Warren poured four drinks and brought them to the table. Raqi was shuffling the cards. He seemed to do it expertly enough, although Warren was no judge of that. He was not as good as Follet, of that he was sure.
Follet looked about the table. ‘We’ll be confining ourselves to draw poker, gentlemen—there’ll be none of your fancy wild hands here; this is a serious game for serious gamblers. Let’s play poker.’
Raqi dealt the cards, five to each, and said in a quiet voice, ‘Jacks or better open.’
Warren looked at his cards. He was not a good pokerplayer, although he knew the rules. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ Follet had said. ‘You don’t want to win, anyway.’ But he had schooled Warren in a couple of intensive lessons all the same.
At the end of the first hour he was losing—about four thousand rials to the bad—say twenty-two pounds. Tozier had lost a little, too, but not nearly as much. Follet had won a little and Raqi was on top, winning about five thousand rials.
Follet riffled the cards. ‘What did I tell you? This boy can play poker,’ he said jovially. ‘Say, that’s a nice watch you have there, Javid. Mind if I have a look at it?’
Raqi was flushed with success and was not nearly as shy and nervous as he had been at first. ‘Of course,’ he said easily, and slipped it from his wrist.
As Follet took it, Warren said, ‘You speak very good English, Javid. Where did you learn it?’
‘I studied at school, Nick; then I went to night classes.’ He smiled. ‘This is where I practise it—at the poker table.’
‘You’re doing very well.’
Tozier counted his money. ‘Play poker,’ he said. ‘I’m losing.’
Follet grinned. ‘I warned you Javid would take your wad.’ He held out the watch on his forefinger, but somehow it seemed to slip and it dropped to the floor. Follet pushed back his chair and there was a crunch. ‘Oh, hell!’ he exclaimed in disgust, and picked up the watch. ‘I’ve bust the dial.’ He held it to his ear. ‘It’s still going, though.’
Raqi held out his hand, ‘It does not matter, Johnny.’
‘It matters to me,’ said Follet. ‘I’ll have it fixed for you.’ He dropped it into his shirt pocket. ‘No, I insist,’ he said over Raqi’s expostulations. ‘I did the damage—I’ll pay for the fixing. Whose deal is it?’ Raqi subsided.
They continued to play and Raqi continued to win. As far as Warren could judge he was a good natural poker-player and he did not think Follet was discreetly assisting him, although he did not have the special knowledge to know if this was correct. He did know that he himself was losing steadily, although he played as best he could. Tozier
recouped his earlier losses and stood about even, but Follet was on the losing side.
The haze of cigarette smoke in the room grew thicker and Warren began to get a slight headache. This was not his idea of a pleasant Saturday afternoon’s entertainment. He glanced at his watch and saw that it read half-past-two. Ben Bryan, in the next room, ought to be busy taping the television programme.
At quarter to three Tozier threw in his hand with an expression of disgust. ‘Hey !’ he said in alarm. ‘You’d better make that call.’
Follet looked at his watch. ‘Christ, I nearly forgot. It’s quarter to three already.’ He stood up and walked over to the telephone.
‘I thought it would be later than that,’ said Raqi in mild surprise.
Warren uncovered his watch with the dial turned towards Raqi. ‘No—that’s all it is. It might be a bit late for us, though.’
Follet had his hand on the telephone when Tozier said curtly, ‘Not that one, Johnny. Make the call from the lobby.’ He jerked his head at Raqi meaningly.
‘Javid’s all right,’ said Follet easily.
‘I said make it from the lobby.’
‘Don’t be so hard-nosed, Andy. Here you have a guy who was honest enough to give you back your wallet when he didn’t know who the hell you were. Why cut him out?’
Warren said quietly, ‘You always were a hard case, Andy.’
Raqi was looking from face to face, not understanding what was going on. Tozier shrugged with ill-grace. ‘No skin off my nose—but I thought you wanted to keep it quiet.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Warren indifferently. ‘Javid’s all right—we know that. Make the call, Johnny; it’s getting late. If we argue over it any more we’ll miss post time.’
‘Okay,’ said Follet and began to dial. His body screened the telephone from view. There was a pause. ‘Is that you, Jamshid?…Yeah, I know; things are bad all round…this time I’m going to win, I promise you…I’m still in time for the three o’clock race—make it twenty thousand rials on Al Fahkri.’ He turned and grinned at Raqi. ‘Yeah, on the nose…and, say, put on another two thousand for a friend of mine.’
He put down the telephone. ‘The bet’s on, boys; the odds are eight to one. And there’s two thousand on for you, Javid.’
