Mardock Scramble - Volume 2 - Chapter 7

Chapter 7
ROTOR
01
Balot was close to tears.
As a result, she didn’t even notice that Oeufcoque had woken up and that his capsule was open.
Such was the intensity of the Doctor’s training program. On gambling.
The basics she learned fromthe legal eCasinos, and she was introduced to all sorts of games.
The eCasinos had their own individual variations on the rules, and Balot learned about the various
discrepancies. Everything was reinforced further through a number of practice hands with the Doctor.
Blackjack, baccarat, poker, high-ball, low-ball, high-low split. On top of that, she also learned the ins and
outs of wheel of fortune, roulette, and the slot machines.
So far so good. But this was where the Doctor’s lecture really started.
“Right.” The Doctor started writing on a blank form, gleefully scribbling down some formulae and
drawing up a table. “Let’s talk game theory. As we have seen, with a finite game it’s possible to express
everything in normal-form. For a finite zero-sum game, we represent everything in normal-form and then
work out what sort of strategy the other players are likely to employ—this would seem the logical way to
approach things. So, let’s examine the logical criteria and try and work out where the game’s equilibrium
lies.”
Creases appeared above Balot’s eyebrows, and she nodded. The Doctor was trying to teach her
something. How to win at gambling. The problemwas that she had absolutely no idea what he was talking
about. Still, she listened as best she could.
“So, let’s express this normal-form game as a payoff matrix. We assign the numbers 1 to n to your
various strategies, and on the other side we do the same for my strategies. This way we can clearly
demonstrate through the matrix how your decision influences my payoff, and vice versa. Logically, each
player should take the action that maximizes his potential payoff. In other words, you can think about all
sorts of possible moves, but in the end the matrix will reveal your optimal strategy. This is what we call
equilibriumanalysis.”
As the Doctor spoke he wrote down a list of letters of the alphabet. Letters with numbers beside them.
The plus and minus symbols were fine, easy enough to follow. But then all sorts of other symbols started
appearing, and Balot soon lost track of what they meant, or whether the letters meant anything or whether
they were code for something else…
“But what happens when the players have the opportunity to cooperate? Let’s take a look at so-called
cooperative games. The theory is simple. The player’s obvious strategy will be to choose one of a number
of finite moves, taking into consideration the logical move that the other player is likely to make so that
they can optimize their mutual payoff.”
Balot was starting to feel that the Doctor was becoming ever-so-slightly ostentatious in his display of
knowledge. But she kept at it, listening as intently as she could.
“So, if we take a subset from our payoff matrix and apply this procedure to it then we can see that the
outcome is going to be different when collusion is involved—that’s what a cooperative game means. It’s
a so-called special function: you pass the variable n to the collaborator, and that special function is then
fixed on a unique value.”
Balot watched the swarm of symbols as they emerged from the Doctor’s hand, and wondered how
much of this it would ever be possible for her to learn. She hoped that she would at least be able to
understand something of his final conclusion when he did arrive at it, but at the moment she didn’t even
know how to look out for that.
As this was going on, Oeufcoque was inside his capsule, waiting for the liquid to evaporate. Once it
had, he turned back into his customary shape of a golden mouse and struggled his way out of the capsule.
He landed on the bed and turned part of his fur inside out to make a pair of his usual pants. Then he
pottered off toward the sound of conversation.
Sheets of paper covered in numerical formulae were littered about the floor, and Oeufcoque stepped
over these, looking at the numbers as he passed them. Before long he arrived at the scene of the crime and
the source of the paper.
Oeufcoque sniffed the air, as if something were burning, and sighed deeply. He passed under the
Doctor, who was in the middle of another animated explanation, and hopped onto the table via the chair.
“What are you hoping to achieve by throwing a whole load of economic theory at a fifteen-year-old
girl, Doctor?” said Oeufcoque. The Doctor and Balot raised their heads simultaneously. “This might be
your field of expertise, Doc, but try not to lord it over the girl too much—you’ll give her an inferiority
complex. And Balot—you don’t have to put up with this, you know. Don’t be a martyr. What are you
trying to do—experience the prisoner’s dilemma with your own body?”
Having rebuked themboth, Oeufcoque sat down on top of the sheets of paper that covered the tabletop.
“Greetings, Oeufcoque. You’re awake earlier than I expected. The latest technology from Paradise
seems to have come on a bit since we were last there.”
Oeufcoque shrugged his shoulders. “So, what’s been going on?”
The Doctor brought him up to date, explaining what Balot had discovered while she was at Paradise
and the conclusions that they had come to. All through the Doctor’s exposition, Balot’s eyes were cast
down. She was terribly nervous. Oeufcoque was in easy reaching distance, but she couldn’t even turn to
face him.
“Well, putting aside the fact that Balot is now a suspect for crimes against the Commonwealth—a fact
that we’ll revisit later, Doctor, don’t think I’m letting that one pass—surely there’s a better way of
preparing Balot for certain victory at the gaming table than to throw a whole load of numbers at her? Isn’t
that right, Balot?”
Balot’s body jolted.
Oeufcoque and the Doctor looked at her in mild surprise. Balot tried to answer. Something casual. But
the words just wouldn’t come forth.
Balot just sat there staring at the table, trying to make herself seem as small as possible, retreating into
herself.
Oeufcoque and the Doctor let her be. There were no forceful reproaches, no What do you want? or If
you have something to say then say it.
“I hope you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me,” Oeufcoque said suddenly. “For sleeping through the
worst of it, while you were making difficult choices.”
Hurriedly, Balot shook her head.
The Doctor asked Oeufcoque a question, as if to reassure Balot. “How are you doing now,
Oeufcoque?”
“I probably shouldn’t strain myself by turning too vigorously, but if it’s just a matter of helping Balot
learn to win at cards then I’mwell up for it.”
Then Oeufcoque walked over to Balot so that he stood right in front of her eyes. “Would you mind if I
hopped on your shoulder?”
Balot stared at Oeufcoque. Her vision started to blur. She nodded, and tears started to fall. She
covered her face with both hands, and Oeufcoque reached out to touch her with his paw.
“I’ll put the coffee on.” The Doctor rose fromhis seat.
Timidly, Balot opened her hands and extended one of themto Oeufcoque.
–Can I touch you?
“Sure.” Oeufcoque jumped onto Balot’s palm. Balot lifted Oeufcoque up, brushing him against her
face before placing himon her shoulder.
–Will you stay bymyside? Just for now?
“Of course.”
–I’m so sorry, Oeufcoque.
“I’mfine.”
There were no more words. Balot was doing everything she could to suppress the turbulent emotions
that were now bubbling up inside her, and she was desperately trying to stop herself from involuntarily
snarcing themto Oeufcoque.
The Doctor returned and laid the cups of coffee out neatly. There was even a tiny cup for Oeufcoque.
The Doctor and Oeufcoque waited patiently for Balot to regain her composure.
After that, they made their plans. They decided who was going to play what role, and how best to act.
They went through every possible scenario they could imagine, and the Doctor agreed to synthesize it
all into one master plan.
When that was over, Balot prepared dinner. They all sat around the table, making small talk. About
what they were going to do next. After this case was solved.
No one said anything decisive, of course. No details—just vague generalizations, half jesting. They
were all getting along with each other again, on the same wavelength. That was enough for now.
After dinner, the Doctor stood up with his plate in his hands. “Well, it seems our preparations are
complete.”
Oeufcoque smiled, but solemnly. “We’ll win our case yet.”
Balot wanted to add something but couldn’t think of anything, so she just nodded.
Balot had been assigned a private room on the second floor, and as she settled into her bed there,
Oeufcoque spoke to her. “Shall I stay by your side until you fall asleep?” He was hanging upside down
fromthe pull-switch of the night lamp.
–I’ll be all right.
Balot leaned over to touch Oeufcoque.
–Thank you.
And that was all she had to say. Not only that, she realized that this was all she had wanted to say,
right fromthe beginning.
Oeufcoque pulled the light switch to turn the lamp off, left the room, and shut the door gently behind
him.
In the darkness Balot cried, but just a little.
As she cried, she thought. About progress. Oeufcoque and the Doctor both looked to the future. They
stood for progress—they defined themselves by fighting against vague and equivocal values and targets.
They aimed for tangible results.
But Shell and Boiled were different. They’ve turned their backs on progress, she thought. They had
spun themselves around, so that each stared at his own past even though it was supposed to have been
long since dead.
The past was just a skeleton, and you could do what you liked with it.
That is, provided that you had come to terms with it, given it a proper burial. So Balot thought.
But even if the past were firmly buried in its grave, it was still looking back up at you, and all it took
was a small crack to emerge in the sod and the past could thrust a half-rotten arm right up toward you.
And when the hand of the past grabbed hold of your leg and tried to drag you down, you could end up
losing sight of where you were even heading in the first place.
When the gaze of the past boring into their backs became too much for Shell and Boiled, they turned
around to face it and were swallowed up by the darkness.
The same darkness that Balot knew she could be swallowed by at any moment.
Balot considered what she could do.
When she left this silver egg, what exactly would she be able to do?
Eventually her tears subsided, and Balot fell asleep.
≡
“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Oeufcoque jumped onto the chair and then up onto the
kitchen table.
“What’s this, now?” The Doctor had been gleefully sorting their plans out on the table, and now he
turned to look at Oeufcoque, a little fed up.
“The gifts that we gave to the girl…they’ve put her in a real dilemma.”
“You mean the plan of action that she’s chosen? The plan derives from her own consciousness, you
know!”
“Yes, but you can’t say for sure that her latent desire for revenge hasn’t unduly influenced her
subconscious mind.”
“You may be right, but it’s not as if she’s burning with the need for revenge at the moment, is it?”
asked the Doctor.
“Hmm…no. I think she’s humbly putting her mind to the task at hand—solving this case.”
“Then I think she’ll be all right. Besides, if Balot hadn’t chosen the path of Scramble 09 and had just
been relying on the Ham & Eggers, by now she’d be in little strips, being sold off down at the
marketplace.”
“Marketplace?” said Oeufcoque.
“Intelligence from the police that’s just come in. About the assassins Boiled hired. They were well
known among the human-body-part-fetishist community, apparently. They sold off quality body parts.”
“Hmm.”
“They’re the ones who deserved to be torn limb from limb. I think so, anyway, and I’m sure Balot
thinks so too. But Balot doesn’t consider it to be our job to do so. She doesn’t have to tear them limb from
limb to be satisfied or achieve closure. That’s a good thing, surely? That’s not to say I’m pleased that our
old hideaway is now in ruins, of course. But even that can be fixed up one way or another with
reparations fromthe Broilerhouse when we manage to solve this case properly.”
“That’s true, I suppose.”
