Dead Man's Hand

by Steven Meehan

  The drugs alone couldn’t constrain me, otherwise, why make use of the freezer? If the drugs were as effective as I had made them out to be in my mind, why was I being partially frozen? If they were that good there wouldn’t be reason to keep me here, other than to make me uncomfortable that is. The drugs weren’t fool proof, they had their limits. Could I overcome the drug’s effects if I were warm enough? That would explain the freezer. Effective as the drug might be they needed help, otherwise this prison was simply overkill. It was like trying to swat a fly with a cannonball.

  After working out what the guard had meant I analyzed how the information might help me. To be honest, I had no idea. But, as I told Bella, I loved to collect random pieces of information. While it might appear useless now, if they decided to move me I would be able to test my theory.

  For now, the information scared me to death. One thing I deduced was that Dempsey preferred to own me, like he did with anyone of value that he could sink his talons into. But I would rather have a date with an undertaker than let Dempsey own me. Granted I would certainly live longer if I played along, and if I could not escape right now it might help me eventually find my way clear of the tyrant. Fortunately if I had to play along I wouldn’t have to work all that hard to play along, the threat of certain death is quite the motivator.

  No, I was fairly certain that I needed to feign acceptance, for now. Rebellion would have to come later when I could ensure my escape. But there was a certain part of me that wanted to fight, and in that vein I attempted, once again, to find a heat source. After my useless search I was still unable to locate any kind of heat floating in the room. I gently rapped my head against the top of the chair and sighed as I finally acknowledged to myself what I had feared ever since I had woken up, I had no chance of getting out of this mess.

  How could I be valuable to a criminal kingpin like Dempsey? Well of course I knew how, it wasn’t every day someone of my potential came along. But was I really valuable to Dempsey or was that just me wishing he had some reason to keep me alive? My guards might have said anything just to get me to shut up—I was obviously aggravating thug number one. Could they have been lying to me?

  Should I believe what they had said in the conversation I had overheard? Yes. They didn’t know that I was conscious and had had no idea that I could hear them through the mostly closed door. Apparently, Dempsey already had someone like me on his payroll, and more than likely, she was very skilled. That being said, why did Dempsey see value in me? These were the questions that terrified me more than anything. A shiver ran down my spine, either from the cold or my absolute terror due to my capture. As evidenced by my prison, Dempsey knew how to hold someone with my gifts and he knew how to squeeze them for all they were worth.

  As the two goons had all but admitted I was being drugged, I couldn’t help but wonder what might be lacing the IVs. Whatever it was, it had been well thought out and well crafted. I began to speculate if it was something designed specifically for people like me. That was a strange thought. People like me, how many were there? For someone like Dempsey I was certain that a drug like that would be worth just about any price. I somehow had to figure out what it was. But again, that was for the list of things to do after I got out of here.

  At the moment, I had more pressing concerns, like not freezing to death, which was proving to be very difficult. It would appear that Dempsey had managed to think of just about everything. Right now, I could see only one slim chance for survival and I was hanging all of my hopes on that. I was actually more than a little afraid to even think about it. My fear was that Dempsey had already figured it out and put the kibosh on it, but there was still a chance. If—and I want to stress that condition—if I survived the night, it would be as Dempsey’s puppet. And it would only be for as long as I proved myself valuable. That was not a prospect I liked to dwell on all that much, though to be honest, I also found the idea of feeding the worms distasteful.

  But deep down I knew that if I even hoped to escape this trap, I was going to have to sacrifice something big. Right now I was just hoping that the price wouldn’t be too high. As I sat alone in the dry coldness of the room, thinking about what I would be willing to sacrifice, I heard a loud crash. It sounded like something heavy had been rammed into the freezer door. “What’s going on over there?” I called out.

  A curt retort from goon number one immediately followed my question. “Shut your mouth.” I apparently had really gotten under his skin, I wish I knew what I had done to him.

  The man was nothing more than a mass of heavy muscle and I was about to intentionally antagonize him, probably not the brightest of moves, but he was really starting to make me mad. Forcing as much flippancy into my voice as I could, I calmly responded, “It sounded like you were breaking something, that’s all. Sorry to interrupt your concentration, I’m sure you need it.”

  Being blindfolded and facing away from the door, I was unable to see the goon’s reaction. But I could feel his hatred as he stared down my neck and started to growl some kind of reply. It sounded a bit like, “I told you to…”

  My frustration at being unable to do anything physically made me lash out with the only weapon at my disposal, my mouth. Or perhaps I was just going crazy as I decided to antagonize the raging bull. Who knew, perhaps I would get lucky and get some blood pumping and adrenaline running through my system. I forced as much venom into my words as I could. “No I mean it. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I’m sure it takes every ounce of your puny brainpower to complete the task of throwing things around. I would hate to distract you from such an important job.”

