Satori (30 page)

“Could it be?” De Lhandes asked with some sarcasm in his voice. “A royal visit?”

The third car pulled up, troopers opened the back door, and a middle-aged Vietnamese man in a white dinner jacket emerged from the car as the guards, their heads on swivels, looked anxiously around.

“It’s Bao Dai,” Haverford explained to Nicholai. “The Playboy Emperor.”

He waved his fingers, miming a puppeteer.

Bao Dai turned and reached his arm back into the car, clearly to fetch another passenger in the backseat.

“I hope it’s his latest mistress,” De Lhandes said. “The rumor is
she’s fantastic”

Nicholai watched as the woman eased gracefully out of the car.

She was fantastic.

Solange.

117

S
HE WORE A BLACK GOWN
with fashionably deep décolletage, and her blonde hair was swept up and off her long neck, with just one tendril carefully disarranged to flow down to her shoulder.

Solange took Bao Dai’s offered arm and allowed him to escort her through the cordon of guards, each of whom labored unsuccessfully not to stare at the tall, elegant Frenchwoman who was the emperor’s latest love.

“I heard she’s a ‘film actress,’ “De Lhandes said. “At least that’s what she calls herself.”

“I’d like to be in
that
movie,” Haverford said.

Nicholai disciplined himself not to slap his stupid face, but could not prevent the flush he felt burning his own cheeks. When it receded, he let his eyes meet Haverford’s, but if the American was ashamed, he didn’t show it.

“I had nothing to do with it,” he whispered to Nicholai.

If you didn’t, Nicholai wondered, who did?

“It’s good to be the emperor,” De Lhandes observed as Bao Dai and Solange came into the casino.

Nicholai watched as Bao Dai introduced Solange to various important men, watched as she held her hand out to be kissed, as she smiled, made small witticisms, and dazzled. She seemed very much at home in this society, a bit too comfortable for Nicholai’s tastes, and he was annoyed with himself that he felt so …

Face it, he told himself, the word is “jealous.”

He wanted to walk over and kill Bao Dai with a single strike.

The way the man pawed her, stroked her bare arm, signaling his ownership of her to all in the room. It was disgusting, and he was angry with her for allowing it.

Hypocrite, he accused himself.

You are a whore as much as her, you both sell yourselves, you are both playing roles. If she plays hers well, so do you, “Michel Guibert.”

“I don’t suppose we’ll be introduced,” De Lhandes said.

Haverford smiled. “We’re not high enough on the pecking order for that.”

De Lhandes sighed. “So I can only lust from afar.”

“Bad for you, good for Le Parc à Buffles,” Haverford said. The casino’s courtesans were well beyond De Lhandes’s limited means, but Le Parc offered a menu for all budgets.

Then she saw him.

Tall, she looked over her companion’s shoulder and spotted Nicholai. Only the most discerning observer could have noticed the small tremor of recognition before her green eyes moved on to a brief glance at Haverford, but Nicholai saw it.

He walked over to them.

Bay Vien looked surprised at the intrusion.

Nicholai glanced at Bao Dai but addressed his words to Solange. “Michel Guibert, formerly of Montpellier and Hong Kong.
Enchanté, mademoiselle
.”

“Enchantée, monsieur
,” Solange said, her eyes warning him away before she turned her look to Bao Dai.

The emperor noticed the
colon
’s rude approach to his mistress but easily hid his annoyance. “Welcome to Vietnam, Monsieur Guibert. What brings you to Saigon?”

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Nicholai said. “I’m starting a business — a manufactury.”

“Superb,” Bao Dai said. “And what will you manufacture?”

“I was thinking of marionettes,” Nicholai said, looking straight at Bao Dai. “You know … puppets.”

It was a deliberate insult and everyone who heard it knew it. But Bao Dai merely smiled and asked, “What sort of puppets?”

“French, I think,” Nicholai said. “Or do you think American?”

“I didn’t think the Americans were known for such things,” Solange said.

“Yes, their ventriloquists use them. They call them, let me think” — Nicholai looked directly at Bao Dai — “yes, ‘dummies.’ It’s quite clever, actually. The dummy appears to be talking but, of course, it’s really the ventriloquist. But if you didn’t know better, you’d swear that —”

“Yes, I think we understand the concept, monsieur,” Solange said, turning slightly to signal Bao Dai that she wished to move on.

“Well, best of luck in your business, Monsieur Guibert,” Bao Dai said. “If there is anything that we can do to facilitate your endeavor, I hope you will not hesitate to let us know. We always like to encourage entrepreneurs.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that,” Nicholai said. “Even as far away as Laos, they speak highly of your cooperative nature.”

