Dead Man's Hand (3 page)

I could hear laughter
emanate from the other side of the call as Matt replied, “That’s a disturbing
little fact Marcus.”

“Isn’t it?” 
Securing the phone with my shoulder I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket
and started fishing through it as I offered a quasi-explanation.  “But I
figured that I should get some practice at handing over that kind of money, so
in an effort to grow in character, I decided to buy the car.”

“Is that it?”  Matt
asked in amusement as I thumbed through the contents of my wallet.

 “What’s so
funny?”  I asked as I finally found what I was looking for.

“What was her name
Marcus?”

Taken aback by his
question I managed to respond without a significant break in the
conversation.  “Matt, what are you talking about?”  I somehow managed
to keep my voice from cracking.

“If you won’t tell me her
name, at least tell me you got her phone number.”  Matt said, all too
eager to pounce onto this topic.

For the briefest of
moments I actually wished that we were still talking about Dempsey, then I
realized what I was wishing for and I hit my head on the wall. 
Did I
really almost drive the conversation back there?
  Matt knew that there
were only a handful of topics that I considered off limits with him, just a
handful.  This was one of those topics.  There were some things that
we simply don’t need to share.  He knew this would get under my skin, and
I knew he was already trying to get payback.

“Who said the dealer was
a woman?”     

With a snort he replied,
“Yeah and…”

Growling a warning I
immediately cut him off, “Off topic, Matt.”

Clicking his tongue, I
could hear the glee in his voice.  “So after spending all that money, you
failed to get her number.  No wonder you’re a little cranky.”

Unable to restrain myself
any longer, I released a pent up sigh as I pulled a card from my wallet. 
Turning it over I was able to see Robin’s cell number scrawled in crisp, clean
numbers.  I knew I was allowing Matt to run wild with an assumption, but I
rather enjoyed guiding him down that path.  It was good for my soul,
letting him think he got back at me, just a little.  “Matt, if you’re just
going to give me grief…”

As if on cue Matt broke
in, satisfaction ringing in his voice, “Can I assume that you have a high
quality, off the rack, silk suit to pair with that fancy new car.”

Laughing, I placed
Robin’s card on top of my wallet, which I had placed on the nightstand right
next to the video camera.  “You can assume that.”

“You have a few nice,
handmade silk suits here you could have worn you know.”  He said with a
scoff.

“But that wouldn’t have
been a challenge.”

“You and your
challenges.”  Matt said before blowing air threw his lips.  I didn’t
think he was taunting me, but I also knew that I was getting awfully close to
the end of his patience.

“Yes me and my
challenges.  You know how alive I feel when I have to stretch myself both
mentally and physically.”

“We’ve beaten this to
death, Marcus.  You just need to accept that I’ll never agree with
you.  It’s all about the path of least resistance.”

“I know.”  I
responded warmly.  I knew I would never be able to convince him that
challenges were not a waste of time and effort, despite the fact that “me and
my challenges” have always netted us the greatest reward.  But he also
knew that I felt bored if I didn’t have something to entertain me, so he mostly
went along with those types of jobs, provided that I didn’t expect him to strive
to overcome the challenge.

“Well since I won’t be
able to talk you out of this nonsense,” Matt began, all joviality draining from
his voice.  “Tell me that your reconnaissance has been going well.”

I mentally began
reviewing what I had managed to see ever since I set up my single surveillance
camera.  Unfortunately, the effort had only produced a steaming pile of
nothing.  The motion that I thought I saw earlier was the first sign of
life, let alone activity, that I had seen from my sole vantage point.  Not
for the first time I began wishing I had been able to get more eyes on the
warehouse.  But there had been people, probably Dempsey’s men, guarding
the building.  And they did an excellent job making sure that everyone
steered clear of the area while not making it look like that was what they were
doing.  Not even the homeless were safe from their interference, and that
was just mean. I had spent the whole trip down here creating my homelessness
persona only to have my efforts wasted.