“I also feel that we definitely did the right thing in strengthening the girl. As per usual, someone had
been systematically tampering with the Ham & Egg circuits. An inside job, most probably—a mole taking
money to look the other way, not caring in the slightest whether the people bribing them were murderers
or fetishists,” said the Doctor.
“So what’s happening about the inside man?”
“The police are on the case there—it’s out of our hands. You’re looking at serious money to try and
bail out someone involved in hacking a public network. I’msure there are plenty of police looking to their
next bonus, eager to pin down the mole.”
Still, Oeufcoque didn’t seementirely satisfied, and he remained sitting on the table.
“Talk about wishy-washy, Oeufcoque. Anyway, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“The girl, of course.”
Oeufcoque scratched his head with his small paws. “I really hope that her reason and ambitions will
triumph over her negative impulses. That’s her real job, to make sure that this happens. Our job is to give
her room to develop by protecting her from harm and helping her to recover all her legal rights and
privileges. It may be that this sort of work is what I was looking for all along.”
“You see yourself as a social worker? If you can’t stand the heat you can always get out of the kitchen.
Just find another line of work,” said the Doctor.
“No—overdependency on social welfare can lead to lives being snuffed out in an instant. The
Broilerhouse always overcomplicates things, and they will always need PIs to solve their cases, one way
or another. I want to be useful as a deterrent against an everlasting cycle of violence, to protect lives.
That’s what Scramble 09 is for.”
“Then what exactly is your problem?”
“I’m not comfortable with the idea of forcing the girl to use me as a weapon, even with the threat of a
clear and present danger…”
“And that’s why we’re looking for a chink in the enemy’s armor—to help us solve this case in the
quietest way possible. What’s wrong with that?”
“Doctor, I’ma living tool, and you’ll never really understand me.”
“Huh?”
“I’m constantly on the lookout for a user. I want someone like Balot to be using me. I had thought that
I’d never again be able to entrust myself to someone else’s hand completely…”
“So?”
“I’mdisturbed by the fact that the girl wants to become a PI after we’ve solved this case.”
“Well, I’mglad of that.” The Doctor took his eyes off Oeufcoque for a moment, sipping his coffee.
“What’s there to be glad about, Doctor?”
“Have you heard of the marriage blues, Oeufcoque?”
“No, what are they?”
“They’re when you wear yourself out worrying about something that you’ve already decided.
Obsessing about things like self-centered emotions, whether you’re feeling all right, whether something is
inevitable or whether it’s happenstance.”
“Are you saying that I’ve got the marriage blues?”
“I think that would be a pretty astute diagnosis, though I do say so myself.”
“What’s the cure?”
“Patience. You just wait to see how events unfold.”
Oeufcoque looked the other way and exhaled silently. “That’s a tough one.”
“Well, it’s a problem that’s been plaguing us since the beginning of history, so you’re in good
company. Just do your best.”
The Doctor poked Oeufcoque’s shoulder. He wasn’t particularly encouraging.
02
Dawn was just about to break when the giant silver egg landed on the rooftop of the Broilerhouse.
Bathed in the purple glow of sunrise, the Floating Residence known as the Humpty-Dumpty stopped in
midair at a point precisely one meter above the rooftop, and a crack opened up on one side. The crack
turned into a number of symmetric hexagonal openings, and part of the shell that had opened up now
transformed into a ramp that extended down to the roof.
The Doctor and Balot stepped out onto the ramp.
The wind was strong, and the three-ply metal fencing that surrounded the rooftop was rattling.
Balot headed into the building and called up an elevator. Not by snarcing it, but by pressing the call
button.
The Doctor sent the Humpty back up into the sky, then followed after Balot in great strides. “Right,
let’s go.” He leapt into the elevator. “We have to be low-profile from here on out. Well, relatively
speaking.”
He was in a sprightly mood. The cheeriest Balot had ever seen. He was dragging a large trunk behind
him, and Balot had a bag hanging fromher shoulder.
“You’re in high spirits, Doc,” Oeufcoque observed, as a choker around Balot’s neck. His tone of
voice was, unusually for him, relaxed—lazy, even.
“Bring it on! Literally and metaphorically, I mean. I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to make
some noise—it’s taken long enough to talk you into gambling. Let’s head on in with the mindset that we’re
going to break the bank.”
“Sure, but our aim isn’t actually to bankrupt Shell, you know.” As Oeufcoque spoke, the fabric of the
choker warped around the edges. He seemed to be yawning. This tickled Balot’s neck, and she gave an
involuntary squirmof the shoulders.
“I’m not a morning person. It brings out my true nature,” Oeufcoque blurted out, and the elevator had
arrived.
They were in the first-floor lobby, where they could see various justice department officials heading
this way and that. Many of them stayed in the building overnight, and a large group of people had
congregated in the cafeteria for their morning dose of coffee. Balot and the Doctor left the building
through the lobby and hailed a taxi.
The taxi drove off and headed uptown. During the ride, the Doctor referred to his PDA incessantly,
humming a jaunty tune as he did so. A list of numbers was scrolling across the display, and these caused
the Doctor to smile, as if he were looking at the figures of a particularly healthy bank balance.
Before long the taxi pulled up at a motel. An airport motel.
They entered the lobby to find that their rooms were ready, rooms that the Doctor had reserved using
the Humpty’s NetService. The Doctor and Balot went into their adjoining rooms, as if they had just
arrived by air and were about to head into the big city later. Well, they had just been flying, of course, but
not in the manner that a casual observer would have assumed.
Their bags contained mostly clothes. Once she was in her room, Balot took a dress from her bag.
She’d had Oeufcoque make it for her based on pictures from an online catalog. She brushed it down and
hung it up neatly on a hanger before taking some shoes and accessories out of the bag and lining them up
on the motel desk.
As she was making her preparations, the choker undid itself. It turned inside out in midair, then settled
on the shape of a golden mouse, who landed on the desk on two feet before yawning properly.
“We’ve still got plenty of time yet. I’d like to take a nap.” Not waiting for an answer from Balot,
Oeufcoque jumped off the desk. He headed straight for the bed, jumped onto the pillow, and rolled over.
Balot followed himto the bed and poked himin his tummy.
–I’ve never seen you act so slovenly before.
She snarced himand laughed.
Oeufcoque shrugged his shoulders. Whatever, he seemed to say. He rolled over, face-up like a human,
crossed his arms over his stomach, and stretched his legs out leisurely. Before long he was snoring gently.
Balot gazed at him and thought that he probably did need the sleep—he hadn’t yet recovered
completely from his injuries. She decided to leave him alone and took a shower. Then she lay down to
study the game rules the Doctor had given her, and before long she found herself feeling sleepy too. The
time was just then six thirty. Balot snuggled under the covers next to Oeufcoque, whom she could sense
beside her, scratching his belly. She was asleep in no time.
It was almost noon when she was awoken by a call from the Doctor. Oeufcoque was already awake
and watching television. On mute—picture only. When she asked him if he could follow what was going
on, he replied, “I’mpracticing my lip reading.”
What a strange hobby, she thought for a moment, but of course he wasn’t doing it for fun. “It’s a good
warm-up exercise for the job we’re about to go on,” Oeufcoque said, and he stepped down on the remote
with a tiny foot to turn the picture off.
The two of them headed down to the motel restaurant, where the Doctor was waiting for them. There
they had a meal and made their final arrangements. They reconfirmed their next course of action. Then
there was a little test. Did Balot understand all the rules for all the main games? The rules themselves
were fairly simple. They hadn’t targeted any of the more complicated games in the first place. The
problemwas that rules always ended up producing winners and losers.
–How much do we need to win? Balot asked, snarcing her Oeufcoque-choker.
The Doctor pursed his lips and pushed his glasses up. “We need to turn two thousand dollars into four
million.”
It sounded like a wild dream. But the Doctor just shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I think you’ll
understand once you actually start playing. The question is, how to find a way of winning for sure. If we
can’t work one out then we’ll have to abandon the plan.”
–Do you reallythink we have a chance?
“So, uh, it’s not impossible, at least. It’s not as if we’re actually trying to make the money. All you
have to do is make contact with the chips while sticking to the rules of the casino—do that and we’ve
won. The regular punters are there to try and win themselves some money and experience the thrills of the
casino, that’s why they handle the chips. What we want to handle is the golden yoke that’s hidden inside
the chips. Without necessarily having to get the shell or egg white in the process…”
–How much moneyis a million dollars?
The Doctor paused to think. “Let’s see…”
“Don’t think of it as money.” Oeufcoque interrupted them in a small voice that only Balot and the
Doctor could hear.
–What do you mean?
“He means that the chips we’re going after just happen to be worth four million dollars, and that’s
what we’re calling them, but they’re really just chips to us. It’s not as if we’re actually going in there to
try and win their cash from them. That’s why we might be able to breach their defenses, and it’s also why
I feel that I can help with this plan. Also, even if our plan fails, as long as you’ve worked out the location
of the chips, we could always try stealing them at a later date—although if Shell figures out what we’re
up to we’ll struggle to find them before the trial is over. So we’re taking a big gamble before we even set
foot in the casino. In other words, the time is now. This is our last real chance, and also our best,” said
the Doctor.
Balot looked at the Doctor’s face as she answered,
–I understand. If the two of you think that we can do it, then I do too.
She was speaking the truth.
The Doctor smiled affectionately and opened up his PDA. “Right, time to get this plan on the road.”
Much to Balot’s surprise he erased the memory on his PDA as he spoke. It was supposed to have
contained all sorts of vital data. Who worked where, what they did, how the money came in, everything.
Balot was shocked to see that all this had now been reduced to a blank screen.
“If we have all the info on us at the point that the casino starts taking an interest in us, we’d be thrown
out the moment they discovered it. Not only that, they’d contact all the other casinos in the city on the spot.
With our photographs. We’d never be able to set foot inside a casino again.” The Doctor’s face revealed
that he considered this to be a fate worse than death.
–Will we be all right without it?
“If it comes to the crunch, all the data is still inside Oeufcoque. There’s no cause for concern.”
Suddenly the Doctor’s brow creased. “By the way, have you decided what you’ll call me?” he asked.
Balot looked a little troubled and shook her head.
“Well, why not try something out.”
–Brother?
She burst out laughing even before she finished the word.
“No good, I suppose,” the Doctor said, his face most serious. “How about Daddy?”
This time it was Balot who furrowed her brow.
–That doesn’t feel natural. No good.
“Hmm.”
–Uncle.
“You mean…?”
–It’ll be fine. I don’t thing there will be anymisunderstandings.
“Fine. Henceforth I shall be known as your Uncle Easter.”
Balot couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing again, her shoulders shaking. She saw the
Doctor looking discouraged and nodded her assent through her wordless laughter.
