Lies (The David Chance Series Book 3)

by Hileman, John Michael

  "It is," she replied.

  His nod was so slight, Jon wondered if he had actually done it. The door swept backward, and the room became visible. It was three or four times larger than his suite downstairs. The entire back wall was glass which gave way to a balcony through opened double doors in the center. The elongated oval tables which filled the room had finely-dressed men and a few women with cards and chips in front of them. Smaller and taller tables lined the walls where women and a scattering of men enjoyed drinks while talking about the games or looking at the flat-screen televisions mounted on every wall. At the far right was a bar. At the bar a cocktail waitress loaded up for another pass of the room.

  Jon entered. He should have felt like a king, but all he could do was wonder if the beauty on his arm could feel him shaking with fear. Had his counterpart been here before? Would any of these people recognize him as a fraud? If so, what was the penalty for crashing a gambling party?

  "You belong here, Jon," said a voice. "We will guide you."

  Who am I supposed to be?

  "The man whose place you are taking is John Harper. He is a low roller who was hoping to hit the big table tonight, but his nerves got the better of him."

  Do they know him here?

  "No. Nor are they likely to ever know him."

  His date leaned in. "I'm going to get us a drink. What would you like?"

  "There are waitresses," he responded.

  "I like to get my own," she said with a smile. "What’s your poison?"

  He began to respond with, "I don't do poison," but the voices fed him another line. "Whiskey. Neat." He allowed the words to flow from his mouth.

  "What? No olive?" she said, giving him a scan with her eyes.

  "An olive would just make less room for the whiskey," he said, attempting to mask his surprise that the apparitions had a sense of humor.

  She acknowledged his snarky remark, then headed off toward the bar.

  A man approached. "Evening, sir. I am Alexas, your concierge. Would you like to cash in now, or at your table?" He held a tray with an electronic device.

  Cash in with what?

  "Your card," said a warm voice.

  Isn't the house expecting John Harper?

  "The house doesn't care where the money comes from."

  Jon's hand went to his pocket and came back out flashing his debit card. The man pushed the tray forward and Jon swiped the card.

  "How much shall we set you up for?" asked the man.

  "Twenty-eight thousand should be enough to start," he found himself saying.

  Twenty-eight thousand! he screamed inwardly. That's almost all of what I have left!

  A woman's voice responded calmly. "If you relax, you'll walk away with a quarter million, or more."

  A quarter million? From playing poker in a hotel?

  The concierge acknowledged the payment. "Select your table, and we will have your chips brought out. If there is any way I can make your evening more enjoyable, please don't hesitate to ask."

  Jon gave him a nod, and surveyed the tables, as the man moved on to another guest. When his eyes landed on the right one, his mind urged him toward it. He offered no resistance but instead gave himself over to the impulse. It led him to sit at a table with four assembled gamblers and even lifted his cheeks to produce a smile for them. He could feel the confidence of his unknown controller and couldn't help but wonder if he might be channeling the spirit of a dead card shark. All he needed was some mood lighting, candles and a tray of incense and it would be a full blown séance.

  He settled in as a new card was pulled from the deck and placed in the center of the table, making four cards altogether: a seven of hearts, an eight of diamonds, a jack of diamonds, and a jack of clubs. Jon's understanding of the game of poker was extremely limited. He’d played once at a party his father had held with some bowling buddies, but they’d only allowed him to play a few hands before he was sent to bed.

  I hope you'll help me with the rules, he thought silently.

  "We won't be playing by the rules," responded a male voice with an Italian mafia quality to it. "That isn't a problem, is it?"

  No. Unless they decide to take me out back and break my legs.

  "If you obey, you have nothing to fear."

  He sucked in a breath and let it out, and the action did not go unnoticed. Several eyes snapped in his direction, most likely to size up the new guy. Would he be an easy take? Was he a shark?

  Thankfully no one left eyes on him for long, that is, save for the man to his right, a man in a blue pinstriped shirt with tight brown hair and blond highlights. "Daniel," he said, offering his hand and a friendly expression.

