She paused to check her watch again.
"Now, in about thirteen minutes, a sleeping program we've had planted in that computer is going to cut in and change the odds for that cluster of slots down to one in fifty. Then I think we'll see some excitement."
"You mean they're all going to start paying out? At ten million dollars a pop?" Even Stilman's legendary calm was shattered as he gaped openly at Maxine.
"Realistically I'm afraid it will only work a few times before they pull the plug," she said. "The way I see it, the first jackpot will cause a stir, and the management will try to play it up big for the publicity. The second will startle them, but they'll still try to maintain a generous front."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"When the third jackpot hits, however, they'll know there's something wrong and shut down the system. Of course, that decision takes time, both to make and to initiate. If we're lucky, we should hit one, maybe two more jackpots before they can put a stop to it."
"Thirty to fifty million dollars," Stilman said, saying the words in a soft, almost reverent voice.
"Before you ask," Max added with a smile, "those are, of course, our people manning the key machines right now. No sense letting all that money fall into the wrong hands."
"At ten thousand dollars a minute," Laverna put in.
Max blinked. "What's that, Laverna?"
"Five fifty-dollar tokens per pull, times ten machines, times at least four pulls a minute, is ten thousand dollars a minute they're pumping into those machines by my count," her aide clarified. "I assume they're only playing minimum bets until the right time comes, but even if they only play for ten minutes after the flag goes up, that's one hundred thousand dollars they'll be going through."
"The end profits more than justify the investment," Maxine said flatly, annoyed at having her explanation interrupted. "Now then, Mr. Stilman, as I was saying ... As you can tell, that many high jackpots will put a severe drain on Mr. Rafael's funds. He doesn't dare not pay off the jackpots, or the negative publicity would drive him out of business. Combined with the losses we've planned for him at the tables, however, it should keep him from making the necessary payment on his loan. What's more, word of the multiple jackpots should get sufficient media coverage that I doubt he'll be able to find anyone willing to let him borrow the money."
Maxine was smiling again. A sweet, grandmotherly smile.
"In short, Mr. Stilman, when those jackpot bells start to sound, what you'll be hearing is the Fat Chance Casino sliding into our cash drawer."
"Yes, Laverna?"
"We've got a problem."
Maxine followed her aide's gaze and saw the unmistakable figure of Willard Phule, the security force commander, pausing to watch the activity at their targeted cluster of slot machines.
"I thought Huey was supposed to come up with something to keep him busy when the program was scheduled to cut in."
"He was," Maxine said through tight lips, "but obviously he hasn't. Well, there's only one thing to do."
"What's that?" Laverna said as Max started forward.
"Provide the distraction myself," the crime leader explained, flashing a quick smile. "Besides, I think it's about time the two of us talked directly."
"Good evening. Captain Jester."
The Legionnaire commander turned and smiled vaguely at being addressed by name.
"Good evening," he said with reflexive politeness.
"I was wondering if I might buy you a drink?" the woman continued.
The Legionnaire smiled. "Thank you, but I'm on duty."
"I see. I thought you might be able to make an exception this time. My name is Maxine Pruet."
As expected, that caught Phule's entire attention, though he made a deliberate effort to remain outwardly casual.
"Of course," he said. "Forgive me for not recognizing you from your picture."
"What picture was that, Captain?"
"Well, it was two pictures, actually," Phule said. "One profile, one full face."
For a moment Maxine's eyes narrowed dangerously, then she caught herself and smiled again, though a little forced this time.
"No need to be insulting, Mr. Phule," she said levelly. "You probably know as well as I do that I've never been arrested."
"Quite right." The commander nodded, and for a moment a flash of weariness showed on his face. "I'm sorry ... that was a cheap shot. You just caught me, a bit by surprise, is all. Here, let me take you up on that drink."
As he spoke, Phule stopped one of the cocktail waitresses with a gesture and plucked two glasses from the tray of complimentary champagne she was distributing.
"Here," he said, passing one to Maxine. "What shall we drink to? Somehow I don't imagine you're eager to drink to the success of the Fat Chance."
"Not for a while, anyway," Max purred. "How about `To honorable enemies and dishonorable friends'?"
"I think I can accept that." The commander chuckled, raising his glass in mock salute. "We seem to have at least that much in common."
Maxine hid her irritation as she returned his gesture. She had hoped to lead Phule off to one of the cocktail lounges, but instead they were standing near the targeted island of slots ... too near for her comfort.
"I was wondering if you could answer a question for me, Captain?" she said, drifting slowly along the aisle as if to get a better view of the tables.
"Depends on the question," Phule answered, but followed along apparently unaware that they were moving.
"Why exactly did you join the Space Legion, anyway?"
The commander gave a slow smile.
"Within the Legion," he said, "it's generally considered impolite to ask that question."
"How very interesting," Maxine drawled. "However, I'm not in the Legion, nor have I ever been overly concerned with being polite."
Phule hesitated, then shrugged.
"Oh, just call it a rich boy's whim," he said dismissively.
"I find that very hard to believe," Max pressed, unwilling to let the subject drop.
"How so?"
"In the simplest terms, Mr. Phule, I doubt that anyone in your position has gotten where they are by whimsical or, casual thinking. No, I believe you have a specific purpose behind nearly everything you do, including joining the Space Legion."
The commander glanced at her sharply.
"How very perceptive of you," he said. "You're right, of course. I'll admit that much. I'm afraid, however, my reasons will have to remain my own. While I can't fault you for asking, you must also be aware that people in my position don't stay on top by sharing their plans with others, particularly not with the opposition."
"Opposition," Maxine repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Really, Mr. Phule. You have such a delicate way of phrasing things. You must meet Laverna sometime. Perhaps it's a result of your common background in financial maneuverings, but you both tend to walk around a subject verbally rather than acknowledging it for what it is."
Again Phule was forced to smile. Despite himself, he found himself liking Maxine more and more.
"Old habits die hard, I guess," he said. "Of course, the Legion itself tends to feed the pattern by encouraging, if not requiring, double talk. For my own information, how would you describe our relationship?"