to pounce one by one on the minor mob outfits that were too weak to significantly fight back. The survivors all rushed into the arms of larger competitors for protection and the rest of the Vegas big operators began to ally themselves together against Wesley for mutual protection. Soon things were at a restless standoff.

Mr. DeLuca had added his share of bodies to the Nevada deserts but he always kept his private wars quiet, with little or no police or press attention. Killing was always a last resort for him and his enemies usually just suddenly disappeared with little if any fuss or need for bribes or public cleanup. Blood on the Strip was very bad for business.

Wes, on the other hand, preferred to use noisy public murders as warning to his competitors. I still made regular trips out to Carcosa, but mostly for dumping other evidence than bodies now. In less than a year I'd dumped enough guns to supply a small Central American army.

For the first time in decades, law enforcement officials including the FBI, began to show a serious interest in the operations of the Casino. The old mobster code of loyalty still held (for now) and the investigators were initially held at bay, but the first cracks in the armor were starting to appear. Wes's mob rivals were becoming less happy with him each passing day, but for now everyone was wanting to keep their business disagreements private — and keep the Feds as far away from their affairs as possible.

Under Mr. Adriano DeLuca, loyalty was very much a two way street. It was in a sense a true medieval style fealty, where there was a true partnership between individuals. The master accepted the fealty and promises of duty and loyalty from his men, but in return he had duties and obligations to them as well. Under Wesley, loyalty was now strictly a one-way street. It flowed up to him, but he didn't reward it in kind. It didn't take long for the grumblings to start.

His first big internal change was a massive management shakeup. Nearly everyone who had been considered especially loyal to The Boss was now either invited to retire or moved to less senior (and less compensated) positions. Most of my peers and friends chose to quit and were quickly gobbled up by other casino hotel operations. In their place, less senior 'friends of Wes' were soon promoted up to fill nearly every important position in the public and private operations of the family business.

Soon, the phrase 'Friends of Wes' was just shortened to FoW and it became an open joke throughout the entire company. More and more old friends and trusted former employees of The Boss started to find that it was a good time to move on to greener pastures. Under any other circumstances I'd have left too, but I had my responsibility to report back to The Boss everything that was happening since his retirement.

Next, the FoW management began a massive shakeup and restructuring of how everything in Accounting and Finance was done. What was claimed to be a minor 'streamlining' of the company's financial policies turned into a bloody slaughterhouse from which no department, except for Security, was exempt. Payroll cuts soon followed. First a hiring and salary freeze, cancellation of all bonuses (except for upper executive), then mandatory 10% across the board pay cuts, then another 10% cut, then a brutal round of layoffs to 'right-size' the operations. Most of us called these new policies 'draconian' and 'cutting off ones nose to spite your face'.

The Boss had always hired the top talent to appear in his shows, but now the Promotions and Artist Relations department was bringing in strictly 'C' level talent of 'has been' and 'never were' performers that they could hire on the cheap for bargain basement rates. Hotel bookings began to slowly drop and our shows were soon mostly playing to increasingly empty houses.

Next to be trimmed down to size was the expenses of the food service operations. Instead of buying from the top (and most expensive) providers, Wes now was ordering his meat and produce from the lowest cost vendors available. Quality suffered accordingly, even on the late night buffet and restaurant revenues also declined accordingly.

It was also rumored, but never conclusively proven, that the payout rate on our slots machines was also significantly reduced. News of this began to circulate in the gaming circles and for the first time ever our Casino was given a 'Not Recommended' by Casino Player magazine. A few months later you could have exploded a bomb in the center of our gaming floor without hardly scratched anyone.

 
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