Pia looked around at the sumptuous furnishings. “This must have cost a mint to lift from Earth,” she said.
Eskil laughed from behind the bars of the cashier's cage. “Actually, it was slung from the Moon. They've figured out how to make plastic there. Found some kind of special asteroid or something. It's all synthetic,” he said.
“No machines,” said Khan. “Where are the betting machines?”
“The Contrioles only print scrip up to the hundred-dollar denomination; it would take you quite a while to feed five hundred of them into the machines to make the minimum bet. That's why I am here. Oh, if it gets busy, there will be others, but we take bets in either scrip or certified diamonds.”
Khan looked up. “What? In the Casino, they take credit.”
Eskil shrugged his shoulders. “We're not the casino. I think the cash-or-equivalent is the policy of our angel investor. Makes it easier to hide the profits from the taxman, eh?”
Hannon was looking at his phone. He smiled suddenly, and approached Eskil. “Are you open for bets?”
“Sure! What would you like, Mister, ah, Vult?”
“Right the first time. Dobson's Nose in the fifth, Yonkers, to win.” Hannon started taking handfuls of wadded scrip out of his pockets. “Should be fifty thousand here.”
“Let me check,” said Eskil. Together, they flattened out the bills, then Eskil fed them into a counter/verifier machine. They watched as the machine sucked the scrip inside, the counter spinning upward.
“Fast,” Hannon said.
“Has to be. Imagine a million-dollar bet in scrip. We can count that in about thirty seconds, given nice bundles. Five minutes if you hand them to me by the fistful, like Hannon here.” The counter continued to climb and clicked off at fifty-nine thousand, three hundred.
“Want an even fifty thousand, or do you have seven hundred to make it sixty?” asked Eskil.
Pia fished in her purse. “Here is the seven hundred, Hannon. Sounds like you have a sure thing.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Hannon, trying to hide a smile behind his hand.
Khan looked closely at the young man. “You do, but this is hardly the place. Let's see how this works out.”
The race came up ten minutes later. Dobson's Nose was not the favorite, but it was not the worst one, either. Three-to-one odds would blink, then four-to-one. The horses were paraded out in front of the sparsely populated grandstands. The whole spectacle made a mockery of the sport's unofficial title, “The Sport of Kings.”
Finally, the horses were loaded into the starting gates and the bell sounded. The race was on!
Dobson's Nose took off in the middle of the pack, heading around the first turn.
“Come on, Dobson!” shouted Pia, surprising Khan. How ridiculous, he thought, cheering a horse who was already back in the paddock, on Earth.
Along the backstretch, Dobson's Nose began making up ground, moving from fifth to fourth. Pia's cheers rang out. Even that damned Vult was into it. “Come on, baby, bring it home!”
By the time the pack was headed into the far curve, Dobson's Nose had moved up to number three. The angle of the camera made it difficult to tell which horse was in the lead as they rounded the curve, but that didn't put a damper on these two nouveau riche.
“And down the stretch they come!” rang out the sound on the monitor, as the staff noticed the interest in the race. “Dobson's Nose in front, but Bucky's Wheat is not giving up. It's Dobson, now it's Bucky. Quarter mile to go, and it's Dobson by a nose. Bucky pulls ahead by a neck, but Dobson appears to be rallying, it's neck and neck, Dobson pokes ahead, now it's Bucky. Eighth mile. What a race! It's Dobson and Bucky. Now Dobson is holding on. Dobson by a neck. At the wire, it's Dobson! Dobson's Nose, in two minutes eleven and a fifth. Followed by Bucky's Wheat, with Rainman to show. Winning odds were seven to two.”
Pia had jumped up, her Earth-born muscles propelling her upward. Khan had snagged her by her foot before she could bash her head on the ceiling. He tugged her down, slowly.
Pia threw her arms around Khan. “We won! Seven to two on sixty thousand, that's two hundred and ten thousand!”
“Don't forget the original sixty, either. And you contributed seven hundred, so your payout is twenty-four fifty, plus the original seven hundred, or thirty-one fifty. I'll go get it.”
