Thieves' Guild Series (7 eBook Box Set): Military Science Fiction - Alien Invasion - Galactic War Novels

by C. G. Hatton

  He’d smiled before he could catch it. He glanced up. Mr Twitchy grimaced at him, said, “Jesus, you’re killing me,” and threw in his hand. He looked like he might stand up but he just shuffled his weight and slouched down again.

  LC looked again at his own cards. His hand was crap. He smiled confidently and raised extravagantly, tossing the chips casually into the growing pile.

  Mr Calm folded, still watching LC quite openly. It was down to Mr Black and the woman. LC had nothing. He took a sip of the liquor. It was expensive whisky and the drug in it was pulling his senses sideways.

  The blonde blew out another perfect ring of smoke that spiralled up. She considered the pile of chips in the centre of the table and looked from face to face. She was curious and bemused and LC could hear clearly that she was thinking they had a sucker here that would do them fine.

  They both saw the raise and the dealer added more, challenging him to match it.

  LC shook his head, smiled and folded, tossing the cards in face down and tossing back more of the liquor.

  Black beat the blonde with two tens and a, “Hard luck, my dear.”

  “How about a decent hand next time,” Mr Twitchy said, mopping his forehead with a cloth.

  The deck moved left. LC kept track of the cards, despite a growing fuzzy headache pulling at the back of his skull. The tumblers were topped up constantly and he couldn’t see how they were filling their own glasses any differently. It was always possible they’d taken some kind of neutraliser.

  Twitchy was struggling with it. LC could feel the conflict of desperation and over eager optimism from the guy, emotions swinging as wildly as his bets. He had a reason for needing to win, something personal. Probably as desperate as Gallagher had been and LC hated the pair sitting so serenely across the table for pulling this scam. He’d cheated at games himself before but he’d never hurt anyone, at least no one who didn’t deserve it.

  When his glass was empty, he made a show of pushing it forward and watching the woman intently until it was filled, then knocking back half the liquor in one like he didn’t care how drunk he was getting.

  They thought he was a sure thing and when he accidentally knocked over his stack of chips, the two hustlers exchanged glances that they didn’t think he’d noticed. Mr Twitchy laughed.

  After another couple of rounds, LC decided Mr Calm wasn’t a bounty hunter. There was nothing in his mind but a determined concentration on the cards. He was doing well, really well, until he took a nosedive.

  He had two aces. LC had already folded and he could see the hand easily.

  He threw in two cards and was dealt an ace and a seven. Three aces. His face was impeccably neutral but LC could feel the tension in the man, the dilemma of knowing that the risk was too high but something saying screw it, go for it. That’s what they were all fighting against. The drug was inhibiting caution. And Mr Calm had been dealt three aces by Mr Black who’d already folded and had already dealt his partner four threes.

  That was the scam right there. The hustlers were manipulating the deck and the liquor was taking away the inhibitions of the other suckers around the table. LC could feel it himself.

  Mr Calm didn’t say a word. He simply pushed forward his stack of chips.

  Twitchy leaned forward. “All in. Jesus, man. Why can’t I get that kind of hand?” LC couldn’t figure out what he had riding on this game but it was something big and something the guy cared about.

  The blonde winked at LC and pushed forward a matching stack of chips and for a long heartbeat Mr Calm felt doubt, despite the drug. He laid out his three aces and when the four of a kind appeared in the hand she spread, Calm simply stood up and walked away, at least one hundred thousand down and no looking back.

  It was a relief that he was gone.

  They played two more hands, LC folding each time – on an average hand dealt by Mr Twitchy and a hand with ten, jack, queen dealt by Mr Black. That got him curious glances from the two of them and confirmed the hustle. They’d been expecting him to bet high and would have stung him for it.

  After that a hefty looking guy in a slick grey suit joined the game. Before he sat, he leaned over the table offering his hand to each player in turn. “Malone,” he said.

  Mr Twitchy stood up and shook, saying, “Tennison. You better have some serious balls there, Malone, this is one helluva game.”

