"I've never heard of that being done before," Marion said. "That is very generous of you."
"I am impressed," Carroll said, letting a rare expression of pleasure show on his broad face. Jordan's first thought was that going to such an effort was needless, then realized it was a stroke of genius. Why shouldn't someone else benefit from the castoffs of the well-to-do? Also, in the depths of his manipulative soul, he knew it was good for publicity. Griffen McCandles could not help but see his halo polished for a gesture of generosity that really cost him nothing.
"So am I," Jordan agreed.
The third time the cards thumped into the bucket, Luis kicked his chair back. The sun had gone down sometime before, and the lights around the swimming pool in the courtyard had come on.
"I need a break," he said, stretching his arms high over his head. "Anyone else?" He went over to the bar and fished a beer out of the tub of ice beside it.
"Absolutely," Marion said. She made for the room's only lavatory. When she came out, the dealer excused herself and went in. Jordan took that opportunity to examine the wrapped decks of cards in the basket. He sent his consciousness deep inside the first one, a deck with two red-spoked wheels on the back, letting each individual card impress upon his psyche until he could see the spades, hearts, clubs, and diamonds pressed up against one another. He would be now able to read them as they were used. He put it down and concentrated upon the next, a blue deck with the image of a leering joker riding a bicycle.
The sounds of water rushing and a door opening caused him to glance up as he was reading the third deck. The young black woman came toward him, alarm on her face.
"Sir, don't touch that!" she insisted. She hurried to take the basket away and set it down.
"I'm sorry," Jordan said, evincing contrition. He handed back the third deck. She replaced it at the left side. "I didn't realize they were off-limits."
"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so," she said, allowing herself to be slightly mollified. "It's . . . I must be the only one to handle these cards."
"I apologize. I only wanted to see the backs. There is a large variety, isn't there?"
"Well, there is," she said. "There are more than fifty designs. I don't have to repeat a design during the entire evening, so there's no question . . ." She let the sentence tail off.
"I understand," Jordan said. "You have to be careful to prevent cheating. I was just curious."
She looked reluctant but did not want to seem inhospitable to a guest. "If I handle them, you may see them all, sir. Just please, don't touch."
"I won't," Jordan said. She showed him deck after deck. He hoped she would not change the order, but she put them back in the basket the same way they had been before. Now he had to finish the situation before she used up the three he had touched and went on to one he could not read.
He glanced up. The others were finished with their break-time activities. Luis whispered to them until Jordan met his eyes. He broke off, looking uncomfortable. They had been talking about him. It did not matter. Jordan was not there to make friends.
It was easy going from then on. The others clearly suspected him a little of wanting to cheat, so they kept an eye on him. Jordan moved his hands in an open and ostentatious manner so there was no question that he was handling only his own cards and for as brief a time as possible. He let three promising hands go, to the benefit of Len and Marion, especially Len, so that their piles of chips grew. Seeing him lose made the others relax a little. Luis told stories. Marion laughed at them in her loud, easygoing way. Len and Carroll peered noncommittally at their cards and pushed chips in.
Carroll let out a soft exhalation of breath as the dealer passed him cards. Jordan did not look up. It was the first such noise he had heard the bald player make. Was this a tell, at last? Then Carroll burped and grunted. He left his cards where they lay on the table. Jordan was frustrated. He must get that man out of the game so he could concentrate on players he could read. Jordan checked his own cards. A pair of kings. A good start. He began to concentrate energies upon Carroll, urging him to take action.
"Two thousand," the bald man said.
"Raise," Jordan said, adding another five thousand to the pot. Carroll's eyebrows rose a fraction.
"Too rich for me," Luis said, with a laugh. He passed his cards to the dealer. Len and Marion followed suit. The flop was revealed; none of them were face cards. Carroll checked. Jordan raised a thousand. Carroll threw his cards in. Jordan felt a twinge of annoyance, but at least he had created some movement in the silent man's psyche.
It took four hands to lure Carroll in so that he was betting on each hand. By then, the dinner hour had passed. The server behind the bar brought selections of one-bite hot snacks to each of the players. The food was delicious but not meant to interrupt concentration. Jordan needed every erg of it he had. He held the first pair of aces in the entire game in his hand, spades and diamonds. He kept as still as a snake prepared to strike. No matter. Even if Carroll had an ace, it was not in suit. Marion was on the button, so Jordan bet first.
"Five thousand," he said.
"Raise one," Luis said. Jordan was unconcerned about the Miamian. He had seven-eight suited.
Marion folded, and Len added his chips to the pot.
"See you," Carroll said.
Jordan saw Luis's raise.
They all watched the dealer avidly as she peeled three cards off the top, then turned up the next three cards. Two nines and a queen. Jordan added another six thousand. Luis and Len held on. Carroll's broad face broke out in pinpoints of perspiration.
"Hey, you hear of that sting that the Feds played at the Miami Port Authority?" Luis asked.
"I saw it on the news," Jordan said. Luis beamed at him. He loved it when people got involved in his stories. Jordan kept up the conversation, but his attention was on Carroll. The bald man pushed three stacks of chips into the center. Everyone, including Luis, stopped talking.
"All in," Carroll said.
"Call," Jordan said immediately.
They turned up their hands.
"Very nice," Marion said, as they saw the three nines. Carroll smiled at her. Luis had a queen and a seven. Len had another queen and a six. They glanced at one another, each sizing the others up. Jordan hoped his count was accurate. Three cards below the deck remaining in the dealer's hand was a queen. Three cards below that was an ace. He turned his attention from Carroll, taking a great risk, and put it on the young woman. She winced as she felt his subconscious push, but said nothing.
The players leaned toward the center of the table. Jordan felt her will bend to his. One, two, three. The queen was revealed on the turn.
"Oh, ho!" Luis chortled. "Is there another pretty lady in there?" Len pushed his cards in. Even if the last queen did appear, his hand would fall on the six. Carroll looked smug. The chances of two in the bush was low compared with the one in the hand.
One, two, three. Everyone held their breath. The dealer must have sensed the tension. She paused a moment before turning up the river card. Jordan, even though he knew it, felt his heart pounding with anticipation.
Ace.
"Ooooh!" Luis moaned. "Rocket ship!" He flicked his cards in.
Carroll's eyes went from the cards to Jordan's face and back again. There was no way that Jordan could have engineered a cheat. Carroll had simply lost.
"Bad luck," he said. He extended a neat, hairless hand to Jordan, who shook it politely.
"Bad luck," Jordan agreed. He almost wiped his forehead in relief. Carroll pulled his chair back from the table and went to the bar. The server poured him a stiff drink. Carroll returned and sat with his back to the window to watch the others play.