–Uncle Easter.
She repeated. The Doctor nodded too.
“It’s decided, then.”
Balot laughed again. But actually the term didn’t feel all that out of place. She looked at the Doctor
and mimed combing her hair down. As if to say Sort yourself out.
–Could you at least dye all your hair the same color?
The Doctor shrugged, but he seemed to acquiesce.
–I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time, actually. Why do you dye your hair like that, anyway?
“One of the Three Magi—the professor whose brainchild Mardock Scramble was—seemed to favor
that sort of hairstyle,” Oeufcoque butted in to explain.
“A complex layer of different hues. A hairstyle based authentically on chaos theory,” the Doctor
explained, brushing his hair back.
–You must have reallyrespected him.
“He was the one and only master I ever recognized, and he was also responsible for designing
Oeufcoque. I would have liked you to meet him.”
Balot gave a small nod. She didn’t press them for the details of how this person that they held in such
high regard was killed by OctoberCorp. It would be an impudent intrusion into a sacred place in their
hearts. But something did suddenly occur to her, and she asked it.
–Did your professor like to gamble?
“He was invincible!” the Doctor replied without hesitation.
That’s what I thought. Balot nodded.
≡
After Balot returned to her roomshe took another, thorough, shower, then dressed up.
This time the choker was still a Made by Oeufcoque, but it was just an ordinary electronic voice box.
Lastly, Balot took Oeufcoque in her hands and brought an image to mind. A soft pair of gloves to cover
both my hands. Oeufcoque’s body distorted with a squish, and in a flash he was wrapped around her
fingers. The gloves extended up her arms and met behind her shoulders.
A gap opened where the two gloves met, and Balot slowly pulled her hands apart. The gloves
separated neatly, and at the same time an Oeufcoque-style design rose to the fore. He must have been
paying attention to the eCatalogue, as Balot only needed to make two or three minor alterations to the
design before she was satisfied with her look.
She waited in the lobby for the Doctor, and when he emerged he was the very embodiment of someone
who has lived in the amusement world for far too long and forgotten what normalcy was.
He wore a long cowboy-style coat topped by a mafioso scarf. His hair was dyed a glossy silver, and it
was slicked back. His heels clicked as he swaggered toward reception to deposit his key, and he really
did look as if he were ready to head on out for a proper night on the town.
The two of them stepped out of the motel to wait out front. Before long the limousine arrived to pick
themup, right on time.
It was hardly her first time in a limousine, but Balot suddenly felt tense nonetheless.
“Right, let’s go. Balot?” The Doctor tapped her shoulder lightly. It’s time to put on your act , he was
saying.
–Okay.
Balot nodded as she touched the electronic voice box on her choker. The limousine driver had a
pleasant smile underneath his short-brimmed hat as he opened the back door for her. Balot climbed in and
called out to the Doctor.
–Aren’t you getting in, Uncle?
If Balot found it funny to refer to himin this way, she did a good job of keeping it secret.
The Doctor got in the car and the driver closed the door behind him. Then the driver sat down in his
seat, and the car drove off.
The Doctor’s voice echoed around the car for the duration of the ride to the casino. As if to say I’m
going to show you both just what sort of player I am. Balot added little to the conversation and mostly
nodded. She played the part of the niece who had come to the big city to experience the bright lights and
was being well looked after by her uncle. She exuded the easy confidence that came with having relatives
living in the high-class Senorita District, at the foot of the rolling hills.
Before long the limousine stopped outside the casino entrance. Right next door was a large hotel.
Beyond that were other large and impressive buildings: conference facilities, the headquarters of a
number of prominent organizations. There were also TV and radio stations. The pleasure quarter spread
all around.
The Doctor handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill and told him that he’d call the office to order their
return limousine when they were ready.
The truth was different. The Doctor pointed toward the casino parking lot, a mischievous grin on his
face. A familiar red convertible was waiting there. “I asked one of the Broilerhouse staff to have it ready
for us there last night.”
Balot was genuinely impressed. The Doctor always planned these things down to the last detail.
“Now, let’s go and have some fun.” The Doctor accompanied Balot to the entrance.
The tension that Balot had felt while she was waiting for the limousine to arrive seemed to disappear.
Above the grand entranceway that faced the strip was a sign in the shape of a giant egg, inscribed with
the casino’s name: EGGNOG BLUE.
The egg was split down the middle, with a 3-D digital display of chips pouring forth.
As they passed under the entrance, they felt an unusual sensation. They realized immediately what it
was.
They’d had their possessions scanned in an instant. Infrared, surveillance cameras, X-ray imaging—
had they been carrying anything undesirable, it would have been spotted immediately and they would
have been intercepted.
The casino didn’t let anything slip through. Not that this seemed to bother the Doctor, who walked
straight in with easy assurance.
It was a large casino. There was a long corridor that led to the hotel next door and a winding pathway
that led to a children’s amusement park. There was also an indoor shopping court, its walls lined with
giant television screens that showed the entertainment—boxing matches and magic shows.
Balot had been inside this casino a number of times before, but always on Shell’s arm, and with the
Doctor by her side pointing out this and that, it was almost as if she were visiting it for the first time.
From the gaudy entrance to its décor, the casino was clearly designed to be welcoming to the masses,
a family-friendly joint rather than one that catered to a minority of shadowy, elite big spenders. The
theory, with legal casinos at least, was that those that catered toward ten thousand customers each
spending a hundred dollars were more likely to thrive than those who went after the one high roller who
spent a million. Eggnog Blue was a case in point: the joint was buzzing.
The Doctor walked briskly through the hall that was kitted out for the out-of-towners and their
offspring, paying only the slightest attention. This was the Doctor, after all, and he knew exactly where he
was going without having to refer to a map.
The clamor grew. Any illusions that the casino would be experiencing some sort of early-afternoon
lull were dispelled by the roar of activity.
There was a dazzling array of slot machines as far as the eye could see.
The room they were now in was filled neatly with rows upon rows of machines that covered the
whole gamut: from five-cent cheapies to machines for the high rollers that only accepted hundred-dollar
coins.
–Amazing… Balot said—there was such an uproar that she almost forgot why she was here.
“You fancy a go, do you?” the Doctor asked.
Balot nodded, true feelings to the fore.
Balot followed the Doctor through the gaps between the slot machines, as varied in size, shape, and
color as the ammonites that she was so fond of. Electronic noises buzzed all around, and here and there
wailed the sound of a siren—a bit like a fire engine—accompanied by the shouts of joy of men and
women of all ages as they hit pay dirt. Whenever there was a major payout, a light on top of the winning
machine would flare up like a police siren light, and a throng of people would congregate around the
winner to offer conspicuous congratulations. Balot thought that the wave of excitement caused by the
electronic sounds and the jangling of coins as they poured out of the machines were enough to give anyone
a headache.
The Doctor collected a number of different types of chips at the reception counter and passed some of
themto Balot.
Then he took his twenty-dollar bills and bundled themup.
“The first thing to do is soak up the atmosphere. Get used to things, ride the wave. A bit like surfing.”
So saying, the Doctor tripped off to check out the slot machines with a haste that would have been illadvised
had there been any real waves around.
At the back of the hall were a number of real AirCars and other luxury vehicles, with a sign above
reading: HIT THE JACKPOT AND DRIVE AWAY IN ONE OF THESE BEAUTIES!
The Doctor sat down at a slot machine near the cars. Even as he explained its workings to Balot, he
was pouring coins down its hatch. The cylinders started revolving, and the moment of truth approached.
One of the symbols clicked into place, then another, and the Doctor’s fortune was decided. Of the four
lines he had bet on, one just about resulted in a payout, and five twenty-cent coins clattered into the tray
below. “Not a bad way to test your luck, eh?”
Carefully, he slid some more coins into the slot and pressed the button.
For a moment, Balot thought she might try snarcing the machine to produce the result she wanted.
But her Oeufcoque-gloves pulled Balot’s left hand away. Then the palm of her hand was by her ear,
and she heard Oeufcoque’s voice. “Don’t underestimate the security here.”
Her heart thumped.
The machine was swallowing up all of the Doctor’s coins. But the Doctor seemed unconcerned and
continued throwing in more coins with abandon, as if he were testing out its rhythm.
Balot stopped and sensed the inner workings of the machine. It was set up so that the slightest bit of
external interference would cause it to lock down completely. Not the most subtle systemin the world, but
all the more secure for it.
Suddenly, Balot felt that she was being watched. She looked up at the tall ceiling. All sorts of colored
illuminations were scattered around, and in between them Balot noticed an incredible number of security
cameras, all firmly set in place. She gulped involuntarily.
–The Eye in the Sky, Oeufcoque said, sensing Balot’s thoughts. Originally developed for military
use. Every single one of those cameras is powerful enough to accurately distinguish between dif erent
sets of footsteps in a field from a distance of twenty thousand meters. There’s a whole team of
surveillance staf watching behind the scenes, probably, watching every move down here. The second
you try anything with the slot machine, the warning goes up and cameras will be trained on you from
all angles.
Balot squeezed her hand, indicating to Oeufcoque that she understood himloud and clear.
“Would you like a go yourself, Balot?” the Doctor asked suddenly. It seemed that his coin count was
fluctuating up and down, winning some then losing themagain.
Balot nodded, then asked a question through the crystal on her choker.
–Am I allowed to choose my own machine?
“Why not? Let’s split up for the next half hour or so, see how we do on our own. We’ll establish our
supply train here, ready to move on later. May fortune smile upon you!”
Balot left the Doctor and started wandering around the machines.
She stared at themone by one, trying to feel the wave that the Doctor had been talking about.
She may not have been able to snarc the machines to manipulate them directly, but she could at least
sound themout for variations and anomalies.
Each machine moved to its own complicated rhythm. It wasn’t as if they were all standardized to some
sort of median average. Before long she started to get a feel for the overall patterns.
She remembered something she had once read. A wave may be made up of individual droplets of
water, but the wave doesn’t actually move the surface of the water; all it does is cause the surface of the
water to bob up and down as it passes.
Balot was now starting to experience this for herself.
Balot sat down in front of a machine. It was a one-dollar slot machine in the shape of a whiskey bottle.
She’d selected this one because she felt that its rhythmwas settling down.
Balot had been sensing all these loud—exaggerated—sounds from her surroundings. She felt that
these were due to the complicated rhythms of the machines ebbing and flowing, never quite calm enough
to properly read, but this machine was different. Calmer, she sensed.
Balot placed some coins in the slot, pressed the button, and watched the symbols spin around.
She sensed their movements as she stopped the wheels. Each one landed on a different symbol, almost
impressively so.
Balot put another coin in the slot. Just the one, this time. She spun the wheel.