Hannon approached the cage, but was stopped in his path by a younger man in an impeccable three-piece suit., who arrived through a side door.
“I understand you are our first VIP winner,” said the man. “I am Thayer Bussone IV, but for god's sake call me Jim. I am the primary shareholder in The Augean Stables, and I'd like to shake your hand.” Photographers were called in, and staged shots were made. They even dragged Eskil out of his cashier's cage to present Vult with a suitcase full of neatly banded scrip totalling two hundred and seventy thousand dollars.
***
While the PR people fawned over the winners, Khan was left to cool his heels with a security guard. “Wonderful people, aren't they?” the guard said. “First bet, too. Amazing.”
Khan wondered about that. Something was up, he could tell. Something about the way Vult acted when he made the bet. Khan frowned, thinking about it.
Finally, the circus ended, everyone went back to their jobs, and Pia and that damnable Vult came back to him.
“Where's the suitcase of cash?” asked Khan.
“Oh, I wouldn't take that,” said Hannon Vult. He had that secret smile again. “I might want to make a bet on a Derby horse, so they have the money on account. Saves the hassle of counting all the bills, you know.”
Khan motioned him closer.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah, you're Sandro, except you want us to call you Khan.”
“Yes. But do you know my last name?”
“No.” Hannon sounded puzzled.
“Contriole. My family owns Aphrodite Station.”
“Whoa!” said Hannon, drawing back. “I'm impressed! I hope I didn't offend you, Mr. Contriole.”
Khan motioned him forward. “Don't call me that. Keep calling me Khan.”
Hannon stammered a bit. “S-s-sure. Khan.”
“Don't tell Pia my name, but do tell me your secret. Not here, though. In the casino. I must know how you knew which horse to bet on. You had no program, no schedule, but you dropped almost sixty Gs on a horse just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
Hannon shrugged and extended his arm towards Pia. Khan hurriedly did the same. They made a three-person-wide parade down the length of the Stable, exiting onto the concourse. Hannon dropped her arm to open the doors, and did not reclaim it. Khan led the way down to the Casino, two decks away.
***
Soon, they were at the same bar as two days prior, with the drink glasses and shakers modeling the solar system once again.
“You see,” said Hannon, “when you did this the last time, you left out Mercury.”
“Nobody lives on Mercury except those crazy scientists. Plus, the planet is either directly in front of the Sun, or behind it. Useless. Finally, it's just too low in the sky. You only see it for about thirty minutes at sunset, then, poof, it's gone.” Khan folded his arms across his chest.
“Good. I hope everyone keeps thinking that,” said Hannon. “Consider this: I looked at the computer, Mercury is actually near the longest part of the orbit—it's furthest from the sun from where Earth is. We're directly behind the Sun now, but Mercury is visible to us, too. The Station folks choose to use Mars, but there's no reason they couldn't use Mercury instead.”
“Those crazy scientists,” began Khan.
“Are being kept alive by a bunch of engineers,” said Hannon. “You can't rely on a scientist to do anything that isn't directly related to his field of study. Fortunately, the engineers in the area have to be alert to everything around them.
“I have a buddy that took a job there. I messaged him, and he agreed to watch the races for me. That tip I got? My buddy on Mer
cury was messaging the results of the fifth at Yonkers eight minutes before the race even started on the 'live' feed in The Stables. It's a win every time. I could clean this place out, but, unfortunately, I'll only be here another two days. Damn. It's almost enough for me to want to stay for the next ship.”
Khan had stopped listening after the 'win every time' remark. He had to do some discreet pumping of certain personnel.
Pia looked at him closely. “Khan?”
“Not now, I am busy,” he said, almost oblivious to her presence.
“Will your friend be giving you tips all day tomorrow?” asked Khan.
“Yes, it's Saturday, and he's off duty. He has nothing better to do than sit around, watch the Derby, and feed me the winner.”
“Good. Hannon Vult, I predict by tomorrow night, you will be richer than you could ever know, and Pia here along with you. But first, I have to do some digging, okay?”