Bao Dai’s eyelids closed for just a moment and then opened again. When they did, Nicholai saw that his eyes were black with repressed rage. “Do you gamble, Monsieur Guibert?”

“A bit, Your Excellency.”

“He just beat the house for a tidy little fortune,” Bay Vien said.

“Indeed?” Bao Dai said, raising his eyebrows. “Perhaps, then, you would like to join me in a private game?”

“I’d be honored.”

“I prefer games that match player against player.”

“As do I.”

“Good,” Bao Dai said. “Actually, I’ve become very fond of the American game of poker.”

Solange kept the frozen smile on her face, but Nicholai could tell that she was livid. She stared at him with a look that said
Just go away.

He smiled at her.

“It will be high stakes,” Bao Dai said, hoping to embarrass him.

Nicholai looked at Solange and answered, “I like high stakes.”

“No limits, actually,” Bao Dai added.

“Better.”

“I’ll get a table together,” Bay said, “in the private room.”

“Will you be joining us?” Nicholai asked Solange.

Word of the newcomer’s insult of Bao Dai and the impending poker game quickly spread through the house.

Bay Vien passed by Nicholai and muttered,
“This
game won’t be fixed, you know.”

“I trust you to see that it isn’t.”

He walked over to the bar.

“Christ, man,” De Lhandes hissed, “are you out of your mind? Insulting the emperor. He’ll have your throat cut. But by the love my mother would have laded upon me had she not been so horrified at what emerged from her womb, you have balls, Guibert. Clanging, great, magnificent balls.”

“What are you doing?” Haverford asked.

“Playing poker,” Nicholai answered. “What are you doing?”

“Playing poker, I guess,” Haverford answered. He walked off to find Bay Vien.

Bay was a popular man. A few moments later, Bao Dai pulled him aside. “I want him broken. Every last piastre to his name.”

And De Lhandes said to anyone who would listen, “By the glossy belly of Buddha, would you not love to be in that room?”

118

S
IX MEN SAT
at the round table. Nicholai, Bao Dai, Bay Vien, Haverford, Signavi, and the dealer.

Bay Vien announced the rules — the casino would deal, but a buck would rotate from player to player to determine the order of betting and set the game. That “dealer” could choose between one of two games, seven-card stud or five-card draw, the latter with jacks or better to open. There would be no silliness such as wild cards, and jokers were cut from the deck. Importantly, there were no limits on raises or stakes.

Nicholai sat with a squat glass of single-malt scotch straight up and looked at Solange, who stood over Bao Dai’s shoulder like some kind of good-luck fetish. It was demeaning, he thought, demeaning and cheap and far beneath her.

Unless, he thought, she is playing a role that the Americans have cast her in. Just as you are playing a part in their melodrama. But what is her role?

Bao Dai neatly stacked his chips into several piles. Haverford sat to Nicholai’s left, Bay to his right.

They cut cards for first deal. Bay won and chose five-card draw.

Nicholai picked up his hand.

Two hours later, the room was full of stale smoke and fresh tension. Haverford was all but out, as was Bay Vien. Signavi had a modest stack of chips in front of him, but Nicholai and Bao Dai were the big winners and headed for a showdown.

Nicholai found the game itself tedious beyond description, as he had for three long years in prison listening to the American guards play endless rounds of the childish game. Poker lacked nuance and creativity and was painfully puerile when compared to Go. It was a simple matter of risk analysis and money management, and basic mathematics dictated that five players over the course of a certain number of deals would basically receive the same hands. In that sense it was remotely similar to Go, as it involved decisions as to when to be aggressive and when to yield.

Nevertheless, he found the one-on-one battle against Bao Dai compelling. He was surprised at how badly he wanted to take the emperor’s money and beat him in front of Solange.

Speaking of a lack of nuance, he thought.

He picked up his cards to see that the deal had given him a pair of queens and a pair of tens. It was enough to stay in the betting for the draw, and he threw his chips in as Bao Dai raised the betting.

He got his card, the ten of clubs.

Bao Dai opened and Nicholai saw him and raised him.

Haverford tossed his cards on the table. “Not my night.”

Signavi looked hard at Nicholai, whose face was placid and unreadable. He grunted in disdain and pushed his chips in.

Bao Dai smiled across the table. “You’re bluffing.”

“All right.”

The emperor called and raised.

Nicholai and Signavi both saw the bet.

Bao Dai laid his cards out — a red flush.

“Full house,” Nicholai said, and swept up the chips.

Signavi swore in disgust.