  I could hear another crash only this time it sounded as if the massive thug just let something fall from his hands. But nothing came. I waited and after another couple of heartbeats I heard goon number two speak, “Relax you fool. He’s just trying to get you to do something rash. And it would have worked if I hadn’t been here to stop you. Now, focus on the task at hand.” Again I could feel the thug’s angry eyes upon me. “Marcus, you should focus more on what I told you earlier.”

  He paused and I waited for him to continue, stubbornly refusing to answer. After a moment the thug continued talking as if he had never paused. “The boss would prefer that you are unharmed, but if, for whatever reason, we think you are a problem, we have absolute discretion to manage you as we see fit.”

  As much as I wanted to continue antagonizing them, I ultimately had to yield to the man’s thinly-veiled threat. I didn’t think I would be able to contain myself if I spoke, so I simply nodded my understanding.

  With that he turned back to his companion and added. “Just you remember to keep your mind focused on the task at hand.” He held his breath for a moment before lowering his words to a whisper, apparently hoping I wouldn’t hear him. Thanks to my concentrated effort my ears were already attuned to their whispered conversations. “I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes if you went off and did something stupid like that. Now pick up you side and let’s get this over with.”

  Apparently these two weren’t happy partners. I wondered just how short a leash the frothy one was kept on. Before I could dwell on this I heard more sounds coming from behind me. What are they lugging in here? Whatever it was, my last vestige of hope was dashed. I had known there was very little chance that that this meeting was going take place somewhere else, not after all the precautions that had been taken to keep me secured. But that hope had been all I had left. Now I was going to stay nice and frigid while I talked with whoever Dempsey sent. A moment later my guess at a table was confirmed as it was rammed into my stomach. I figured the thugs were taking what vengeance they could, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Go get the boss’ chair.” Number two barked, his voice now coming from in front of me.

  As the more level headed of the two thugs ordered the boss’s chair to be brought in, it occurred to me that I hadn’t really considered who I was going to be meeting with. To be fair, I hadn’t really th
ought I was going to live long enough to find out, and to be honest, I still had my doubts on that score. Up to this point I had simply ignored comments regarding “the boss.” I didn’t want to consider that I was possibly going to have a third conversation with Dempsey. I kept telling myself that there was no way he would come and talk to me himself. But then, that is what I had thought about the tournament and look what had happened there. I hoped that I was just going to meet with one of the crime lord’s lieutenants. Perhaps this was just wishful thinking on my part.

  From behind me I was able to hear number one’s return and it sounded like he was struggling with something. The boss’ chair must be a rather large and unwieldy piece of furniture if it was able to give that man trouble. As the two busied themselves with the chair I heard something else echo behind me.

  Clack.

  What is that? Behind me I heard a noise that sounded like something tipped in metal was striking something hard, but not metallic.

  Clack.

  The noise was moving closer.

  Clack.

  Whatever was making that sound was slicing through the air, but there also was something symmetric about it.

  Clack.

  There was a rhythm behind those striking sounds. What is causing that sound? What is that predictable? Could it be coming from a cane? That would make some sense, someone walking with a cane.

  Clack.

  A cane was a good indicator of either importance or injury. But with these two talking about the boss the way they did an injury seemed just a tad unlikely, and of course that left me with someone of importance, their boss. Had someone with a cane entered the tournament? I started replaying the tournament in my head, moving back from my victory and towards when I first walked into the warehouse.

  Clack.

  Had I seen anyone with a cane? Even if I thought of someone that didn’t mean this person was the same one. Of course there was a chance that whoever this was hadn’t even been at the tournament. I was about halfway through my memories and had yet to find a glimmer of a cane. Apart from injury who actually chose to use a cane anymore?

  Clack.

  That clacking was coming closer, so I sped towards the beginning through the migration to the poker hall. There were still the entrances to go through, for some reason I thought I remembered seeing a cane at the tournament but so far my memory seemed to be failing me.

  Clack.

  That time the sound definitely came from inside the freezer, I could tell from the echo.

  Clack.

  I swallowed as I sped towards the entrances of all the players.

  Clack.

  That came from just to my right. Come on I needed to get a mental picture first if I could.

  Clack.

  Whoever this was, he was rounding the table.

  Thwack.

  If I could have jumped, I would have leapt about ten feet into the air. Whoever had just entered had slammed their cane onto the table, obviously wanting to set the tone for this exchange. I pushed my memory to go faster. All of a sudden in the corner of my mental eye I caught sight of something. I quickly took a few mental steps backwards and saw what had caught my eye. As the main door opened for what was the last time a man with a cane walked in.

  But as I was watching the scene in my mind one of the goons grabbed the blindfold and ripped it from my head, along with some of my hair. When my eyes finally adjusted I saw a cold smile staring down at me. That smile matched the one I had just seen in my mind. But those cold emotionless grey eyes were different now. In my memory, his eyes were filled with a sense of warmth, laced with the slightest touch of generosity. Otherwise, the eyes were the same, and of course they belonged to Bertrand Dempsey. At that moment I felt certain he had come to watch me die.

