by Jack Parker
This time around the clue had been "Winner, winner, chicken dinner." As usual, the clue could mean any number of things, though from the looks of the location for this mission, Jake assumed it had something to do with gambling. Nova had actually agreed with him, which gave him hope that he was going to be able to work with her after all.
So here they sat—gambling. Obviously, the other players who had made their way to this location had the same idea, except for perhaps the giant at the bar. Somehow gambling was going to lead the way, probably via a challenge, to isolating Benedetto for interrogation and then "removal"—the Agency's word for pretending to have an enemy killed.
It was Nova who was courteous enough to answer the Japanese man's question while Jake laughed sharply and with as much annoying he-haw noise as he could, drawing some perturbed glances from gamblers at other tables as well as his own.
"Honey, he's the mind behind the Grand Chapel Hotel and Casino!" she said loudly with a kind and cheerful tone as she brushed her fingers down the man's shoulder. "He's the one hoping to impress us rich couples into having gorgeous but expensive weddings at the grand opening."
Something seemed to register on the little man's face.
"Oh, Mistah Carlo!" the man exclaimed with a huge smile. "Yes. I meet him."
The older man tapped his cigar into an ash tray set into the poker table and regarded the Japanese with a patronizing roll of his eyes.
"Indeed, Mr. Fukazashi," he said in a gruff British accent. "That is why we are all here, right? We shall all be meeting him very soon. There is no need for such excitement. It is not like the chap is a celebrity coming to sportingly sign autographs for us. I am quite certain he will just pop in, say a few thank-yous, kiss a little ass, and then be on his merry way."
"No, no," Mr. Fukazashi said with a small vibrant shake of his head. "I meet him al-leady."
Jake doubled the minimum ante and slid his cards face down on the table within easy reach, placing them under a thousand dollar poker chip from his stack of chips that he was using as a place holder. The old Brit and Mr. Fukashi each called his raise, while the remaining players folded. As Nova tossed her cards away she shot him a heated glare that could have melted ice. He bravely met her gaze, wondering what she made of the fact that Carlo Benedetto had apparently already met with the excitable little foreigner.
It was she who asked the obvious question, and she placed her forearms on the table and leaned forward to give Mr. Fukazashi a very nice view as she did so.
"Really? How did you meet him? What is he like?"
"Oh he really cool. I meet him last year. Mistah Carlo meet with my company in Japan about cameras. Later, Mistah Carlo call me about casino."
The dealer, an attractive young lady in her college years with short hair, dealt and turned over the first three of what would be five face up cards in the middle of the table. These cards were shared by all the players, with the first three to be exposed commonly being called "the flop." They were the three of spades, ten of diamonds, and the queen of hearts this time.
Jake kept his face expressionless, repressing the urge to lick his lips hungrily with the knowledge that he now had three queens, and for the moment, probably had the best hand. The other two players still in the round each "checked" their hand, indicating that they deferred their chance to bet by lightly tapping the table with a few fingers. Jake was going to be the last to act after each round of betting this hand, which also gave him the advantage of knowing what the other players were going to do before he was forced to act. The advantage was only a small one, but it did give him an extra chance to get a good read on what his opponents might have in their hand.
"Oh neat!" Nova said as she continued to pour on the charm. "And are you going to have a wedding at the new casino too?"
Mr. Fukazashi nodded enthusiastically and stretched out a hand to point. "She over there, talking to friends at Crap game. Brue dress."
All heads at the table turned to see a tall blond woman in a blue dress chattering excitedly with two other women watching the Craps game. If that was Mr. Fukazashi's fiancé, it was as perfect a mis-match as Jake had ever seen. Mr. Fukazashi simply had to be their actor, and the woman probably an actress, Jake decided. There was usually more than one way to get the right information on this show.
"Woah-ho!" Jake whooped. "Nice work my friend!"
Jake reached across the dealer toward Mr. Fukazashi, enthusiastically extending a palm, asking for a high-five. The little man seemed taken aback and not sure what to do at first, and then hesitantly slapped at Jakes hand.
"Did she know Carlo too?" Jake asked.
"Um, excuse me," one of the gay men said a little timidly.
"Oh yes!" Fukazashi beamed. "He introduce us!"
"Oi, Cowboy," grumbled the Brit, "Are you quite ready to—"
"You don't say," Jake mused. He almost forgot his character for a moment as he considered what it meant that Carlo had played matchmaker. He made up for it by grinning obnoxiously and turning toward Nova excitedly with a loud guffaw of a laugh.
"Did you hear that baby? Carlo might give your matchmaking business a run for its money and run a Casino to get them married in!"
Nova smiled patronizingly and patted his knee.
"It's your turn, hun."
"Oh my sorry!" Jake exclaimed. "Everyone checked right? I guess I'll be neighborly and check too, since I took so long and all."
With that, the very patient dealer turned over the next card. It was the ten of clubs.
One of the difficult and fun things about poker was that often a player had to find ways to win with hands that were less than good. Sometimes, it was even more difficult to play the game when you had a good hand, especially hands that no one was likely to be able to beat. Jake now had a full house, and unless one of the two other players still playing held a pair of tens to make a four of a kind, "Ace Halloway" was going to win this hand. The challenge now was to make it count for a significant gain and not chase anybody away.