  Jon shook his hand and responded with his own name.

  Daniel gestured, like a magician's assistant, to the woman sitting on the other side of Jon. "The very serious woman next to you is Talia Borstiev."

  The attractive middle-aged woman allowed her eyes to simmer, as if to say, "Oh, really?" then produced a smirk. "Welcome to the pit, honey. The game’s already begun."

  Daniel seemed happy with himself as he continued his introductions. "The dangerous Austrian next to Ms. Borstiev is Gustav Klien."

  Gustav gave a slight chin raise but no expression. He was a thick white man in a gray satin shirt who looked like he could have been a boxer when we wasn't playing poker.

  "And this is Jackson, or as we like to call him, action Jackson." The black man with a soul patch gave a half nod, half bow.

  The mood at the table was an interesting mix. Jackson and Gustav hardly moved or flinched, while Talia and Daniel were animated and chatty. It might have been an indication of who was ahead and who was behind, but Daniel quickly dispelled that theory. He leaned in close to Jon’s ear, so the others could not hear him over the music. "Gustav is the big stack at the table, so watch yourself. We're beginning to wonder if he can read minds."

  Gustav looked like a stone statue as he waited for Talia to put her bet in.

  "Check," she said, and looked at him. "I think you're bluffing."

  Gustav laid down four chips and pushed them into the center with no expression on his face.

  Jackson did the same.

  Jon felt a hand on his arm and turned to see his beautiful Italian escort. "Your drink," she said. She set it next to his right hand and leaned down. "I'll be at the table behind you if you need me." She leaned in closer, licked her lips, and breathed in his ear. "I hope you need me."

  He turned and locked eyes with her, but said nothing. Sparks smoldered between them, and, for the briefest of moments, he almost believed those sparks were real. She let her hand fall from his arm delicately and moved off like a prowling animal. She had skills, there was no doubt about that.

  Jon shifted his eyes back to the table and watched as the fifth card was placed next to the others.

  "Ace of hearts in the river," said the dealer. This brought a reaction from his new friend.

  "Looks like Gustav is building a house," said Daniel with a smile. He flipped his cards over, showing an eight and a five. "I'm out," he said, sliding them to the dealer. "Two pair, jacks high. I don't have the jack, but I'm guessing I know who does."

  Talia pushed a small stack of chips forward. "Well, I'll give him three of a kind, but that won't be enough."

  Gustav flashed four chips and slid them forward. Each had a colorful gold stamp on its face.

  "Two thousand?" laughed Daniel. "I don't know, Talia, that's a strong bet for someone sporting a three of a kind."

  Jackson flipped his cards nonchalantly and slid them toward the dealer. There were no jacks in his hand either.

  Talia fingered the chips in front of her as she stared at Gustav. The Austrian looked at the table, unflinching.

  "You're bluffing," she said, "just like you did with the flush. You don't have it, do you?"

  Gustav made no indication that she had even spoken.

  She built two stacks in front of her. "Well, I'll call." Slowly she pushed th
em toward the dealer.

  Gustav flipped his cards over, an ace and a jack laid bare for all to see.

  "Well that's it then, isn't it?" said Talia, pushing her cards to the dealer.

  "Full house, ace high," said Daniel. "Looks like he had the goods."

  A smile creased Gustav's lips.

  Talia seemed unaffected. She turned toward Jon and Daniel. "You win some, you lose some. But we'll see who gets to the big table tonight."

  Jon's chips were placed in front of him and a new round began. The dealer pulled a round puck from in front of Talia and slid it in front of Jackson. Daniel laid two chips on the table with a flick of his wrist. Jon's hand grabbed four and threw them toward the center.

  Why did I do that? he thought inwardly.

  "You're the big blind," said the mafia-guy voice, matter-of-factly.

  Thanks. That helps.

  "Just keep your head," said another voice. "And have fun."