Normally the homeless are
left alone, so I had figured I would be able to plant a few of my surveillance
cameras.  All I had to do was get close enough to touch the building and
presto, my system would be in place.  I would have been able to plant a
good sampling of cameras pointing into the building.  But the one time I
tried to get close enough to place my cameras, a guard materialized out of thin
air.  Well he didn’t actually “materialize,” that would have been quite
the trick, but it certainly felt like he had.  If he hadn’t been carrying
that rather large gun, I might have made another effort somewhere else along
the wall.  Instead, I contented myself with a simple perimeter
search.  This turned up only a single entrance, a door to the building
adjacent to the loading dock.  Disheartened, I decided to place a camera
pointing at the entrance before I gradually made my withdrawal.

Since I had already taken
enough grief from Matt, I decided not to mention just how little information I
was able to scrape together about the location.  “Well I think I just saw
something a moment ago.”

“What do you mean, you
think?”

“Considering that I was
dealing with an irate and rather shrill voice at the time...”  I
definitely couldn’t resist the poke.  “Yeah, I only Think I saw something
enter the warehouse.”  I had to learn how to bite my tongue.  A
comment like that was just going to add fire to all Matt’s objections.

“I’m must not have heard
you correctly just now...” This time, it was clear from his tone that he was
furious. “The Marcus I know wouldn’t be so incredibly stupid as to even
consider walking into an illegal poker game in some random warehouse!”

Yup, zero to fight in
less than a second.  I was too tired for this, physically and
mentally.  Normally I don’t really mind arguing with Matt, it can be fun,
or as I like to see it, a challenge.  But the renewed vigor in his voice
let me know that if I let this go on, fun was the last thing this conversation
would be.  The game was tomorrow, I needed to rest and clear my mind. 
Again I found myself wondering why I had picked up the phone in the first
place.  But then, I already knew the answer to the question, I was feeling
a little bit guilty.  Sighing, I decided to make the argument that I knew
would get me out of this discussion, not that I was proud of what I was going
to do.

“Matt, where did you
think a game like this was going to be played?  Did you think Dempsey
would just rent some office space?  There is a reason I set up
surveillance on the building.”  I had to be very careful not to let my
lack of good surveillance slip out.  “I’m also not downstairs drinking
heavily tonight.  I do know what I’m voluntarily getting myself
into.  I will be fine.  Okay?”

“Was that supposed to be
a hint?”  I could tell that he was resigned to what was happening.  I
must have sounded angrier than I thought because I have very rarely heard him
give up an argument so quickly.

It made me feel like a
heel and there was no reason I had to let him know that it had been intentional
so I lied as best as I could.  “I hadn’t intended it to be one.”  And
I held my breath hoping that it would work.

“But you’ll use whatever
you’re dealt, is that what you’re saying.”

Either it worked or he
knew what I was doing and decided to let it pass, for the moment. 
Fortunately it did not matter which was the case as long as he let it go.
“Something like that.  Hey, I’m not expecting to be able to place very
many phone calls while the game is running so I’ll give you a call when it’s
all over.  And when I get back dinner’s on me so don’t cheap out on the
choice of restaurant.”

“Sounds like a
deal.  Just do me a favor and try, I mean really Try not to transform any
of the cards you’re dealt.  I’ve enjoyed our friendship far too long to
see it end at Dempsey’s hands.  Besides, I want that dinner.”

I smiled at his words and
bit back any pithy retort that I might have had, I was ready for the
conversation to come to an end. “I promise to do as little mischief as
possible.”

“That’s not the same
thing, Marcus.  Remember what I said, this isn’t some back-alley game,
this is Dempsey you’re dealing with.  Changing anything could get you into
trouble and you know it.”

“Matt he’s not arrogant
enough to make any of these people disappear.  Remember, they can afford
to pay his entrance fee, he would rather keep them alive so that they will keep
coming back for more.”

“Marcus you don’t need to
win.”  It was a last ditch attempt, just so he could say “I told you so”
in case things really fell apart later on. Any fire that had previously been
coursing through his words was now gone.

“I’ll see you when I get
back, my friend.”

And just like that Matt
let me end the conversation.  There had been no final goodbye; no wish for
luck, there had been only the silence that comes when someone ends a
call.  Had I pushed him too far this time?  Could this be the straw
that broke the camel’s back?  No, I was reading too much into his
momentary depression.  Matt always got right back up and was stronger than
ever.  Once I win the tournament, I’ll go home and we’ll spend the next
two months plotting our next mark and having fun, at least once he got his
revenge.

