Brown cut the deck, then looked at King. “What’s your opening bet?”
King knew exactly what to offer. “Bill Downey. You seem to need him for something, so if I lose, I’ll tell you where he is.”
It seemed like a safe bet. If Brown’s goons went looking for Downey, they’d start in the man’s hotel room where King had left him, so there was nothing to be gained by holding back the knowledge. And he might just glean some insight into what Brown was really up to, and why it was so important for Downey to have one of the quantum phones.
“And if you win? What question would you like me to answer?”
“Something simple. The honest truth about Brainstorm. Admit that it’s all bullshit.”
A wry smile quirked the gambler’s expression, then he nodded and with a flourish, expertly dealt out four cards: The five of diamonds and the nine of spades to King; the two of diamonds and the queen of hearts to himself.
“Not like I’ve got much choice,” King muttered. “Hit me.”
Brown flipped out a seven of clubs. “Twenty-one for the player.”
King let out his breath in low sigh. Brown proceeded to deal a card to himself-the seven of spades for nineteen-then another-the king of clubs.
“Player wins,” Brown said without a hint of disappointment. He then set the deck down and raised his eyes, meeting King’s stare, but said nothing.
An electronic voice issued smoothly from the speaker on the desktop. “Touche, Mr. Sigler.”
For a moment, King wasn’t sure what was going on, but then a broad smile cracked Brown’s inscrutable expression. “As kids today would say…Duh! Of course, Brainstorm and I are one and the same. Artificial intelligence? Seriously?”
King’s elation, both from having won the hand and getting at the truth, was short-lived. “Why? How?”
“The reason why should be obvious. I was unbeatable in the casino and at the track, but I wanted more. I wanted real power. So I took my talents to the stock market, then I played the real estate game and got filthy rich. But what I could never get was respect.
“People don’t respect a schmuck from Atlantic City, even when he has more money than God. No matter how much I made, I would never have been anything more than a celebrity sideshow, and that just wasn’t good enough.
“I thought about creating a new personality, but then I had, if you’ll pardon the pun, a brainstorm. I would hide behind a computer. People are already used to letting computers tell them what to do. We hardly ever interact with real people any more. Corporate executive boards actually like being able to blame their actions on the computers. It’s a lot easier to put ten thousand people out of work when you can say you did it because the computer said it was the most efficient thing to do.
“Of course, I didn’t just come right out and say that’s what I was. That would have been too obvious. It was so much better to create the impression, start some rumors, and then let everyone’s imagination take care of the rest.”
Brown’s admission brought none of the satisfaction King had anticipated. It was so obvious, or should have been, and confirmation of the fact seemed little different from the moment a parent finally confesses the truth about Santa Claus to a child who’s already figured it out. “So how’d you pull off the little ventriloquist act?”
Brown’s smile broadened. “Pretty nifty trick, right? I did the risk-benefit analysis myself and entered it as text while you were unconscious. Most of it was prerecorded. The rest of it was a little more difficult. I have a foot-operated text entry interface under this desk. I’ve gotten pretty good at tapping out messages with my toe.”
Brown slid a hand over the desk and gathered the cards from the first hand into a neat stack. “So, what shall we play for now?”
King considered the matter carefully. He wasn’t a believer in luck and knew that this initial victory meant nothing in the scheme of things. He had to keep Brown talking, keep the game going until he could figure out a way to get free. “Okay, I’ve got it. These quantum phones of yours. What have you really got planned for them? I recognize Pradesh; he’s a hacker, a cyber-terrorist for hire. I doubt he has the resources to invent portable quantum computer technology, so his role in this is something else…” King thought about the rumors of Pradesh’s involvement in the Stuxnet attack. Was that it? Some kind of computer attack targeting power stations, supported by quantum computing power?
Brown nodded thoughtfully. “So, if you win the next hand, I tell you what’s really going on. And if I win?”
“Same stakes. I give you Downey.”
Brown’s smile turned hard, then he said simply, “No.”
King blinked, but kept silent.
“I said you were in over your head,” Brown continued. “I can tell you’re no gambler, Sigler. Gambling isn’t about the cards or how the dice roll. It’s about the bet; what you’re willing to risk and more importantly, knowing what your opponent is willing to risk. You bet that information against something that you already knew to be factual. That tells me that you consider the information about Bill Downey’s location to be of little value to you. Ergo, it’s of no value to me.”
King felt his pulse quicken as the truth of his opponent’s statement hit home. He had underestimated Brown, fallen into the very trap he’d thought to set for the other man. “All right,” he said slowly. “You decide.”
Brown picked up the deck as if preparing to deal. “The rest of your team. If I win, you give them up. Your plan, radio frequencies…if they’re in disguise like you were, tell me who they are.”
King felt a glimmer of hope but hid the reaction behind a mask of feigned outrage. “You expect me to give up my team? Sacrifice my friends? Not a chance. How about you just let me call them off, send the abort code?”
“Risk, Sigler. If you aren’t willing to take a chance, then you’re not ready to play this game.”
“I don’t have the right to gamble with other people’s lives.”
Brown made a dismissive gesture. “Happens all the time. You should know that better than anyone. Your Chess Team would risk their lives to take me down or learn what I’m really up to. How is this any different? But if it makes you feel any better, security is already conducting a sweep of the guests. They’ve probably already identified some of your team.”
King narrowed his eyes, took a breath, and then nodded. “Deal.”
Brown flipped the cards over with deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving King’s face.
King felt another measure of hope as he glanced down at his first card: the ace of hearts.
Brown turned over the king of spades for himself.
King was a little disappointed to see that his second card was the six of clubs. Seven or seventeen, he thought.
Brown’s next card was the ten of hearts.
Twenty. Crap.
Without waiting for a prompt, Brown dealt King another card: Eight of diamonds. “Fifteen,” he said. “You need a five to draw, six to win.”
He turned over another card, glanced at it, and then deposited it in front of King. It was the queen of spades.
King sagged back in his chair.
“Luck is a fickle bitch,” Brown observed coldly. “Time to settle your account, Sigler. Let’s have it.”
For a moment, King pondered putting the gambler on a wild goose chase-giving him bogus radio frequencies, identifying the few names he remembered from the guest list as Chess Team operators in disguise-but ultimately all that would accomplish would be to piss his foe off. Finally, he said, “The joke’s on you, Brown. There is no team. Not in the field, at least.”
Anger glinted in Brown’s eyes. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were. It would be nice to think that Bishop was waiting for my signal to bust in here and take your head off. But this was a solo op; no backup, minimum footprint.”