Lola sat on the windowsill, back to the window. She stretched her arms up and folded her hands behind her head, then said, "We don't have a lot of choices. Either they've got us pinned or they don't. If they're bugging us, they already know enough to kill any chance we have of our plans working. If that's true, we might as well cut and run-and take our chances about Mr. V catching up with us again. I don't like that idea, although four thousand dollars would give us a fair head start."
"Assuming the Phules don't have their security boys waiting to bust whoever tries to cash in the chips," said Ernie, his voice still low. He shot a glance at the pillow covering the chips, as if he expected it to do something unusual. It didn't cooperate.
"Right," said Lola. "The other choice is just to go on with the plan, on the theory that nobody knows nothin' about us and everything's exactly what it looks like. I don't especially like that idea, either, but at least it leaves us with something to play for."
"Yeah, I guess I can see that," said Ernie. He thought a moment, then said, "What if we're wrong about that?"
Lola shrugged. "If we're wrong, we find out just how good Phule's security guards are and just how serious they get with somebody who tries to do what we're planning on doing. At least there's a chance they'll put us someplace Mr. V can't get to us very easily. Maybe he'll even accept it as an occupational hazard if we're locked up somewhere and not come down too heavy on us."
"Yeah, right," said Ernie, gloomily. "So which way do you want to play it, then?"
"Dead straight," said Lola. "Go on back to the casino, joke with Victor Phule about forgetting you'd won, and drop those chips right back in the slot."
Ernie was flabbergasted. "Throw four thousand pazootlers back down the hole? Do I look like a dimwit to you?"
"Yeah," said Lola. "But for a moment, there, I thought maybe you were getting the idea. I'll explain it again. You've got to look as if you don't care about a few lousy chips. Then Phule won't think you're just out to get his money. Then maybe he'll start telling you what's really going on with his son, who's the one we want anyway. Get it?"
"I got it," said Ernie, sourly. "It just seems like we could hold back one or two chips, in case of emergency."
"Ah, come on, be a sport," said Lola, with, a grin. "Besides, if you pull that lever just right, you might win. Then you'll thank me."
"Su-ure, and maybe Victor Phule will disown Junior and put me in his will," said Ernie. "What did you figure the odds against that jackpot were? Twenty billion to one?"
"Yeah, but somebody's got to win it," said Lola brightly.
"Why not you?"
"Better me than anybody else, that's for sure," said Ernie. "Except 1 know better than to hold my breath."
"Go play it anyway," said Lola. "We don't have any other choices, so we might as well have fun with the one we do have."
"Aw right, but don't blame me if 1 come back broke," said Ernie, and he headed out the door and back to the casino.
"Great Goombah, who dealt this drutz?" growled Euston O'Better, scanning his cards. The game was Red Comet Stud, High-Low, with a buy after the last down card.
"Your good buddy over there," said Chocolate Harry, who was sitting behind an impressive pile of chips. "You don't like 'em, throw 'em in. Otherways, there's a bet on the table you gotta call-or raise."
"I ought to fold," said O'Better. "But 1 guess I'll look at one more card." He shoved a red chip into the center of the table.
Chocolate Harry shrugged. "Ain't no law 1 ever heard of says you gotta play if you're afraid of losin'. And that's the only gamblin' tip you're gonna get from me." He shoved in a blue chip. "Raise you five."
"Call," said Sushi, whose own pile of chips was slightly smaller than Chocolate Harry's, but still a good bit larger than when he'd bought into the game.
L. P. Asho, in the dealer's seat, looked at his cards. "What the hell, it's only money," he said. "Your ten"... he slid a blue chip into the pot-"and mine." He added a second blue, grinning.
"That's what 1 like to see," said Harry, beaming. "Man knows how to play the game. You still in, Street?"
"Not with these cards 1 ain't," said the legionnaire, turning his cards face down. "Can't get high or low either one. Why don't somebody invent a game where middle hand wins 1"
"You can call it when it's your deal," said Harry.
"Meanwhile, we got cards and money on the table, and time's a-wastin'. You in, Mr. Tay-Shun?" Austen Tay-Shun took a sip of his drink-bourbon and cactus juice-and contemplated first his own cards, then those visible in the other hands. "I like what 1 see," he said.
"Call."
"You can't like it that much or you'd raise," said Harry.
"Your turn, O'Better. Fifteen bucks to play, jet out for free.
What'd'ya say?"
"I said I'd see another card," said O'Better, putting in two chips. He looked like a man whose word of honor has just been impugned. Which of course was exactly what Chocolate Harry was banking on.
"Here's the raise," he said, "and last raise for another blue one." Punk went his chips into the pot. Sushi rolled his eyes and folded, but the three hunters all called, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The game had been going like this all night long.
"More cards, Mr. Dealer," called out Harry. "Make 'em good-I don't want to hear no complaints about how folks came to Chocolate Harry's to play poker and couldn't get a hand to play!"
"Yeah, yeah," said Asho, turning over another card for each of the players. "Read' em and weep."
"That's what the farmer said," said Tay-Shun. "Or was it 'Weed 'em and reap'? Har har." He shoved a red chip into the pot. "Five."
Euston O'Better snorted. "I don't know what's worse, your jokes or my cards. And that's a mighty sad comment on this hand." He tossed his hand in and pushed back his chair. "Gotta get me another brew."
"Help yourself-we got plenty of it," said Chocolate Harry, gesturing toward the cooler in the back of the Supply shed. He turned back to his cards and shoved two chips into the pot. "Your nickel and my dime."
"Sarge is nickel-dimin' us to death," said Street, looking enviously at the growing pot.
Chocolate Harry snorted. "A man wants to take the boodle home, he got to feed the pot," he said. "You don't have to play the game if it's too rich for your blood-we got a lot of folks on base would like to take some of this money if you ain't up to it. Hey, Soosh, you think Do-Wop's up for a game?" Before Sushi could answer, Street said, "I didn't say I was givin' up my seat. Just kibitzing, is all."
"Whatever you say," said Harry. "Didn't want to see a man jump in over his head."
"Sure you did," said Sushi, leaning back in his chair to study the visible cards. "You run a poker game every few days, and I never yet saw you tell somebody he couldn't play because he wasn't good enough. Or rich enough, for that matter. You might be the most democratic sergeant in the Space Legion, when it comes to taking other people's money."
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment," said Chocolate Harry. "Even though I have to say you're wrong. You give me my choice, I'd much sooner take a rich man's money than a poor man's. And the reason why is easy..."
"Because there's more of it to take," said Sushi and Street in unison.
Chocolate Harry frowned. "What's wrong with you boys, steppin' on all a man's best lines?"
"Just tryin' to save you the effort," said Street, grinning broadly. "You workin' so hard as it is..."