  Malone laughed. No one else offered a name and he sat. He was cocky and talkative until the dope kicked in then he played on tilt, reckless and panicky.

  It made LC’s head throb. He turned it back at the hustlers slow and steady each time he got his hands on the deck. He was good and being able to read each hand around the table made it almost too easy.

  He figured out he was playing one stacked deal against his own and it was slow going. He could feel his vision start to blur and the knot in his back was cramping as his body tried desperately to neutralise the drug.

  Mr Black was the one who could throw the cards any way he wanted and he was good. The blonde was called Carrick. He picked that up from listening in to Black’s thoughts. She was just his scam-buddy and as well as the loaded hands, they had a system of elaborate tells they were using.

  LC played steady, matching Malone’s wild stakes when he knew for sure he had the winning hand and folding enough times that no one took too much notice of him. When he had the deck, he threw winners out to Tennison and Carrick often enough that the pile in front of Mr Twitchy Tennison crept back to respectable as fast as LC’s own stack of chips grew.

  Malone took off his jacket when he got down to thirty thou. “Hot in here,” he said and moved his stack around as if he could make it grow just by spreading out the chips.

  LC’s headache peaked. He was overheating too and it wasn’t just the room. He kept on drinking, breathing carefully to lower his heart rate, and just as he thought he might pass out right there at the table, he felt his head start to clear as his system began to cope with the drug.

  He looked from face to face, reading the emotions and intentions of each person sitting there, seeing their cards and looking into their minds easily. He could strip away the layers and see their deepest secrets. He could see the contempt Carrick had for her partner, Black’s fear of being caught and locked up again, and Malone’s hatred for the woman whose money he was squandering. And LC didn’t even need to look at Tennison to know why the man needed to win here.

  It was absurd. And it was time to stop running. He knocked back another glass of whisky, feeling like he could take on the universe. It was time to find Anya and show whichever fucked up corporation had dared to screw them over what happened when you messed with the Thieves’ Guild.

  LC glanced at the two queens in his hand and casually folded, letting Malone take the win on two tens.

  Malone slapped the table and grinned. “Good gods, about time. Now let me show you how this game is played, gentlemen.”

  Tennison laughed and clinked glasses with him, neither of them with the faintest idea why their fortunes had changed.

  That was the way LC needed to keep it but after a while he picked up that Black was beginning to suspect something. The man was good himself so it wasn’t a surprise that he should see if someone else was manipulating the deck. And the pile of chips in front of the man had diminished noticeably.

  Black started to work his fingers nervously, cracking his knuckles, itching to say something to Carrick. He wasn’t sure. LC could see it in his eyes and hear the uncertainty, the guy arguing with himself each time LC shuffled and dealt – no one could be that good, he was thinking.

  It was hard not to smile.

  LC dealt him two aces. No one else had anything worth a damn. Black eyed his hand and watched the bets, watching Carrick for a tell but the blonde folded with an exaggerated sigh and lit another cigar. Paranoia won out and Black folded, staring at LC as he ditched the hand, expecting a sting, eyes narrowing as he saw Tennison take the pot with a pair of fives.

 
The tension built and next time round, LC dealt a winner to Carrick, narrowly beating Malone’s two tens with two tens and king high.

  “Jesus, Malone, your luck schtinks tonight,” LC said, leaning on the table like he was trying to steady himself, adding, “Nice one, Carrick,” with a wink as he passed on the deck and held out his glass for a refill. Both the hustlers were smart enough not to react but the confusion was almost overwhelming. No one had mentioned their names and there was no way LC should know, unless, Black was thinking, they had something going on and he was being screwed by his own scam-buddy.

  Black looked at Carrick, then looked down at her stack of chips. She was confused but too good to show it. She licked a finger and ran it in a circle around the rim of her glass, casting her attentions over to Malone.

  For the next few rounds, Black dealt himself winners and Carrick got nothing. In his turn, LC made sure only himself and Tennison were dealt anything worthwhile and the chips migrated steadily away from the two con artists. Malone couldn’t keep up and when he left, no one came in to replace him.