  Fun? He was playing high-stakes poker with the last of his money, and here were four people who had perhaps spent their lives learning how to separate people from their money. Not to mention the fact that they were trained lie detectors. There was no possible way he was going to have fun.

  The dealer gave each of them two cards. Talia threw hers away almost as soon as she received them. Gustav met the bet. Jackson raised. And Daniel threw the same amount of chips in. It was back to Jon again.

  He slid his cards toward himself and, like a pro, peeled the corners up discreetly. A four of hearts and six of spades. His hand hovered over his chip stacks, pinched the appropriate amount, and flung them out in front of him. Gustav threw his cards back at the dealer, but Jackson stayed in. Based on only two cards, two players were already out.

  The dealer laid three cards down: queen of hearts, four of spades, and eight of clubs. Daniel threw three more chips in, causing Jackson to send his cards back at the dealer.

  Daniel smiled. "I guess it's just you and me."

  Jon's hand grabbed six chips and threw them in.

  "Interesting," said Daniel. "Raising on the flop. Is he bold? Or confident?"

  No response came from the poker player controlling him, just a sense of calm.

  "All right," said Daniel. "All right. I'll call."

  Jon went to flip his cards over, but an impulse stopped him. "Not yet!" said the voice of the card shark spirit. "A call means he is going to meet our bet. The hand isn't over yet." Jon slid his fingers off the cards and rested them on the edge of the table.

  "Reaching for your cards, Jon? Wondering if they are as good as you remember?"

  Jon avoided eye contact.

  It made sense now why Daniel had befriended him so quickly. His outgoing nature was a tool he used in assessing his competition. The strategically placed comments were nothing more than a tactic to elicit emotional responses. Slowly, over the course of a few hands, he would be inside Jon's head—and that was the last place Jon wanted him to be.

  The dealer placed another queen on the table, making the total card count four. Daniel tapped the table.

  Jon's hand moved on its own and slid a stack of chips out.

  "Five thousand," said the dealer.

  Five thousand! He fought to keep his inward panic from effecting his countenance.

  Daniel's eyebrows rose. "The new guy raises again on the turn." He looked at Talia. "He must have that third queen."

  "He's playing bold if he doesn't," she said, scanning him.

  "Are you a bold player, Jon?" said Daniel, with the same bubbly attitude.

  "I bet on what I have," said Jon, on his own.

  "Well," said Daniel, "you're either the best liar I've ever seen, or you're sitting on the right cards. I, however, am not." He flipped his cards over, revealing a five and nine. "The question is, what are you sitting on?"

  Jon stared at the flipped cards. Had he won? Yes! Within a few short minutes he had increased his financial situation by thousands of dollars! This was shaping up to be a very good night. His hand moved to his cards, and he didn't resist. With a shove they slid toward the dealer.

  "Come on. Show us that queen," said Daniel.

  "It would be nice," said Talia.

  The dealer flipped over the six of spades. Everyone at the table was noticeably affected. With a few glances, a couple of well-selected words and a knowing nod the entire table was in agreement; Jon had pulled off a major bluff. How they had determined that from the showing of only one card, however, was beyond Jon.

  "Well played," said Daniel. "Now we know you have the guts."

  Jon leaned forward and raked the chips back to his pile. "Don't look around. Stack the chips and stay relaxed," said the voice of the card shark. "How you gather your chips says as much about you as how you put them in." He silently acknowledged the advice and let his hands go to work slowly stacking the chips.

  The next hand came and went, and Jon was not the winner. The pot went to Gustav. Fortunately, it was a small pot. After that, Jackson took the pot, but Jon had been urged to throw his cards out before betting, so there was no loss. By the fourth hand it seemed as if the group had forgotten all about his win, and Jon took a sizable pot with an indisputable winning hand, four kings.

  Another five hands passed, and Jon began to see a pattern. If he had come in and started winning every hand, he would have scared all the fish away. Instead, the voices baited them, allowing them to have a false sense of hope, so they would continue to stay in and continue to place money on the table.

  But eventually Talia cracked. "I'm out," she said. "I don't have unlimited resources, like Gustav."

