Four soldiers appeared on the screen and joined him in the alien assault.
"About damn time!" Demanski spotted Rachel in the corridor. "Okay, guys. I gotta run. Clean this up before I get back, will you?" He muted the sound and pulled off his headset. "Rachel Kirby."
"Am I interrupting something important?"
He gestured toward the screen. "Believe it or not, the four men on my team are all Fortune 500 CEOs. Tech guys, mostly. Seeing how much time they spend on this game, I wouldn't invest in any of their companies."
Rachel stepped closer. "It must be quite a team."
"Not really. We're getting our asses handed to us by five fifteen-year-olds in Prague." He flashed the smile she had seen on 60 Minutes, countless magazine covers, and numerous ski-lift chairs alongside supermodels. Demanski was in his late forties and he possessed the athletic, square-jawed charm of a retired football player. But there was an undeniable wit and intelligence behind those brown eyes. He threw down the headset and strode down the corridor. "So why in the hell are you here?"
She kept pace with him. "So why in the hell did you agree to meet with me?"
"Curiosity. I wondered what a woman who stole half a million dollars from me could possibly have to say."
"I did nothing illegal. You have teams of statisticians calculating odds for you. But because I was able to do it for myself, I'm a thief?"
"Spare me. I've heard all the arguments."
"If I was really a thief, why didn't you call the police? Why wasn't I arrested?"
"You know that the law-enforcement community doesn't share our opinion of the situation."
"Because card counting is not stealing. No more than it's stealing when you instruct your blackjack dealers when to hit or stay."
"Makes no difference. We now have systems in place that keep that from happening. Your scheme may have worked ten years ago, but it would never work today."
As they rounded another corner, they came into sight of Demanski's office. It was cavernous, at least as large as the foyers of most big-city office buildings. The ceiling was thirty feet high, and the entire back and sides of the room were made up of floor-to-ceiling windows that offered stunning views of the city. Demanski plopped into the large chair behind his ten-foot mahogany desk. "This desk used to belong to the Romano? family. What do you think? Too much?"
"Only if you had to cut it in half to get it up here."
"I'd never do that. It's priceless. We took out two of these windows and had a helicopter bring it up."
"Incredible."
"I never do anything halfway."
"That's nice to see. It makes me think you'll like my proposal."
He tilted his head. "That remains to be seen. I'm listening."
"How would you like to help form one of the most powerful computer systems in the history of the world?"
He stared at her for a moment. "For what purpose?"
"Several purposes. Most of the resources are directed toward disease cures. We can save millions of lives."
"Not millions. Thousands, maybe."
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Late-onset Globoid Cell Leukodystrophy. It's an extremely rare disease. Your work benefits a very small group of people."
"You're familiar with my project, then?"
"I do my homework. Very impressive, but your real interest is helping your sister, isn't it?"
She ignored the question. "First, I currently have nine projects that have nothing to do with GLD, including weather-systems modeling and earthquake simulations. And this is only the tip of the iceberg. One day, disease research labs all over the country will use my software for their projects."
"You're very sure of yourself."
"Yes, I am." She stared him in the eye. "Aren't you?"
He chuckled. "Hell, yes. Give me another ten years, and I'll own this state."
"And I won't own much in ten years. But instead of donation boxes, foundations will put cartons of USB memory sticks on store countertops that people can take, insert in their computers, and help cure cancer. It won't cost donors a penny, and it won't interfere with their computer usage one bit."
"So what do you want from me?"
"Computing power. You purchased an enormous networked system eighteen months ago, and most of it is underutilized."
"So my tech people keep telling me. They want me to buy a payroll and billing services company to make use of it."
"I have a better idea. Let me have those processing cycles to make the world a better place. Promote it any way you want. I know you're trying to expand your casinos into new markets. You'll have an easier time of it if you can convince the local politicians that you're an upstanding citizen."
Demanski laughed. "Thanks, but a private jet stocked with food, alcohol, and beautiful women usually does the trick."
"You're not going to buy a payroll company, Mr. Demanski."
"Call me Hal. And what makes you so sure?"
"You can't even say the words 'payroll company' without your eyes glazing over. You like the big ideas. Ideas like your casinos, your race-car teams, and your commercial space shuttle everyone is sure will fail."
He leaned back in his chair. "It could fail."
"But if it does, it won't be because you didn't try."
Demanski nodded. "Nice pitch, but you forgot something. All those things have some risk attached, but they have a tremendous upside. I see no real upside in helping you and your project."
"Even for causes as worthy as mine?"
"They still don't benefit me or my business."
Rachel shrugged. "I thought you might react that way. You see, I also do my homework."
"Good."
She walked over to the tall windows overlooking the strip, which was practically on fire with neon. "You said that you now have systems in place to catch card counters."
"Of course. You're not the first superbrain to try and break the bank. And you certainly weren't the last."
"But no system is infallible."
"Oh, we may lose a few thousand here and there before we catch on. But we do catch on."
"I'm guessing there's no way you would give me a tour of your surveillance center."
"No way. Especially not with your history."
"But if I were to get a tour, I'm sure I'd see analysts at keyboards entering the cards and bets of all your big winners. The software would tell you pretty quickly if you have a card counter at the table."
"That's fairly common knowledge. The trick is to develop the right software."
"And I'm sure you've committed a lot of resources to that."
"I have. I've employed some of the world's finest mathematical minds, including a Nobel laureate."
"Impressive."
"Like I said, I don't do anything halfway."
"I happen to know that your Nobel laureate is Dr. Hans Felder. You mentioned him in your Wired magazine profile. He's brilliant."
Demanski's eyes narrowed. "You've met him?"
"No, but I saw him read a paper at a conference once. And of course I've read every other paper he's ever written."
"Of course." A sudden wariness had entered Demanski's voice.
"He has some interesting ideas about rules theory. I have a pretty good idea how he thinks."