Overkill

by Dylan Rust

  The dealer shuffled the deck and dealt everyone their next hand.

  Lyle didn’t seem interested in the game at all. He just wanted a play thing. He’d been rotating a couple girls on his lap that the guards had brought in. He was trying to pick the one that he would take home tonight.

  The second game was just like the first.

  Jack folded immediately.

  Terek and Lenny folded shortly after.

  Sasha aggressively raised. Aleksander and Ryan met her raise.

  She kept pushing them until both folded.

  She won.

  During the entire round she was playing with her chips. She was organizing them.

  Jack saw an angle. She stacked her chips in specific orders. There were two methods to the stacking: when she stacked lowest to highest it meant she was confident, and when she stacked the opposite way it meant she was unsure of herself.

  20

  Jack paid the big blind and waited for the flop. He was holding a jack of clubs and ten of hearts. He kept his face still. He learned how to hide his emotion when he was a detective. Years of interrogating the worst of the worst had taught him how to do it. He knew that the slightest gesture or mannerism could communicate more information to an interrogator or a suspect than a denial or confession. Subtlety was the key to understanding communication.

  Twitches, glances, changes in phrasing, and other odd, slight giveaways were always clues, hints at what lied beneath the surface. What the suspect said was almost never that important. It was almost always their physical reactions that told Jack whether they were guilty or innocent.

  Every other player matched the big blind.

  Jack checked.

  The dealer flopped the three of spades, two of diamonds, and king of diamonds.

  The round went back and forth for a bit and then Sasha raised ten thousand dollars. She wanted to get rid of the phonies. She wanted this round over with. She wanted the game over with.

  “Let’s see what your made of,” she said as she looked at Jack.

  The other players at the table were shocked by the raise. Lenny, spit out some vodka he’d been drinking. One of the girls working the table wiped it up. “I’m out,” he said. “That’s bullshit.”

  Terek, Aleksander, and Ryan followed Lenny’s retreat. At the most, they had one more hand in them before they would have to give up completely.

  Lyle matched the raise. He had money to burn and he wanted to burn it.

  Jack looked at his cards once more, then at Sasha’s chips. She reorganized them. Lowest to highest. She was unsure.

  He went for it, but only partially.

  He wasn’t totally convinced.

  They had, after all, only played two complete rounds up to this point. If Sasha was playing him, he’d want to hedge his bets. He matched the raise.

  She checked.

  The dealer flopped the turn. It was a jack of diamonds.

  Jack had two of a kind. He had a decent hand, but not a good hand.

  Sasha smiled and looked at him.

  “Your move,” she said.

  Jack checked.

  She pushed all her chips into the pot.

  Lyle folded. He had a shit hand and he was getting tired. He wanted to burn his money on something fun.

  “Come on, Mr. Spade,” she said. “Come meet me.”

  Something was off. Jack looked at Sasha’s chips. She was smiling. She was playing him. She wasn’t bluffing. The chips were a ruse. She wanted him to notice the way she her stacked chips. He almost fell for it.

  Sasha was good. He’d have to be more careful.

  “You’re move, Mr. Spade,” the dealer said.

  Jack folded.

  “Hah,” Sasha said. “Scared are we? What did you observe?”

  Jack didn’t respond. He was done talking.

  The dealer called the round.

  Sasha pulled in the chips from the center of the table.

  “Fuck it,” Lyle said. “I’m done with this. Tell Igor I’ll send him the stuff tomorrow. I’ll visit him in his penthouse with the documents.”

  Aleksander nodded.

  Lyle looked at Jack. “And fuck you!”

  Jack smiled at the billionaire. He wanted him to know that he wasn’t scared. He would have done more, said something else, but the poker game was his priority and he was down a considerable amount.

  Jack briefly thought about the feds. He figured they’d be questioning his every hand, getting nervous every time he folded or lost. He didn’t know that they were facing their own problems, that they hadn’t listened to the game in over twenty minutes.

  —

  Tom opened the front door.

