Sin City (40 page)

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Authors: Harold Robbins

BOOK: Sin City
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She stared at the screen. Another deal: two cards facedown.
“Let's see Wan's hand,” she told the control room. “And Zack's.”
When they lifted their hands, Wan had a five and a two—seven. Hard to beat. Zack pulled a king and a three. Thirteen points, which gave him three, because face cards and ten counted as zero. Wan dealt him an eight. That gave him eleven, and since only the second number counted, he had a total of one. He had lost again.
I asked for a five-minute break to stretch my legs. From the looks of the crowd that had gathered, the game was also as popular as the fire-breathing roller coaster. My name buzzed from ear to ear in whispers. I expected to be asked for my autograph at any moment. “Give 'em hell, Zack,” someone yelled. I smiled and waved back. I didn't know the guy from Adam. But I guess calling a celebrity like me by his first name made the guy feel important.
I called Morgan on the house phone, chuckling over the idea that I was now a celebrity.
“See anything yet?” I asked.
“You losing your shirt.”
“I'll be down to my shorts soon if I don't figure out how Wan's cheating.” I got the sounds of silence from the other end.
“How are the kids?” I didn't know what else to say.
“They're fine. If you're going to lose, do it quickly. We'll be leaving as soon as you're cleaned out.”
She hung up on me. There were two things I knew I could count on with Morgan. When she was mad at me, she'd let me know. And when the chips were down, she'd back me up. And then pound me when I was back on my feet. I knew she'd be up there looking for the gimmick until the game was over, of that I was sure.
I poured a Jack Coke and moseyed back to the table. Mr. Wan was leaning back and smoking a cigar. I sat down and gave him a stare.
“You know, don't you, that they'd never let you run a casino in this town. If you ever got a controlling interest in a club, the gaming board would pull its license, pronto.”
He waved the cigar at me. “I have no intention of running this casino. My old friend, Mr. Chow, will represent me in any necessary dealings.”
“Fat chance on Chow getting a gaming license.”
“Those are small hills to be climbed, Mr. Riordan. Right now I have to scale a mountain.”
I saluted him with my drink. “You'll never see the summit, Wan, the altitude will be too much for you.”
I was dealt two sevens, fourteen, which gave me four. The hit was a three, making my total seven. Not bad. Wan turned over an ace and a five, for a total of six. I won. The shoe passed to me.
I dealt myself a natural eight. Things were beginning to look up. I kibitzed as we played. If Wan was cheating, maybe keeping up a conversation might break his concentration and cause him to inadvertently expose his gimmick. Cheating and talking were like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time.
“Hear anything more about Chenza?” I asked.
“Miss Troy, I understand, met an Arab prince in Tokyo and is now cohabiting with him in a sheikdom somewhere in the Persian Gulf.”
“You can't keep a good woman down. Have you murdered anyone since you had Luis bumped off?”
Wan didn't flicker an eye.
“No one that didn't have it coming.” He spoke with an American gangster's accent. And cackled.
I was doing pretty good, getting back my losses. The deal shifted to Wan. He turned to speak to Chow and knocked the shoe off the table. For a split second, I froze. So did the croupier and ladderman. But people in the crowd were more vocal. I heard everything from gasps of surprise to four-letter words. The word
cheating
seemed to be a popular response to the move.
I looked back at the peanut gallery and got thumbs up and muttered sympathies. “Don't take that shit,” someone yelled.
“So sorry,” Mr. Wan said.
“Everyone get up and stand back from the table,” the ladderman said. “The croupier will retrieve the shoe and cards.”
I went and got another drink and Moody handed me the phone.
“If that was an accident, I'll kiss your feet,” Morgan said.
“We'll have a new deck, new shoe, and I'll check them out.”
“It doesn't make sense. I can hear Dad yelling at me from the grave.”
I knew what she meant. My internal Geiger counter was screaming.
Back at the table I rejected the six decks of cards the croupier pulled out.
“Mr. Wan, to make sure we use clean decks, you can pick the decks from our supply cabinet in the gaming area. And a new shoe.”
He cackled again. I hated that sound.
“No need. Choose any decks, any
sabot.”
I sent Moody for six fresh decks and a shoe and gave the cards to the croupier. While the automatic shuffler was going, I examined the new shoe and passed it to Wan. He brushed it aside. He seemed to be greatly amused at my precautions.
“Sorry to be so cautious, Mr. Wan, but I want to make sure you get a fair break. I know how important this match must be to you.”
“Oh, no, no, Mr. Riordan, you are incorrect. This match is not of great import to me. You see, I am just here because of money. You have mine and I want it back. You are here because of pride. If you lose, your fall will be much greater than mine had I proved the loser.”
“You know, ever since I met you, you've been giving me those cute little Oriental pearls of wisdom. How about if you shove the next one up your ass.”
“Mr. Riordan, there is no necessity for you to be uncivilized.”
“You're right, but I was just thinking about A-Ma. It's your deal. Hopefully, you'll get what's coming to you during this game and I won't have to wait for you to burn in hell.”
“I did not cause the death of A-Ma. For some people, living is more painful than dying.”
He won again. And again. What luck the bastard was having.
“You know, of course, that you will never really win,” I said. “I don't give a damn how this game goes. I'd sooner burn the place down before I'd let you have it.”
He won again. He never seemed to deal himself anything less than a six-point count.
Moody gave me a grim look. He bent down and whispered, “You can call this stupid match off anytime.”
“Too late. I'm down millions.”
My voice carried loud enough so Wan caught the gist of what I said.
“Yes, it is too late.”
“There's an old American expression you can add to your Eastern
