Dead Man's Hand (20 page)

Clack.

That came from just to my
right.  Come on I needed to get a mental picture first if I could.

Clack.

Whoever this was, he was
rounding the table.

Thwack.

If I could have jumped, I
would have leapt about ten feet into the air.  Whoever had just entered
had slammed their cane onto the table, obviously wanting to set the tone for
this exchange.  I pushed my memory to go faster.  All of a sudden in
the corner of my mental eye I caught sight of something.  I quickly took a
few mental steps backwards and saw what had caught my eye.  As the main
door opened for what was the last time a man with a cane walked in.

But as I was watching the
scene in my mind one of the goons grabbed the blindfold and ripped it from my
head, along with some of my hair.  When my eyes finally adjusted I saw a
cold smile staring down at me.  That smile matched the one I had just seen
in my mind.  But those cold emotionless grey eyes were different
now.  In my memory, his eyes were filled with a sense of warmth, laced
with the slightest touch of generosity.  Otherwise, the eyes were the
same, and of course they belonged to Bertrand Dempsey. At that moment I felt
certain he had come to watch me die.

“Good afternoon,
Marcus.”  The calm smile Dempsey wore shouldn’t have been able to look so
welcoming, but his mouth was as smooth as his hand-made silk suit.  I
started to think that I would prefer to be chained up with a ravenous lion, it
would have been a less painful way to go.

As I silently starred up
into my personal grim-reaper’s face I couldn’t help but curse myself for not
doing what Matt had told me.  My overconfidence had managed to get me
killed, just like he had feared.

“I’m sure you’re anything
but comfortable, Marcus.”  Dempsey spoke with the sort of casualness that
you would address a family member with.  I was certain it was to obtain a
particular effect, and I was sure that effect was to terrify me. Well it was
working.  “But given your abilities your discomfort is unfortunately a
necessity.”

I was barely able to keep
myself from giving anything away in my first moment of shock. After a deep
breath and a few moments to clear my head, I decided to try respectful disdain,
there was no reason I had to grovel beneath his boot, yet.  Keeping my
eyes just below his I started to ask, “And what abilities…”

I was quickly interrupted
as goon number one's nonexistent fuse was expended and he began to bellow, “Why
you little…”

His outburst was quickly
silenced mid-sentence by a slight movement of Dempsey’s left hand.  The
man’s quick obedience did more to cow me than the palpable anger dripping from
the gangster’s words.  When Dempsey broke the terse silence, he was using
the same tone of voice he had just moments before.  “Marcus, neither I nor
my employees appreciate being lied to.  In fact, we have a strict policy
when it comes to liars,” he looked sternly at me as he continued.  “I may
not be able to stop him quickly enough next time.”

As far as threats went
Dempsey's first was fantastic.  He had manipulated the previous silence
just enough to drive it home and leave me terrified.  A broad smiled split
his face as he continued along as if he had just told a joke or something. 
“So please don’t waste any more of my time.  We both know what you really
are and it is a rare and wonderful gift.”

I couldn’t let him sense
my fear so I tried to quickly change the topic. “Why did you have the camera’s
installed?”  It was as good a change as any, despite the fact that I
really didn’t care about the why, after all, it wouldn’t change anything about
my current situation. Right now, all that mattered was my survival, and to that
end, I couldn’t help but notice that Dempsey wasn’t dressed very warmly. 
I couldn’t help but hope that this meant the temperature would have to be
raised.  Maybe if I could get him talking long enough I would be able to
alter my bonds and do something other than die.  I knew I was grasping at
straws but it was all I had.

That predatory smile,
framed by his angular face, widened just ever so slightly. “Now that is a good
question, Marcus.”  Dempsey replied as he straightened himself in his
chair.  Extending his right index finger a scant inch in front of my face
he shook it back and forth and I saw the pleasure behind his eyes grow. 
“Shame on you for forcing the cameras to come out in the first place, but the
answer is rather simple.  You see, after your first dealer was relieved
the news that you were catching a remarkable number of ridiculous hands made
its way up to me.  So I arranged for a table to be outfitted with cameras
right then and there.  But I was willing to give you the benefit of the
doubt until your second dealer made the same comment.  I don’t care who you
are, no one is that lucky.”