  “Don’t,” Claire shouted. “They’ll kill you.”

  He didn’t listen. He was tired of playing cat and mouse. He walked up to the black SUV and pulled out his badge and gun.

  The front doors of the SUV opened. The doors to the SUV that had been following them also opened. Out of the SUVs walked four men dressed in black leather jackets. They were heavily armed. They were holding shotguns, pistols, and sub-machine guns. Their wore balaclavas.

  Tom stopped when he saw them

  “Hey,” he shouted. “Put your weapons down. I’m a federal agent.” He raised his gun.

  Claire watched from inside the van.

  “What the fuck is he doing?” she said. She grabbed her gun. She’d never used it outside the shooting range. She checked that the safety was turned off. It was.

  “I’m a federal agent,” Tom said. “Put your weapons down. You don’t want to shoot me. I’m an important individual. My father…”

  One of the sub-machine guns fired.

  Tom froze.

  The men from the SUV aimed their weapons at Tom. One of them spoke. “Put your weapon down,” he said. “We don’t take orders from you.”

  Claire heard the exchange form inside the van. The man had a thick Russian accent.

  Tom looked at the men. Two in front, two behind. Why did they not listen to him? He was confused. He was a federal agent. What the fuck was going on?

  “I’m serious,” he said. “This is your last chance.”

  The man with the shotgun walked up to Tom. He aimed his gun at Tom’s head.

  “Stay away,” Tom said. “Stand down.”

  The man didn’t listen.

  Tom pulled the trigger of his gun.

  Click.

  Nothing happened.

  He panicked. He didn’t know what to do.

  “For fucks sake,” Claire said. “His safety. He forgot to turn it off.”

  The man with the shot gun was a yard away from Tom. He laughed. “Okay, Mr. Federal Agent,” he said. “Looks like you’re having a little problem. Put your gun down or I shoot you in the belly, spilling all your guts out onto the street.”

  Tom peed himself. The reality of the situation hit him.

  “And your badge,” the man with the shotgun said. “Put it on the ground, too.”

  Tom complied to both demands.

  Claire couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was he doing?

  “We need to do something,” she said. “We need to get him the hell out of there?”

  Luka didn’t hear her. He was stunned. He was shaking.

  Claire hit him in the shoulder.

  “We need to go. Luka, let’s go.”

  He didn’t respond.

  She grabbed his head and forced him to look at her. “Drive up to Tom. I’ll pull him inside. We need to get the fuck out of here. They’re going to kill us.”

  Luka nodded. He slammed his foot on the gas.

  The wheels of the van screamed.

  Tom was crying on the street. The men were laughing at him.

  “Please,” he said. “I’m…”

  The van’s engine roared. The men laughing at Tom raised their weapons. Luka guided the van so it parked between them and Tom. Claire fired three shots from her gun in the process. The men from the SUVs ran for cover. It
gave the agents a couple seconds to act.

  Claire grabbed Tom. He was sobbing and smelled like piss.

  “What the fuck?” Tom said. “They’re going to kill us.”

  “Drive!” Claire said. “Drive.”

  The men in balaclavas jumped from their cover and fired. Each one of their muzzles sparkled in the dark of the night. The thunderous claps from each tiny explosion echoed through the quiet streets. Residents knew what they were to do. They weren’t to call the police. They ignored the sounds. Metal clanged, grass shattered, globs of blood sprayed on the windshield.

  The van took off.

  —

  “Tough game,” Ryan said.

  Jack counted his chips. He had over fifteen thousand left.

  He’d need to find an angle, quick.

  As the dealer shuffled the decks, Sasha grabbed out her purse. She pulled out her phone. She didn’t spend too much time looking for it. She found it right away. She was organized. She called someone. Jack read her lips.

  “I’m not sure… the game will be over soon… I’ll examine her later… She’d be a good reward..”

  Sasha wasn’t just some guest in The Dacha House. She was a major player. Her muscles were toned and her hands were calloused. She was good with a gun.

