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pendant of diamonds or rhinestones. She was dark, Mexican maybe, and small. She smiled and beckoned to him.
    His body said “yes,” but his brain screamed “no.” He’d been hijacked once already.
    He jumped in the back seat of the cab and told the driver to go to Planet Hollywood. She looked over her shoulder at him and rolled her eyes.
    â€œMy friend moved over there, OK? I talked to him, he’s bringing some money. You’ll get paid, all right? Now move it!”
    Move it she did. Ned had to grab the Jesus bar to keep from sliding off the seat. He looked back at the hotel as the cab sailed down the very long, sloping drive. Definitely a New Vegas style place. He preferred Old Vegas.
    The limo followed.
    Ned wished there was more traffic. The Strip wasn’t so crowded this late, though there were still plenty of people shuffling from casino to casino with their cups full of tokens. Most of the tourists had gone to bed, and the hard-core partiers owned the town from now until dawn. Ordinarily he loved this time of night, but the Lincoln prowling behind him killed his pleasure.
    Trying to distract himself, Ned gazed at the lights of the casinos, looking for differences now. If he’d been gone long enough for the Desert Inn to go down and that slick bastard to go up in its place, he’d lost a few years.
    Jesus. Years. Holy crap.
    He didn’t want to think about that. Instead he looked at the hotels, seeking familiar places. Bellagio and Paris were both open—they had been under construction last he knew. The heap next door to Paris was vaguely familiar, then he saw the sign that said Planet Hollywood and almost pissed his pants. It was huge, a three-armed thing that looked like the old Aladdin on steroids, swollen to three times its normal size.
    That’s right. They’d torn the old Aladdin down. He’d watched the demolition with some friends. Donny had been there, come to think of it. Ned had been feeling down because he’d lost his gaming license. They’d mourned about that and about the loss of another Old Vegas hotel, about how the new Aladdin was going to be a mega-resort like Wynn’s new Bellagio, with a mall built in so the gals could shop while the men played the tables.
    Had they scrapped that plan? Built this slick, white Planet Hollywood thing instead? Ned wouldn’t have thought Donny’d be caught dead living in a place like that.
    The cabbie pulled up to the entrance and gave him a bored glance. He told her to wait and hurried into the lobby. Soft, thick carpet hushed his footsteps. He looked anxiously around for Donny and spotted him next to a big potted palm.
    Donny looked as wiry as ever. There was a lot more gray in his curly black hair than Ned remembered. He was dressed in a rumpled red jogging suit, and looked less than happy. Ned put on a smile.
    â€œDonny. Thanks, pal, I knew you’d come through for me. You got the hundred?”
    â€œFuck, it is you!”
    â€œOf course it’s me! Listen, somebody’s done a number on me. Give me that cash so I can pay the cab and then we’ll talk about it.”
    Donny slowly put his hand in his pocket, eyes fixed on Ned in a puzzled frown. He pulled out a small wad of twenties and handed it over.
    â€œThanks, pal. You’re the man. Be right back.”
    Ned hurried out to the cab and ransomed his jacket with three of the twenties. He looked for the limo but didn’t see it—which didn’t make him feel any better. He shoved the other bills in his pocket, slung the jacket over his shoulder, and went back to the lobby.
    Donny led him to a bar where they retired to a booth in the back and ordered double whiskeys. Low music thumped in the background, and the place was cool and dark. Ned took a large swallow of his drink and sighed, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned his cuffs, turning them back a couple of times.
    â€œI can’t believe it,” Donny said,