Fukuzashi made the minimum bet of two thousand in poker chips. Immediately the old Englishman called him—matching his bet.
Good,Jake thought. At least someone as a decent hand. He made a show of trying to decided what to do, adding some hesitation into his actions, and then he raised the bet to six thousand.
"Oh wow!" blurted one of the flamboyant pair in that effeminate sort of voice sometimes attributed to gay men. "Things are getting interesting now."
His partner, who was sporting large rose-colored sunglasses, turned and said, "I know, right? I think he's bluffing."
"Oh really?" wondered the first. "He had me fooled if he is!"
During this discussion Fukazashi had looked at his cards again with obvious displeasure, held them for a moment as if he could will them to turn into something better, and then tossed them toward the dealer in a reluctant fold. The Englishman leaned back in his chair with steepled fingers and shrewdly examined Jake and continued to do so as a petite and pretty young waitress made her way between the tables, taking drink orders.
For a moment, Jake thought the old man might fold too. Then with a wicked grin the bastard leaned forward and pushed all of his chips towards the center of the table.
"All in."
Jake coughed, not bothering to hide his surprise. The bet was over fifty thousand. If Jake lost, he would be out of the game, as he only had somewhere around twenty thousand in total. Beside him, he could feel Nova stiffen. The others at the table began to chatter excitedly as they had done before, with Fukazashi commenting loudly how glad he was he had been able to fold. Jake felt a sudden flash of annoyance. This was supposed to be an easy win, and yet there was that slight possibility . . .
"Would you like something to drink, sir?" asked the waitress cheerfully into his thoughts. She had either come at the absolute best or absolute worst moment. Jake could not yet tell. On one hand the interruption from a stressful decision was welcome, on the other she was distracting him from get
ting a read on his opponent. He decided to be kind to her regardless.
"Hoo boy, darlen!" he crowed. "Gonna need something strong here in a second!"
Everyone at the table laughed, including the Englishman. During that commotion Jake glanced at Nova, who was placed a hand on his shoulder in a light and charming way. She was laughing too, but her eyes shot him a warning.
"I think he's got you dear," she said with a tone that suggested better luck next time.
But Jake knew more than that was on her mind. It was far more critical that Jake stay in this game and continue playing until Benedetto showed up. If he lost here they would lose half the advantage they had gained. Plus, it would look real bad to the agency if he spent all that money and got no information out of using it. On the other hand, Jake wondered if he won this tournament if the show would let him keep the winnings. Would they add the winnings to the purse for completing the mission, or would it count at all?"
The waitress continued to stand behind him expectantly. Jake decided he ought to pay homage to the nature of the show he was on. Somewhere a camera was on him after all, and they were always wired for audio. He handed her a credit card.
"Vodka Martini, my dear," he said in his best British accent while grinning at his opponent. "Shaken, not stirred."
The old coot grinned back at him as the waitress finished getting orders from the rest of the table and headed back to the bar. Jake looked at his cards and shook his head in regret. He was about to fold when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Rain slink up to her ogre of a partner and take him by the hand. She stood on her tip toes and then whispered something in his ear. Together they intercepted the waitress that had just collected his drink order. His attention thus drawn, Jake watched the whole affair out of the corner of his eye while pretending to recount his chips.
"I have you quite covered," said his opponent.
"Awww, I know," Jake answered. "Just figuring out how much I'm about to win from you, so I can tell you and save us time."
"Save us time by making up your mind! You bloody bastard!"
The big man said something to the waitress, his face stoic but expectant. The waitress took something out of her notepad and handed it to the big man. Rain then yanked him by the tie to follow her toward the elevator, with him stooping and barely keeping his balance to keep up. What the hell is going on with them? Jake thought as he watched the waitress resume her errand. I could have sworn it was Mr. Fukazashi that we needed. Jake revised his decision.
"I call then."
"Honey!" Nova admonished, punching him in the thigh hard enough and in just the right spot to make the muscles go numb.
The Brit frowned and turned over his cards. He had the Jack of diamonds and the ten of spades, giving him a three of a kind at the moment. His face fell when Jake triumphantly showed his queens.
"See baby!" Jake gloated at Nova, buffing his chest. "I made the right call."
A moment later the dealer flipped the last card. The table erupted with emotion, and the elegant woman in the red blouse leapt to her feet and hugged her soon to be husband around the neck from behind. Mr. Fukzashi laughed, and the two gay men excitedly bantered in disbelief. Jake had still been grinning at Nova, and the commotion made him afraid to look at the table. He forced himself to see what everyone else already had—that the last card was the ten of hearts. The old bastard had won after all.
When Jake looked at Nova again, her arms were crossed, her eyes hard. He grinned at her sheepishly, trying to figure out what to say to her.
"Winner, winner chicken dinner!" declared the dealer as she raked Jake's chips toward the chuckling Englishman.
"You're an idiot," Nova hissed.
"Wait, what?"
