by Alex P. Berg
16
I stepped back into the heart of the casino proper and blinked. Though I’d thought it bustling before, I’d been wrong. At least twice as many people packed its halls now, drinking and laughing and huddling around card tables. Cigar smoke choked the air, that of fine tobacco but overpowering nonetheless. A ball clacked and clattered against the hardwood sides of a roulette wheel before it was drowned in a cheer from the surrounding crowd.
I scanned the room. The men wore suits of rich fabrics in dark colors, blacks and navy blues and browns, but the women had by and large dressed to stand out. Gowns of bright yellow and purple and red dotted the landscape, like flowers bursting from the ground after the last winter thaw.
To me, they were a distraction. I kept my eyes on the black coats and shirts, scanning them for anyone too small and diminutive to be of the male persuasion. A flash of natural light caught my eye, and suddenly I saw her. Wanda, sliding through one of the exits into the Prodigious’s interior.
I’d had my eyes on her throughout the morning, or at least a single eye, given her position at my right elbow. Theo hadn’t lied about her. She made Orrin, the table’s resident brooder, seem downright chatty. She hadn’t uttered a single word during the morning’s session—not one—instead choosing to communicate with the dealer entirely through table taps, finger gestures, and flicks of her cards. In addition to that, she’d barely moved. She played every hand as if it were the same, giving no indication as to her cards or her psychology or even if she needed to use the bathroom. Not that she would. She hadn’t drunk anything either.
It wasn’t her table demeanor that interested me, however. It was her public presence. She hadn’t attended the mixer the night before, nor the ball, and I hadn’t spotted her at breakfast in the morning, either. It could be she simply wasn’t social—in fact, I’d bet money on it—but while her antisocial nature might preclude her from fraternizing with her opponents over drinks or a meal, it didn’t say anything about her ability or desire to meet with them one on one in private in their rooms or, say, a baggage compartment.
Her hasty exit from the high stakes room certainly didn’t do anything to quell my suspicions. I hurried after her, mouthing apologies as I bumped into the backs of people in the space between tables. When I made it through the same exit she’d taken, I glanced up and down the hallway, but I didn’t spot her. To the right beckoned the exit to the ship’s deck, while to the left lay access to the rest of the ship’s bridge deck and the staterooms on the promenade deck.
I’d never considered myself the world’s best tail, mostly due to my lack of fleet feet and my larger than average size, but I did know a bit of the science behind the art. Half the battle was thinking quickly and predicting the most likely course of action of the subject. Despite her turtleneck, Wanda wasn’t dressed to spend time outdoors, and given all our presences in the high stakes room, our staterooms were unoccupied, meaning there was a better than average chance she’d headed toward the bridge deck.
I went left. I chose correctly. I spotted a glimpse of black slacks as I turned the corner, disappearing into a stairwell.
I trailed at a distance, following her up the stairs, down the main portside corridor on the promenade deck, and around a corner. I’d expected she might stop at one of the staterooms, either hers or someone else’s, but she surprised me, hooking a right away from the guest quarters and toward a part of the ship I hadn’t yet visited. After two dozen paces, she pushed her way through a pair of swinging double doors. I caught a flash of natural light and a healthy dose of green, but little else.
I didn’t think she’d noticed me, but I needed to proceed with caution. I wasn’t sure what I was heading into, and if Wanda did make me, I’d lose the only advantage I had. I counted to twenty seconds in my head and followed her in.
The brightness caught me off guard. The room that opened up before me had high ceilings of solid glass, and sunlight from an abnormally cloud-free day poured in. Thousands of plants, from ankle high creepers to ten foot tall trees, soaked in the rays, some in wide communal troughs, others in terracotta pots, and still others in hanging baskets, but the room wasn’t solely a greenhouse. Rather it was some sort of conservatory, with white wicker chairs and tables strategically distributed throughout the greenery. It was a beautiful space for whiling away the daylight hours—or for escaping detection.