‘But, Johnny, I don’t bet the horses,’ protested Raqi. ‘Two thousand rials is a lot of money.’
‘Have it on the house,’ said Follet generously. ‘Andy’s putting up the stake as a penance. Aren’t you, Andy?’
‘Go to hell,’ said Tozier morosely.
‘Quit worrying, Javid,’ said Follet. ‘I’ll stake you.’ He turned to Warren. ‘The kid can stay and watch. None of us can speak the lingo, so he can tell us which horse wins—as if we didn’t know.’
‘Why don’t you keep your big mouth shut?’ said Tozier in exasperation.
‘It’s all right, Andy,’ said Warren. ‘Johnny’s right; you’re a mean, ungrateful bastard. How much did you have in your wallet when you dropped it?’
‘About a hundred thousand rials,’ said Tozier reluctantly.
Follet was outraged. ‘And you’re being hard-nosed about giving the kid a reward,’ he cried. ‘Hell, you don’t even have to pay it yourself. Jamshid will do the paying.’ He turned to Raqi. ‘You know Jamshid, kid?’
Raqi gave a small smile. He was embarrassed because he was unaccountably the centre of an argument. ‘Who doesn’t in Tehran? Anyone who bets the horses goes to Jamshid.’
‘Yeah, he’s got quite a reputation,’ agreed Follet. ‘He pays out fast when you win, but God help you if you don’t pay him equally fast when you lose. A real tough baby.’
‘What about watching us win our money?’ suggested Warren. He nodded towards the television set. ‘The race should be corning on soon.’
‘Yeah,’ said Follet and stepped over to the set. Warren crossed his fingers, hoping that Ben had done his job. He had already got the name of the winner of the three o’clock race and transmitted it to Follet during the fake telephone call to Jamshid, but if he had fumbled the recording then the whole scheme was a dead loss.
A voice swelled in volume, speaking Persian, and then the screen filled with a view of a racecourse crowd. Follet looked at the screen appraisingly, and said, ‘About five minutes to go.’ Warren let out his pent-up breath silently.
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Tozier.
‘Just talking about the horses,’ said Raqi. He listened for a while. ‘That’s Al Fahkri—your horse—number five.’
‘Our horse, Javid,’ said Follet jovially. ‘You’re in on this.’ He got up and went to the impromptu bar at the sideboard. ‘I’ll pour the drinks for the celebration now. This race will be fast.’
‘You seem certain you’ll win,’ said Raqi.
Follet turned and winked largely. ‘Certain isn’t the word for it. This one’s blue chip—a gilt-edged security.’ He took his time pouring the drinks.
Tozier said, ‘They’re coming up to the post, Johnny.’
‘Okay, okay; it doesn’t really matter, does it?’
The commentator’s voice rose as the race started, and Warren thought that it did not matter whether you understood the language or not, you could never mistake a horse race for anything else. Raqi was tense as Al Fahkri forged ahead of the pack on the heels of the leading horse. ‘He stands a chance.’
‘More than that,’ said Follet unemotionally. ‘He’s going to win.’
Al Fahkri swept ahead to win by two lengths.
Warren got up and switched off the set. ‘That’s it,’ he said calmly.
‘Here, kid; have a drink on Jamshid,’ said Follet, thrusting a glass into Raqi’s hand. ‘The honest bookie who never welshes. You’re a bit richer than you were this morning.’
Raqi looked at the three of them in turn. Warren had produced a notebook and was methodically jotting down figures; Tozier was gathering up the cards scattered on the table; Follet was beaming in high good humour. He said, hesitantly. ‘The race was…arranged?’
‘Fixed is the word, kid. We’ve bought a couple of good jockeys. I told you it was a gilt-edged investment.’
Guilt-edged would be more like it, thought Warren.
Follet took a wallet from his jacket which was draped over the back of a chair and counted out notes. ‘You don’t have to wait to collect from Jamshid,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that when I collect ours.’ He tossed a roll of currency on the table before Raqi. ‘It was eight to one—there’s your sixteen thousand.’ He grinned. ‘You don’t get your stake back because it wasn’t yours. Okay, kid?’
Raqi took the money in his hands and gazed at it in wonder. ‘Go ahead,’ said Follet. ‘Take it—it’s yours.’
‘Thanks,’ said Raqi, and put the money away quickly.
Tozier said briefly, ‘Let’s play poker.’
‘That’s an idea,’ said Follet. ‘Maybe we can win that sixteen thousand from Javid.’ He sat down as Warren put away the notebook. ‘What’s the score so far, Nick?’
‘Just under two million,’ said Warren. ‘I think we ought to give it a rest for a while.’
