I’m irritated that I’ve been separated from JT, but I don’t let on. None of the other players seem fussed so I’m guessing this is the usual way the game is run. ‘No problem.’
Carmella gives me a tight smile. ‘Alright then.’
Next she deals the first hand.
*
The first few hands are fast and bold. Remembering JT’s warning, I take them easy, folding early with cards that might have been useful, because I don’t want to get caught up in the early-game dick-waving. Cabressa pulls into an early lead, beating Johnny, who was chancing his arm on a bluff, and taking half the ball player’s chips in the process.
I try to focus on the players, on the way they act before they bet, and how they react when things don’t go their way. It seems to me that there’s a distinct hierarchy with the players. It’s real obvious Cabressa is top dog here, with Mikey from the mayor’s office coming in a close second. They talk as equals – Mikey jokes with Cabressa and sometimes Cabressa even cracks a smile – while the rest treat Cabressa with reverence or apprehension. Anton and Carl are next in the pecking order. Johnny and Otis come after that, with Otis having the slight edge on Johnny. They’re friendly to each other but I wouldn’t say they seem like friends. There’s tension in every interaction between the two of them, in their words and their body language. It’s clear these men do not trust each other, but they’re trying real well to hide it. I don’t like secrets. And, the way they’re acting makes me not trust either of them.
Correction, I don’t trust anyone around this table, even Carmella, as it could be that she’s on Cabressa’s payroll. The longer I sit at the table and the longer the game plays on, the more it feels like I’m a shrimp invited to a shark’s dinner party.
Carmella deals the next hand. Johnny and Anton pay the blinds.
Reaching onto the green felt of the table, I slide my cards towards me and take a peep.
A pair of aces, known as pocket aces in the game. I try not to let my excitement show. Put the cards back flat on the table. Look up.
Cabressa is staring at me, a slight smile turning one corner of his lips up. I look away. The others are doing their best to hide their thoughts, but I can tell from how Otis is jigging his leg up and down and Anton is, seemingly absentmindedly, scratching his left wrist, that they have cards worth keeping in play.
‘Mikey, what are you going to do?’ Carmella prompts.
His face shows no emotion, no tell – good or bad – but Mikey takes two five-hundred-dollar chips from his stack and pushes them towards Carmella. ‘I’m in.’
Otis matches his bet, and then it’s my turn. We’ve been playing round about forty-five minutes, so I figure they should’ve gotten the first flush of recklessness out of their systems. I take a thousand-dollar chip from my stack and put it on the table.
‘Well lookee here,’ Anton says, rubbing his pudgy hands together. ‘Seems you’re not just a pretty face.’
I keep a neutral expression, pretending that his sexist remark hasn’t bothered me none, even though what I’d really like to do is dry-fire my confiscated Taser into his balls.
Next to me, Carl, the banker, folds. Straight after, Cabressa does the same.
Johnny necks another glass of champagne – I’ve lost count of how many he’s had already – and throws two five-hundred-dollar chips towards Carmella. ‘Why not, I’ll come along for the ride too.’
Carmella looks to Anton. ‘Your move.’
Smiling like a goddamn sexist Cheshire cat, Anton chucks two thousand-dollar chips onto the green felt. ‘Let’s make this a bit more interesting, shall we?’
‘Oh man,’ Johnny says, groaning.
Mikey adds another thousand to the pot. Otis dithers, looking at his cards, putting them down, then picking them up again for another look. A tut and head-shake from Cabressa has Otis make up his mind and add his own thousand-dollar chip to the pile. I do the same.
‘Fine, fine,’ says Johnny, throwing two five-hundred chips to join the rest.
Carmella deals the next three cards: ace of hearts, king of diamonds, ten of clubs.
Otis’s leg is jigging faster. Anton stops scratching his wrist.
I stare at the cards on the table. I’ve got three of a kind, aces, now – my two plus the one from the table. It’s a good hand, but there’s danger too. If someone has a queen and a jack they’re on for a royal straight, and that’d have me beaten.
Carmella looks to Mikey.
He shakes his head and pushes his cards across the table to her. ‘I’m out.’
Otis puts in a three-thousand-dollar bet. His leg doesn’t stop jigging.
I match him. Don’t hesitate this time.
Johnny throws three thousand worth of chips onto the board. ‘May as well see where this river runs.’
Anton smiles, and puts a five-thousand-dollar chip on the table. ‘I see y’all.’
I bite my lip.
He adds a second chip. Winks at me. ‘And I raise you.’
Otis’s leg stops jigging. He looks back and forth from his cards to the river, as if he’s trying to calculate if his odds are good. Shakes his head and pushes his cards towards the middle of the table. ‘Nah, I’m done.’
Damn. I feel the fizz of adrenaline – the thrill of competition – but I’m cautious. I chased down Monroe in our practice game and wound up losing. I need to be logical, steady. I glance at my cards again. It’s a good hand. I need to stay in.
‘I’m in,’ I say, faking more confidence than I’m feeling. And push another two thousand in chips onto the board to match Anton’s bet.
Anton whoops. ‘Nice, really nice.’ He looks at Johnny. ‘You coming too?’
