Smith's Monthly #22

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  My first impression as Nyland came up on the porch was of a sick, old man, far too thin. His hair was gray and what little hair that was left was thin, showing age-mottled scalp. He had pasty-white skin and a toothy smile that he flashed far too often, with no real laughter behind it.

  With him was his son, Steven.

  Steven looked to be in his mid-forties and just flat scared hell out of me. I had been around some cold, mean animals before, and that was the impression Steven gave off. His dark eyes were dead-looking, and his powerfully built frame looked flat dangerous. Every internal alarm I had went off when I shook his hand.

  And it took everything I could do to not wipe off my hand until he turned his back.

  All Steven did was nod and smile at me, as if just shaking my hand amused him in some way.

  Nyland and R.A. clearly hated each other, and didn’t even bother to shake hands or speak in any way. It was clear that just getting either of these two men to talk wasn’t going to be easy. I was going to have to push them.

  Inside, I laid out the structure of the tournament, that each key was worth $500,000 in chips as a buy-in. The blinds were $1,000/$2,000 and would remain constant.

  I took out Carson’s card capper, clicked open the bottom, and took the key out. I placed it on the fireplace mantel and Annie slid $500,000 chips to a spot in front of my chair.

  R.A. bought in as well, then so did Nyland, both without a word.

  Now three of the keys were together on the fireplace mantel waiting for the winner to claim them.

  It was time for me to go to work.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Idaho Primitive Area. August 28

  STEVEN WATCHED AS the three men took their seats at the poker table. He had taken a bar stool and moved over against the wall across from the door, with his back to the wall.

  Why men like R.A. and his father thought they had any chance in a poker game against a top professional player was beyond Steven. They were just throwing money after their egos and hoping that luck might help them.

  Steven didn’t believe in luck. He believed in careful planning and perfect execution. Luck should never play a part in anything.

  This entire game just seemed funny, and a couple times as they were putting their keys on the mantel and getting chips, he had had a tough time just not laughing.

  Doc Hill wasn’t funny, though. The man looked hard and tough, and clearly didn’t like or trust Steven. Doc was the only one who was a real challenge in the bigger game of getting the keys. Steven had underestimated Doc the first time by sending that idiot thug.

  Steven would not do that again.

  No doubt, this entire invitation to a poker game in the woods for the control of the keys had a dozen traps in it. Steven could think of at least a half dozen he could use here. More than likely, every word they were saying was being recorded, both by Doc and by R.A. It wasn’t like that man to leave anything uncovered.

  But his idiot father had been stupid enough to just walk into all this. The idiot didn’t even realize he was the prime suspect in the murders of his old card-playing companions, and all this was more than likely being staged for his benefit.

  There was an old saying in poker that is almost always true. If you look around a poker table and can’t see the sucker, then more than likely you are it. Steven knew exactly who the sucker was in this game. His father.

  Steven, on the other hand, was here to watch. At least for a while. He wanted to see the conclusion of what Doc Hill was planning before killing both R.A. and Doc and that pretty dealer as well, and then taking all the keys. It was nice of Doc to make Steven’s task easier by getting these three keys together.

  Wouldn’t his idiot father be surprised when Steven killed everyone?

  Surprised for a moment at least, right before he died as well.

  The thought almost made Steven laugh.

  Almost.

  At the table, the first hand was being dealt. The game had begun.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Idaho Primitive Area, August 28

  I WAS REALLY glad that neither R.A. nor Nyland had asked about Annie. She seemed invisible to them, and she was managing to stay that way as any good professional dealer did, dealing flawlessly, not saying anything, directing what action that needed to be directed by simply pointing.

  Within the first ten hands, I got a sense of the two different styles of the two men. R.A. was reckless, and aggressive, and Nyland was careful and conservative.

  I moved slowly, draining off a few chips here and there by making bad calls just to get information about the two of them. I watched how they moved, how they bet, taking in their patterns, hand motions, looks, and everything.

  After about a half hour, I had a pretty good sense of both players. R.A. was up slightly, about fifty thousand, and I was down about the same amount, but no one had moved very far from our original stacks.

  At the hour mark, when Nyland got up to go to the restroom, the chip situation was the same, but by then I knew how these two men played, and how to get to either of them.

  I would have to work on R.A. first, let him give most of his chips to me, then go to work on Nyland. R.A. was too dangerous and wild of a player to leave in the game and try to control.

  During the second hour, I stayed out of Nyland’s way when he raised a hand, which wasn’t that often, but I pushed R.A.

  It was a simple professional’s way of draining money from someone who thought they could play. I made him call small- to mid-sized bets with weak hands, and then fold when I pushed him with a larger bet on the next card.

  Most players didn’t notice this kind of grinding away of their chips, but when they suddenly did look down and realize their stacks were shrinking, they got in a hurry and made even worse decisions.

  R.A. did exactly that. It was no wonder Carson had been able to take him for so much money.