‘When we’re hitting the big time? You must be crazy.’
‘Jamshid will be getting worried,’ said Warren. ‘I know we’ve played it clever—he doesn’t know the three of us are
a syndicate—but he’ll tumble to it if we don’t watch it. Knowing Jamshid, I wouldn’t like that to happen. I’d like to stay in one piece for a while longer.’
‘Okay,’ said Follet resignedly. ‘Next Saturday is the last—for a while. But why not make it a really big hit this time.’
‘No!’ said Tozier abruptly.
‘Why not? Supposing we put on a hundred thousand at ten to one. That’s another quick million.’ Follet spread his hands. ‘Makes the arithmetic easier, too—a million each.’
‘It’s too risky,’ Warren insisted.
‘Say, I have an idea,’ said Follet excitedly. ‘Jamshid doesn’t know Javid here. Why can’t Javid lay the bet for us? It’s good for us and it’s good for him. He can add his own dough and make a killing for himself. How about that, Javid?’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Raqi uncertainly.
Tozier looked interested. ‘It
could
work,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘You could be a rich man, Javid,’ said Follet. ‘You take that sixteen thousand you just won and you could turn it into a hundred and sixty thousand—that’s as much as the three of us made today. And you can’t miss—that’s the beauty of it.’
Raqi took the hire as a trout takes a fly. ‘All right,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Very well,’ said Warren, capitulating. ‘But this is the last time this year. Is that understood?’
Follet nodded, and Tozier said, ‘Let’s play poker.’
‘Until six o’clock,’ said Warren. ‘I have a date tonight. Win or lose we stop at six.’
He won back most of his losses during the rest of the afternoon. Some of it was made by a big pot won on an outrageous bluff, but he seemed to have much better hands. At six o’clock he was down a mere thousand rials. He had unobtrusively put his watch right, too.
‘That’s it,’ said Follet. ‘See you next week, Javid.’ He winked. ‘You’ll be in the big time then.’
When Raqi had gone Warren got up and stretched. ‘What a way to pass a day,’ he said.
‘Our boy’s very happy,’ said Follet. ‘He’s broken into the big time and it hasn’t cost him a cent. Let’s figure out how much he’s into us for. What did you lose, Warren?’
‘A thousand as near as damn it.’
‘Andy?’
‘Close on three thousand. He can play poker.’
‘That he can,’ said Follet. ‘I had to cut into him after the race—I didn’t want him to think he can make more playing poker than playing the horses.’ He looked up at Warren. ‘You’re no poker player. Now, let’s see—I’m out a thousand, so he’s taken a total of twenty-one thousand, including that dough I gave him for the race. He’ll be back next week.’
‘Greedy for more,’ said Tozier. ‘I thought you said he was honest.’
‘There’s a bit of larceny in all of us,’ said Follet. ‘Cheating a bookie is considered respectable by a lot of upright citizens—like smuggling a bottle of whisky through customs.’ He picked up the pack of cards and riffled them. ‘There’s an old saying among con men—you can’t cheat an honest man. If Javid was really honest this thing wouldn’t work. But he’s as honest as most.’
‘Can you really take money off him at poker?’ asked Warren. ‘A lot depends on that.’
‘I was doing it this afternoon, wasn’t I?’ demanded Follet. ‘You ought to know that better than anyone. You don’t think you started winning by your own good play.’ He extended the pack to Warren. ‘Take the top card.’
Warren took it. It was the nine of diamonds.
Follet was still holding the pack. ‘Put it back. Now I’m going to deal that top card on to the table. Watch me carefully.’ He picked up the top card and spun it smoothly on to the table in front of Warren. ‘Now turn it over.’
Warren turned over the ace of clubs.
Follet laughed. ‘I’m a pretty good second dealer. I dealt the second card, not the top card, but you didn’t spot it.’ He held up his hand. ‘If you see any guy holding a pack of cards like this, don’t play with him. That’s the mechanic’s grip, and he’ll second deal you, bottom deal you, and strip your pockets. I’ll take Javid Raqi all right.’
It was a long week. Warren understood the necessity for inaction but it still irked him. Tozier and Follet played their coin-matching game interminably and Tozier steadily lost, much to his annoyance. ‘I’ll figure this out if it’s the last thing I do,’ he said, and Follet chuckled comfortably.
Warren could not see the fascination the game held for Tozier. It seemed to be a childish game although there
was
the problem of why Follet won so consistently in what seemed to be an even game in which there was no possibility of cheating.
Bryan was as restless as Warren. ‘I feel out of it,’ he said. ‘Like a spare wheel. I feel as though I’m doing nothing and going nowhere.’