No luck. She put another coin in and again had no luck. She repeated the process a number of times,
and suddenly she had won.
Balot grasped her feelings at that moment. She thought that Oeufcoque might have tried to say
something, but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t even hear the tumultuous roar of the machines around
her anymore.
Balot continued with the machine, losing the next round. She felt just like the machines all around her
—ebbing and flowing. Then she felt a sensation—her whole body being lifted. Her hand moved up to the
slot naturally, automatically. She threw coins down the slot in quick succession, leaving just the slightest
of gaps, until the wave was at its crest before pressing the button with perfect timing.
“Flawless…”
She heard Oeufcoque’s voice. Balot came to her senses. The roar of the machines returned.
She squirmed when she heard the piercing sound of the siren. She wondered if she had done something
wrong. Voices pressed in on her from all around. She realized that she was now surrounded by a huddle
of people.
Amazed, Balot looked around at the throng. Everyone was voicing their astonishment.
For a moment Balot thought that she was about to be hauled away by the police, but she was wrong.
The very next moment, an incredible clanging of metal assaulted her, and she looked down at her
hands.
She’d never seen so many coins before in her life. At first she wondered how she was possibly going
to fit such a large quantity in her pockets, but as the coins kept coming, it wasn’t long before she
abandoned that idea as impossible. That was how many coins there were.
Envious voices were heard all about. A casino attendant pushed his way through the crowds.
Balot’s face was still startled when she looked at him, and he smiled at her, flourishing a basket.
“Shall I store your coins for you, madamoiselle?”
Balot nodded, wondering if he was about to cart all her coins away.
But she had a strong feeling that the coins weren’t really hers to begin with.
As he was scooping her coins into the basket, Balot’s left hand flew up to her ear again.
“Give him a tip. One dollar ought to be enough.” Hearing Oeufcoque’s words, Balot scrabbled around
for a one-dollar bill and took it fromher pocket.
The attendant turned to her with the basket full of coins in his hands. He saw the proffered note and
received it graciously. Then he took Balot over to the counter, where he exchanged the full basket—so
heavy that it was like carrying around a set of bowling balls—with a considerably lighter roll of hundreddollar
coins.
Balot took the hundred-dollar coins along with the basket. She counted them to discover that there
were precisely sixty of them. For a moment she couldn’t even work out how much money that was.
Basket in hand, Balot walked back toward the slot machines. Feeling the wave, as she did before.
Then she sat down at another machine where she sensed that the wave was settling down. This time it was
a five-dollar coin machine. She had only three of these in her pocket. She sat there waiting carefully
before placing the first one of these in the machine.
She slotted it in gently. The wheel spun and settled, and she was nowhere near winning. She stuck the
next coin in.
She let it go at precisely the moment she felt the wave rising. She lost again. But as a result, she sensed
clearly that the wave still had farther to go. Balot breathed in, then out.
She waited for the wave to rise, coin held firmly in her hand.
Then her hand moved. Before she knew it, the coin had been released, the button pressed.
–What…?
Balot snarced Oeufcoque, surprised.
“It’s not a good idea to win too much at this stage. You’ll be marked out.” Such was Oeufcoque’s
answer. He had caused her to let go of the coin early.
The wheels in the machine spun around and stopped.
There was no siren. Instead, about twenty five-dollar pieces clattered out of the bottomof the machine.
Balot was confident that if she’d been allowed to get the timing absolutely right, she would have won at
least ten times that.
“Remember that out of all the chips in the casino, we just need the four that we’ve come for. We could
win hundreds of other chips along the way, or not, it really doesn’t matter in the end—either we get the
four we’re after, or we fail. For now, best play it safe and make sure we don’t draw the casino’s attention
unnecessarily.”
–I thought you said you’d let me have some fun…
Balot seemed a little disappointed.
“It might seem like fun to you, but somehow I don’t think the people around you will see it the same
way. Casinos like winners—but not people who win too much.”
Oeufcoque’s words reminded her again of the cameras overhead.
Balot meekly collected her winnings in her basket and went to rendezvous with the Doctor.
03
“So, you think you’ve started to get the hang of it?” said the Doctor.
The Doctor had nothing in his hands, so at first glance it looked like he had lost all his chips, but,
“Looks like we’re just around the ten thousand mark combined,” he went on to say, surprising Balot by
pulling out a handful of thousand-dollar chips fromhis pockets.
–Aren’t we going to use these machines to try and get Shell’s chips?
“Even if we were to bleed all the slot machines dry, we’d still be shy of two million. There’s no way
we could reach our target. In any case, we don’t want to seemlike we’re taking the casino head-on.”
–So what are we going to do?
“Make some money off the other punters.”
Balot’s ears pricked up. They’d been over the plan a number of times, but only the main points and in
broad strokes: what to do, when, and how to do it. The overall master plan was firmly the Doctor’s
territory.
“Well, looks like our supply train has come in. All that’s left for us to do now is mosey on down to the
front lines.” The Doctor finished speaking and walked over to the other side of the slot machines.
Once they had escaped the maze of the slot machines they arrived in a large, expansive room, big
enough to fit a number of tennis courts side by side.
A number of gaming tables were lined up in the middle of the roomin an orderly fashion, and on either
side were green plants decorating a cocktail bar. The bustle and clamor of the previous room had
completely disappeared.
This space was far more chic, and the atmosphere could have been described as sophisticated.
A number of immaculately turned out dealers stood behind their tables, like actors holding the stage.
Waitresses carrying trays of complementary drinks circulated briskly. Some of them wore traditional
bunny outfits, and others sported outfits bearing card-inspired designs or the brand names of certain
alcoholic drinks.
“You know what a mechanic is, don’t you?” the Doctor asked under his breath, and Balot nodded in
response.
The Doctor had told her all about mechanics—card sharps. Everything from their modi operandi to
their motivations—why they risked everything to cheat at cards. Some did it for the sheer thrill, others
saw it as a shortcut to fame and riches. In other cases—particularly for those who grew up as dealers in
the territories where casinos were illegal—cheating was just par for the course, an act as natural and
obvious as eating and drinking.
“Let’s see if we can hook ourselves a couple,” said the Doctor. “If we targeted the casino right at the
outset then we’d be out on our heels before we knew it. So our next maneuver should be one that benefits
us the most while benefiting the casino at the same time, and certainly not causing them any loss. That’s
how we’ll dig our trench, so as to provide us with a solid foundation fromwhich we can launch an all-out
offensive later…”
–But would we be thrown out even if we didn’t actuallycheat?
“Well, look at it this way. If we tried to turn ten dollars into a million in the space of an hour, we’d be
asked to leave long before we got there. Even if our ambitions were more modest—a thousand into a
hundred thousand, say—we’d get away with it to a point, but you can be sure the casino would sniff us out
before too long and stop us from going much further. What we need to do is turn a hundred into a
thousand, then a thousand into ten thousand, gradually, without attracting any untoward attention. The real
battle starts only once we’ve built up a proper war chest.”
Balot understood exactly what the Doctor was saying. But she had a question.
–How do we know which ones are the mechanics?
“I found us our marks while you were playing on the slot machines back there.”
–How do you know, though?
“It’s like I told you. Our next maneuver should be one that benefits us the most while benefiting the
casino at the same time.” The Doctor looked up at the ceiling with a triumphant air, flashing her the
thumbs-up. Amid the hustle and bustle of the casino, Balot gleaned his meaning all too well. “Mechanics
are seen by the casino as the ultimate pest. Anyone who looks in the least bit suspicious is noted, and the
best dealers are immediately put on the case to sniff them out and catch them in the act. Alternatively, the
dealers themselves might be in on the act, and the casinos are well aware of this possibility, so they have
measures in place to detect this too. The dealers have to share reports of any suspicious activities every
half hour, and there are pit bosses and floor managers taking records in the background, floating behind
any and every dealer that has the potential to come in direct contact with the customers. Mama sees
everything, is the idea.”
Balot realized why the Doctor had been grinning in the general direction of his PDA. He’d been
eavesdropping on the conversations of the most suspicious people and what games they were playing.
“Now then, my pretty little niece, let Uncle show you just what a dab hand he is at the gaming table.”
The Doctor was suddenly speaking in a loud voice, humming away, conspicuously checking out the
different games in progress. He looked every bit the cocky country squire, here in the big city determined
to prove to the world that he was no bumpkin, and probably ready to lose the shirt off his back to feed his
gambling habit. Truth be told, he played the act so convincingly that Balot was a little embarrassed to be
seen with him.
All the while Balot was playing the part of a girl who had no interest in the actual games but rather
was overwhelmed by the glamour and the sophistication of her surroundings. This was her assigned role
—and again she felt more or less this way in reality too.
“Right, let’s try this spot here. Looks like there might be some nice pokers rolling around,” the Doctor
boomed, arriving at a table that was in between games.
–Pokers?
The Doctor indicated to Balot to sit down, and she did.
The Doctor had an extremely self-satisfied look on his face. “Yeah, pokers for prodding each other
with. That’s the sort of game poker is.” So saying, he laid his chips on the table.
The dealer looked at Balot. “Is the young lady with you, sir?” he asked. He was a young man, whose
blond hair went well with his clear blue eyes.
“Indeed. Though once she’s at the table beside me, she’s as good as a rival,” the Doctor said, and then
nodded without delay. “You have a go too, young lady. You’ve played in your game room at home, right?
If you don’t spend your pocket money here you’ll only squander it on clothes anyway—why not use it for
something a bit more thrilling for a change?”
–How manychips will I need, Uncle?
As she spoke, Balot grabbed a handful of hundred-dollar coins from her basket. The dealer and the
other punters at the table were momentarily taken aback. Those must be quite some clothes for her to
squander that much money on them…
In reality, all the clothes she had ever bought in her life up to this point—with the money that she had
struggled so hard to earn—could have easily been bought twice over with less than the amount she was
now holding in one hand.
–Is this enough? Balot asked. The dealer seemed troubled for half a second as he watched Balot
speak through the device on her neck, without moving her lips, but then he nodded.
The dealer exchanged the coins for chips and gratefully accepted the tip that the Doctor thrust out.
Then the dealer made a broad gesture for the floor manager—to show that he had received this tip
legitimately—and placed it in the middle of the table on the designated spot for tips, for all to see. Balot
had thought he might put the chip away in his pocket, but then she realized that all his pockets were neatly
sewn up. This joint ran a tight ship. Indeed, it seemed a point of pride for the dealer to conspicuously
show off how upright and cleanhanded he was. Back straight, he looked at the customers around the table.
There were four other punters at the table besides Balot and the Doctor. One wore a cowboy hat and
was chomping on a cigar, and to his right was a quiet-looking man dressed in an unobtrusive business
suit.