Up until this point I
hadn’t really cared about how I had gotten in this predicament, but when he
told me his reasons behind setting the trap, I have to admit that I got more
than a little irate.  The hostility in my voice was apparent as I replied;
“That’s the reason?  You installed those cameras because I was lucky?”

With a shrug Dempsey
dismissed my apparent outrage. “So you say.  But when you combine that
with how you actually won, it does look very suspicious, even you have to admit
that.”  Seeing I was unsatisfied with his answers he quickly quelled any
further argument.  “Marcus at this point the why is not an issue. 
The fact is I have video evidence that your last hand started with the eight of
clubs and the nine of diamonds yet, miraculously, that nine ended as the ace of
spades.”  His voice was empty of all emotion.  He let the silence
hang in the air long enough to make it uncomfortable before speaking once
again.  “And since we both know that with as often as the decks were
changed you palming that ace was an impossibility, and that means you are
capable of wielding real magic.”

His logic was
unfortunately sound, but at that moment I could feel hot air kissing the back
of my neck.  And from the sounds emanating behind me, my bet was that I
was being held in a restaurant’s walk-in freezer.  With a little more time
I might be able to warm up a bit. I needed to stall for more time. “Was Patrick
one of your plants?”  I asked as I attempted to mirror his emotionless
tone, though the effect was slightly marred by my chattering teeth.

Dempsey gave me a smile
that never quite reached his eyes, which held only cold malice.  “Do you
honestly think I would have employees in the tournaments?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” 
I shot back.  Without giving him the time to reply I rolled off my short
list of reasons why I knew he did.  “It really doesn’t cost you anything
to enter a few of your own players as long as they’re skilled enough to
challenge for the final hand.  And as long as they get there, you get your
entrance fee back so no harm no foul.  But as long as we’re being honest
with each other, I can’t see you not ordering some of your more skilled
employees to take part in your tournaments. It’s just good business.”  I
could see his interest in me rise once more as I listed my reasons. 
Why
am I trying to gain real notice from this new-age mafia don?

But the man just smiled
his special smile of warmth and hatred.  “No he wasn’t one of my
employees.”  Dempsey shifted slightly in his seat as if he had been
sitting on something.  “You can be quite the insightful individual.”

Scoffing at his words I
snapped back, “I wouldn’t be here if I had just let Patrick win the
tournament.”

“No, you wouldn’t be here
right now.  However, that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t have had you taken
care of.”  Dempsey offered with a casual shrug.

“What?  What do you
mean?”  My emotionless mask started to crack under my combined confusion
and fear.

A hint of annoyance
crossed his face as he seemed slightly upset at having to explain
himself.  “My boy, my dealers thought you might be cheating me.  They
know what they are looking for and more importantly they know what happens to
cheaters.  Without proof, I would have let you go home and carry on with
your life, for a little while.  But before long one of my…
troubleshooters, would have resolved the issue.”

I glared back at him as I
almost snarled, “I didn’t cheat.”

Ignoring both the glare
and the snarl in my voice Dempsey said, “So you say.  But since there were
no cameras in place there is no way for me to know that for certain. 
Therefore, all I can do is rely upon the instincts of my dealers. They said
there was a chance you were cheating me, my hands were tied from that moment.”

“So if my life is
forfeit, why am I still alive?”  I was so furious I almost didn’t care
what I was saying.

His expression changed to
one of mild shock as his gaze lifted from me towards someone behind me. Without
asking a question he prompted goon number two to speak.  “We told him that
he was valuable to you, boss.  And we only told him that escape would void
that value.”

Satisfied, Dempsey
returned his gaze back to me and said, “Your life isn’t forfeit Marcus. 
It’s just no longer your own.”

Disgusted by his
arrogance, I mentally spat in his face as I forced a question out.  “So
what makes me such a
valuable
commodity then?”  I didn’t even
bother trying to hide the contempt in my voice.

Groaning Dempsey
retorted, “I thought we agreed not to waste each other’s time.”

“Why?”  I asked,
actually daring to look him straight in the eyes.

With a small sigh of
aggravation Dempsey replied with his emotionless monotone.  “Marcus your
talents are exceptionally rare.  In fact I have only had dealings with one
other person with similar talents.  The rarity of your gift makes you
valuable to me, and I try very hard not to squander valuable things.”