Johnny cusses under his breath. Throws his cards onto the table. ‘You’re killing me, man.’
Anton laughs. Licks his lips and says to me, ‘Now we get to find out which of us is riding the other.’
I force a smile and think about firing my Taser into him again.
Carmella deals the turn. It’s the queen of hearts.
Hot damn. If Anton has a jack in his hand then with what’s already on the table he’s gotten all he needs to make himself a royal straight. I rap my knuckles on the table. ‘Check.’
Anton gives a loud bark of laughter and pushes his stacks of chips onto the board. ‘That’s me all in.’ He grins. ‘What you going to do about that, princess? Ready for me to ride you?’
I try not to let my disgust show. Need to figure out my move. JT warned me not to be impulsive, and that I need to play the long game. I lost the game with Monroe because I ignored what was on the board and let my competitiveness get the better of me. I can see what’s on the board here and I know there’s a straight to be had. I think of Monroe watching and listening via the micro camera, and suddenly wish it had two-way comms. I’m gambling with the FBI’s dollars. Things go wrong, Monroe will find a way to punish me.
Anton is leering across from the other side of the table and there’s nothing more I’d like to do right now than to beat him at this hand. But there’s a whole night ahead of us, and I have to stay in the game to get heads-up with Cabressa. I only have enough money for two additional buy-ins, and the way things are going so far I’m not sure it’s enough.
I shake my head. Fold my cards and push them into the centre of the table. ‘Too rich for my blood.’
Anton punches the air. ‘Show us your cards.’
I hesitate. I know I don’t have to, but all eyes are on me.
‘I’ll show you mine if you show yours,’ says Anton, and flips over his cards.
I cuss under my breath. He has a six and a queen. All he’s got is a pair of queens. I reach onto the board and turn over my cards.
Anton claps his hands. ‘Well damn, would you take a look at that.’
Otis shakes his head. ‘It’s not cool to gloat.’
‘He got us all,’ Johnny says. He meets my eye. ‘Got you the worst though, man.’
I glance at Cabressa. For the
first time since I met him he’s showing some emotion – he looks real disappointed. I guess he’s thinking on whether I’ve got what it takes to make it to heads-up, and if I don’t, how he’s going to get his hands on the chess pieces.
‘Hey Lori,’ says Anton, laughing as he gathers the pot off the board. ‘You got spooked by the queen of hearts but who says romance has to be dead. You want to give me a kiss with these chips? Go some place we could have ourselves a real ride?’
I imagine slamming my fist into his smug asshole face. Shake my head. ‘You’ve more chance of seeing God twice in the next five minutes than me and you ever doing anything.’
‘Ouch, that’s quite a burn,’ says Johnny with a laugh.
Anton looks pissed. ‘Don’t be a little—’
‘Back in your pants, Anton,’ Cabressa says.
Anton scowls but stays silent as he finishes raking up the chips and starts stacking them up alongside the rest of his stash.
Carmella deals the next hand. The drinks keep flowing. Mikey lights a cigar.
I take a deep breath and wonder how long I’ll be able to stay in the game.
17
They took his weapon. JT can understand that, the game involves a lot of money so you need tight security in case anyone gets out of hand. What he doesn’t get is why they’ve taken him and the other player’s security people one storey down in the elevator – to the sixty-second floor – and have them holed up in another room. This room. It’s a hell of a lot smaller and far less luxurious than the penthouse above.
He hates that he’s been taken from Lori’s side. Wonders how the hell he can protect her from here. She might try to tough it out, pretend she’s okay, but he knows her too well, can see through her act. Truth is, she’s real anxious about this job. The massacre at the Bonchese compound last month – all those people dying around her – messed with her confidence. She’s been fearful since. Doubting herself, even though she shouldn’t. She’s the strongest woman he’s ever known. Hell, she’s stronger than any man he’s known too.
JT looks at the other men. Seven other close-protection guys for the players, plus one of the identikit security guards who work for Carmella, the organiser of the game. All of the guys are huge. None of them seem bothered about getting cooped up downstairs while their bosses play poker in a penthouse on the floor above. Most are on their cells, and one is reading a Jack Reacher novel. The identikit security guard is pondering over a puzzle book.
Still, it doesn’t feel right to JT.
He leans over towards the man sitting to his left – a man mountain with a thin goatee and an open-mouthed style of chewing his gum. ‘This normally happen?’
The man looks at him, confused. ‘What?’
‘This.’ JT gestures at the room, the other guys. ‘Not staying in the penthouse during the game.’
‘Yeah.’ The bearded guy keeps chewing. Stares blankly ahead. ‘Standard procedure for Carmella’s games.’
JT sees the white ear buds in the guy’s ears. Recognises the sightless stare of a person zoned out listening to music.
‘You’re new to this scene, eh?’ says a man with a deep voice, like treacle over gravel.
The voice comes from a guy over to his right. JT turns towards him. The guy’s huge – like a shaggy-haired WWF wrestler in a suit. JT nods. ‘Yup. First time.’
‘You with the woman?’
‘I am.’
The wrestler guy licks his lips. ‘Looks like one hot piece of ass.’