These two sat to the right of Balot and the Doctor. To Balot’s left was an elderly gentleman with neat,
close-cropped hair, and to his left a middle-aged man with a potbelly.
According to the Doctor, one of these four was a mechanic.
“Oh, by the way, do you mind if we use sign language?” the Doctor asked the dealer. The dealer
looked a little worried and shook his head. Negative.
“But she’s disabled; her larynx doesn’t work. Surely you can see that just by looking at her? I’m not
asking you to overlook it if she mispronounces something, I’m just asking if it’s okay for me to interpret
and speak on her behalf if anything goes wrong with her machine.”
The dealer touched the earphone close to his ear to clear the request with his manager.
“That should be fine, sir,” he said. By all rights we should say no, but we’ll make an exception just
this once as you’re here to enjoy yourselves, his face seemed to say. If ever the Doctor’s demeanor were
going to be useful, it would be here. From the dealer’s point of view, the two punters in front of him were
sitting ducks, ready to be plucked, and he was prepared to bend the rules to accommodate them however
inappropriate the request.
The same went for the other players around the table. “What about you gentlemen—any objections?”
asked the Doctor.
The cowboy hat shrugged his shoulders, while the suit next to him answered courteously that he had
none.
Neither did the potbelly or the old gentleman have too many worries, it seemed. Indeed, they were
only too happy to have a young lady join them at the table, they said. The cowboy hat suddenly chimed in
to suggest that someone should make special chips for the disabled. Everyone else pretended not to hear
him. Balot immediately hoped that he was the mechanic.
Without warning her left hand rose to touch her earring. “Pay him no attention,” she heard Oeufcoque
say, as her fingers twiddled with her earring.
Within her heart, Balot nodded. That was all it took to communicate her feelings to Oeufcoque.
“From now on, we do everything by the book, okay? Listen to your left hand. Don’t deviate from the
script,” said Oeufcoque.
Balot’s face tightened.
–Don’t worry. I won’t make anymistakes.
And then the betting commenced.
≡
The game was Hold’em.
Each player was dealt two cards facedown, and the idea was to try and combine these with the five
community cards—that were dealt face up on the table—in order to make the best hand, with four rounds
of betting to each hand.
The minimumbet at this table was thirty dollars at a time, the maximumsixty dollars.
It was a spread-limit game with up to three raises, meaning that the stakes could quickly rise to a large
sumof money.
The dealer signaled that the game had begun, stopping any new entrant fromattempting to join in.
With slick hand movements the dealer placed the cards into a machine and pressed a number of
buttons.
After confirming to all at the table that the deck of cards had been officially cut, he gathered up the
cards and slipped theminto the card shoe and began the first hand.
First to be dealt a card was the suit, then counterclockwise to the cowboy, the Doctor, Balot, the old
gentleman, and the potbelly, then repeating, so that they all ended up with two cards each.
The dealer’s button was in front of the suit, indicating that he would have been in the dealing position
if there hadn’t already been a house dealer.
The cowboy to the left of him was the blind better for this hand. The blind was like the ante in normal
poker and was more like a participation fee than an actual bet at this stage, as no one had anything to go
on other than their hole, the first two cards.
The first blind bet was called the small blind, where the player could bet anything up to half the
minimumbet. The cowboy threw in ten dollars.
Then it was the Doctor’s turn to respond with the big blind.
The purpose of the big blind was not just to call the small blind, but also to force a raise.
The Doctor raised the cowboy by twenty dollars.
Fromthen on, the other players had to start off by throwing in the sumof the two bets—thirty dollars—
in order to call and thereby stay in the hand. Or they could raise the stakes further, in thirty-dollar
increments, or fold and drop out of the hand completely, losing any stake they had placed up to that point.
Balot’s two cards that she had been dealt—in the hole—were the ten of clubs, 10 , and the seven of
spades, 7 . At this point in the game, twelve cards had been dealt to the players out of a total of fifty-two
in the deck. She was third along fromthe dealer’s button.
It was a nothing hand, the sort of hand you should fold on immediately. Even Balot knew this. Hold’em
was one of the games that Balot had beaten into her last night in the Humpty.
But Oeufcoque signaled differently.
–You should call.
Balot felt the instructions float up on her left hand. She picked up a thirty-dollar chip.
–Thirty dollars—I’d like to call.
She placed the chip on the table.
The old gentleman called too, and the potbelly quickly folded.
Last to go was the suit who held the dealer’s button. He called, then raised by another thirty.
The cowboy and the Doctor called.
Balot followed Oeufcoque’s instructions and called.
The old gentleman called.
There were no more raises. There was now $280 in the pot on the table.
The first round of betting was over, and the dealer discarded the first card in the card shoe. The burn
card, an anti-cheating measure. A standard step taken to eliminate the possibility of any player gaining an
unfair advantage by marking the cards.
Then the dealer placed three cards facedown in the center of the table. Community cards, called the
flop. It was now time for the second round of betting.
The dealer turned each of the flop cards over.
K , 8 , and 2 .
At this point, Balot had no pairs and no chance of a flush.
A straight was still possible, using the ten, eight, and seven, but Balot didn’t know what the odds were
of that happening.
The second round of betting started with the blinds: the cowboy put in thirty dollars, which the Doctor
called, as did Balot on Oeufcoque’s instructions.
At this point the old gentleman folded, placing his cards facedown on the table.
The suit, on the other hand, called, and then raised by another thirty. No one folded, and by the time
they were back at the suit, the pot had swollen from its original $280 to $520. Balot suddenly thought of
what she would have had to do in her previous line of work in order to make that much money. The
thought made her sick.
She knew that she would struggle to walk away from the hand now. She didn’t want to know what
Oeufcoque had planned.
It seemed that Oeufcoque was ruminating deeply. As to the identity of the mechanic. She realized that
he might not even be bothered by the actual outcome of this hand.
The third round commenced.
The dealer discarded the burn card again, then revealed the fourth community card.
The turn card, it was called, the penultimate community card. It was J . Balot jumped unconsciously.
She now had the jack, ten, eight, and seven; if the next card was a nine she’d have a straight.
She sensed that Oeufcoque was working out the next card using something beyond human perception.
If not, and he was just forcing her to call regardless, he was a rank amateur.
Or was he just trying to get her to act as if she was?
The cowboy started off with a thirty-dollar bet, which the Doctor called.
–Raise by sixty dollars.
The words floated up on her hand—she could feel them clearly, but still she had to check a number of
times to convince herself that this was right.
–I’ll call the thirty dollars and raise an additional sixty, please.
She placed the chips down. Balot now had a total of $210 riding on this hand.
She saw visions of all her winnings from the slot machines disappearing in an instant, and she felt a
pang of fear.
The suit called her sixty and raised another sixty. The cowboy called, and the Doctor did the same. It
was Balot’s turn again.
–Raise by sixty.
This was the instruction she was given. It was do or die. She had no idea why she had to go in so
strong in the very first hand. Balot called the sixty raised by the suit. Then she raised herself, bringing her
total contribution to the pot to $330.
The suit showed not a moment’s hesitation. Indeed, he went on to re-raise himself.
The cowboy called—and, incredibly, raised again.
At this point the Doctor checked. A special move permitted from the third round of betting onward in
which the player chooses to stay in the game without betting any more money at this stage. Balot became
acutely aware that it was up to her now, and when the instruction came from Oeufcoque to call she
actually felt relieved. She’d been worried he was going to make her raise again. She paid the $120 to
match the suit and the cowboy, making her total outlay to this point $450.
The suit called, and just when it seemed that betting for this round was over,
“Raise.” It was the suit again. Returning fire, thorough and ruthless.
–Call.
So came Oeufcoque’s orders. The cowboy called, as did Balot. $510, now.
The Doctor, however, folded, laying his cards on the table. Ho hum, he grumbled. But Balot was the
one who sighed.
After the suit called again, the cowboy called too. Moreover, “Raise, sixty dollars,” he added.
Oeufcoque was telling her to call again. She obeyed. She was now up to $570.
The suit called, and finally the round was over. There was nearly two thousand dollars in the pot.
This stupid sumof money was about to flutter away like a paper plane.
The old gentleman and the potbelly, though both out of the hand, were watching the progress with deep
interest.
The dealer discarded the burn card for the third time this hand, then revealed the river card, the fifth
and final community card.
They were in the final round of betting.
Balot looked at it without thinking, and it was all she could do not to reveal her disappointment.
The card was 7 . She’d come this far, and in the end all she was left with was a pair of sevens. Or
were the suit and cowboy both bluffing too, and did she have enough to beat them even with her weak
hand?
Oeufcoque should be able to snif out their bluf ing in an instant, surely…
Right now, though, the cowboy was leisurely increasing his bet.
–Call.
Following Oeufcoque’s instructions, Balot threw another sixty in, trying to appear as disinterested as
possible.
“I’ll see your sixty dollars and raise another sixty,” said the suit, and the cowboy called and re-raised.
–Call…
Balot stuck in another $120 to call, but then she realized Oeufcoque’s instruction was not yet
complete, and he was finishing it now:
–Call…then raise sixty dollars.
Balot’s stomach was churning, but she knew that she had to go along unquestioningly or else she
would arouse the suspicion of those around her. Furrowing her brow without even realizing it, Balot
raised again. An outlay of $180.
The suit glanced at Balot. “Call, and raise sixty dollars,” he said calmly, laying his chips on the table.
Teeth bared, the cowboy called and then raised again.
Oeufcoque’s next instruction was abrupt.
–Fold.
Balot’s hand—already holding the chips required to call—stopped suddenly. This was nonsense.
Completely at odds with what she’d been doing up till now. I could at least check for now, she thought,
knowing that it wouldn’t have cost her any more to stay in the game for the time being. But, with the
greatest of reluctance, she laid her cards down on the table.
–Fold.
A broad smirk broke out across the cowboy’s face. A most disagreeable smile, as if he were coercing
someone to do something against their will. Then he turned to square off against the suit.
The suit, on the other hand, called with a breezy tone and raised again. The cowboy growled, called
for the last time, and then the betting was over and it was time for the showdown.
The suit was the last to raise, and he revealed his hand first.
K and 2 . Two pairs, kings over deuces. There was no bluffing involved with this hand. Had either
the turn or the river card revealed a king or a deuce, he would have had a nearly unbeatable full house.
“Whoa,” the cowboy exclaimed. He threw his cards down, revealing his hand.
K and 8 . The same hand—two pairs—but his was higher. The cowboy reached out and dragged the
pot toward himself. Like a dog at dinnertime.
The dealer was just starting to collect all the cards when the Doctor tapped Balot on her shoulder.
“So, what sort of hand did you have, then?” he asked her, loudly.