Bao Dai only smiled, but Nicholai observed the slight flush of anger and frustration on his cheeks. He glanced up to Solange, who quickly turned away, walked to the bar, and fetched Bao Dai a fresh whiskey.

Nicholai looked at his own stack of chips. He had over two thousand piastres’ worth — about $120,000.

Bay Vien had the buck, ordered a fresh pack, and called for seven-card stud. The dealer shuffled and Bay Vien cut.

Nicholai looked at his two down cards.

It wasn’t promising — a four and five of clubs.

His first up card was a jack of hearts.

Bao Dai showed a queen of diamonds, and bet.

Nicholai stayed in.

The next round brought him the eight of clubs and Bao Dai the queen of spades. The emperor looked up, smiled at him, and raised by three hundred piastres. Nicholai tossed in the chips to see his next card.

A jack of diamonds.

“Pair of jacks showing,” the dealer said.

Haverford folded.

Bao Dai drew a deuce. Still the high hand showing, he bet another five hundred piastres, and Nicholai stayed in to get the six of clubs.

The emperor drew the queen of clubs.

“Three of a kind showing. Queen high.”

Solange’s eyes looked almost sorrowful. Bao Dai bet another five hundred, sat back, and looked at Nicholai. “Do you still prefer games that match player against player?”

Nicholai wasn’t sure if he was matched against a player, or against a player
and
the house, but he answered, “Yes, my preferences don’t seem to have changed.”

“So …”

Bay Vien folded.

Signavi also threw in his cards. “It’s not my night, I see.” He got up, went to the bar, and poured himself a Pernod.

“So it comes down to you and me,” Bao Dai said to Nicholai.

“As it was meant to be,” Nicholai said. Insolently, he looked directly at Solange, who turned her face away.

“The lady is tired, I think,” Bao Dai said. “Shall we make this the last hand?”

“Fine with me,” Haverford said. Bay and Signavi quickly assented.

Bao Dai raised an eyebrow at Nicholai.

“As long as there’s a winner and a loser,” Nicholai said.

“I think I can assure you of that.”

I wonder if you can, Nicholai thought, recalling that the emperor’s ally and business partner had ordered the fresh deck, owned the casino and the dealer. I’ve made a fortune tonight, and still have enough left to purchase a fresh start in life.

The emperor has three of a kind showing. Judging from his aggressive betting, he has another card down. I have only one chance to beat even his up cards — I have to draw a seven of clubs. The odds are overwhelmingly against me.

Bao Dai reached up and brushed the top of Solange’s hand.

Nicholai pushed his chips in.

The deal came.

Bao Dai reached for his down card.

Nicholai said, “Let’s neither of us look.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s neither of us look, Your Excellency,” Nicholai suggested as he pushed all his chips toward the center. “And let’s do make this the last hand.”

“That’s insane,” Haverford said.

Solange’s green eyes flashed like emeralds.

“He could already have four queens under there and know it,” Haverford hissed.

Nicholai was aware of that. He looked at Bay to see if he could discern whether the fix was in.

He couldn’t.

Bao Dai took a deep breath and then pushed his chips in.

“I see you,” he said. Then he looked to Bay and asked, “Is my credit good here?”

“Of course,” Bay said jokingly, but his face looked strained, as if he hoped that the emperor wasn’t going to do what he feared.

But he was.

“I see you,” Bao Dai repeated, “and I raise you two thousand piastres.”

“I don’t have it.”

“I know,” Bao Dai said pleasantly. “I warned you this was no limits. The sad fact is, you had no business being in this game. I played you like a … puppet.”

Bay looked disgusted. Signavi found a reason to look down at the table as Haverford saw something fascinating on the floor. They were all embarrassed for Bao Dai. He had humiliated himself as a man.

But Solange looked straight at Bao Dai, and her expression was one of contempt. It was ephemeral, it quickly shifted to a mask of indifference, but Nicholai saw it, and it was victory enough.

“Good night, then,” Nicholai said, and started to get up.

“Your credit is good here,” Bay said to him, glaring at Bao Dai.

“To the limit of two thousand piastres?” Nicholai asked.

“Exactly.”

Is Bay’s offer sincere, or is the deck stacked and he’s setting me up for an even bigger fall? I saved you from a bullet, Nicholai thought, looking at him. Would you set me up now?

Nicholai sat back down.

He looked at Solange, who looked back at him.

“I call your bet,” Nicholai said.

Bao Dai turned his down cards and showed his hand.

His first card was the queen of hearts.

Four of a kind.

He looked at Nicholai and his leer said,
I told you that you had no place here. My hand, my pot, my woman.

Nicholai turned his remaining down card.

The seven of clubs.