Besides Matt was worrying
about problems that would never come to pass.  I would be very surprised
if Dempsey actually showed up at the tournament; it would be some trusted
lackey running the game.  Not that the possibility of his presence hadn’t
crossed my mind, but after thinking it through, I had decided there was no way
he was going to be present.  He must have more important things to do than
to attend a little poker tournament.  The main reason I doubted that he
would show was because, while I doubted the reputed size of his organization, I
didn’t doubt its actual existence.  And no matter how large or small it
might be, things like that tended to require a lot of micromanagement, or so I
have been told.

For some reason this
thought reminded me of the halfhearted promise I had given Matt.  I knew
he had wanted more, but there was no way I would handicap myself like that, not
when I wasn’t entirely certain what I was walking into.  There were going
to be too many goons, some obviously armed others not so obviously, in that
warehouse with me.  And I was not going to enter a building like that
unless I could defend myself.  It just wasn’t going to happen.  Now I
was sure that was why he was trying to get the promise, but the real reason I
flat out refused to make that promise was, I was determined to win the game, no
matter what.  If I needed to change a card here or there in order to do
so, then I wasn’t going to hesitate.

Forcing the conversation
out of my mind I went back to watching my video feed.  But after another
minute or two I decided that there was nothing to be gained by surveillance,
not live anyway.  Double checking that there was enough ample memory left
for the night, I placed the camera back down and let my mind wander.  It
seemed clear that either any work that needed to be done had already been done
or there had been an entrance I missed.  While I was at the warehouse I
had toyed with the thought of an underground entrance, but had quickly
dismissed the idea as being fanciful.

Now I wished I had
checked anyway.  And at this point, worrying was not going to do me any
good, so it was best to just forget about what was done and think about what
was coming.  I kept trying to tell myself that the past wouldn’t kill me,
but every time I did, a little voice in my head would mutter that the mistakes
of the past certainly could. I had trouble arguing with this logic, but there
was nothing to be gained by dwelling on it.  Fighting off exhaustion, I
began to rub my face with both hands.  I could do a quick survey of the
tape when I woke up. There was sure to be something to watch in the morning,
and hopefully, it would be to be more interesting than anything I had seen so
far.

Reaching for hotel phone,
I decided I needed something to eat and maybe something to drink, but nothing
too strong.  Matt was right about one thing, I had to keep my wits about
me.  Once I placed my order I stretched out on the bed and waited for the
night to be over.

I’ll never again let Matt
say I am not cautious enough
, I thought, as I sat in
a parking garage about three blocks from the warehouse.  I had hoped the
surveillance from this morning would have caught something, anything.  But
so far I was coming up empty, yet again.  When I eventually woke up I
scanned the footage and also made sure to check on anything I might have missed
while I was talking with Matt.  But what I had thought might be something
had proven to be just a trick of the light.

So after three days of
useless surveillance, I saw the first sign of activity when half a dozen men
exited the warehouse.  The six individuals just walked out as if they were
on their way to work.  And none of them were the men who had been guarding
the perimeter three days ago. 
What is going on here
? 
Is
the warehouse a modified barrack for Dempsey’s men
?  Shaking my head,
I answered my own questions. But then, my answers may have had held a certain
lack of conviction.
No, Dempsey would never place his piggy banks inside a
barrack where his foot soldiers could have easy access
.  On the other
hand, if this was a barrack that would partially explain why I hadn’t been
allowed to get too close to it.

Besides, all this proved
was that Dempsey had stocked the warehouse well before I arrived in New
Orleans. 
When did he stock it
? 
And what did he stock it
with
?  I shook my head as I silently berated myself, all these
questions did me little good. Right now all that mattered was that the
warehouse was already stocked with whatever it needed. I was sure that Dempsey
probably hadn’t missed a single detail. This was not his first go around.

Of course I was never
good at stopping myself from asking questions, but I kept beating them down
every time one started form.  Unfortunately there was only one way that I
would be able to answer any of them.  I looked down at my entrance fee,
wrapped in its ungodly expensive briefcase.  Hopefully I would never again
have to pay more for a piece of luggage than I did for a suit. 
How did
these people manage to hold on to any of their money
?  There was no
reason for this kind of expense.  At the same time I knew that I needed to
get all of the little details right.   Anybody can own a nice suit
that’s not what makes the elite the elite.  No what makes them distinct
are all of their accessories.  Those extra little pieces are what truly
differentiate the social classes, which is why I had a ridiculously expensive
briefcase.  I hadn’t dared to make my case with a transformation as I just
didn’t have the familiarity to pull it off, at least not with that piece. 

