“Damn, we should have moved in with troops to start with.”
“And risk a global war? Then the Commies would back up Ortega. They’d have the propaganda advantage for one thing and a ready-made secondary government to support him for another. Besides, it would give them the excuse to pull a power play in the other hot spots in Asia where the lines of communication favor them.”
I finished the drink and waved the bartender over for a refill. “And old Morgan gets tapped to be the patsy.”
“Somebody has to do it,” Kim told me. “You were just a natural for the part.”
“Gee, thanks, kid.”
“No trouble at all,” she smiled sweetly. “Consider it an education in global politics and a rebate on your jail sentence.” She let the smile go wider, then suddenly grimaced when I kicked her shin with the side of my shoe.
She didn’t stop smiling, but she did say, “Ow… you bastard.”
“No trouble at all,” I said. “Consider it an education in the art of learning not to push a man.”
She let out a little laugh that was real this time and finished her drink with me. Behind us the crowd had picked up, standing four deep around the tables, and we went over and joined the throng. Had it not been for Kim, we couldn’t have gotten through to the crap tables, but she had the knack and the smile and found us a place, played small bets with me until I got the dice, then stood beside me when I let them roll.
Four times in a row I made my point the hard way and I could sense the sudden interest in the players. The big money started following my lead and the chips were piling up in front of me. The stickman changed the dice, let me inspect them; then I threw two sixes and did the same on the next toss. A four went out and there was a small sigh from the edge of the table and an apprehensive cough from the guy next to Kim who was winning for the first time that night. I rolled a nine and an eight with a dead silence hanging around us; then the four turn up. The excited chatter turned into applause and the other tables started to empty when the word spread that a lucky streak was on.
Once more the stickman called for a pause and spoke hurriedly to his assistant to run in fresh cubes. From behind me a voice with the hoarse quality of somebody who cheered too wildly said, “They’ll do anything to break your luck, buddy.”
I turned around and grinned at him. He was a dark-haired guy with a lopsided smile and a face that had the touch of an old pug. His eyes crinkled humorously so that one seemed higher than the other and he had one hand wrapped around a stack of black chips. The other one he held out to me. “Marty Steele from Yonkers, New York,” he said. “I’m playing right behind you. Keep it up.”
“Morg Winters,” I told him. “I’ll keep trying.”
“Those new dice won’t do them any good. I can smell it.”
“You’re better than I am. It’s all the laws of chance.”
“That’s good enough for me.” He grinned again, his face twisting oddly, and let out a throaty laugh.
I got the new dice, warmed them in my hand, didn’t bother with a shake at all and tossed them out, watched them bounce off the backboard and come up a seven. The total silence erupted into a booming roar of delight as everybody grabbed for their chips and I picked up the dice again.
This time I rolled a three, but nobody was betting against me. The table was loaded, the players watching me expectantly, the stickman eyeing the way I handled the cubes to make sure I wasn’t pulling a switch, and to make it easy for him I held them out in plain sight on the tip of my fingers and made my roll. The first time I drew a five, the second roll came up an eight and the third pass showed the three. It wasn’t a lucky streak anymore. It was damn near a rout and the crowd knew it and yelled for more. Beside me Marty Steele was piling his chips up, his voice breaking with encouraging shouts.
But I had to disappoint them. I passed the dice and crammed the chips in my pocket and Kim’s purse and waved off the others who were imploring me to continue. They thought I was crazy not to stay when the dice were hot, but I had been to the well often enough not to louse up a good thing. We cashed in the chips for twelve American thousand-dollar bills and I took Kim’s arm and headed for the door.
She stopped me as we passed the ladies’ room, told me she wouldn’t be long and I said I’d meet her at the bar.
This time I was thirsty and ordered a beer, having it halfway finished when a softly throaty voice next to me said, “You’re a stinker. I could have killed you.”
She was a tall, sensuous blonde with penetrating brown eyes and a wickedly pretty smile, one manicured hand toying with a jeweled ornament at the bottom of the deeply cut V in the green-sequined evening dress that exposed the amber rise of full breasts. For a second I was too taken in by the daring expanse of skin she flaunted to say anything. She knew what she was like and had been told often and my reaction was expected.
“You should have kept playing,” she said. “I was following you.”
I put the glass down. “Win much?” It was all I could manage.
“Not enough. Not nearly enough,” she laughed. Her voice had a distracting musical quality that could reach right out and shake you. “Are you going to play again?”
“Maybe. Right now I’ve had it.”
“I wish you’d warn me when you’re ready.” She tilted her head and held out her hand. “I’m Lisa Gordot. I’m staying right here at the hotel. Your style of play is fascinating… almost domineering.”
My hand wrapped around hers and twice while she spoke she exerted a gentle, inviting pressure. “Winters,” I said. “What you saw was just fresh luck. It probably won’t happen again.”
Her eyebrows arched above her smile and the tip of her tongue showed between her teeth when she shook her head gravely. “I’m afraid you’re not an inveterate gambler, Mr. Winters. There are some people luck seems to pursue forever. I have a strange feeling that you are one of them. Ergo, I choose to pursue you. I assure you that I will be very relentless.”
“That’s not doing very much for my ego,” I said. “The money or because of me?”
She took her hand away with deliberate slowness, her smile a rich promise of other things. “Let me say… the money and you.” She stood there a few seconds, just looking at me, then smiled again and walked past me with slow, long-legged strides and the gown shimmering around her trim curves from the lights overhead.
I didn’t even realize that Kim had come up beside me until she spoke with a curious bite in her voice. “Who was that?”
When I looked at her I made it as casual as possible. “Lisa Gordot. She was congratulating me on my lucky streak.”
Kim’s eyes narrowed in a frown. “So that’s who she is,” she whispered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your friend is a foreign national, a member of the jet set. She’s upset two friendly governments by embroiling their members in sensational scandals, encouraged the death of the Saxton heir by having him duel over her and caused an Albanian diplomat’s suicide when she laughed off his proposal of marriage. Nice people you know.”
“Hell, I just met her,” I said. “What would she want with me anyway?” Then I laughed at the little touch of animal jealousy that showed in her face and when she grinned back, said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Outside, the street was ablaze with lights, the street heavy with traffic as taxis disgorged passengers in front of the casinos. Several blocks away the rectangular structures of the government-building complex were bathed in a pink glow, the fountains spouting multicolored streams of water. Workers on bicycles pedaled homeward wearily, never looking at the wealthy ones they served, completely submerged in their own problems.