I made my rounds, walking up and down the aisles separated by thick rows of vegetation, but I already knew I’d been beat. Other than an elderly woman reading underneath a wide-fronded tropical tree and a snoring gentleman who looked like he’d enjoyed the overnight festivities a little too much, I found nothing—except for another staircase at the far side of the room, that is.
I followed it and made my way back to the dining room, where I found Shay seated by herself at a corner table.
“There you are,” she said. “I took the liberty of ordering, seeing as we’ll be short on time. I hope you’re in the mood for a bouillabaisse. The waiter said it’s scrumptious. Has fresh caught rockfish, not to mention mussels and sea urchin.”
“Seriously?” I said as I took a seat. “You ordered me a fish stew?”
“Well, yes. I…” Shay’s face fell.
I felt as if she’d kicked me in the chest. I could be such a heel sometimes. “Look, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sure it’ll be delicious, and you know I—”
A smile crept across Shay’s face.
“You didn’t really order me the stew, did you?”
Shay snickered. “I’m sorry. I had to. You’re so easy sometimes. And be honest, if you were in my shoes, you totally would’ve told me you’d ordered me a baloney sandwich or something equally insipid. But never fear. The bouillabaisse is mine. You have a steak and mashed potatoes on the way.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “You know, I’m confident in my bluffing skills, but forcing my way through that would’ve put them to the test.”
Shay glanced into the dining room, but it was as joyous and loud as before. “So…who’d you follow? Johann or Wanda?”
“The latter,” I said. “But she must’ve made me. I lost her upstairs. But it wasn’t a complete loss. I found a space up there I think you’ll love.”
Shay lifted an eyebrow.
“A greenhouse,” I said. “Lots of gorgeous plants, and seats to sit and relax.”
“As if we have time to do any of that.”
“You never know,” I said. “We might get this wrapped up by the afternoon. Then it’s all paid vacation from here on out.”
“Your optimism is unsettling, especially given your recent failure with Wanda.”
“I know, but it’s better than the crushing pessimism I usually carry around and hand out for free, wouldn’t you say?”
Shay smiled. “Either way, thanks for thinking of me. I’d love to go up there after the afternoon’s round of poker.”
I nodded, but Shay didn’t have to thank me. Thinking of her had become one of my favorite pastimes of late.
17
I took a slow sip of my apricot whiskey sour, which I’d been nursing since sitting down at the poker table hours ago. As much as I enjoyed the beverage, I had no intention of letting the drink’s demons inhabit me, as they had a way of making themselves at home and refusing to leave one they did.
Jimmy didn’t seem to suffer the same misgivings. He’d been drinking like a fish ever since we’d returned from lunch, and even with his impressive mass, the spirits were taking their toll. His eyes drooped, the stench of alcohol sweat rolled off him, and correspondingly, he’d hit a rough stretch. Now he’d turned noticeably snappier, and his joking threats had taken on a sharper tenor.
Jimmy snarled at Theo. “You gonna bet, shrimp, or what?”
“Hey, no need to get personal,” said the gnome as he tapped his fingers on the table. “You don’t see me calling you derogatory animal-based names because of your size, and trust me I could. Ther
e’s lots to choose from. Rhino. Elephant. Whale, though I’m not really sure if that’s a good one. You’re big, but thick. I don’t know how well you’d float. You practice your strokes?”
Jimmy repeated himself, but slower this time and angrier if possible. “You gonna bet, or not?”
“I’m thinking,” said Theo. “You know, using the old gray matter? This is game of intellect. If you don’t think through everything, you’ll never win. Seriously, you might want to write that down. I don’t give that sort of advice out free of charge most of the time, but I’m feeling generous due to your…eh, chip situation. I mean, seriously? Come on, man.” He waved at Jimmy’s pile, which had dwindled to about half its initial size.
Jimmy growled at the rest of the table. “Would someone please make this midget bet before I tear his fingers off and use them to plug my ears?”
“Whoa there,” said Theo. “No need to threaten violence. Thought it does make my choice on this hand easier. I fold.” He tossed his cards toward the dealer.