  Sasha noticed Jack’s intense stare. “It’s strange,” she said. “You don’t seem nervous. Despite the fact that I’ve had you figured out this whole time. Why don’t you just give up?”

  “I’m just making things interesting” Jack said.

  Sasha’s eyes glowed. “You keep playing, you’ll keep losing. There is nothing interesting about that.”

  “The game isn’t over,” Jack said. “I still have some money on the table.”

  Sasha and Jack stared at each other.

  The dealer interrupted the silence. “The fourth round is about to begin,” he said.

  Both Jack and Sasha nodded. The dealer doled out the hole cards and each player got ready.

  —

  The windshield had seventeen holes in it. It had somehow managed to stick mostly together. The van’s body was riddled with bullets. Gas was leaking from its tank and two of its tires were flat. There was blood, too. Not every bullet had missed.

  Claire pulled Tom into the back of the van. Luka was in the drivers seat. The van swerved left and right. He was hit, but was healthy enough to drive.

  “Is he alright?” Claire asked Tom.

  “Alright?”

  “Yes! Check him!”

  Tom crawled up to the front seat and checked Luka. “You okay, buddy?”

  “Yes,” Luka said. He closed his eyes and winced. “I’ll be okay.”

  Tom looked at Luka’s stomach. It wasn’t good. Dark red blood had stained his shirt.

  Luka didn’t care about the pain. He kept driving and looking out the rearview mirror. He wasn’t going to die. His story wasn’t going to end like his father’s. He wasn’t going to die at the hands of the Grekovitch gang.

  The van screamed down the streets. They’d lost the black SUVs.

  “Where are you taking us?” Tom said.

  “Where the fuck do you think? I’m shot. I’m going to die unless I get to the hospital.”

  —

  The fourth round ended.

  Sasha folded early.

  Jack won.

  With Lyle out, the game was between Terek, Lenny, Ryan, and Aleksander. They were easy targets and Jack took them for all they were worth, or, at least, for what they were mostly worth. He needed Ryan to stick around.

  The fifth round was like the fourth.

  Sasha folded early again.

  Jack could feel Sasha’s glare during the whole game. He knew what she was doing. Despite his early mistake, thinking that her chips meant something, he had given her very little. She didn’t have a good read on him. She was looking for a weakness. She was plotting her next move.

  Jack won the fifth.

  Terek and Lenny looked at each other and nodded. They both got up from the table at the same time. They each had less than four grand left, not enough to make a serious gambit for the prize. They said fuck it in unison. Their night was over.

  Aleksander weighed his options. He was going to remain in the game, but his phone buzzed. He looked at it. “Igor,” he said. He got up from the table and left.

  Ryan could see the writing on the wall. He didn’t have a chance. He gave up.

  “Good luck, Jack,” he said. “You’re going to need it.”

  Ryan got up from the table but he didn’t leave the room. He stuck around and watched.

  Sasha watched each player get up. Her eyes slightly narrowed, her teeth chattered. She looked each one up and down. The calm and exterior she displayed all game was just a facade. She was nervous.

  Jack saw his angle.

  He found his way under her skin.

  The dealer nodded then turned back to Jack and Sasha. “Looks like it’s just you two,” he said.

  He shuffled his cards and got ready for the next round.

  Jack had over forty-six thousand dollars in chips, Sasha over seventy.

  “Time to finish this,” Sasha said.

  For the first time all night, Jack smiled. Sasha’s brow furrowed. She was caught off guard.

  “You’re an Russian ex-intelligence officer aren’t you?” he said.

  Sasha’s face went red. She looked left and then right.

  “What did you say?” she said.

  “You heard me,” Jack said. “You worked for the Foreign Intelligence service in Russia, didn’t you?”

  Sasha’s teeth gritted. “What makes you say that?”

  “The way you read people gives it away,” he said. “You’re an ex-government agent. I know the type. Tight assed and confident, but only on the surface. Deep down, you’re struggling. Deep down you’re scared. You’re constantly looking for threats, you’re constantly looking for angles.”