  It was apparently true, Gustav seemed to have no limits. He’d begun the night as the leading player and in the two short hours Jon had played he had taken several heavy losses. One pot alone cost him sixty thousand. Of the three remaining players, only Jackson was ahead. The others were in the hole.

  "Will you be okay, Talia?" said Daniel, with a surprising amount of empathy.

  "Yeah. I'll manage," she said. "That's sweet of you."

  "Manage?" said Jon, looking from one to the other.

  Daniel's eyes scanned the group. "Let's just say, Talia has worked hard to get to this table. It's tough seeing her take such a bad hit."

  Jon looked at Talia. Her face had a flushed glow on it.

  "What does he mean?"

  "It's not important," she said. "You keep winning, okay, honey?"

  Jon posed the question to the voices. Why did Daniel ask if she was going to be okay?

  "It's not important," was the response.

  It's important to me, he thought.

  The voices were quiet a moment.

  Well?

  "Unlike most of the people in this room, she doesn't use her winnings for herself. She uses them to help her mother fight cancer. Daniel knows this."

  The money she lost is being taken from her mother's cancer treatment?

  "Her mother will be fine."

  Jon took two 5-stacks of five-thousand-dollar chips and slid them over to Talia.

  A voice erupted in his head. "What are you doing!"

  It’s my money, right?

  "Of course, but..."

  Then I’ll do what I want with it.

  "That’s fifty thousand dollars!"

  Yes, and it is only half of what she lost tonight.

  Talia's eyes flicked down and back up, there was a question in them.

  "Please," said Jon, "I want you to have it."

  "But I..." She couldn't find the words.

  "I don't know your story, but I see admiration in Daniel’s eyes, and a reluctance on your part to share what is obviously a secret that would make you seem weak in front of your fellow competitors. I admire your strength. Whatever cause you're playing for, I'm sure it’s a good one."

  "I can't take this," she said.

  "That's precisely why I want to give it to you."

  She gave Daniel a suspicious look. "Did you tell him?"

  "It's not e
xactly a secret," said Daniel, somewhat amused by the unexpected turn of events. He wasn't the only one. Jon's gift had drawn a crowd of spectators. "Half the players in this room know about your mother."

  Her shoulders sank and her brows tightened. It did not please her to know that her situation was so widely known. Perhaps it was the thought that people would treat her differently because they would see her as a charity case. Whatever it was, she was clearly bothered about it being aired so publicly.

  Daniel leveled his eyes on her and cut right to the heart of the matter. "You earned that seat, Talia. There isn't a person in this room who thinks otherwise."

  She straightened herself and slid the chips back toward Jon. "I appreciate your generous offer, young man, but I can't." There was no changing her mind, he saw the determination burning in her eyes.

  "I understand," he said. "I hope I didn't offend you."

  "No," she said. "It was a very kind gesture." She stood and made her exit with discrete refinement.

  "You've made quite an impression," said a low, sultry voice close to his ear. He turned and caught the smell of peppermint and flowers. His escort stood next to his chair, her warm arm brushing against his. "You have been invited to the big table," she said. "I have to say, I'm not surprised. Your skill at Texas Hold'em is impressive."

  He looked at the chips on the table, then to his three competitors. "If you gentlemen will excuse me."

  Each nodded with respect as he stood.

  "Come," said his date, wrapping her arm around his, "let's get some fresh air while they move your winnings." All eyes were on them as they took leave to the balcony. The night air felt good on Jon's face and brought life back to his tired eyes.

  "Where did you learn to play like that?" said the lovely escort on his arm.

  "Online," he responded, for lack of a better excuse.

  "You are very good."

  He came to the railing and pulled away from her slightly. "You know, I don't even know your name."

  Her eyes squinted. "What do you mean?"

  He felt a tinge of panic. Things were beginning to feel so comfortable, he almost forgot he was nothing more than an imposter, posing as her date. But he recovered quickly. "I know the name you give your clients, but what’s your real name?"