“Finally.” Jimmy pushed half his chips in, about five thousand crowns worth. “I raise.”
Wanda folded, silently as always. After skipping lunch in the dining room, she’d appeared back at the high stakes poker room right at the top of the hour. She hadn’t changed her strategy one iota. If she had in fact spotted me, she didn’t plan on letting me know, nor had she made any move that made me think my presence at her elbow made her uncomfortable. She was cold as ice. Maybe she had spent time on the Prodigious’s breezy deck, after all.
I had a queen and a jack, off suit. Not a bad hand, but nothing to wager five thousand crowns over. I shook my head and folded. “Too rich for my blood.”
Orrin folded too, sending the bet to Ghorza, who’d started the hand. Her initial bet was on the line, but it paled in comparison to Jimmy’s recently pushed forth pile.
Ghorza stroked her chin between thumb and index finger and took another sip of water. She’d drunk nothing else all day, but the most basic of beverages seemed to have worked its magic. The woman’s complexion had finally improved, and she’d abandoned her hat and glasses about an hour ago. She’d also begun to put more effort into the game, at least to my eyes. I’d noticed her stroking her chin on more than one occasion, but every time she’d done so she’d ultimately folded, so I hadn’t been able to put my knowledge to use.
Ghorza set her glass down and pushed her cards forward. “Go ahead and take my small blind, Jimmy. I don’t want it that badly.”
I suppressed a smile. I’d been right about Ghorza. Now if only she’d stroke her chin like that on a bet, I might be able to take advantage of her.
Verona puffed on her cigarette holder and eyed Jimmy. She’d put forth the hand’s big blind, but it had barely made a dent in her chip pile, swelled by her defeat of Johann and a few other successful hands. An empty highball glass sat in front of her, red half moons on the top from where her lipstick had rubbed off. Amazingly, it had sat there for nearly two hours without her having waved at the bartender for a refill. Perhaps even she had her limits.
“So, Jimmy,” said Verona. “It appears no one is willing to challenge you. But I suppose you’re used to subservience, aren’t you?”
“I’m used to getting what I want,” he said. “And I crush anyone who gets in my way. That’s why they call me The Hammer.”
“Well, you’re blunt if nothing else,” said Verona. “But I think it would behoove all of us to know if your newfound bluster is warranted or is in fact just that. So I’ll call your bet.” She pushed forth enough chips to match. She blew smoke across the table through puckered lips and flicked her fingers at the dealer for more cards.
Patty obliged, putting three down on the table. The jack of spades, ten of hearts, and two of clubs.
Jimmy chuckled and flashed an evil smile. “Wrong move, Verona. Get ready to feel the weight of my hardened steel face.” He stuck his hand out and let it hover over his remaining chips.
Theo snorted. “Dude, I’ve got to say, that hammer metaphor is getting pretty tired. But if we’re using metal-based analogies, I’ll throw another one at you. If you’re going to make threats like that, at least have the brass leg slappers to go through with it. Come on, man. Take a stand.”
“Shut it, you little weasel. I make my own choices.” Jimmy’s fingers danced over his chip pile for another few seconds before he pushed the entire thing toward the middle of the table. “I’m all in.”
All eyes shifted to Verona. She considered the cards that had been turned as she smoked. After a moment, she shrugged, rolled her eyes, and tossed her cards face up on the table. “Fine. I call.”
She revealed the king and queen of hearts, putting her an ace or a nine shy of a straight but with nothing but a high card for the time being.
Jimmy flipped his cards face up, too. The jack of diamonds and ten of clubs. That gave him two pair right off the bat—not a bad hand given what Verona had revealed, but not particularly good either, and worse than my own starting hand. The off suit jack ten certainly wasn’t anything I would’ve wagered five thousand crowns on right off the bat, but maybe Jimmy was a looser player than I thought. I’d have to remember that if he won the hand.
Patty set the fourth card on the table. The five of hearts. Verona was now a heart, a nine, or an ace away from eliminating the game’s second player.
The elderly elf woman tapped her cigarette’s ashes into a tray. “Still feeling confident, Jimmy?”