Just thinking about all
the money I had sunk into the thing was starting to depress me so I turned my
attention back to the glass circle in my hand.  Aside from the activity I
had seen while eating breakfast, I had since witnessed about forty people enter
the warehouse.  And since none of them looked like they were employed by a
kingpin, I knew the guests had started to arrive.  True I had no way of
identifying them or learning much of anything but I was still interested in
watching the proceedings.  Not that there was much to it.  Each one
handed their fee to a man just to the right of the door while they dealt with
the man on the left.  While they spoke with him they were searched, and
from what I could tell, it was a very thorough search.  After that, they
were ushered into the warehouse with all due haste.

I knew I was stalling, there
was no longer a reason to wait.  None of what I could see was going to
help me.  I could sit here watching as all of the ninety-nine other guests
entered or I could get out of the car and walk over there now.  I was
going to have to go into that warehouse at some point, so why put it off any
longer?  With that thought I reached over to the glove compartment and
stashed the piece of glass inside it.  With my surveillance equipment
stowed I grabbed my entrance fee and got out of the car.  As I walked the
short distance to the game I reviewed the persona I had crafted, not that there
was much to it, but I needed to get into character.

The best lies are always
rooted in a seed of truth.  That way they are anchored and much easier to
keep straight.  When your life depended on manipulating the truth to suit
your needs, one little slip could prove fatal, especially when you were doing
it to someone in Dempsey’s weight class, not that I would ever admit that to
Matt.  With that in mind I planned on keeping things ridiculously simple.
 I was going to be myself, with a few additional character traits. 
Granted I would normally call them character flaws but with the crowd I was
joining, they would not be seen that way. After a few minutes the warehouse came
into view and I clearly saw thugs at the door who were acting as doormen. 
They had clearly been chosen for their muscles and the intimidation factor.

I had been willing to
give them the benefit of the doubt since, from the video stream, I had been
able to tell that they were wearing suits.  But even though each of them
was dressed in a very high-quality tuxedo, they were obviously uncomfortable in
the garb. They also lacked the added little extras they would have needed if
they had wanted to blend in.  As I got closer I realized just why they
looked uncomfortable in their rented tuxedoes, every one of them would be
capable—and probably willing—to rip my arms out of their sockets if I gave them
a reason.  Swallowing the lump, I decided I would just have to make sure
that they never got a reason.  Squaring my shoulders, I closed the
distance between us and proffered my briefcase to the gentleman. . . .
Should
I call thugs like these gentlemen? 
Silently, the gentle-thug on my
right relieved me of the outstretched case before quickly disappearing with it.

No sooner was my money
gone than the gentle-thug on my left spoke with a voice that had an eerie blend
of gentleness and firmness.  “Sir, if you would spread your arms and legs…
please?”

Shifting my gaze from the
doorway to the man who spoke, I noticed the little hitch before he added the
“please,” which made the man’s tone all the more unsettling.  It was as if
that little piece of courtesy was entirely foreign to him. As I looked, I
started to examine him and instantly saw the headset resting on his left
ear.  I suppressed a grin as I realized that the little piece of plastic
could have been the reason for the little hitch. The actual reason for the
hitch didn’t matter all that much, since I wasn’t going to have to play against
him.  In the end, all that mattered were the players, not the thugs
watching over us.

Now normally I would
try—I mean I would really try—not to push other people’s buttons.  I know
just how bad things can get when you annoy an already short-tempered
individual, and I could tell this guy was always a trifle testy.  With
that being said, on occasion I have been known to disregard my own sage advice
and say something to really make someone upset.  And that is what I fully
intended to do right now to the gentle-thug on the left.  “More than happy
to oblige, my good man.”  While the words may have been innocuous the tone
I used was sure to get under the man’s skin.

I got the reaction that I
had expected. As I was taking my own sweet time in complying with the request,
a pair of hands from behind roughly assisted me into position. Like I said, I
knew it was a bad idea. As the goon behind searched me I couldn’t help but
think that it was a relatively simple not to mention gentle search, aside from
the initial treatment of course.  I guess the tone was one they were used
to considering the crowd they were dealing with.

