"Sorry I'm late," he said, dragging another chair up to the table.
"Grifter!" cheered Jacomo Bernucci, a businessman from Baltimore.
"Jock, good to see you," Griffen said, shaking his hand. Good. One player he absolutely didn't have to worry about being the mole. The others, though not as familiar as Jock Bernucci, had been in town at least once before during Griffen's tenure as "head dragon." Lacey was the wife of a politician in Grand Cayman. Her family owned part of the power company, the telephone company, and almost all of the main Internet service provider in the islands. Oliver Stanton was blue blood from the East Coast, but in Hollywood he was a well-known character actor with a profile like Burt Lancaster's. Only the fourth was a stranger. He seemed ordinary: tall, blond hair turning white, hairline creeping upward, strong chin and straight brows; from all appearances a niceish guy in his fifties. Kitty shook her head at Griffen's interrogatory glance. So he had not started making a fuss yet but had made some comments. The other players didn't seem as relaxed as they usually were. The newcomer was the cause of the tension.
Once Griffen arrived, he subsided, but they both recognized another dragon. Griffen pretended not to notice. The other dragon relaxed a little. There were a lot of people with a little dragon blood around. Perhaps Griffen did not understand the significance.
He put all the money he had in his wallet in front of Kitty, $320, most of it borrowed from Val in the bar. Kitty counted out the chips.
"Are you planning to clean the rest of us out, Griffen?" Oliver asked, with a practiced wry expression.
"It's a good exercise for me," Griffen said. "If I can't play for at least an hour on this much money, then I had better find another job."
They laughed. He was short-stacked compared with the others, but it didn't take him long to double up and double again. He kept a deliberate eye on the blond man. He thought Kitty was probably wrong about his being gay. When one took shape-changing into account, the effeminate movements were probably just that. The mystery guest was a woman.
He, or she, tended to tuck his cards underneath his right wrist, leaving the right hand free to play with the stacks of chips. He leaned on the left wrist. The dragon did blink a lot when he, or she, had a good hand. Griffen started reading the signs and began to chip away at those stacks.
"Are you picking on me, Griffen?" the dragon asked.
"Me?" Griffen said, blandly. "Just playing a little poker."
It would take a lot of guts to go ahead and spike the game, but Griffen assumed that the Eastern dragons knew how much risk he and the others were taking to have set it up. He had to be prepared to cause trouble and call the police. Griffen merely had to beat him to it. It needed to be a hand that the other dragon was prepared to lose.
It didn't take long. Griffen palmed a card from the deck and kept it hidden until the other dragon glared at Jock Bernucci, who had just won a hand with king-jack of spades.
"You are cheating," he said. Griffen felt his heart speed up. Here it came.
"What?"
The other turned over his cards. "I, too, have the jack of spades. So you had an extra one in there? Hoping that none of us would notice an extra card in the deck? What kind of game is this? I thought it was honest!"
"I am honest!" Jock exclaimed. "Griffen!"
"Don't worry, Jock," Griffen said. "He's the one who is cheating. Look at this." He reached across the table and wrenched the other dragon's wrist up, scattering chips, and slipped the other card out. "He's got one he was saving for a rainy day, too. Look at that, another jack of spades." He hoped the illusion would hold. It didn't have to be good for long.
Jock gawked at him. He sprang to his feet. "Stand up, jerkface. Stand up and let me take you to pieces." The other dragon jumped back, alarmed, tipping over his chair.
Griffen rose and put his hands between the two of them.
"What just happened, Griffen?" Kitty asked.
"He cheated," Griffen said. "He had some spare cards in his sleeve. Nice of him to accuse Jock when it was him."
"I . . . I never noticed," Kitty said. "I'm ashamed."
Griffen kept his eyes on the other dragon, who looked as if he wanted to dive for the door. Griffen had to be ready to prevent an escape. "Don't be. He's one of the best there is. I've heard of him from . . . back East."
"Atlantic City?" Lacey asked.
"Uh, yeah. Atlantic City. Atlantic City Steve they call him. Very tough player, but dishonest as hell."
"Atlantic City Steve? That's a really dumb nickname."
"You think Minnesota Fats is complimentary?"
"Well, no, but it was descriptive."
Griffen kept his eyes leveled on the tall blond man. The other dragon glared at him. "I'm sorry, folks, but I think it'd be better if we call it a night. I need to handle this. Steve and I have to have a little talk. Thanks for coming. Kitty, count them out, please."
The other players departed. Kitty lingered for a moment, but Griffen chased her off. "You did great," he assured her.
When the door closed behind her, he looked at the other dragon. "Take it easy. We're going to be here for a while. Why not drop the disguise. I'm curious to see the face of my enemy."
The tall blond male seemed to collapse in on himself. Griffen had watched shape-shifters of other species, but except for Val had never watched another dragon change. The body shrank at the shoulders and grew slightly at the chest. He was right: It was a woman, a short one with frizzy brown hair, dark, almond-shaped eyes, and a blunt nose. She stood rigid on the other side of the table.
"You can't keep me here," she said.
"I sure can. Now, call the others."
"What if I won't?"
Griffen knew his poker face was the best around. He just looked at her.
She faced him down but grew more and more uncomfortable as the silence prolonged. Griffen sat down in a chair, blocking escape through either the window or the door. He blew a smoke ring, slowly, insouciantly.
Finally, she took out her cell phone.
Forty-six
Griffen kept his eyes fixed on the woman until a knock came at the door. "It's open!" he called.
Three men sidled cautiously into the room. Jordan Ma, whom Mai had warned him about, the old man called Pack, who had challenged Mr. Stearn a few weeks back, and Peter Sing. Griffen was disappointed but not surprised.
"I knew you were one of them."
Peter looked regretful. "I'm sorry. I came to like you. But business is business."
"The same goes for me," Griffen said.
"Rebecca, are you all right?" Jordan Ma asked the woman, who began to back away when they came in. She opened large, resentful eyes to him.
"No! He has kept me here for ages! You try holding it after six wine spritzers!" She turned and fled for the bathroom.
Griffen gestured to the other chairs. "Sit down. We still have a lot of refreshments. Can I pour you a drink? I'm Griffen McCandles, but you already know that. Won't you introduce me to your friends?"
When Jordan didn't speak, Peter said, "This is Winston Long, and that was Rebecca Tan."
"How do you do?" Griffen asked.
"Not bad for an old man," Winston said, amiably. "Call me Pack." Rebecca returned and plumped down in a chair but didn't say a word.
"Why are we here?" Jordan Ma asked, but he sat down and signed to the others to do the same. Griffen made himself a whisky and water and took the seat opposite Jordan.
"You came here to take down my operation. Naturally, I don't want you to."
"I do not mean in New Orleans. Why are we here in this room at this time of night?"
Griffen lounged back in his chair and studied the other dragon. "You have been trying to take me down for months. Why?"