I swallowed as I tried to
force my heart back down my throat. “So just because you have video of me
transforming a card, you’re going to put aside your de facto punishment for
cheaters?”

“That’s correct.” 
He replied, his tone emphasizing how utterly foolish he believed my question to
be.

 
Well foolish or not I
just needed to stall for time.  And I just needed a little more, I could
feel the warmth from the kitchen and it was working its way into me.  I
needed to keep this conversation going until I could get warm enough to try
something.  Time to try and stretch this conversation out a little
more.  “So let me get this straight.  If I hadn’t changed that last
card I’d be a dead man right now, or soon enough at least.”  Dempsey’s
head gave me the slightest nod indicating that I was correct.  “But now
that you actually have visual proof that I cheated, just the once at the end of
the tournament mind you, you’re going to spare my life?”

With a dismissive wave of
his hand Dempsey retorted, “The fact that you cheated is not the issue here,
Marcus.  The heart of the matter is you are able to wield magic.”  I
could see the utter belief behind his eyes, great he did have someone like me
on his payroll.  Not only that but they were really playing up the whole
witch angle to a new degree.  In his mind, not only did magic exist, but
he would do anything to surround himself with those who could wield it, people
like me.  With a wickedly cruel smile he added, “So yes, because I have
that proof you get to live.”

I got to live all right;
I got to live as his personal slave.  Despite all the liquid coursing
through my veins right at that moment I felt as if I had been traveling across
the Sierra without water for three days.  It took me a good minute to work
enough moisture into my mouth so I could speak.  “If you’re not going to
kill me, what are you going to do to me?”

This was obviously the
question he had been waiting for as he smiled widely.  “Well, Marcus that
depends.”

“On what?”

He shrugged, “Honestly it
depends on you.”

“And how exactly does it
depend on me?”

Reaching down to the
floor on his right Dempsey retrieved a briefcase and laid it on the table
between us. “Why I’m going to offer you a job, Marcus.”

I was so stunned I had to
remind myself to breathe.  I stared into Dempsey’s eyes and studied them.
I knew he was being completely serious.  After a couple more moments of
trying to process Dempsey’s surprising offer I realized that my jaw was hanging
open, which must have amused Dempsey because a genuine smirk crossed his face.
   With that smirk fear flooded through me, which was just the
jolt I needed to think clearly.  I closed my mouth and waited a second
before asking the obvious question.  “What kind of a job?

“A man who gets right to
the point, I like that, but before I answer it let me ask you a question of my
own.  Are you a parent?”  The radical change of topic made my head
swim, but I eventually shook my head and Dempsey continued on, indifferent to
my confusion.  “I thought as much.  Well I am a father, and let me
tell you, raising children is not easy.  A parent has to shield them from
all the wrong influences, guide them to make all the right choices.  But
after all the work, if you manage to guide them to a better life than your own,
you’ve done something wonderful.”

“And what does that have
to do with me?” 

Dempsey’s face
immediately soured at my interruption. “Your impatience is something we will
have to work on I see.  No matter, that’s not all that will require some
attention I’m sure.  You see Marcus, I am going to more or less adopt
you.  You are still young enough to learn the error of your ways. 
You can still be guided down the right path.”

I probably should have
kept my mouth shut; nothing I said was going to improve my situation. 
“You mean I get to be a slave.”

“That’s a vulgar way to
think about it, Marcus.”  Dempsey retorted, visibly angered that I dared
to compare his beloved idea to slavery.  “I’m sure the two gentlemen
behind you would object to such a description as well.”  Dempsey then
pointed towards a couple of spots behind me and I assumed that he was motioning
towards my bodyguards.  “They were among my first employees; they are not
mindless, nor are they automatons.  I find them to be perfect examples of
what I expect from my perspective employees, thus they are always present
during interviews such as this.”

I saw the threat before
me, I would have had to be blind, deaf, and mute to not have seen it.  I
also knew that I didn’t have much of an option, at least not at the
moment.  I could either accept the job or let Dempsey pull the figurative
trigger to the figurative gun that he held against my temple.  On principle,
I was just unwilling to agree to Dempsey’s proposal, I just needed more time,
so I went fishing for more information about the job.  “And what exactly
would I be doing for you?”  Again I must have let my fury and contempt
flow through the words, because Dempsey’s legendary patience was thinning
slightly.