  Sasha smiled. “Fuck you.”

  “I’m right,” Jack said. “Aren’t I?”

  “Shut up,” Sasha said. “Let’s play poker.”

  21

  They arrived at the hospital. Luka pulled into the emergency entrance. He parked the van. A bead of sweat dripped into his eye. He grimaced. His heart pounded. He thought he was going to pass out. He’d lost a lot of blood.

  Claire told him to pull over numerous times, but he’d refused. Instead, he focused on the road, focused on getting to the hospital. It was better than focusing on the pain.

  Tom got out of the van and ran to the driver’s side to help Luka get out. Claire ran to the hospital to grab some nurses.

  Tom opened the front door. Luka fell into his arms. He’d lost too much blood. He was like a dead weight. Tom tried to hold Luka but he fell backward. He was on the ground, Luka was on top of him.

  He pushed Luka off. The poor bastard was passed out.

  Hospital staff ran to Luka’s aid. Two nurses picked him up from the ground and placed him on to a gurney. As they pushed him into the hospital they worked on his wound.

  Tom’s jacket and shirt were covered in Luka’s blood.

  “Are you injured? One of the nursed asked Tom.

  “No,” Tom said. “This isn’t my blood. It’s his.”

  “Sorry, it was just your face. You looked like you were in pain.”

  Tom took off his jacket and walked away from the nurse.

  “Come on,” Claire said. “I’ve checked Luka in. He’s in good hands. We need to go back to the warehouse.”

  “Wait,” Tom said. “Shouldn’t we just stay here? Wait for Luka to wake up?”

  “No,” she said. “Jack is still in the club. Luka will be fine. We should head back to the warehouse.”

  Tom sighed. He was tired. He needed sleep. But she was right.

  “Okay,” he said.

  The two agents couldn’t take the van back to the warehouse in Little Odessa, though. Not only was it a smoking piece of metal and rubber, but Igor’s eyes on
the streets would be looking for it.

  “We’ll have to take a cab,” Claire said.

  “I’ll get it,” Tom said.

  He pulled out his phone and called a cab service.

  The two agents sat on a park bench outside the hospital.

  All Osgoode could think about was Jack. She hoped he was okay.

  After thirty minutes, the cab arrived.

  The driver didn’t speak much English and had an Indian accent.

  At least it wasn’t Russian, thought Claire. Igor’s influence in the neighborhood was impressive. She didn’t know if she could trust any Russian sounding individuals. The NYPD had not responded to any of the gunfire on the streets. There wasn’t even a police a siren in the distance. That meant that no one had called anything in.

  It made her think.

  The cab arrived.

  They got in and made their way back to the warehouse.

  22

  The hole cards were dealt. The table was quiet. Jack and Sasha looked at their cards. Jack had the big blind. Sasha the small.

  Sasha posted.

  So did Jack. He raised one hundred.

  “Is that all?” the dealer asked.

  “Yes,” Jack said. “I want to prolong the game. I’m enjoying the conversation.”

  Sasha let out a giddy and nervous laugh.. “You’re an idiot,” she said. “You don’t know shit.” She matched Jack’s raise and then raised ten thousand.

  “You sure have grown quiet,” Jack said. He matched her raise and rose another one hundred.

  “You fucker,” she said. She matched and checked. “Fine you want to chat? Let’s chat?”

  “You grew up in Ukraine,” Jack said. “Judging by your accent, it was in the east of the country.”

  “Fuck you,” Sasha said.

  “You were smart,” Jack said. “You’re family must have been poor. You’re hands show signs of manual labor. Did you get that scar on your left thumb from working the fields? You got out, though. You learned how to use your looks to take advantage of people, to get information. To get whatever it was that you wanted.”

  “I told you to stop,” Sasha said. She nervously looked at one of the guards.

  “Scared?” Jack said.

  “I just want to play poker.”