Back and forth they went, always a different table from the one they had just played.
I was certain somebody would catch on. The crowd was fairly thick and it was not too badly dressed. But Heller in his gray lounge suit, blue silk shirt and blue polka-dot ascot really stood out. He was taller and blonder than any of the men around.
The tunic the Countess had been wearing under the chinchilla was bright metallic blue to match the wide-bottomed pants, and even though it seemed very un-frilled, she stood out like a spotlighted model amongst the furs and dowdy dresses of the rest.
How long could they keep this up without the house getting wise?
After about an hour, two men were suddenly confronting Heller. One of them looked him up and down. "How old are you, kid?"
"Old enough," said Heller.
"Kids under eighteen aren't allowed in here," said one. "You got any I.D.?"
"Right here," said Heller. He pulled out a driver's license and passport. He handed them over.
"Johnny Cattivo," read one of the floor men. "Twenty-two."
"Hey," said the other one, "there's a Cattivo in the Faustino mob. Any relation?"
"We had a breakup," said Heller. "We were wrenched apart."
The two men looked at Heller rather oddly. They gave him back the I.D. and walked off. I suddenly remembered Cattivo was one of the mob that had tried to kidnap Heller at the garage in Spreeport.
Meanwhile, a dopey croupier at table two suddenly realized he had paid Krak several times. He gave a signal to the man at the wheel. That one suddenly threw the ball in the opposite direction around the rim and quite obviously reached down to tamper with the result, probably a magnetic device under the table.
The number came up exactly where Krak had her money-on 5. Heller's system was even beating a crooked wheel!
Three men and a woman had caught on that Heller always won. They started placing bets alongside of his, riding his coattails.
Heller let it go that time and they all won. But the next time at the next table, still followed by the four, he put a thousand-dollar chip on the wrong number and with a great demonstration. It lost. They stopped following him.
Back and forth, back and forth. The big sacks were getting fuller and fuller.
There was a wait at one of the several cashier windows for Krak. Suddenly two armed guards rushed into the cage and handed the man there a flat case full of money. The cashier signed for it and then paid Krak.
Back and forth, back and forth. Win, win, win, win, win!
By half past five, each had a bulging sack. They met.
"This is hard work," the Countess said. "Can we go to dinner now? I got so involved, I didn't even hear Mamie sing. I've got these new boots on and my feet are killing me! I never knew before that winning all the time required that you walk fifty miles, too!"
Heller said, "All right. We'll refuel and get back at it again. I don't think there's more than half a million in each of these two bags. If we can push it to two million tonight, we'll have Izzy out of the woods."
"Won't they run out of money here?" said the Countess.
"I've seen them bringing some in from the bank or their other casinos," said Heller. "That's their problem. Let's eat."
Mamie Boomp had already nailed down a big booth in the far corner of the large, posh dining room. She waved them over. They threw their sacks down on the semicircular red leather seat and sat down, one on either side of her.
"I didn't hear you sing," said the Countess.
"I didn't sing," said Mamie. "We're going on strike until we get paid. There's only thirty of us in the stage show but, Mafia or no Mafia, we can take them on. Four other casinos belong to the same crowd and they'll be walking out too, tomorrow. Let's eat. It may be a long time between pheasants under glass."
As they were a bit early, they had no trouble getting served. They had steamed clams and broiled lobster and Heller showed Krak how you used a fork and how you used a claw-cracker and a lobster meat pick. Mamie was so busy piling up the clamshells she didn't even notice that it might seem strange that Heavenly Joy Krackle from Sleepy Hollow, New York, thought it was pretty primitive not to have electric knives and suction-plunger tongs and proper spray cans to season the food correctly.
Krak was being a good sport about it. "If you kind of pretend you're camping out," she said, gesturing with a fork at the posh and ornate dining hall, "it's kind of fun. And this is delicious seafood. Do they cook it on the beach? I can taste the sea salts."
"It comes from the sea," said Heller.
"Really?" said Krak. "Not from proper tanks? Hey, now, they must have boat people that fish in the sea! Say, Jettero, I just remembered that there were some boat people that came with Prince Caucalsia. They must have settled here. That's why it's called Atlantic City. Mamie, you know all the answers. Is that a fact?"
"You bet I do know the answers," said Mamie. "That's why I'm advising you to order cherry tarts. I'm on a diet and have to watch my sweets. Call the waiter over, sailor. I'll have to content myself with half a coconut custard pie to wash down my coffee."
Finally, having attended fully to her diet, Mamie at last sank back with a sigh. "Well, the condemned enjoyed her last dinner, thanks to you, sailor. Now, tell me what you kids have been up to."
"I've worn myself out with walking," said the Countess Krak. "Never wear new boots when you're gambling, Mamie. Use some old gymnasium shoes."
Heller said, "Miss Boomp, how would you like to make some money?"
"Do bees prefer honey? What a silly question. What are you up to?" said Mamie.
"Ripping off the Atlantic City Mafia," said Heller.
"Goody," said Mamie. "Turnabout is fair play. Not only they haven't paid us, I could have had a job in pictures but I passed it up for this, and the winter season is a long time between jobs."
"All right," said Heller. "I have a list of the winning numbers for the rest of the night on roulette tables one, two and three in the casino upstairs. You bet them like Itell you and you can have ten percent of your winnings."
"Really? You some kind of a seer? You got a system?"
"I got a system," said Heller and told her how it worked and how to cash in every winning bet. He took out the pack of black garbage bags and tried to give her a thousand dollars for starting money.
But Mamie looked at the bulging sacks they had thrown on the seat beside them, opened one, peeked in and then extracted a fat fistful of bills. She shoved them into her bosom. Then she reached over and picked up the whole carton of garbage bags.
"Ten percent, eh?" said Mamie. "You got yourself a deal, sailor."
She got up and sped out of the dining room, not impeded in the least by her vast dinner.
The Countess got up. She picked up the two fat garbage sacks. Heller, who had already risen to let Mamie out, followed along behind her. She went ahead and got interested in some display photographs of Miss Americas who had won the Atlantic City beauty contest in former years.
Heller stepped up to the cashier counter with the check and was paying the bill. His change had just been laid out when his hands flashed suddenly.
He turned.
His left hand held the wrist of a waiter in a red jacket and that waiter held Heller's.45 automatic!
The waiter had lifted the weapon out of Heller's back belt holster!
But the.45 was being gripped by nerveless fingers.
Heller's left hand closed tighter. The.45 dropped into Heller's right hand.
The waiter-who probably was no waiter at all, judging by the silk shirt he wore-was staring at Heller with very agonized eyes. It was obvious that only the way Heller was supporting the wrist was keeping the man's knees from buckling.