An unthinkable question under normal circumstances. And it was the Doctor himself who had
impressed upon her in training that there was nothing that gave your opponents the upper hand more than
revealing your cards unnecessarily—they’d learn to read you like a book. Yet here the Doctor was,
brushing Balot’s hand away as she tried to protect the cards fromhis reach. He flipped themboth over for
all to see.
“Ah, I see what you were doing. Going for the straight, eh? A little too ambitious with a hand like this,
though. You really should have folded at the start, you know.”
He didn’t really need to tell her this, of course, and she shrank up into a ball.
On the other side of the table the cowboy burst out laughing. His mood couldn’t have been better.
Nor did the other players make a secret of the fact that they were digesting Balot’s hand and its
implications. The full extent of her inexperience and lack of skill was now clear for all to see.
“You know, it’s a real shame—if only I’d been as bold as you…” the Doctor continued, flipping over
his own hand just before the dealer got to it.
2 and 2 . Three of a kind! The cowboy’s eyes widened, and the other players looked on, the scene
clearly making a great impression on them.
Rock—the name given to the type of player who bets prudently, even on a strong hand. In this instance,
the description fit the Doctor perfectly. But wasn’t it the Doctor himself who had taught her that excessive
caution could be just as much a cause of defeat as recklessness? The other players surely now saw him as
a godsend of an opponent, just like Balot, but for entirely different reasons. Balot was about to forget
herself and say something to him, but then the Doctor winked. Quickly and discreetly, so that no one else
would have noticed. Balot understood that his actions weren’t entirely without cause.
Balot made a sulky face as they proceeded on to the next game.
Part of her was acting, of course, on cue. But there was another part of her that really was sulking.
Oeufcoque and the Doctor were still aiming to win—they just hadn’t shared any information with her as to
how they planned to go about doing so.
≡
The card shoe containing a new deck was brought forward, and the second hand had begun.
Balot’s hand was Q and 8 .
The dealer’s button had moved round, and the Doctor was now the blind better.
The first bet was ten dollars. Balot quickly raised, as she had to, and the calls went round the table.
The cowboy seemed to have acquired a taste for winning—he was the only one to raise, anyway—and
the potbelly folded from the outset, just as in the previous hand. The calls finished, and the three flop
cards were turned over.
5 , 8 , Q . There was another round of calling and raising, and the suit, seemingly tired out by being
pushed to the wire on the previous hand, folded.
They moved into the third round of betting, and the turn card was revealed.
It was K . Balot’s heart skipped a beat. She realized that she had the chance of making a club flush,
even if she might be hoping against hope at this late stage in the game.
Even if she didn’t make it, she would still be left with two pairs, queens over eights. She thought about
the eight hundred she had just lost and realized that this was her chance to turn things around.
–Fold.
Such was the instruction she eventually received, but only after the old gentleman raised after her call
and the cowboy’s raise… Disappointed, Balot placed her cards down. The writing in the palm of her
hand subsided, and the active players finished their calls, moving the hand on to the final round.
The fifth card, the river, was A . Balot was thrown into deep confusion.
The flush was now complete. Including the money she’d lost on this hand, she was now down by well
over a thousand dollars. The only explanation she could think of was that she was somehow supposed to
be playing in a nonsensical manner.
And, sure enough, that was the case.
The Doctor ended up folding in the final round, leaving the cowboy and the old gentleman to fight it
out.
The old gentleman raised, and the cowboy saw and raised him. This process repeated a number of
times.
The cowboy was now well into the game, totally absorbed, passionate.
The old man, on the other hand, remained composed, lining up his chips in an orderly fashion.
The betting came to a close. Showdown, and the old gentleman led by revealing K and K . Three of a
kind. A strong enough hand in Hold’em.
Snap—the cowboy suddenly flung his cards to the table with a flourish.
At first Balot thought that he must have thrown his cards down out of frustration that he had just lost,
but she was wrong.
Teeth bared, the cowboy laughed coarsely and declared his hand.
A and A —that was what was in the hole for him. Three of a kind, aces. The cowboy had won. This
pushed the cowboy’s winnings to just shy of four thousand dollars.
Balot could no longer see the cowboy as anything other than the mechanic.
How are the Doctor and Oeufcoque planning on beating him? she wondered.
The next hand commenced. We’ll get him this time, she hoped.
Balot was dealt 6 and 3 . The dealer’s button was in front of the Doctor now.
Balot made her blind bet without a moment’s delay. Yet again the potbelly folded in the first round.
The cowboy raised, and everyone else called, and the first round was over.
The flop was dealt to the center of the table and turned over one by one.
10 , 5 , and 4 .
It was hard for Balot to contain her excitement. She now had six-five-four-three, and all she needed
was a two or a seven to make her straight—or she could use the 5 to aimfor a flush.
–Fold.
The instruction came just as she was about to bet. Unbelievable. Oeufcoque’s order directly
contradicted every natural impulse Balot felt. She closed her eyes and placed her cards down on the
table.
–Why?
She spoke directly to Oeufcoque now. Folding at this point meant that all she could do for the rest of
the hand was watch the other players as the hand progressed.
–I’ve worked it all out.
This was Oeufcoque’s answer.
–You’ve worked out who the mechanic is?
–I’ve worked out everything.
Balot frowned.
–You mean that the man who’s winning is the mechanic? she asked, as if to say I’ve worked that
much out for myself.
But Oeufcoque’s answer couldn’t have been more different.
–The man to the far right and the man on the end at the left are partners in crime.
Balot was amazed. He was talking about the suit and the potbelly.
As they talked, snarcing to each other, play had progressed to the third round.
The turn card was J . Balot and the potbelly were out, so it was between the other four now.
–Looks like clubs are a lucky suit for you.
Not that Balot was remotely interested. It was Oeufcoque who’d squashed her two chances for a flush,
after all.
–More importantly, won’t you tell me how you know? Why do you say those two are the
mechanics?
–I can tell by their odor and their actions.
–Even though they’re losing?
–There’s not much mileage in winning from the outset. The best way to make money is to let
someone start winning, hook him, then take it all back and more. That’s what these three seem to think
anyway.
–Three?
–The dealer is in on the action too.
Before she could stop herself, Balot had glanced at the dealer. He was just in the process of dealing
the river card for the last round. It was A . She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved; the
card meant that she would have had neither a straight nor a flush.
–So the cowboyisn’t a mechanic?
–No. He’s a rabbit in the headlights, just waiting to be mowed down. You just watch—he’s about to
start losing heavily.
Oeufcoque’s blunt words seemed to put Balot in a slightly better mood, and she asked him another
question.
–How can you tell when people are cheating?
–I’ll show you, but you have to act nonchalant. The suit is going to win this hand.
Balot looked at the suit. He had a poker face on—the termcould have been coined for him.
The old gentleman raised, and the suit called and re-raised. The cowboy went red in the face and
called, and the Doctor looked toward Balot as he called too.
“So, do you think you’re starting to get the hang of it? The important thing is to get used to the
ambience.” The Doctor spoke to her as if he were some sort of great authority, and everyone else around
the table listened.
Balot, though, was the only one who understood the subtext—what he really meant by this.
–Yes, I think I’m starting to get it. What about you, Uncle? I hope you win this hand!
She was growing into her role.
–The pile of chips are ordered in such a way to show what numbers he has.
Oeufcoque explained. He was referring to the first pile of chips that the suit had used in order to call.
And, indeed, the numerals on the chips ran parallel to the white lines on the table.
–The man on the far left is holding a chip between the middle finger and ring finger of his left
hand.
The potbelly was indeed doing that.
–The man in the suit is the designated winner of this hand—he has three aces. The Doctor has two
pairs, fives over fours. The cowboy next to the Doctor has three jacks. And the old man next to you has
two pairs, tens over fours.
–How can you possibly know all this?
It was hard to believe. Reading emotions through odor was one thing, but surely there was no way he
could accurately work out what every card was?
–The man on the far left is exchanging information with the dealer and the man wearing the suit. I
just picked up on that. As for the rest, I just observed for a while, and I can tell how certain people
start to smell when they get dealt a certain hand.
Balot found herself growing more and more impressed as Oeufcoque’s words appeared on her hand.
–The man on the left is broadcasting who has what pairs in relation to the community cards. He’s
using the position of the chip in his right hand to show the others the strongest hand among us marks.
The shape and posture of his left hand is showing them what the other people have, and whether the
dealer is able to deal the man in the suit a stronger hand or not. The man in the suit placed his chips
the way he did to signal for the river card to be an ace.
–Theycan manipulate the cards that are dealt too?
–They have certain cards concealed in the card shoe. Marked cards. The sort you can identify by
touch—a funny shaped corner, or one card slightly bigger than the others. They don’t need to mark
every single one; as long as they have a couple of high cards such as aces and kings, and know which
suit is which, they have an overwhelming advantage.
Balot noticed that the dealer’s hands did indeed brush against the cards in the card shoe now and then.
The move was disguised so that it looked entirely natural, but she could see that he was definitely feeling
the shape of the cards.
–The sneaks!
–Looks like the mechanics are about to win.
The old gentleman folded, and the Doctor folded too.
The cowboy raised and raised again, through gritted teeth that ground together so noisily that Balot
thought they might crumble to bits. She almost felt sorry for him, the sitting duck that the mechanics were
preparing to pluck and roast.
The betting was finally over, and the cowboy revealed his hand with vigor. Three jacks. Just as
Oeufcoque had predicted.
The cowboy’s manner seemed to suggest that it was a close call but he felt he had a good chance of
victory.
But that was what good cheating was all about—making the mark feel he has a chance when in reality
he has none.
The suit revealed his hand. The cowboy recoiled.
Three aces. It was just like the previous hand, except the shoe was now on the other foot.
Balot watched the chips flow over to the suit, and at last she realized what was happening. You
needed bait to catch a sucker, and what better bait than another sucker? They let the cowboy win at first,
then just as he started getting into the mood they would take it all back from him and then some, all the
while keeping alive the flame of false hope that he might still have a chance.
The suit won the next hand too. After that the old gentleman won, then the cowboy, then back to the
suit.
As far as Balot and the Doctor were concerned, money was only flowing one way. They gave a
convincing impression of a pair who were delighted just to be there and happy to pay for the privilege of
being allowed to participate.
The mechanics weren’t slow to recognize this. In other words, they made sure that Balot and the
Doctor had good cards, or at least good enough to dangle a glimmer of false hope before them before
pulling it away at the last minute—until the next hand.
The second round of betting had just begun when Oeufcoque suddenly asked Balot a question.
–Do you think you could snarc one of the overhead cameras?
–Probably, yes.
–Try shifting the camera that’s watching over your hand.