  So much for Olivia’s waiting list.

  Mr Twitchy Tennison started to sit back and calm down, enjoying the game. LC dealt him three, four, five, six of hearts, throwing three jacks at Mr Black.

  “Shit,” Tennison muttered and raised a reserved five thou, like he didn’t quite trust the hand. LC could tell he hadn’t been counting the cards and he hadn’t been playing the odds.

  LC folded and watched Carrick eye him suspiciously before she folded too. Black saw the raise and gestured across for two cards, snapping his fingers impatiently at Carrick to fill the tumblers. Whatever his double-crossing bitch of a buddy had going with the fool, he was thinking, that fool was still drinking the crap in the whisky and it was obviously having an effect.

  LC smiled, paused for one long moment, then dealt the fourth jack to Black.

  Tennison asked for one and LC tossed him a seven of hearts.

  The two men stared at each other. LC felt Tennison’s blood pressure rise as he swallowed down an urge to gloat. He tentatively pushed all in.

  Black had no choice but to fold or match. LC slouched, drinking down the rest of the liquor in his glass as they waited.

  Carrick was staring at LC. He knew she was seriously starting to suspect they were getting hustled and couldn’t figure out why her partner was being a dick.

  Mr Black ran a hand over his hair and smiled.

  Touch and go. If he went all in, they had them down to one.

  How could you lose with four jacks? Black was thinking about the two aces. How he could have won earlier with the two aces that he’d folded.

  Carrick shook her head imperceptibly.

  LC peered into his glass like he was astonished it was empty and pushed it forward, tapping it on the table for a top up. “What the hell is this?” he said, letting a slight slur slip into his voice. “This is good schtuff.” He blinked and grinned at Tennison.

  The woman drained her own glass and as she reached for the bottle, Black went all in. LC could hear him think there was no way the hand was crooked, he hadn’t seen a thing, nobody could be that good, nobody could be that good after drinking down that much Banitol.

  Shit. Banitol was nasty stuff and about as black market as you could get, banned on both sides of the line for its potentially lethal side effects.

  Tennison smiled and laid out the flush with exaggerated care. Black cursed and threw in his hand, pushing back from the table, mouth twitching like he was trying to stop himself from accusing anyone.

  Carrick looked stunned and was staring at the table to stop herself giving anything away.

  LC sat up straight and stared at them both. “A friend of mine was in here earlier,” he said quietly, his voice steady and with no sign of inebriation. “You took a marker from him for his ship. I want it back.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Mr Black said.

  “You’re out of the game,” LC said calmly. “I want the marker.”

  Mr Black narrowed his eyes, glared at his partner and took a plastic chit from his pocket.

  “This?” he said with disdain, holding it up. “It’s a piece of junk anyway.”

  He threw it onto the table and stalked from the room.

  Carrick took the deck from LC, gathered up the cards and shuffled.

  Tennison scooped up the chips. “Shee-it,” he muttered, stuck for words for once.

  Chapter 17

  He could either play safe and move a pawn or risk the knight. NG sat back. It was hot in there, the fumes from the wine strong and the narcotic edge tingling at his senses. He stared intently at the white knight. He’d been born telepathic, hadn’t realised no one else was and wouldn’t have made it past the age of five if he hadn’t been rescued by the Man. Telekinesis was a different matter.

  The knight didn’t move.

  The Man smiled. “Did Anderton know?”

  “That Olivia is Ostraban’s daughter? No. LC takes people at face value. She keeps her heritage well hidden and I don’t blame her. Sten’s World isn’t the type of place to let people know you’re from one of the wealthiest families in Winter. Ostraban is making a lot of noise trying to gather support for his chairmanship and the situation with Zang hasn’t helped. Olivia is well out of it.”

  NG stopped and bit his tongue, sipping at his wine. The Man knew his opinion of Ennio Ostraban. There was no need to drag it out.