Nova started to rant. "Why did you do that? You know it was not worth the—"
"No, not you, sweetcakes. What the dealer just said."
At that moment the waitress arrived with a tray of drinks. He could feel Nova's glare continue to bore a hole in the back of his head as if she had heat vision as he turned to regard the server.
"Here you are, sir," the waitress said, placing a fresh martini in a fancy looking crystal glass in a drink holder on the table.
Jake stood up, tilting his hat to the table. At last he thought he understood what to do.
"I reckon you're a little too late little lady," he told her. "I already lost."
"So quickly, sir?"
"Yep," Jake said as he reached to shake hands with everyone at the table. "Whenever someone says 'winner, winner, chicken dinner' in this game it also means there is a loser."
Jake grinned at the waitress expectedly. She cocked her head, waiting for him to sign the receipt. There was no indication his words had any effect on her. Jake began to feel with dismay that his hunch had been wrong. Maybe the waitress had nothing to do with Rain's actions at all.
"Mr. Benedetto will be delayed everyone," the waitress said cheerfully as she took the receipt folder back and placed it on her tray. She also handed Jake his credit card back. Underneath it was another small business card. "He had another event come up first to promote the opening. Please be patient."
Jake pocketed the card with relief, then placed a hand on Nova's shoulder.
"Well, let's go, darlin."
"But sweetheart, I'm still in," Nova protested firmly. "And look, I'm doing okay. Why don't you go play craps or something?"
"Yeah! Leave her alone," one of the gay men said. "We like her."
Ugh, why didn't she get it? Jake thought in frustration.
"She'll just sit out this hand," Jake said quickly as he tugged Nova by the arm.
"H-hey!' she protested her chair slightly turned from the force of the pull. "Alright, alright, I'm coming."
She smiled at the other gamblers coyly and laughed, saying "He only wants one thing when he loses. Geez. I'll be back, this won't take long."
They all laughed, and Jake pulled her over towards the bar as he tried unsuccessfully to keep himself from blushing at Nova's cut down remark.
"Nice one, Harpy," he hissed at her. "Here, look at this."
She took the card and read it. Nova shrugged.
"It's an action challenge. Big deal."
"What do you mean big deal?" Jake countered. "The challenge is going to take us to Benedetto. It says right on it that he's giving a Chinese New Year's greeting in front of Caesar's first instead of coming here! We need to get moving. Rain and that oaf are already way ahead by now."
Nova sighed.
"Fine, fine. He's probably still coming here, but we'll do your silly little action challenge."
Jake cocked his head. "Don't you want to win the twenty thousand for this mission, Nova?"
"I always win," she replied, and took his arm as they headed toward the elevator.
Chapter Three
"What's the god-damned hold up?" Grace Goodson yelled as she barreled down the stairs from the observation balcony to the control room pit. "I wanted Rain and Butch intercepted as soon as they finished the challenge! So help me if we miss the reaction interview . . ."
Several heads looked up from their stations as she marched past, uttering several more swears under her breath. One man told the person on the other end of the phone to hold as he made sure Grace was not after him. A game of minesweeper was quickly switched off from a computer back to a ratings spreadsheet. A few final text messages were sent, and Grace reached her target, the interview team lead.
"Robert, double-U – tee – eeff! This isn't our first rodeo honey, you know we always fucking interview people after a challenge! I shouldn't have to command every little detail by now."
Robert was one of those private type kids that always liked to wear black and wore sunglasses indoors. He lifted a microphone from his lips, hands shaking as he looked up at her.
"I-I don't know Mrs. Goodson. They aren't responding! They had orders to be at the challenge arrival point next to the Luxor, I swear!"
Grace folded her arms ac
ross her chest and glared at the young manager. She took a breath in order to keep her patience and help the nervous fool figure out the problem.
"Well, Robert dear, wear where they the last time you had contact with them?"
"They – they were already in position . . . Well, sort of."
Grace narrowed her eyes at him.
"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"
"They were having some drinks at the bar inside before the first—"
"Jesus H. Christ on a fucking popsicle stick! And you let them?"
"I didn't think—"
"That is evident Robert. Send someone down there and find them, or I have you and that whole god-damned crew reduced to cleaning shitters the rest of the season if I can't just fire you."
"Right away, Mrs. Goodson!"
Grace spun and jabbed a finger at a middle-aged woman who was trying to appear like she was just concentrating her on her job.
"And you! Reposition one of your crews focused on Benedetto and get them doing interviews on the rest of the teams as they finish the challenge. Lord knows that man doesn't need to hog too many cameras."
Robert raised a nervous hand like a school kid trying to interrupt.
"But Mrs. Goodson, those crews aren't trained on how to—"
"I don't care if you have to read them the questions yourself Robert, we are getting someone into position, got it? Now do your fucking job!"
Grace watched Robert spin in his chair and begin typing furiously at his keyboard as he made preparations to follow all of her orders. The older woman, Genie, slowly flipped through camera views in front of Ceasar's palace to try and decide which one she could do without. She wanted to crack the whip again and get the woman to hurry it up, but she had a show to run. There were a million other details to worry about.