They knew an exit line when they heard one. Khan watched them walk out of the bar, then pulled his phone out and made a call to the Purser's office.
Khan wandered over to The Augean Stables, just to get a better look at the premises without Vult or Pia distracting him. The premises were pedestrian, uninspired. The VIP section was open, but completely empty, with an unknown at the cashier's cage. Security cameras were festooned about the ceiling, exactly as you would expect. The feeds looked real enough. He discreetly checked his phone, they matched the commercial feed to within a second.
He was ready to leave when the side door opened and the owner came in. What was his name again?
“Ah, welcome back,” the owner greeted Sandro. “And you would be?”
“Khan.”
“Welcome, Mr. Khan, I am Thayer Bussone IV, but for god's sake call me Jim.”
“Jim. Interesting place you've got here.”
“Thank you. We’re willing to take your money anytime you feel like giving it to us.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?”
“Numbers don't lie. Even our most pessimistic projections show a twenty-five percent profit per year.”
Arrogant little shit. “How are you doing so far?”
“Well, your friends dented the bank a little, but we made up most of it already. Derby Day is tomorrow. Care to place a bet?”
“I might. What is your maximum bet?”
“We have no maximum bet, Mr. Khan.”
“What if you get a bet so large that you can't pay off the winnings?”
“Oh, I doubt that. Even if we did, I would pay it out of my personal funds. Before I was allowed to open, I had to show a one hundred-million-dollar balance, verified daily. I'll only be on the hook for a year at most. After that, the operation will be self-sustaining.”
Damn. I should have thought of this angle, thought Khan. “Even so, say you get a thirty to one horse, and a ten-million-dollar bet. You'd be wiped out.”
“Possibly. But I know how much scrip is floating around this station. It is unlikely that anyone has that kind of cash available.”
“Diamonds.”
“Oh, yes, the famous Green Diamonds. Well, if you would like to lose one or two, I am sure we could accommodate you. We have an agreement with the Contrioles for them to repurchase any diamonds that we happen to win. They keep their monopoly, I get hard currency instead of scrip; everyone's a winner.”
“Well, it seems that you've got all the angles covered.”
“All of them. That's the job of a real businessman. I am providing a service that appears to be much in demand. I wish to continue doing so for as long as possible.” Jim smiled while Khan bristled under the implied criticism. 'Real businessman.' This asshole dared to compare this dump to Contriole Enterprises?
Khan held his tongue, difficult as it was. He made his farewell and left The Augean Stables, lost in thought. Several things came to mind immediately: first, this businessman had no idea who Khan was; second, Khan himself should have thought about establishing an OTB parlor as soon as he came on board; third, The Stables, if this arrogant prick was correct, would be a strong money-maker; and fourth, now was the time to strike. The Augean Stables would never be in a weaker financial position. If he could take it over with one single bet on a sure thing, he would be able to hand it to old man Mario wrapped up with a big bow. That would get him back in his Grandfather's good graces!
He smiled as he thought of his sister's face as he handed the title to The Augean Stables over to Dad at the dinner table.
STEP 7 – The Demonstration
The voice on the phone was awfully loud and insistent for three in the morning.
“How often does this happen?” asked Khan. “This alignment, where you can't see Earth because the Sun's in the way?”
Hannon, barely awake, looked at the phone display oddly. “Just ask your phone,” he said.
“I am. I'm talking to my phone, and you're on it,” he said.
Hannon shrugged and toggled the phone's web tie-in.
“The computer says every five hundred eighty-four days, more or less,” said Hannon.
“Rare,” mused Khan. “Well, I will need to see that your win last night is not just some lucky guess. Be in the Golden Apple bar, at, say, 1 p.m., and your engineer friend on Mercury will call the three races of my choosing before I act on this 'unique opportunity'.
“Fine with me,” said Hannon. “Now, let me get some sleep.”
***
The bar was depressingly familiar. In fact, it could be a bar almost anywhere on the Earth with two exceptions: there was very little paper, and the gravity required a more careful coordination to drinking.