  “And the situation on Sten’s World?” the Man said.

  “Volatile,” NG said, giving up and moving the knight himself, sweeping it up to stand face to face with its opposite. “It always has been but trouble followed LC there and took the station almost to melting point.”

  •

  After that it was easy to drain down Carrick. She left, serene in defeat, touching LC gently on the shoulder as she passed, thinking she’d catch him in the bar later, deciding that she might have found herself a new partner.

  No one else entered the room and when it was just LC and Tennison sitting across from each other, LC stood and stretched. His head was pounding, his leg had pretty much seized up and his back was still aching.

  He shoved across enough piles of chips to make Tennison’s stack up to a hundred.

  “What is this?” Tennison said, sitting back with a smile. “I thought it was last man standing?”

  “It was,” LC said. “I’m standing and I’m calling it a night. How much more do you need?”

  Tennison folded his arms. “Bloody hell, that was some game.”

  LC said softly, “How much?”

  Tennison’s eyes looked moist. “Quarter of a mil.”

  “Who is she?” It had been hard to tell whether it was the guy’s daughter, wife or sister who was in trouble or why they needed the cash but it didn’t make any difference.

  “Daughter.”

  LC counted out the rest, leaving more than enough to pay back Elliott his hundred and leave some for Gallagher to pay for repairs.

  They went back through the airlock together and swapped the chips for credit sticks.

  Olivia was waiting in the hallway, anxious and pacing.

  Tennison stuck out his hand before he left. “Thank you,” he said, clasping LC on the shoulder. “If you ever need a partner, give me a shout. I wouldn’t want to miss another game like that.” He looked at Olivia, leering slightly. “He’s a star, this guy, you look after him.”

  Olivia forced a smile.

  Tennison went, heading to the bar, and Olivia grasped LC’s arm, leading him quickly away in the opposite direction.

  She wasn’t impressed. “Are you insane?”

  He opened his mouth to answer but she glared at him.

  “No, don’t say a word. My god, Tigs, there are two hustlers down there who don’t know whether to kill each other right now or gang up with a posse to go after your head. What were you thinking?”

  He needed to get back to the ship. “Where’s Gallagher?”

  “Th
ere’s also a bounty hunter in my bar offering ten thousand a go for information.” She snapped his arm and pulled him close. “It is you, isn’t it?” she hissed in his ear.

  “Liv.”

  “They’re saying you were hustling in there.”

  “Liv, they were the ones running the hustle. I out-hustled them, that’s all.”

  “Tigs, what did I say to you? These are not the kind of people you want to be messing with. I can only take care of you so far.” She took hold of his hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Your friends think you are lying unconscious in a medical bay back on their ship. They said you were shot.”

  He squinted at her, tired now the adrenaline was wearing off, and wanting very much to be either back in that bunk or back in Olivia’s bed.

  Her expression softened. “Gallagher’s a nice man. He said he’d lost the ship. Why didn’t you tell me? Is that what you were doing in there?”

  LC held up the marker. “I got it back. Where is he?”

  “My girls are still looking after him. They’re very taken with the young lad.”

  Christ, Thom wouldn’t know what had hit him.

  Olivia swatted at his cheek. She still wasn’t impressed. “How do you want to play this? You can’t come back into the bar. It’s too dangerous.”

  He pressed the chit and the credit stick into her hand. “Give these to Gallagher. And keep him busy for another hour or so. I’ll make my own way back to the ship. Tell the girls I owe them.”

  She reached up and kissed him, long and hard, before stepping back. “Don’t get yourself killed,” she said softly and walked away.

  Getting back to the ship was easier said than done. LC made his way slowly out of the Avantine, taking back stairs and maintenance routes through its winding levels.

  Back at the docks, he stopped high on a gantry above the main thoroughfare and waited, watching for a long time. It looked busy, way too many people milling about down there to be sure he could walk in unnoticed. He had no idea where Sean and DiMarco were and no one could know he’d left the ship. It was too risky to just walk out there.