“You’ve got nothing,” he said. “And hammers don’t sweat.”
But sweat he did. Moisture dotted his brow, and veins stuck out on his forehead, probably from the force with which he clenched his jaw.
Patty flipped the final card. The nine of diamonds.
Jimmy stood and slammed his fists into the table, knocking over several of our stacks of chips. “NO! DAMNIT!”
“King nine straight over two pair, jacks and tens,” said Patty. “Game to Madam Quivven.”
“This is bullshit. BULLSHIT!” Jimmy turned and punted his chair, sending it crashing into the wall. The crowd above gasped. “This game is rigged! A nine? Give me a freakin’ break. And you!” He jabbed a thick finger at Theo. “You egged me into it, you little slime!”
“What? Me?” Theo pushed himself as far back into his chair as he could and shrunk down, trying to hide among the padding. “I didn’t tell you to go all in. That was all you!”
I stood up and put my hands out in an appeasing manner, all while a pair of the ship’s security officers came in through the door in response to the noise.
“Settle down, Jimmy,” I said. “You knew the risks when you signed up for this, same as we did. It’s a game of chance as much as it is skill.”
Jimmy glared at me with burning, whiskey-fueled eyes as the two guards converged on him, taking positions at his sides. One of them gestured toward the door. “Sir?”
“Don’t touch me,” said Jimmy. “I can see myself out. And I hope all of you rot in hell.”
Jimmy snapped his jacket over his shoulders and stormed out the exit. Boos rained down on him as he left.
To her credit, Patty didn’t miss a beat. She gathered the cards and helped move the pile of chips to Verona’s spot. After shuffling the cards, she set them aside. “I apologize for that unpleasantness,” she said, as if she’d had anything to do with the matter, “but on that note, I think it’s time we break for the evening. We’ll resume the tournament tomorrow morning at eight o’clock sharp.”
I crossed to Steele’s chair to help her from her seat. “Doing alright?”
“Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrugged. “Jimmy’s outburst.” Theo had crossed to the bar, but he still looked shaken. A brazen front could only get you so far when you were a gnome going up against a troll-hybrid.
“As if I haven’t dealt with worse.”
“It’s just that it was very…violent,” I said. “And
sudden.”
I think Steele figured out I was thinking about more than what happened at the poker table. “Would you care to head to our quarters to discuss it in more detail?”
I held out my arm for Steele to take. “Let’s.”
18
I unlocked the door to our stateroom, held it open for Shay, and locked it behind us. Shay took a seat in one of the opulent chairs in our living room, and I joined her, seating myself across from her.
“So,” said Shay. “I take it you have theories about Jimmy you wanted to run by me?”
“Theories might be too strong a word,” I said. “These are loose collections of thoughts I haven’t sifted through yet.”
“Hunches, then? Inklings? Misgivings?”
“Even suspicions and funny feelings.”
“Well why don’t you fetch me a glass of water and a thesaurus while you figure out which.”
I stood and crossed to our bar, where I lifted a pitcher and pulled a glass off a rack. “The point is, I’m concerned by Jimmy’s behavior. It should be obvious why. The guy’s established himself as hotheaded and violent, and those are traits to be aware of when searching for a guy who just stabbed someone else in the back. And let’s not ignore the fact that he’s big, tall, and strong. For him, it would’ve been easy to—”
“Daggers?”
“Yes?” I set the glass of water on the coffee table in front of Steele.
“The couch cushions are misaligned. Someone’s been in our cabin again.”
I swore. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Okay, standard protocols. Check for stowaways, see if any of our personal belongings are missing, and keep an eye out for evidence that might’ve been left behind.”
I checked Shay’s room first, in the wash closet and under the bed, to make sure she’d be safe before retiring to my own quarters. There I sifted through my bags of clothes and shoes again, which I still hadn’t unpacked. Everything seemed to be there, although I had no idea if it was precisely where I’d left it or not. My sense of placement with regards to minutiae wasn’t nearly as acute as Shay’s.