Balot did so. She sensed the security cameras on the ceiling without so much as a glance in their
direction.
There were three cameras pointed at the table. Not that they were particularly paying attention to it at
the present time—they were simply three of the many that scanned the room, and they happened to monitor
Balot’s table.
Balot snarced the three cameras ever so slightly, causing them to shift just a few millimeters. The
security systems on the cameras themselves were fairly easy to crack—after all, it wasn’t as though the
customers were likely to climb up to the ceiling and adjust them individually. Balot did adjust them, so
that there was now a small blind spot that happened to be just about where she was sitting.
Balot’s cards at the time were K and 8 .
The flop was 10 , 6 and J .
–See if you can tune into everyone’s breathing patterns.
Balot obeyed, honing in on the breathing rhythms of everyone at the table, including the dealer. They
breathed in, then out. In again, then out again.
There wasn’t a single one of themwho could survive without breathing, after all.
The cowboy’s breathing was the roughest. His breaths were centered around the area from his chest to
his shoulders. The old gentleman’s exhalations came from below his belly. The dealer, the other
mechanics, and the Doctor all breathed fromthe area between their chest and their belly.
Their breathing changed as the game progressed, and in particular all of them began breathing heavily
when it came time to call.
–Aim to call your hand at the precise moment everyone has fully exhaled.
Balot followed Oeufcoque’s orders obediently, and she fell into a new pattern of play, almost without
meaning to.
–Try and relax, go with the flow.
The moment Oeufcoque said this, Balot’s right hand moved suddenly, of its own accord. This was the
instant that everyone at the table had just finished exhaling. Balot found that she had exchanged one of her
cards with one of the Doctor’s cards that he had just laid down on the table after folding in the first round.
–You see, the instant between exhaling and starting a new breath is the moment a person’s guard is
at its lowest.
Balot’s cards were now K and Q . Nobody had noticed.
–Looks like clubs really are your lucky suit.
Oeufcoque’s words were simultaneously an observation and a prediction.
The third round of betting began. The Doctor and the potbelly had both already folded, so it was now a
four-horse race. The turn card was J . This made a pair with the jack in the flop, so anyone who had three
of a kind on another number would automatically end up with a near-unbeatable full house. The hand now
came down to a battle of wits as each attempted to guess whether the other players were nearly there,
already there, or just bluffing.
The old gentleman raised, and the suit called. The cowboy called and raised again.
–Raise to the limit.
Balot entered her money to call, then raised a further $120. The calls went round the table, the cowboy
raising and Balot re-raising. By the end, the pot contained over two thousand dollars.
The calls finished, and with themthe third round of betting.
Balot couldn’t stop her chest fromthrobbing.
The dealer put his hand to the card shoe.
The fact that his eyes glanced at the hand signals of the man on the far left didn’t escape Balot.
The river card was flipped over.
A .
Incredible—and for a moment, Balot really couldn’t believe it.
–That’s what I thought—I figured our chances were about one in four for this one , Oeufcoque
whispered to Balot as she continued to raise the stakes throughout the round.
–It’s a peculiarly human characteristic to be biased toward a certain suit or number, to give of a
particular smell whenever confronted with it. The man on the far right gives of relief whenever a
spade is dealt, for example. The others, too, give of distinctive odors whenever they see a certain suit.
It seems that clubs aren’t very popular at this table.
–Is that whyso many are coming to me? I’m getting everyone’s leftovers?
–I suppose you could call it the inevitable surplus, yes. But, you know, this is what many people
would call luck, or destiny.
Oeufcoque was as wishy-washy as ever.
The old gentleman folded. Just the suit and the cowboy left to beat.
They both raised to the end, as did Balot.
The cowboy was the first to show his hand.
6 and J . Full house. The gloating grin that covered his entire face contrasted sharply with the curt
smile of the suit.
The suit then opened his hands to reveal his hand: A and A . A full house, aces over jacks. Virtually
unbeatable. To do so would require a now-impossible full house of aces over kings or queens, an
incredibly rare four of a kind, or an even rarer straight flush or a royal straight flush. And four of a kind
was also impossible at this point in the hand, the cowboy having played the third jack. All that was left
was the infinitesimally small chance of a straight flush or a royal straight flush.
So everyone was confident that the suit would now win.
The cowboy gritted his teeth, rolled his eyes, and watched as the suit leaned over to claimhis chips.
–I do believe I’ve won, Balot said aloud. Nobody quite seemed to understand her at first. A second
later, the old gentleman sitting next to her let out a loud cry. All eyes were now on Balot, and all were
silent.
K and Q .
The suit, the potbelly, and the dealer were all horrified.
The king and queen of clubs, joined by the jack, ten, and ace.
The hand so rare that it could, for all intents and purposes, be discounted for normal playing purposes.
The odds against it were roughly 65,000 to one. A royal straight flush.
–I have won, haven’t I?
Balot appeared uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze. She looked as if she were worried that she
might have gotten it wrong and was visibly relieved when the dealer nodded in affirmation.
Suddenly there was a burst of excitement all around. Passersby were stopping to gawk at Balot’s hand.
Balot started raking in the mountain of chips—over three thousand dollars total—when the dealer
added a number of thousand-dollar chips to the pile, along with some sort of certificate. It seemed that the
house provided a special prize to anyone who made a royal straight flush. On top of the bonus cash was a
free night in the suite of the casino’s sister hotel, a number of tokens to exchange for prizes at reception,
and instructions on how to arrange for the commemorative photograph at the table.
The dealer seemed calmand composed enough, but Oeufcoque had different ideas.
–He smells of anger and fear.
The table had originally been selected by the Doctor after he had carefully scrutinized the casino
records. He chose it because its patterns diverged slightly from the house average. Not quite enough to
draw the suspicion of the house—yet—but any further deviations from the norm would be likely to result
in a lot of interest in the dealer’s actions.
And it wasn’t only the winners who caused the averages to go askew.
When a plan to swindle marks goes bad, it can go really bad—and that was when the most extreme
outcomes emerged.
–They’ll probably start to get serious about now. And that’s when we go in for the kill. Cheaters
have it tough in legal casinos, in a very dif erent way from illegal ones.
Balot felt Oeufcoque’s explanation in the palmof her hand.
–Legal casinos consider cheats to be the worst hazard there is—they’re bad for business, and they
interfere with the family-friendly image that the casinos try so hard to cultivate. A cheat who is caught
faces immediate expulsion, a permanent ban from all casinos, and he’ll never be able to work in the
gaming industry ever again. He won’t even be allowed to own shares in a casino or take a backroom
role. He’ll be out, thoroughly and with absolute finality.
This was why the dealer and the other mechanics now had to try and bring the table back toward
average. Their livelihoods, if not their lives, were at stake. If you pricked them, would they not bleed?
The answer was: most definitely.
–I’m sure the mechanics have been moving from table to table, using their same tricks every time.
But if we can wrong-foot just one of them—well, catch one, catch all.
The dealer’s actions and his shifty, sharp eye movements seemed to confirmOeufcoque’s every word.
The dealer dealt the next hand, and as Balot picked up her cards she noticed a number of things
looking toward her that hadn’t been there a minute ago. More overhead cameras, responding incredibly
quickly to recent developments at the table.
The cameras were focused in on all the people at the table except for Balot.
The casino, after all, could draw on their records to note how much Balot had lost at the table up to
this point. A duty manager was far more likely to conclude that a cheating maneuver from someone else
had somehow backfired, rather than assume that Balot had anything to do with the cheating herself.
The mechanics and the dealer understood this fact all too well, and this only contributed to the intense
pressure they were now under.
And yet they needed to continue cheating in order to try and bring the table back toward some sort of
average. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
Balot’s cards were 2 and 4 .
–That’s their game, then. No more high cards for us—they’ll be keeping the aces and kings to
themselves from now on.
–What should we do?
–Raise them.
Balot did so. In the first round she acted assertively, raising and re-raising when she had the chance.
She was just as forceful in the second round.
She felt the dealer and the two other mechanics give a collective sigh of relief. They seemed to
believe that she had fallen for their plan, and now she was betting indiscriminately on a weak hand.
This would make it easier for them to bring things back toward an average pattern of play, or so they
hoped. Even the potbelly was raising now, as if to acknowledge that this round was their opportunity to
put everything right in one fell swoop.
No one folded, and they moved into the second round of betting.
The flop cards were 5 , K , K .
There were a number of rounds of calls and raises, during which the old gentleman folded.
–The cameras.
Balot knew what Oeufcoque meant and followed his orders automatically. She snarced the cameras,
moving them by a couple of millimeters so that none of them were focused directly on her, deliberately or
not. Then her gloves squished, swallowing one of her cards and spitting out another in a split second,
without anyone noticing. Her cards were now 2 and 3 .
They moved into the third round.
The moment the turn card was revealed, the cowboy folded with a sigh. It was 4 . The potbelly raised
cautiously, the Doctor met this and raised him back, and Balot and the suit both called. They went around
the table a number of times, each performing the same set of actions.
After the raises and re-raises were finished they moved into the fourth round.
The river card was A .
It was just like the last hand. Balot did wonder whether they might not be pushing her luck, but:
–I know for a fact that nobody has the real 3 in their hand. Relax.
So she did, silently obeying Oeufcoque’s instructions, calling when necessary. They were fighting fire
with fire, and with Oeufcoque on her side Balot knew she had more or less won before the game had even
started.
Eventually the Doctor folded and the potbelly too, sensing that his task of raising the stakes had been
accomplished. The suit raised, and Balot called without a second thought. The suit looked troubled for a
moment, unnerved by her confidence. But he couldn’t retreat at this point. There was no retreat.
The suit revealed his hand. His cards were an extremely impressive A and K .
A full house, aces over kings. Surely an unbeatable hand.
–I think I’ve won.
The suit’s hands were already reaching for the pile of chips when Balot interrupted.
His hands stopped deadly still, and the only sound was the cowboy roaring as he clocked Balot’s
cards.
The suit withdrew his hands from the pile of chips and, with the dealer, looked on in horror at Balot’s
hand.
–I have the ace, two, three, four, and five of clubs.
Not royal, but a full-on straight flush nonetheless.
One of the very few hands in the game that beats a full house of aces over kings.
The mechanics blanched, and even the cowboy and the old gentleman were stopped still in their
tracks. The Doctor was the Doctor, and played his part of the overenthusiastic country bumpkin with
relish.
Balot proceeded to rake in her winnings. Oeufcoque nimbly changed her altered card back to normal,
and the cards were returned facedown. Ever the professional, the dealer returned the cards to the cutting
machine and opened a new deck, but even as he did so his eyes flitted to the other two mechanics.
–And so it begins…the seeds of doubt have been planted, and they’re about to reap what they’ve
sown.
