Super Con

Thirteen

A uniformed bellboy delivered two brand-new decks to the villa. The cards were in a plastic bag from the Emperor’s Emporium along with a receipt. Billy smiled to himself, feeling confident that at least one of the decks in the bag had his secret scuff marks on it.

Night Train paid the bellboy for the decks and generously tipped him.

“Can I get your autograph?” the bellboy asked.

Night Train scribbled his name on a napkin using the bellboy’s pen. Night Train was a different person around the bellboy, with a broad smile creasing his face and a friendly demeanor. He went back to being a prick when the bellboy was gone.

“Let’s get this game going,” Night Train said.

The new decks were removed from their boxes and shuffled. Billy assisted in this ritual and felt his secret scuff marks on the edges of both decks.

“My deal. Let’s change things up and play Texas Hold’em,” Night Train said. “Thousand-dollar ante, boys, no blinds.”

Earlier, Night Train had called Texas Hold’em a bullshit game. The fact that he’d chosen to play it now was an indication that he had a method of cheating specific to Texas Hold’em that he planned to use. Employing specific scams for different games was done to confuse victims and was common among hustlers who cheated at poker.

Night Train dealt the round. Billy got crummy cards but played them anyway. Night Train began toying with his chips. As if on cue, the others dropped out. Night Train kept raising and Billy kept calling. Night Train triumphantly revealed a pair of kings. Billy threw his cards into the muck without showing them.

“Good hand,” Billy said.

“What did you have?” Night Train asked.

“Rags.”

“Hah. I knew you were bluffing.”

The scam was called playing top hand. By toying with his chips, Night Train was telling the others his cards were strong. The others folded, letting Night Train play heads up against Billy. Over the course of the night, the player in the game with the best hand would go up against Billy and would drain Billy’s bankroll until he was flat broke.

The deal came to Billy. It was payback time.

“Texas Hold’em, thousand-dollar ante, no blinds.”

The football players tossed their chips into the pot, and Billy dealt the cards while feeling the edges. Of all poker scams, using touch cards was one of the strongest. The cheat didn’t have to stare at the cards while reading the marks but let his fingers do the work.

In Texas Hold’em, each player got two cards. By feeling the cards, Billy knew that his opponents had weak hands, except for Night Train, who’d been dealt an ace and king, known as Big Slick. Night Train again toyed with his chips and the others dropped out.

“Five thousand,” Night Train said.

Billy peeked at his two cards. He had a pair of sevens. He decided to call Night Train’s bet and threw chips into the pot. Picking up the deck, he burned the top card and dealt three community cards, called the flop. Ace, seven, king. Night Train had two pair, while he had three of a kind. He couldn’t have scripted it better and put on his best poker face.

“Ten thousand,” Night Train said.

“Call,” he said.

He threw more chips into the pot, picked up the deck, burned the top card, and dealt another community card, called the turn. It was a deuce. Nothing had changed.

“How much you got left?” Night Train asked.

He counted his remaining chips. “Twenty thousand, two hundred.”

“Twenty thousand, two hundred it is.”

He hesitated. Night Train had to believe his hand was best. He didn’t want to act too quickly and tip off his winning cards.

“What do you have, an ace in the hole?” he asked.

“Call me and find out,” Night Train said.

He made the call. He burned the top card and dealt the final community card, called the river. It was a four, another meaningless card. He’d won the hand.

“What have you got?” Night Train asked.

“Hold on. We’re not finished betting,” he said.

Night Train’s eyebrows arched suspiciously. “You’re out of chips. We don’t take checks or IOUs in this game, Mr. Real-Estate Man.”

The others laughed. Billy made a show of removing his wristwatch and tossing it into the pot. “That little baby is a Rolex Presidential eighteen-karat-gold watch with a retail value of twenty-five thousand bucks. Check it out if you don’t believe me.”

Night Train examined the watch, then passed it around the table. Assassin seemed to know a thing or two about jewelry and said, “It’s the real deal.”

Night Train tapped his fingertips on the table. Billy had tried to bluff him earlier and lost. This felt no different, and he flipped over his cards. “I call. Aces and kings.”

He showed his cards. “Three sevens. I win.”

Night Train stared in disbelief at the cards. Billy raked in the pot and counted his chips. He’d won $60,000 of the football players’ money.

“Sixty grand. Pay up.”

Night Train slowly shook his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“It means I don’t have the money. I’ll have to owe you.”

“You said this game didn’t take IOUs.”

“Look, man, I’m good for it. I’ll have the money wired from my bank. You’ll have it tomorrow.”

“Fair enough. You got a pen and something to write on?”

“Choo-Choo, help our friend out here,” Night Train said.

Choo-Choo fetched a ballpoint and a notepad from inside. Billy used them to write up an IOU for sixty large, which included the date, names of participants, and where the game had taken place. Up until now, they’d been playing a friendly game of poker; that was about to change in a negative way, and he stood up from his chair in case he needed to take off running, then slid the IOU and pen across the table to Night Train’s spot.

“Here you go,” he said.

Night Train lowered his head to read the IOU. As he did, Billy took out his cell phone. It was a Droid, and it had a unique feature not available on other cell phones. If the user forcefully snapped his wrist, the Droid’s photo app came to life. Lowering the cell phone to his side, he snapped his wrist below the table, then raised the phone to chest height and snapped a photograph of Night Train putting his John Hancock on the bottom of the IOU. The Droid’s flash was like a bomb going off, and Night Train leaped out of his chair. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Memorializing our agreement,” he said.

“No photographs.”

“Then how’s anyone going to know that IOU came from you?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Not really.”

Night Train came around the table. The look on his face betrayed real apprehension. “Listen, man, I’m going to be straight with you. We’re not supposed to be at Caesars right now. If that photograph ever got out, the media would destroy us and we’d all get hurt. You don’t want that to happen, do you? So just make it go away.”

“All right. But I want some collateral with this IOU,” he said.

“If I give you my father’s watch, will you erase that picture?”

“Let me see the watch first.”

Night Train retreated into the villa and returned holding an old wristwatch with a cracked leather band and a faded inscription on its back.

“My daddy gave this watch to me before he died,” Night Train said. “It’s worth more to me than all the tea in China. Is that good enough for you?”

“That works.” Billy slipped the timepiece into his pocket. Holding the Droid so Night Train could see the screen, he deleted the incriminating photo. Night Train visibly relaxed.

“Happy now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Night Train said.

Night Train and his pals were veteran cheats and had probably never lost this much before, and he wondered how long it would take before it kicked in that they’d been swindled. He wrote down his cell phone number on the notepad and left it on the table.

“That’s my number. Call me when you have the sixty grand,” he said.

Then he got the hell out of there.