Dead Man's Hand (7 page)

I quickly neutralized the
intoxicants before taking a sip of Simon’s handiwork.  It was even better
than before.  That or was I simply riding a high from successfully beating
one of the best players in this tournament at his own game?

I must have spent a good
hour and a half talking with Bella in the lounge.  Along with Patrick
Wallace’s intrusion there were a few others.  Nothing really important,
just players coming by to introduce themselves.  Normally I would have
just excused myself when one of those players broke our conversation.  I
had never wasted my prep time like this.  But this conversation just felt
right, natural, so I let it continue.  And by the time my mental count of
players reached one hundred, my confusion must have shown clearly on my face.
 Bella seemed to notice something was amiss so she asked, “Is something
troubling you, Marcus?”

Flashing her my best
smile I kept trying to take in the entire room as I answered.  “By my
count the man who just entered makes one hundred.  Shouldn’t we be getting
ready to start the tournament?”

With a slight chuckle,
that she tried to hide, Bella replied, “I’m so sorry Marcus; it’s just that I
forgot that you mentioned this was your first tournament.”

“What does that have to
with anything?”

“We may have all the
players but we are still missing the most important person.”

She was baiting me to ask
the question, so in an effort to save time I bit the inside of my lip and did
so.  “And just who is this most important person?”

Her face underwent quite
the transformation when a new bout of laughter died without warming.  Her
words where little more than a whisper but I managed to hear her question.
 “You do know whose tournament this is don’t you?”

Pulling a serious
expression over my face I looked down at her and answered.  “Yes, I am
well aware that Bertrand Dempsey is the one who hosts this yearly get
together.”

Sheepishly she looked up
into my eyes and inquired, “So if you know, why are you asking who we’re
missing?”

“Dempsey wouldn’t come to
this.”  I answered before I had a chance to think about it.  I was so
sure of myself, then I looked at Bella and saw that her eyes were full of
shock.  And in that moment I knew all of the arguments I had given to Matt
were built on a false assumption.  And even though I knew it was useless,
I still tried to convince myself otherwise by running through my list of
reasons.

“The man has more
important things to worry about.”  Bella just shook her head.

“He wouldn’t want to be
caught anywhere near an event like this, he needs the deniability.”  But
she once again shook her head.  And just like that I realized that I
didn’t actually have another reason.  I had thought that those two would
have been good enough.

As the shock died from
her eyes, I saw the mirth build up instead as she explained why I had been so
wrong.  “Marcus keep in mind just how much money Dempsey makes off of this
tournament.  Half of every collected fee goes straight into one of his
personal accounts.  Now think about what you scrapped up for your entrance
fee and multiply that by a hundred.”  She leveled her eyes and gave me a
“what were you thinking?” look as she asked, “Do you really think he has other
places to be?”

As a low whistle escaped
from my lips I performed the simple math.  “For twenty five million
dollars in my pocket I think I’d be here too.”

With a resigned smile she
agreed, “So would most people.  Now look around you.  Do you see all
of this?” 

When I nodded she went
on, “Look at the décor and then the food and drinks that have no end in
sight.”  She explained with a shrug of her shoulders.  “Now I’m not
going to say he loses a lot of his money but someone has to pay for all of
this, and who do you think he trusts to spend that much of his money?”

As I fought my mounting
worry I offered a weak thought, “Even so, he could delegate all of this to an
underling.  Why risk coming here himself?”

Shaking her head she
pressed on, “It’s precisely because of how much he makes that he considers it
to be worth his wile to make a personal appearance.  I’m sure you know
just how fast these hundred seats fill up, right?”

In hindsight I shouldn’t
have been shocked by her explanation but I was.  I was so shocked that I
was unable to reply.  Fortunately she didn’t need a verbal cue, she was
able to read me as if I were a guilty two year old.  “So with all these
wealthy contributors to his personal bank of course he’s going to make a
personal appearance.  It’s what his clientele expect. Oh and as to your
other reason, let’s just say that it’s highly unlikely to deter him.  He
simply has nothing to fear from either the law or the police, local, state, or
even federal.  He has enough of the right people on his payroll that they
always manage to find out where we were just in time to clean up.”

She slowly raised her
glass to her lips to take a quick sip of her martini before educating me on all
of Dempsey’s legal freedoms.  “Every official east of the Mississippi
knows about this tournament, they even know that it’s an annual event. 
But with the people he has working for him, no one is able to do anything about
it.  So I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but nothing is going to stop him
from greeting the people who are lining his wallet.”

Scratching the back of my
head I couldn’t think of anything else to say other than the obvious.
 “Not when you put it like that.  I just didn’t think…”

“It’s nice to know that
there are still some naïve, innocent men around.”  She muttered just loud
enough for me to hear and then only because I was straining my ears in order to
catch it.

Lounging in her chair she
took another sip from her glass and I could only laugh at the comment, because
she was right.  I had been incredibly foolish in my assumptions.  If
Dempsey had people in the feds then the rumors of his empire stretching up to
the capitol were absolutely true. 
Or was that just another
assumption?  What if he really did have an empire as big as the
rumors?  Or was it possible that he just controlled this city, maybe even
just the state while allowing his lieutenants elsewhere as long as they
remained loyal to him.

That made sense. 
What
was Dempsey’s official business again?
  I bit my lip as I tried to
remember what the man did day to day, besides overseeing a criminal
organization.  I thought I remembered what it was, but every time I tried
to reach through the haze in my mind its shadowy edges eluded my
fingertips.  I had already shown a certain level of ignorance that could
get me killed had I been talking to the wrong person.  As it was, I
preferred not to rely on luck any more.  But since no one else in this
room was googling anything I guessed I was going to just have to remain
ignorant of the man’s legal business, at least for the time being.  And I
hoped that was one of the topics that never came up in natural conversation.