  Chapter 15

  “Good afternoon, Marcus.” The calm smile Dempsey wore shouldn’t have been able to look so welcoming, but his mouth was as smooth as his handmade silk suit. I started to think that I would prefer to be chained up with a ravenous lion, it would have been a less painful way to go.

  As I silently starred up into my personal grim-reaper’s face I couldn’t help but curse myself for not doing what Matt had told me. My overconfidence had managed to get me killed, just like he had feared.

  “I’m sure you’re anything but comfortable, Marcus.” Dempsey spoke with the sort of casualness that you would address a family member with. I was certain it was to obtain a particular effect, and I was sure that effect was to terrify me. Well it was working. “But given your abilities your discomfort is unfortunately a necessity.”

  I was barely able to keep myself from giving anything away in my first moment of shock. After a deep breath and a few moments to clear my head, I decided to try respectful disdain, there was no reason I had to grovel beneath his boot, yet. Keeping my eyes just below his I started to ask, “And what abilities…”

  I was quickly interrupted as goon number one’s nonexistent fuse was expended and he began to bellow, “Why you little…”

  His outburst was quickly silenced mid-sentence by a slight movement of Dempsey’s left hand. The man’s quick obedience did more to cow me than the palpable anger dripping from the gangster’s words. When Dempsey broke the terse silence, he was using the same tone of voice he had just moments before. “Marcus, neither I nor my employees appreciate being lied to. In fact, we have a strict policy when it comes to liars,” he looked sternly at me as he continued. “I may not be able to stop him quickly enough next time.”

  As far as threats went Dempsey’s first was fantastic. He had manipulated the previous silence just enough to drive it home and leave me terrified. A broad smiled split his face as he continued along as if he had just told a joke or something. “So please don’t waste any more of my time. We both know what you really are and it is a rare and wonderful gift.”

  I couldn’t let him sense my fear so I tried to quickly change the topic. “Why did you have the camera’s installed?” It was as good a change as any, despite the fact that I really didn’t care about the why, after all, it wouldn’t change anything about my current situation. Right now, all that mattered was my survival, and to that end, I couldn’t help but notice that Dempsey wasn’t dressed very warmly. I couldn’t help but hope that this meant the temperature would have to be raised. Maybe if I could get him talking long enough I would be able to alter my bonds and do something other than die. I knew I was grasping at straws but it was all I had.

  That predatory smile, framed by his angular face, widened just ever so slightly. “Now that is a good question, Marcus.” Dempsey replied as he straightened himself in his chair. Extending his right index finger a scant inch in front of my face he shook it back and forth and I saw the pleasure behind his eyes grow. “Shame on you for forcing the cameras to come out in the first place, but the answer is rather simple. You see, after your first dealer was relieved the news that you were catching a remarkable number of ridiculous hands made its way up to me. So I arranged for a table to be outfitted with cameras right then and there. But I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt until your second dealer made the same comment. I don’t care who you are, no one is that lucky.”

  Up until this point I hadn’t really cared about how I had gotten in this predicament, but when he told me his reasons behind setting the trap, I have to admit that I got more than a little irate. The hostility in my voice was apparent as I replied; “That’s the reason? You installed those cameras because I was lucky?”

  With a shrug Dempsey dismissed my apparent outrage. “So you say. But when you combine that with how you actually won, it does look very suspicious, even you have to admit that.” Seeing I was unsatisfied with his answers he quickly quelled any further argument. “Marcus at this point the why is not an issue. The fact is I have video evidence that your last hand started with the eight of clubs and the nine of diamonds yet, miraculously, that nine ended as the ace of spades.” His voice was empty of all emotion. He let the silence
hang in the air long enough to make it uncomfortable before speaking once again. “And since we both know that with as often as the decks were changed you palming that ace was an impossibility, and that means you are capable of wielding real magic.”

  His logic was unfortunately sound, but at that moment I could feel hot air kissing the back of my neck. And from the sounds emanating behind me, my bet was that I was being held in a restaurant’s walk-in freezer. With a little more time I might be able to warm up a bit. I needed to stall for more time. “Was Patrick one of your plants?” I asked as I attempted to mirror his emotionless tone, though the effect was slightly marred by my chattering teeth.

  Dempsey gave me a smile that never quite reached his eyes, which held only cold malice. “Do you honestly think I would have employees in the tournaments?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” I shot back. Without giving him the time to reply I rolled off my short list of reasons why I knew he did. “It really doesn’t cost you anything to enter a few of your own players as long as they’re skilled enough to challenge for the final hand. And as long as they get there, you get your entrance fee back so no harm no foul. But as long as we’re being honest with each other, I can’t see you not ordering some of your more skilled employees to take part in your tournaments. It’s just good business.” I could see his interest in me rise once more as I listed my reasons. Why am I trying to gain real notice from this new-age mafia don?