“You know, you could have
just asked me if I was carrying weapons or anything like that.”  I offered
to the man who appeared to be this little group’s boss.

With the slightest scoff
he stepped a little closer to me before saying, “Our boss is not the most
trusting type and so by extension neither are we.  And to be perfectly
blunt we don’t know you, so how can we trust you?  And if we can’t trust
you, why would we ask you if you were carrying anything we wouldn’t allow?”

“So if you knew me, you
would trust me?”

“If we really knew you we
wouldn’t have to trust you.”

“Why’s that?”  I
asked with genuine curiosity. 
What is this man’s philosophy on trust?

“Because if we knew you,
you would no longer be in the land of the living.”  The lead guard replied
with that same blend of gentleness and firmness that he had greeted me
with.  And that made his tone of voice even creepier than it was already.
“Cheerfully-creepy” should never be used to describe someone’s tone of voice as
far as I was concerned.

I felt the thug’s hands
stop as he felt something in my pockets and I mentally sighed.  Now I knew
he wasn’t going to find guns, a wireless antenna, or anything like that. 
But there were a few things I had been hoping they would overlook. 
Unfortunately, it seemed that the guard searching me was more observant that I
had hoped.  He pulled out one of the hand warmers that were stuffed into my
coat pocket and asked, “What’s this?”

For a second I considered
softening my tone, but then I thought better of it as all these guys were the
type of men who might see that as a weakness.  It was better they thought
me rude than weak.  So I kept up the defiant attitude as I flashed their
boss a smile and turned my head to look at the goon. “It’s a hand warmer my
dear friend.  Did you want to borrow it?”

The only reaction I saw
from the man was a slight tightening of his eyes.  It was actually the
boss who replied to my question, and, again, I had to suppress a shudder at his
tone.  “More importantly, why do you need one?  It’s a perfectly warm
day out.”

I turned my head back to
stare at the lead thug as I answered him, with the first obfuscated truth I
could think of.  “Sometimes my body has trouble regulating itself and I
can get cold very easily.  So when that happens I need to have something
on hand to warm myself up.” 
It’s mostly true anyway
.

“Really?”  He
asked. 
Why can so many people master that technique while I struggle
with it
?

But I pressed on with the
fabrication, “It’s a condition I’ve had since childhood.  And while it’s
gotten better over the years, it does seem to crop up at the most inconvenient
times.  So I have learned never to leave home without a few of these
stowed in my pockets.”  Finished with my explanation I turned my head back
around to face the thug who had taken the hand warmer out of my pocket and
asked.  “Could I please have it back?  I would hate to need it and
not have it.”

For anyone else a hand
warmer would be nothing special.  But for me, it was like a triple shot of
espresso laced with amphetamines.  Fortunately no one here had any idea
what I was capable of.  Presumably the head gentle-thug gave his man a nod
because a hand was thrust into my pocket, with more than enough force to rock
me slightly. The thug behind me chirped a feigned apology, “I’m so sorry about
that, sir.”

Apparently the tone I had
been using was working, since the rented muscles stopped searching me. 
With that boon I should have just moved on.  After all I had clearly
rattled them enough that they forget to fully do their job.  There was no
reason for me to insult them further.  Of course my big mouth ignored this
logic.  “It’s quite alright my dear man, I know how the uncoordinated fair
in life.”

I could see the face of
the lead man change from casual dislike to fierce animosity, I doubted that
anyone ever dared insult him or his men.  And with a man like that there
was always sure to be a reckoning.  Lucky for me his leash would keep
anything from happening right here and now.  Fortunately, he remembered
this just before his rising temper exploded.  With a stiff gesture he
wordlessly pointed at the door while someone hurriedly spoke for him with an
altogether shaky voice.  “Your fee was accepted sir, welcome to the game.”

Just as the one man spoke
another reached for the door and opened it wide.  I took in the visibly
shaken men and spoke a few kind words, which only served to make them
angrier.  “Well, thank you all for the pleasant conversation not to
mention you’re attention to detail.”  Striving to not look like I wanted
to run for my life, I walked through the door and into the warehouse.