Stone Cold

CHAPTER 25

REUBEN CONTINUED WALKING around the casino, trying to memorize as many key details as he could. He didn’t know exactly what sort of intelligence Stone wanted so he decided to be over- rather than underinclusive. In any event it beat the hell out of working on the loading dock.

He finally decided to hook back up with Milton at the blackjack table. When he got there his jaw dropped. Milton had huge columns of chips stacked neatly in front of him.

Reuben said, “Milton, what the hell happened?”

“What happened,” the bettor next to Milton said, “is that your buddy’s up about four thousand bucks.”

Reuben stared at the man and then at the beefy pit boss glaring at Milton and his winnings.

“Holy hell, Batman,” Reuben exclaimed. “Four grand!”

The pit boss leaned down into Milton’s face. “You’re cheating.”

“No I’m not,” Milton said indignantly.

“You’re counting cards, you little slimeball. Is that how you get your kicks? What, the ladies a problem for you? You have to come here and cheat? And then you go home and jack off. Is that it?”

Milton flushed red. “This is the first time I’ve ever been in a casino.”

The pit boss roared, “Do you really think I’m buying that bullshit?”

Reuben said politely, “Look, I’m sure it’s nothing really-”

Milton cut in. “And so what if I am counting cards? Is that illegal in New Jersey? I don’t think so, because I looked it up. And you can employ countermeasures against me, but only if I’m a ‘skilled player,’ which I’m not, and by law the countermeasures you can use are limited. Now, in Vegas you can claim I’m trespassing, read me the Trespass Act and ban me from the casinos for a year, but this isn’t Vegas, now is it?”

“You know all this stuff and you say this is the first time you’ve been in a casino,” the pit boss scoffed.

“I looked all that up last night online. Gee, what a concept. So back off and let me play my cards.”

The thick-necked boss looked like he was going to come over the table at Milton, but Reuben stepped between them. “I think my friend will cash out now.”

“But Reuben,” Milton protested. “I’m on a roll.”

“He’ll cash out now,” Reuben said very firmly.

Later, Milton said to Reuben, “Why wouldn’t you let me keep playing?”

“How about that whole living thing, Milton, you still interested in that?”

“Oh come on, this is the twenty-first century. They don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“You think so? Forget the laws, a casino can pretty much kick you out for any reason they want. You’re lucky the pit boss was probably slow to get to the table. Dollars to donuts we gotta couple goons tailing us right now.”

Milton whipped his head around. “Where?”

“You can’t see them!” Reuben paused. “So how’d you win all that money?”

Milton said in a low voice, “I started out employing a multilevel Hi-Lo scheme with a side count add-on based on the Zen Count system. Of course I was utilizing an overall true count methodology to take into account the multiple decks being played. Later, I took it up a peg to the Uston Advanced Point Count method and paid particular attention to strategically optimizing my bets using the three-color chip scenario to disguise my wager.”

Reuben gaped. “Milton, how the hell do you know all this stuff?”

“I read twelve Internet articles on the subject last night. It was very interesting. And once I read something-”

“You never forget it, I know, I know.” Reuben sighed. There seemed no limit to his friend’s intellectual gifts. “So the pit boss was right, you were counting cards. Luckily you were doing it without a computer, that’s a big no-no.”

“I’ve got a computer, it’s called my brain.”

“Okay, Mr. Brain, just so you know, it’s a rule on recon missions that the team splits everything right down the middle.”

“Down the middle?”

“Yep. So I’m two grand ahead. Now fork it over.”

Milton handed over the cash. “Remember, you have to pay taxes on that.”

“I don’t pay taxes.”

“Reuben, you have to pay your taxes.”

“Uncle Sam can get his pound of flesh off somebody else. And while you were cleaning out the casino I was doing some real intelligence gathering.” He told Milton about Angie.

“That’s sounds really promising, Reuben, good work.”

“The way Angie was eyeballing me, the price might be pretty damn steep.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, you’ve got two thousand dollars.”

Reuben gazed at his friend and just shook his head.