Looking into her eyes I
could tell that she wanted to ask me another question, which only lifted my
spirits.  It looked like I was getting to know her about as well as she
was getting to know me, only that was when the door opened again.  Since I
had made sure to retain a clear line of sight to the door I just sifted my
glance so I could see who was joining us, whereas Bella had to turn
around.  But once she caught sight of who it was, she turned back to me,
slumped in her chair, and grabbed her drink so she could gulp the rest of it
down.

As had I mentioned to
Bella earlier, by my rough count we had our hundred players in the room, so
that meant our host was arriving.  So this was Dempsey.
But why had
Bella reacted like this?
 
Was my count off?  Was this another
player?  And if so what had he done to her?
  Wanting to confirm
who it was, I leaned in to the table and asked, “So is this our esteemed host?”

With a voice to match her
apparent displeasure Bella replied.  “Yes, that is our host.  Though
I’m not quite so sure that ‘esteemed; is the appellation he deserves.”

I would have to figure
out her dislike of the man later, for now I satisfied myself with studying this
notorious man.  After all he had a reputation that was larger than
life.  Which was most likely why the reality of the man just didn’t match
my mental image of him.  At first glance the man who was still standing in
the doorway was nothing exceptional, at least physically.  The only thing
about him that jumped out at me was his clothing.  But other than the
outer wrappings, and judging by their look they appeared to be very fine silk,
the man looked perfectly ordinary.

A man of average height
and weight, there appeared to be no physical trait that marked him as
special.  If pressed, I would say that he was lean.  Built with
muscles crafted from a life of constant running.  He had close-cropped
black hair that contrasted perfectly with his pale skin.  In fact Dempsey
was so pale I wondered if he ever went outside.  I had the idea that
Dempsey had little desire to do anything that didn’t directly benefit him, like
tanning white skin.

Then I caught sight of
his eyes, his pale grey eyes.  All I can say was I was fortunate to be sitting
down.  If I had been standing when my eyes met his, I wouldn’t have stayed
like that for long.  Those eyes were colder than ice and harder than
steel.  They captured my attention, promising nothing but trouble if I
ever did anything to cross him.  His eyes were his most powerful and
distinguished asset.  Everyone talked about his wisdom, but once I saw his
eyes I was certain that those grey eyes were the sole reason people thought him
wise.

Of course it was his
clothing that marked him as special.  Which only proves the saying that
what someone wears will tell you a lot about them. With that thought in mind I
went to work trying to figure out as much as I could about him, and none of
what I saw put me at ease.  As he stood there waiting for his effects to
be collected by his henchman, his
emotionless grey
eyes began to register and catalogue everything and everyone in his waiting
room.  As he was taking everything in I could see why some of the rumors I
had heard claimed that he was omniscient.  But even this behavior could
only explain a piece of those rumors.  The slack in his omniscience must
have been handled by some very serious and dedicated researchers, he certainly
would have the money for that.

But even
armed with all of that data, it would require a special mind to process and use
it all.  And in that moment, I could tell that brains were no issue for
Dempsey.  I could see him processing everything that his eyes, ears, and
researchers had collected.  I could actually see his mind crunching the
numbers so to speak.  Even worse, I knew he was using what he had
collected to make decisions based solely on what he was processing.  And
by the way he carried himself, I could tell that he rarely made mistakes, or if
he did they were quickly corrected.

For the first
time since I had decided to come here I thought about following Matt’s advice.
 I felt like cutting and running.  I knew if I tried to leave I would
forfeit my entrance fee, but that might be the best use of the money if it kept
me off of this man’s radar.  It wasn’t like I was all that invested in the
game.  I mean it was just the entrance fee, and while it would be
disappointing to leave it behind it was nothing I couldn’t recoup.  But my
life, or even my freedom those would be harder to salvage if Dempsey chose to
take them.

But did I
dare try to leave?  What would happen now that Dempsey was here?
  I was sure it would be noted and if half of the stories
about Dempsey were true, then I would wind up dead in some alley. Not
immediately perhaps, but eventually, it would happen.  No, I couldn’t
leave. I had to see this through to the end. I had made my bed, now I needed to
lie in it.  All the same, I should probably follow Matt’s other advice and
not change any of my cards.  Which was going to be harder to do than I
cared to admit.  He had been right about that much, I was next to useless
when it came to showing restraint, at the poker tables at least.  I just
didn’t like losing.  Well, I was just going to have to fight my instincts
because altering my cards was no longer an option.

Once
Dempsey’s effects were collected, he stepped clear of the doorway and spoke
with a booming voice that certainly carried to everyone in the room.  He
must have engineered the room so that his voice would carry from that
spot.  “Welcome to my tournament.  It is good to see so many
returning faces not to mention new ones.  I hope you all have been
enjoying my hospitality.”

Clasping his
hands together Dempsey smiled from ear to ear.  “Now there is still time
left before we begin so please mingle while we wait for the tournament to
start.  And make sure you enjoy the refreshments while the bars are still
open.  Thank you all for coming.”

Wordlessly he
dropped his hands to his sides and began to mingle with the crowd.  For a
couple of minutes I watched the man go from player to player.  As he
finished with one player he would leave to find another, even if the player had
been part of a group.  Since no one complained they must be used to the
madness,
but why… what was he doing?
  Then I realized, he was
lacing the targets!

I had been
sure that Dempsey would have some of his own men posing here as players. 
And now his men had targets to go after.  This was masterful, while he
appeased the spoiled millionaires he also managed to mark the preferred order
of their exit.  But before I could think about anything else, Bella broke
my concentration.