pearls: ‘Don't count your chickens before they hatch'.”
I finally won a hand. The tension was crawling up my back and tying the muscles in my neck. I leaned back and stretched, staring up at the mirrored ceiling. I froze in mid-stretch as I saw a familiar face in the group of onlookers behind the cordoned-off playing zone. It gave me a hell of a jolt.
Windell.
He grinned at me, exposing the gap between the front teeth my fist had left. He had false teeth there last time I saw him, and I got the hint—it was payback time for me busting his chops and sending him off to jail.
“Taking five.” I got up from the table and went over to the drink table and poured myself another Jack Coke. Windell. Going for the money, of course, that's what Windell always did. And Forbidden City was the biggest jackpot in the world.
Windell. Wan. There had to be a connection. A gimmick. It all added up. But what it totaled was still beyond me.
The house phone rang. Moody answered it and gave it to me.
“What's going on?” Morgan asked.
“Windell's here.”
“Windell? Your computer nerd buddy? Jesus, do you think he'd help Wan?”
“Do chickens have lips? Windell would sell his mother for a nickel jackpot. Besides, he doesn't cheat for the money. He cheats to cheat.”
“But Wan wouldn't be stupid enough—”
“To let Windell parade through here? You're right, but Windell's dumb enough to do it. You can always trust Windell to screw you—and shoot himself in the foot doing it. Don't you remember how your old man caught on to my act?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Punt.”
“Punt?”
“It's what you do when it's fourth down and your back is to the wall.”
I returned to the table. As I sat down, it suddenly struck me. It was just a process of elimination. I had clued in on every possible way that the gimmick could be done, from the cards, croupier, shoe, and Wan. I left out just one thing, and so that had to be it.
The croupier passed me the deck. As I reached for it, I turned to say something to Moody and “accidentally” pushed the shoe off the table.
“Hell, sorry about that. We'll need new decks and a new shuffle.”
Wan's eyes immediately went to the automatic shuffler and back to me. It was the first tipoff that he had given.
The shuffler had to be the gimmick, of course. Windell had bugged it so it stacked the deck—but only when fresh decks were used. Fresh decks came in a set order of suits and value. Windell would have bugged the shuffler based on that order, and maybe only for the first dozen or so hands, because that's how Wan was winning, hand after hand after shuffling fresh decks for about ten of fifteen hands, and then the play started evening out between us.
That's why he dropped the shoe, to force a new shuffle and new decks when it was his turn to deal. Now it was my deal—and I had fresh decks. I had no idea how Windell could bug a shuffler. But if it could be done, that perverted twerp would be the one who could do it. They say the good Lord acts in mysterious ways. So does electronics.
I dealt myself a natural nine first time out the gate. I grinned at Wan. “I guess Lady Luck is finally turning my way. Want to get this over quick? How about we play one hand for table stakes? Winner take all.”
He nodded. “That will be satisfactory.”
That surprised the hell out of me.
“You have miscalculated me, Mr. Riordan. To your detriment, you have failed to prepare yourself for the battle.”
“Funny thing, Mr. Wan, I did get around to reading Sun Tzu, but I'm finding out that what I learned from a couple of old-time Nevada gambling men comes in more handy than your ancient general's advice.”
“You may have read Sun Tzu, but like many of your culture, you have failed to understand what he is saying, even after I pointed you in the correct direction.”
“Maybe I'm a little dense.” I dealt the cards. Wan left his sitting untouched, as I did mine. “Maybe you can tell me how Sun Tzu is going to give you a winning hand.”
He cackled, goddamn, just like a hen. The sound was like fingernails on a blackboard.
“You still do not understand, Mr. Riordan. I told you that Sun Tzu taught that one must take from the enemy that which the enemy holds dearest.”
“And we'll know if you succeeded when we turn the cards over.”
He shook his head and grinned, toothy, a little foolishly, like he was enjoying a private joke. Then the smile went off his face and I met those dark pools where his eyes belonged.
“You still do not comprehend, Mr. Riordan. I have already won. I have taken what you hold dearest.”
I repeated his words in my mind:
I have taken what you hold dearest
. Hold dearest. The phrase vibrated between my ears. Forbidden City was everything I had. I closed my eyes. I suddenly realized what a fool I was. I had been wrong. My heart began racing.
Moody handed me the phone. I didn't even hear it ring.
“Zack.
Zack
!” Morgan screamed.
The line went dead. I held the phone to my ear, listening to the dial tone. I was unable to move, to even flinch, my spine was cold at the bone. I lifted my head to look up at Moody. A little twinge of guilt swept across his face. And shame. Then his features turned mean. I should have seen it coming. Moody always had his hand out. Everything he did for me cost an arm and a leg and he wanted more. He had not wanted to get paid for nailing Ricketts; he wanted to get rich. I turned him down and Wan had met his price. The two men he sent to guard Morgan and the kids had obviously kidnapped them.
I handed him back the phone. “You're dead,” I whispered.
“Fuck you,” Moody said.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The croupier and ladderman both stared at me.
“Zack—” the croupier said. His hand was on the security call buzzer.
“Don't touch it,” I said.
I looked up at the ladderman and pulled my right ear.
My cards were still facedown in front of me. I wondered where they had taken Morgan and the kids. They couldn't have had much time to get them out of the place. Most likely they were still in the casino. If they touched her or the kids …
I shook my head at Wan. “No, I'm afraid your Chinese general failed you on this one. I won't let you win this way. I'm going to play my
cards the way I want to. When I get a call and know they're safely out on the street, I'll play my cards.”

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