"Well, we've got a little bit of history on him," said the observer. "He and a woman were here a few months back, and we had a couple of flaky security incidents involving them-nothing we could make any kind of case on, but suspicious. And they left the station very suddenly, didn't check out or anything. Everything was paid up, so we didn't follow it up-but I'm wondering if we shouldn't have..."
"He won again," said the observer. "That's sixteen hundred he's ahead, now."
"Let him just keep playing," said the other woman, leaning forward to stare at the monitor. "Better yet, let him bump the bets even more. C'mon, Toni, that's what you're here for. Get him to put his whole wad on the red." She spoke as if the redheaded woman-whose job description fell somewhere between "shill" and "undercover security guard"--could actually hear her. Maybe she can hear, thought the observer. It wasn't unknown for the floor agents to wear equipment both to send and to receive messages.
Whether Toni had heard the supervisor or simply grasped what the situation demanded, the observer never found out.
But she leaned over to the object of their scrutiny and said something in his ear. He grinned, stupidly. Whoever this guy was, suave wasn't in his repertory at all. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of chips. He looked at them, shrugged, and put them all out on the red section of the betting layout. Even from the observation cameras lodged in the ceiling lighting fixtures, it was obvious that there were three thousand-dollar chips in the stack.
"Yes!" hissed the supervisor. "He's betting everything he has. C'mon, black!"
"Black, yeah, c'mon black," echoed the observer. Rooting for or against one of the players wasn't really professional, but there were times even the most hardened casino hands got involved in the play. And nobody could really object if they were rooting for the bettor to lose.
The wheel spun, and the spectators at the table leaned forward, holding their collective breath. So did the two unseen spectators high above the action. The wheel gradually slowed, and the ball's motion brought it down into the slotted section until it came to rest in one division...
"'All right, red again!" shouted Ernie. Suddenly there was a stunned silence around the table as the other bettors realized what had happened. The croupier turned a sour look toward the wheel as he watched Ernie scoop in his winnings-now totaling over ten thousand dollars. But it wasn't the wheel's fault, or the croupier's, either. Ernie was on a hot streak. He knew the feeling, and it was hard to keep from grinning.
It went against all his instincts to pick up his chips when his luck was running. But out of the comer of his eye he'd seen Victor Phule walk by, and that reminded him what he'd come here to do. As tempting as it was to take
another shot at doubling his money, he had work to do, and messing up this job was likely to get him in the kind of trouble he couldn't sweet-talk his way out of. He'd almost be better off coming home with the redhead-her name was Toni----who'd been egging him on to bet the house on the roulette table. At least, if he did that, Lola would vaporize him on the spot, without stopping to ask questions.
Toni looked up at him now, a rather attractive pout on her lips. "Hey, what are you--chicken? Come on, let it ride one more time. I've got a really strong feeling, red's coming up again!" She put her hand on his arm, tempting him to stay.
"Sorry, babe, gotta go," said Ernie, reluctantly shrugging off her hand. "Important business."
"Aww, and I thought you were a real man," said Toni, fixing him with her most seductive stare. Behind her, the croupier was getting ready to spin the wheel. Toni pointed to the betting layout. "Show me what you're made of, big boy."
"Well..." Ernie was torn between putting his chips back on the table and following Victor Phule toward the bank of thousand-dollar slots where he'd won his bankroll to begin with. He glanced at the wheel; the croupier stood there with the ball in his hand, smirking at Ernie, just asking to be taught a lesson. Ernie's hand moved in the direction of his pocket, and he turned back toward the table, almost involuntarily.
But just as Ernie began to turn, a big man shoved his way into the space Ernie had vacated, plopping a small pile of ten-dollar chips on the table. Ernie looked around and quickly spotted another clear space, a few feet away. He stepped quickly forward, but just as he did, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to see a cocktail waitress with a tray full of glasses. "Bring you something to drink, sir?" she chirped. "It's on the house."
"Sorry, honey, nothing now," said Ernie, forcing himself to smile. He quickly turned, only to find that the space he'd seen before was now occupied. But there was Toni at the far end of the table, beckoning him. He started forward, why were there so many people around the table all of a sudden?-and reached the open space beside Toni just in time to hear the croupier call, "Les jeux sont faits!" Toni shot him a disgusted look, but the wheel was already spinning. Resignedly, Ernie turned to watch the wheel. If it came up red again...
It spun, slowed, and after what seemed like hours came up on thirty-two black. Ernie had just missed losing all his winnings-and the rest of his bankroll, as well. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he realized how close he'd come.
After a moment of stunned silence, Ernie reached into his pocket and pulled out a chip. Without even looking at it, he handed it to the cocktail waitress who'd distracted him just at the crucial moment, then walked away in the direction Victor Phule had gone in.
The waitress stood openmouthed, staring at the hundred dollar chip in her hand. Before she could tuck it in her tip pocket, a hand touched her elbow. She looked up to see Toni, who'd been trying so hard to get Ernie to let his bets ride on red. "Don't spend it all in one place, sister," said the shill, with a tight-lipped smile. Seeing the worry on the waitress's face, she added, "No, don't worry-nobody's going to take it away from you. But a word to the wise you just got really lucky. Most of the time, you'll make better tips if you don't stop the customers from playing. Now, you'd better get back to work. I know [have to." Toni turned back to the roulette table, making -it a point to squeeze up against the new big spender who'd taken Ernie's place. Maybe she'd have better luck getting this one to let his chips ride until the odds caught up with him...
The Zenobian sun was just a hand's breadth above the horizon as Phule stepped out into the parade ground of the Legion base for his morning run. The early-morning desert air was crisp and cool, belying the furnace like temperatures Phule knew by now to expect by midday. The company's prefabricated base module was climate-controlled, of course, and it had a thoroughly modem gym and spa built into it. Phule would have accepted nothing less for his money. But he still felt a certain exhilaration when he did his running outside under the blue sky, with real planetary soil under the feet. If nothing else, it made him feel more in touch with the world he and Omega Company had come to help.
As was his habit, Phule turned and scanned the horizon in every direction. As usual, there was little to see that differed from what he'd seen the day before, or any of the other times he'd looked out on the landscape surrounding Zenobia Base. The small cluster of cirrus clouds to the west looked very much like the clouds that had been there yesterday morning, although he knew better than to believe they were actually the same. As much undue excitement as Phule had been through the last day or so, he was actually rather pleased to find at least one thing that was exactly as he expected. With Omega Company, that was the exception rather than the rule. Especially after last night's debacle in the mess hall... . Phule had just begun to stretch out his leg muscles when Lieutenant Armstrong emerged from the base module. He and Phule had been keeping each other company during the morning run for several months now. They were close enough in age and physical condition so that neither held the other back, and of course it was good policy to have a companion along in case the unexpected happened a sprain or some more serious injury was always possible, even in the controlled environment of the gym. Outdoors, in a desert environment, it would be foolhardy to risk it without help close at hand.