JT fights the urge to punch the guy in the face. Needs to stay in character, play his role of employee; not arouse suspicion. ‘She’s a good boss.’
‘I bet she is.’ From the man’s tone it’s obvious what he means. ‘Good fringe benefits.’
JT ignores the implication. ‘So what’s the deal here? How does it work?’
The suited wrestler-looking guy smiles and pulls his chair closer to JT. ‘So the game runs every month. Carmella, she runs a bunch of smaller games each week, but this right here is the big one. Big players, top money, if you know what I mean.’
The guy is looking at JT expectantly. JT doesn’t know what he means, but he can guess so he nods. ‘Yup.’
‘So my guy, Johnny Keto, he’s here every month,’ the wrestler guy continues. ‘Not all of them are. Some come every few months. Some we only see once, and they’re gone. A few, like Johnny, are regulars.’
‘Which ones?’
The guy scratches his jaw. ‘Well, Johnny, like I said, plus Carl and Anton. Of course, Mr Cabressa is at every game. Always has been from what I understand.’ He leans closer to JT. ‘The way I heard it, this might be known as Carmella’s game on the outside, but everyone who’s anyone knows that Mr Cabressa is the money behind her outfit.’
Interesting, thinks JT; a bad kind of interesting. If Carmella is bankrolled by the Cabressa family, that makes this a mob game, not a neutral location.
‘So your boss, what is she?’ asks the suited wrestler-type guy. ‘She some kind of ringer?’
JT shakes his head. ‘She’s in the city for business. Likes to play a few hands to let off steam.’
The wrestler guy raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of business?’
JT shrugs. ‘Like she’d tell me.’
‘Tell me about it.’
They sit in an easy silence for a long moment. JT scans the other close-protection guys. None seem to be paying him, or the conversation, any mind, although he suspects that could just be what they’d like him to believe. He’s seen the side-eyes and the furtive glances. They’re curious about him, but they’re keeping their distance. So far this wrestler-looking guy is his only chance at learning more.
He leans closer. Keeps his voice low. ‘So tell me, what are the players upstairs like, and who’d you put your money on to win?’
The guy glances around, and then lowers his voice conspiratorially. ‘Well, it’s interesting you ask that because I’ve got this theory that…’
JT nods along as the guy speaks. He knows this man’s type – a grandstander who likes the sound of his own voice and to show off his knowledge. In usual circumstances he gives folks like that a wide berth, but right here and now he’s thankful for the man’s indiscretion. Any knowledge about how this game works could be helpful. JT needs to know what to expect so he can anticipate any issues. He nods encouragingly as the wrestler guy jaws on. When he finally draws breath, JT asks, ‘And so this game is on the level?’
The wrestler type frowns. ‘How’d you mean?’
‘They’re all just here to play poker?’
The guy leans closer. ‘Well, see the thing of it—’
The identikit security guard over by the door clears his throat. JT glances over at him. He’s not working on his puzzle book any longer – he’s staring real hard at the wrestler-looking guy.
The wrestler guy notices it too. He stops talking. Looks away.
‘You were saying?’ JT prompts.
The guy gives a little shake of his head. ‘Nah, it’s nothing. Look, this is a good game. That’s all you need to know.’
JT knows he’s just seen a warning being given. There’s something going on here; far more than just a poker game. JT wants to know what that is.
He glances at his watch and realises the game’s been going near on two hours already. In the scenarios he’d worked through with Lori they figured she’d be done in a little more than two hours, depending on how fast the blinds went up.
The identikit security guard is staring at him, unblinking. Whatever else is going on in this game, JT knows they think he’s on to it. He tries to stay relaxed, feign boredom, not look suspicious, but in truth his mind is working through a bunch of possibilities and scenarios. None of it makes him feel any better. He’s got no weapon, no Lori and no idea what the hell is going on here. Not yet anyways.
But one thing he’s damn sure of is that he’s going to find out.
18
Carl Reynolds, the banker, is the first out of t
he game. After losing everything to Otis, he got reckless in his first hand of his second buy-in and took Anton on in one of his all-in bluffs, only it turned out not to be a bluff, and Carl lost his chips. He bought his way back in for a third time, but three hands later lost everything for a second time to Anton. After that, he stayed out.
I’m hanging on in the game, but it hasn’t been easy. Johnny, Otis, Mikey and me are all on our third buy-ins. Anton is on his second. Only Cabressa is still on his first.
As Carl gets up from the table, Carmella opens a fresh deck of cards and loads it into the Shuffle Master. Carl pours himself a glass of champagne and stands behind the chairs, ready to watch the next hand. He looks at Cabressa. ‘You know who this Herron guy is?’
All the players stop fussing with their stacks and whatnot, and look at Carl. There’s surprise on their faces, and I wonder if he’s broken some kind of a rule.
Cabressa shakes his head. ‘I do not.’
‘Yeah, right, Herron, I’ve heard that name,’ Anton says, running his hand over his chin. ‘There’s this guy in construction I work with a lot, he said a bunch of their equipment has gone missing – big stuff, backhoes and shit. Word is, this Herron guy was behind it.’
Deep Dark Night Page 8