  Plus R.A. had a really nasty tell, one so basic it was in Caro’s Book of Tells. When he had a strong hand, he sat back. Every time. When he had a weak hand and was in some action, he sat forward, as if paying more attention would help him figure out what to do with the hand.

  So I stayed away from him when he had a strong hand, and ground at his chips when he was weak.

  During the first two hours, neither man said much except to swear when they lost a hand.

  Annie dealt flawlessly.

  Steven just sat with his back against the wall, watching. He seemed to find the entire thing just flat-out funny. I wished I had a half-second of privacy to talk with Annie about her impressions of Steven as well. I had a hunch she was watching him the same way I was.

  It was close to the end of the third hour and R.A. was getting panicked by his small stack of chips. I was in the big blind. Nyland had folded on the button, and the action was to R.A.

  He glanced down and then, leaning forward in his chair, just called.

  I looked at my hand. A pair of black tens.

  The right play was to raise, but I knew R.A. had a weak hand and would fold if I did. I figured it was worth the shot at getting the right flop and trapping him, so I just checked.

  Annie burned a card and turned the flop.

  Ten, king, six, all rainbow suits.

  I had flopped a set, but by the way R.A. sat back and stared at the board, I bet he had hit his king. And he might have had a six as a kicker, which gave him two pair.

  Finally he bet out ten thousand.

  I looked at the flop for a moment, then just called, still working the trap. From the looks of R.A.’s stack, he had about two hundred thousand left. If I did this right, I’d have that two hundred thousand in my pile very shortly.

  Annie burned and put the turn card on the table.

  Six of hearts. The exact perfect card for what I was doing. The heart matched the ten of hearts on the board, gave me a full house, and more than likely gave him a full house. Just a smaller one.

  Every action R.A. was taking told me he had
a really strong hand. If he could lean back any farther, he’d tip his chair over backwards.

  The best hand he could have after his opening call was king-six which gave him sixes full of kings. He would have raised with a pair of sixes, or a pair of kings, so I didn’t put him on either of those hands. My tens full of sixes beat him every day. He only had the two kings and the one six left in the deck that would save him.

  He put about fifty thousand into the pot and then looked at me, smiling.

  “Well,” I said after a moment, “looks like you’re going to get some of your chips back, but I have to call. I have too many outs.”

  I slid a matching stack into the pot.

  I wanted him to think I was on a flush draw for the hearts.

  The river was a five of hearts, putting a heart flush possible on the board. I sure hoped he thought I was on a flush draw and had hit it. That would make him greedy and reckless.

  He bet out another fifty thousand, leaving himself with about a hundred thousand.

  I raised all in, forcing him to put all his chips into the pot.

  He just smiled and said, “Call. Hit that heart draw, huh, Doc?”

  He flipped over king-six as I expected.

  “Nope,” I said, turning over my pocket tens.

  He stared at the two cards for a moment, then exploded from the table. Without so much as a swear word, he turned and stormed off into the kitchen.

  Annie pushed the pot toward me, as well as the rest of R.A.’s chips that were still in front of his chair.

  Nyland only nodded.

  Steven laughed.

  R.A. came back with a drink in his hand while I was still gathering and stacking his chips. He pulled his chair four or five feet away from the table and dropped into it.

  “Nice play,” he said to me.

  “Thanks.”

  I had about nine hundred thousand in chips, Nyland had the other six hundred thousand.

  Now the real game was on.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Idaho Primitive Area. August 28

  WITH R.A. OUT of the game, I switched gears and strategy completely. Where before I had been staying out of Nyland’s way, I now pushed him by raising almost every hand.

  And I went from being a silent player to chattering, playing with my chips, moving around in my chair. I had no doubt that would put him off guard. After three hours of playing cards with the man, he didn’t look stable enough to handle quick actions and confusion around him.

  So I had to throw confusion at him in every way I could.

  Also, neither he nor R.A. had said a word that would be worth anything, so now it was my job to get Nyland upset, get him talking to the tape machines.

  “So,” I said, after I had raised five straight hands and he had folded every one of them. “You’re just going to let me drain off your chips by taking all your blinds. At this rate, that will take until about seven in the morning.”

  He said nothing.

  “I have the time. I’ll get the keys either way.”

  He looked at his cards, then raised the bet to ten thousand.

  I had nothing, so I reraised him another fifty thousand.

  He stared at his cards and folded.

  “Good, with bets like that it’s only going to take until about midnight.”

  He glared at me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his son Steven just shaking his head.

  “So, beating up on my mother had to be some fun for you,” I said as he looked at his next two cards.

  He glanced up at me, clearly shocked that I would say such a thing.

  “What?” I asked, pretending to look at the two garbage cards I had in my hand. “We’re here to play for the keys. You don’t think I know how you made it all happen? Wouldn’t it have been more fun to just beat up on me? After all, I was six. Wouldn’t that have made a better point to everyone?”

  “I did what needed to be done,” he said, pushing in a ten thousand raise.

