At the end of the table, the wheel spun silently, spotlighted by a golden chandelier. He was flanked on either side by his companions: a Serbian businessman with deep bags under his eyes and a bottle-blond Hungarian woman. After a few minutes, he settled at a roulette table in the Carmen Room, set apart from the main playing area. That night, March 15, 2004, the thin Croatian seemed to be looking for something. The casino inspected a wheel he’d played at for signs of tampering and found none. A manager would later say in a written statement that Tosa was the most successful player he’d witnessed in 25 years on the job.
He’d visited the Ritz half a dozen times over the previous two weeks, astounding staff with his knack for roulette and walking away with several thousand pounds each time. Niko Tosa, a Croatian with rimless glasses balanced on the narrow ridge of his nose, scanned the gaming floor, attentive as a hawk.
The security team paid particularly close attention to one of the three, their apparent leader. Casino workers greeted them with hushed reverence. Security officers in a back room logged their entry and watched a grainy CCTV feed as the trio strolled past high gilded arches and oil paintings of gentlemen posing in hats. One spring evening, two men and a woman walked into the Ritz Club casino, an upmarket establishment in London’s West End.