“Why no paper napkins?” asked Pia. “Cloth is nice and all, but it seems a little extravagant, isn't it?”
Khan smiled. This part of station operations, at least, he knew. “Paper recycling is more than the Station can handle right now. It requires a lot of water and material handling machinery that the Powers That Be would rather use to make carbon stuff. Besides, cloth can be used over and over.”
“You'd still need a lot of water just to wash them,” said Hannon.
“True, but that's simple washing. They go through the laundry service, which does its thing. The wastewater is treated by putting it through hydroponics, the air handling machinery has a special chamber just for drying laundry.”
“That's why I catch a whiff of fresh clothes sometimes,” Pia mused. “I thought they were just stuffing scents into the air to make us feel at home.”
Khan chuckled. “I really doubt that. The Contrioles don't do anything they don't have to. It's really two birds with one stone: the laundry gets dried, and they don't have to install a humidifier.”
Hannon looked up at the monitors. Horse racing again.
Khan caught his glance. “Don't worry, I'll get to it. You just have him messaging us all the race results.”
Hannon nodded, then returned his gaze to the others around him. The geriatric set was out in force, like they were every day. One of the younger elders, a woman about sixty years old, caught his eye.
***
“Lucky girl,” she said, indicating Pia. “Two young studs, one hot chick.”
Hannon looked at her, glanced at Pia, then laughed. “Pia? No, we're just acquaintances. Besides, I think Mr. Khan here is the one who is circling her the closest.”
“I'm Mrs. Royce. And you are?”
“Hannon Vult. You here long?”
“Just in between torch rockets. I wanted to see Venus with my own eyes before I go.”
Hannon looked her up and down. “Looks to me like you have years yet.”
Mrs. Royce looked a touch sad. “One never knows. My husband and I were going to make The Grand Tour—even go to Mercury. Then he had a heart attack while out fishing in Canada. By the time they got him to the hospital, he had been dead for half a day.”
Hannon looked down. “I am sorry to hear that, Mrs. Royce.” He stopped, stuck.
She smiled and touched his face. “Do
n't be sad. He had a full life, and it happened over three years ago. I've been busy since then, running his business until I could sell it off. Now I have money enough and time to do what I want.”
“It sounds like you're doing fine, then,” said Hannon. He glanced back at Pia, but she was doing the slow-warm with Khan. She was past the wide-eyed innocent stage and progressing to the such-a-smart-guy phase. Soon, it would be wow-you-are-hot, then progress to I-don't-know-how-would-you-help-me.
A warm hand on his arm interrupted his thoughts. Mrs. Royce again. “It looks like Pia and the other man are an item now. I guess it frees you up to look around, doesn't it?”
Hannon started. The old gal was doing the full-on cougar, and he was the prey! He was doomed—he had to stay here so Khan got the complete demonstration, but the old gal was trying to take him to her room! How could he let her down easily?
Pia watched the by-play with a smile flirting around her lips. Khan saw her eyes wander and snuck a look behind him. He looked like he wanted to laugh out loud.
Kahn glanced up at the monitor to see the horses being led into the starting gates. The crawl on the screen identified it as Chester, PA, second race. Khan tapped Vult on the shoulder.
“Hannon, third race in Chester, PA.” He turned back to Pia, who was watching the monitor with interest.
“But this is the second race, Khan,” said Pia.
“Round trip, here to Mercury and back is eight minutes. That's why I want the third race.” Nevertheless, they sat back and watched the race.
Hannon worked his phone. We're watching events that have already finished twenty-four minutes ago on Earth, but to us, it's live. No wonder relativity gave people headaches.
Six minutes after the race ended, Hannon leaned in close to Khan's ear. “Fifth horse, I don't believe it, Royce's Delight. Five to one. Second is Hannibal's Lector, and third is Sleeping Beauty.”
The results were exactly as Hannon predicted.
Khan tried to hide his wolfish grin. The family was going to have a surprise tonight!
The Longest Con: A Family of Grifters Tale Page 5