  I slapped my cards down hard on the table like I was angry.

  Annie pushed him the pot.

  I waited until we both had our cards again before saying anything more.

  “We?” I asked. “Man, I’ve been told by everyone that it was just your idea.”

  “It was my idea,” Nyland said. “But others agreed.”

  “My father didn’t, so he had to be held in line by beating up on my mother,” I said, pretending to be disgusted as I pushed in a ten thousand raise.

  “There was a great deal at stake,” Nyland said, his voice cold.

  He called my raise, then put his hand on his cards. It was one of his tells that he had a very strong hand. More than likely a big pair.

  “Yeah, I’m sure there was. Now people are dying because of your idea.”

  He said nothing, but I could tell I had him a little rattled.

  I had a nine-jack off-suit. I was going to need some help very quickly on this hand, and even then it might not be enough if he had a big pair, which I was betting he did. More than likely I was going to have to make some big show of laying this hand down.

  But thankfully, the flop was the help I needed.

  Eight, ten, queen, all different suits.

  I had flopped the nut straight. In heads-up play, this was a monster hand.

  I checked.

  Nyland bet out fifty thousand, one of the biggest bets he had made so far.

  I pretended to think about it for a minute, then I just called.

  The river came a two of diamonds, with no flush possible at all on the board.

  My hand was still the nuts. I was starting to feel like Johnny Chan must have felt against Eric Seidel in the World Series of Poker finals. He had a hidden straight and won the entire thing by trapping Seidel. A classic play. So classic, someone actually put it into a movie.

  This was the same situation. It came up regularly in tournaments, especially in short-handed situations, and I loved being on the winning side of it.

  I checked, shaking my head, pretending to be really angry at the conversation.

  I glanced back at R.A. “Man, someday you’re going to have to explain to me why beating a young mother and keeping this secret for all these years is worth the slap-on-the-wrist that would have happened if you had all just gone to the police at the time.”

  R.A. said nothing. He knew about the tape recorder I had brought with me.

  I turned back to Nyland. “So, why was it worth it?”

  He ignored me and bet out another $50,000. Now I had no doubt he had a big pair, maybe kings or aces.

  I shoved a stack in hard as an angry call, letting him think he was just taking my money because I was upset.

  I was trying to be careful to not say anything on the tape to give away what exactly the secret was. I wanted Nyland and R.A. to do it. But I had to keep pushing him.

  “So, it’s too hard to tell me, huh? Just easier to beat up on some woman. A real manly thing that was. Oh, that’s right, you didn’t even have the courage to do it. You ordered it done. I bet you were proud of that for years.”

  Annie burned a card and turned over the river card.

  Ace.

  Jack-king was now the only hand that could beat me, but I knew that he didn’t have that. More than likely the ace had given him a set. At least I hoped it did. If he had pocket kings, that ace was going to slow him down. Either way, I still had him beat.

  I was first to act.

  “I’m tired of sitting across the table from a man who beat up my mother. Let’s just get this over with.”

  I pushed all my chips toward the center, scattering some of them.

  “All in,” I said.

  If he had the aces, he would call.

  Nyland actually had the gall to look up and smile at me.

  “I call,” he said, turning over his pocket aces.

  “Too bad,” I said, smiling right back at him.

  I rolled over my cards. “Straight to the queen,” I said. “Looks like
your sick dream of controlling the world has come to a very bad end yet again.”

  I had done my job. I had won the keys.

  Now it was show time.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Idaho Primitive Area. August 28

  NYLAND STARED AT my two cards for a moment, then at the board, then back at my two cards, his pasty-white face getting red. Then he slid his chair back and stood.

  I stood at the same time, moving back slightly so I could see everyone in the room.

  Nyland strode over to the fireplace, picked up the keys and put all three in his jacket pocket, as if that was what was expected of him.

  “Hey!” R.A. said, starting toward Nyland.

  I reached out and stopped him.

  Steven just stayed seated, shaking his head like he was amused at the entire scene. Nyland had brought his kid for a reason, and I had a hunch I was about to see what the reason was.

  Annie stayed seated as well, the cards in her hand as she did her best to make no sounds and pretend she wasn’t watching. I knew she was, and that she was ready to move the moment she needed to.

  “Look,” Nyland said, turning to face us all, a sickly smile on his face, “we all know that you two came here to give me your keys before something unfortunate happened to either one of you.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Steven shaking his head in disgust.

  “Like what happened to my father?” I asked.

  “That wasn’t me,” Nyland said. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

  “Except the hundred-and-some people below a dam you and that incompetent son of yours built,” R.A. said, glaring at Nyland, but ignoring the fact that Steven was right there in the room as well.

  Steven sort of froze up, but still did not move off the bar stool.

  Nyland glared back at R.A. and said nothing. Two old bulls in a stand-off.

  “Why do you need the keys anyway?” I asked, trying to get one of them to say something for the tapes. “You still can’t open the box.”