Oeufcoque explained that it was only natural for the dealer to assume now that the two other
mechanics were taking advantage of him, cutting him out and somehow using Balot to defraud the casino.
At the same time, from the perspective of the two mechanics who were playing, it looked like the dealer
was deliberately manipulating the cards in order to sting themand drive themfromthe table and out of the
casino so that he could keep all their ill-gotten gains for himself.
–Let’s have the Doctor win a round now.
Balot knew her cue when she heard it and gave a cue of her own in turn.
–You need to show a bit more courage, Uncle—you’ll never win anything unless you keep betting
lots right to the end of the hand.
She had her impression of the eager niece down to a tee—how could anyone imagine in a million
years that she had just given the Doctor his cue to bet heavily on his next hand?
“You’re right! Well, it seems to be working for you, so let’s see if I can ride your coattails.” The
Doctor understood her perfectly.
The game commenced, mutual suspicion swirling around the three mechanics.
Balot’s cards were 8 and 7 .
The flop was K , 8 , and A , and the suit was the blind better.
There were a number of raises and calls. The cowboy, evidently shocked back into a measure of coolheadedness
by the two straight flushes on the trot, folded without a second’s hesitation.
The potbelly, on the other hand, was doing everything he could to catch the dealer’s eye to try and
communicate his intentions.
–Look, the dealer’s started cheating, so he’s committed—might as well be hung for a sheep as a
lamb. You’ll see he gets increasingly bolder now.
And, sure enough, Balot clearly caught the dealer as he dealt a card from the bottom of the deck in the
card shoe.
The turn card was 8 .
Amid the melee the potbelly folded, followed by the old gentleman.
They moved on into the final round, and the river card was revealed. At the very same instant Balot
interfered with the overhead cameras again, snarcing them, and Oeufcoque pounced. In a movement that
was too fast for human eyes to pick up on, he switched one of the Doctor’s cards, then:
–Time to fold.
The river card was A .
The suit raised, and the Doctor raised again, and at this point Balot folded. The dealer and the two
mechanics seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Then the betting was over, and the hands were revealed.
The suit had A and K . Another full house. The best full house there was, twice, back to back. Even
the cowboy seemed suspicious.
But all that was put aside in the next moment. The Doctor paused for a beat, then said, “Hmm, looks
like I might have won.”
The suit had his hands over the chips again, but all the strength seemed to flow from his body when he
heard the Doctor’s words, and he almost swooned as he turned to look at the bad news.
8 and 8 .
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, and if you can’t join ’em, beat ’em. There was no way the Doctor
could have had a better full house, so he had gone one better—four of a kind.
–Their system is quite a simple one, really, and it’s just based around getting high-scoring full
houses. They haven’t really planned ahead as far as being able to deal with hands such as a low four
of a kind or straight flushes.
Oeufcoque had nailed it. Fromthat moment on, either the potbelly or the suit always seemed to turn out
a full house of one shape or another. No thought for averages or odds. Caution was thrown to the wind,
prudence out the window.
The cowboy went into a sulk, throwing chip after chip at the table. And it only took another hand
before the old gentleman reached his limit; the old man silently stood up and walked away fromthe table.
Neither the dealer nor the two other mechanics had any idea what was going on. They grew impatient
and frustrated, and were exactly where Oeufcoque wanted them, dancing to his tune.
They had been doomed to failure from the beginning. However good a poker face was, there was no
human being on this planet who could control their body odor at will. Oeufcoque read their emotions
precisely and to the most minute of details, and Balot almost started feeling sorry for the mechanics, as
their very essence seemed to be, layer by layer, exposed raw.
The cowboy’s chips ran out mid-hand, and as he was now all in, a second pot was created in
accordance with the tap-out rules. In the end, he lost.
The cowboy left the table, spitting in disgust, and it was all the mechanics could do to watch himas he
disappeared.
Other customers milled around the area, but none of them came near the table directly—there was a
general sense that all was not quite right with the table. So now it was just Balot, the Doctor, and the three
cheats.
Before long, though, the dealer stopped paying any attention to the other two mechanics. And soon
enough, one of the remaining mechanics slipped up with a hand signal—or was it the other one who
misread it?—and the trust between them completely broke down. All three mechanics were fit to burst.
Oeufcoque noted everything, sliced away at their innermost feelings, and ruthlessly took their chips.
It wasn’t long before the potbelly was out of chips. He rose up and left the gaming table without a
word.
The suit watched him go before getting up himself, his handful of remaining chips clenched tightly in
his hands. He looked as if he could murder the dealer, but in the end stormed off in the opposite direction
of the potbelly.
“Well, well—didn’t that game turn out all fine and dandy?” the Doctor roared.
The dealer just about managed a smile, though it took his every last remaining drop of self-restraint to
do so. When the Doctor rose and turned his back to leave, the dealer’s eyes went black immediately.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone who looks as if they could bite another person’s head of ,
thought Balot.
For, at that precise moment, this was indeed how the dealer looked.
04
“Truly marvelous!” bellowed the Doctor.
They were at the baccarat table. The high rollers’ corner. Men puffing on cigars, women sporting
jewels and low-cut dresses, all in thrall to the mountainous piles of high-value chips.
–Why did we win? The other side had a higher hand than ours.
The Doctor answered Balot’s question as he was raking in the pile of his winnings. “The side whose
hand adds up to the number closest to nine wins. The player side only had a four so was obliged to draw
another card, which turned out to be a six.”
–But four and six make ten—that’s closer to nine than you were!
“A hand that adds up to ten is called baccarat and equals zero in this game—it’s the worst hand
possible.”
Balot nodded vaguely. Baccarat wasn’t one of her designated games, and the rules were now only a
faint memory. She was standing right behind the Doctor now, left hand on his shoulder. Her knavish left
hand. Oeufcoque could read almost any game in progress and pass the message on through Balot’s left
hand to the Doctor—this was the setup.
Baccarat was supposed to be a game of pure chance; participants would bet on the player or banker
side, trying to guess which one would draw closer to nine. But, of course, once Oeufcoque entered the
game the rules went out the window.
He was able to sniff out the people who drew on the player side or the banker side, and use this to
work out roughly what cards they had drawn, what numbers they had seen, and what sort of plan they
were hatching.
The Doctor had completely grasped every little habit and tell of every player at the table, and said to
Balot, “Here you go—some of the winnings. Go have some fun.” He passed a whole basket of chips over
to Balot.
This was a cue to say that he no longer needed Oeufcoque’s help and could manage perfectly on his
own now. Balot was impressed as ever by the Doctor’s superhuman memory and observational skills, but
she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that she would be walking away from this game without
really getting it, without understanding why it was supposed to be so absorbing.
–I’ll be at the place you told me, so come and find me if you start losing.
She tapped the Doctor’s shoulder as she left. What she really meant, of course, was that he should
come and find her if he needed Oeufcoque’s help again, but the Doctor just smiled back at her to show
that he was invincible.
–We’ve already reached the figure we need for now. We need to consider the casino as a whole
when we make our next move. If we throw one particular game too far out of kilter we’ll attract
suspicion. So let’s not get carried away—you’re not here to enjoy yourself.
Oeufcoque seemed to be able to read Balot’s thoughts as perceptively as ever, and he communicated
this lecture through her left hand again.
Taking her cue, Balot reluctantly left the table. She was playing out a common scene at the high stakes
tables. The punter gets drawn in completely, and he throws the woman on his arm a few chips in order to
get her out of his hair, telling her to go and kill some time elsewhere.
Balot watched the game from farther back for a while, but it wasn’t nearly as much fun. She felt like a
left-out child, and before long she wandered off aimlessly. This was the act that she was meant to play—
although she did genuinely feel it too. In spite of the barely concealed enthusiasm of the players at the
table, she hardly felt interested in the game at all—and it was this more than anything else that made her
feel the most disappointed.
It may well have been a deliberate ploy of the casino to make her feel like this, of course. No one
liked to feel left out, and she’d be back before long.
Balot walked past the tables and into another room. Before she knew it she was in more plush
surroundings with the games around her more expensive. No expense seemed to be spared on the
furnishings or the dealers’ outfits, and Balot had the distinct feeling that she was now moving closer to the
heart of the casino.
She was aiming for the area where the roulette tables were. Men and women of all ages were milling
about, the balls chasing the numbers as they spun around. Balot realized that this was it—her first
opportunity to fly solo.
The Doctor believed that with Balot’s and Oeufcoque’s abilities combined, roulette would be the best
way to win a large sum of money directly from the casino; it was a game of chance, and no one could
dispute the result.
Balot ran through the rules again in her head and started looking for a table when a message appeared
in her left hand:
–Sit at table number seven.
It looked like Oeufcoque was onto something. Balot proceeded to the table and took a seat near the
dealer. The Doctor had advised her that the closer she was to the roulette wheel, the more likely it was
she could use her abilities effectively.
–We’re going to win the first spin. They’ll make sure of that.
The previous writing on her hand had disappeared to be replaced by a declaration of victory.
Balot passed her chips over to a dealer, who exchanged themfor roulette chips.
Balot would be betting with red hundred-dollar chips.
There were three dealers in all. One in charge of the wheel, the other two responsible for exchanging
chips, cashing themin, and paying out winnings.
The crowd around this particular table was much sparser than the others, and Balot was the only one
at the table. The dealer who exchanged Balot’s chips did so solely for Balot.
There had probably just been a big match here, and the crowd must have dispersed the moment the
high rollers left the table. Or perhaps the table had been reserved for an entire party who had recently left
en masse. Either way, Oeufcoque had managed to sniff out a situation that was potentially very much to
their advantage.
–Where should I place my bet?
–Wherever you like.
Such was Oeufcoque’s reply.
Balot glanced at the dealer. The dealer in charge of the ball.
Balot was surprised to see that she was an older woman. An elegant, beautiful lady. She must have
been at least sixty years old, but she stood tall, back straight, and her eyes were a keen blue. She wore a
strong, calm expression. The casino had its fair share of female dealers, but she must have been the
oldest.
–She’s so cool.
Balot was looking down at the roulette layout now but couldn’t help herself from sharing her feelings
with Oeufcoque.
–According to our data her name is Bell Wing. One of the leading croupiers in the casino world.
–Croupiers?
–It’s what they call dealers whose job it is to place the ball into the roulette wheel as it turns.
Even cooler, Balot thought, still looking over the layout.
The green felt in front of her had printed on it the numbers 0, 00, and 1 to 36 in alternating black and
red squares, in addition to a number of squares to denote the outside bets.
To one side of the wheel was an electronic scoreboard showing all the numbers that had come up
during the last twenty minutes. A form guide. One of the enjoyments in roulette was to try and work out
any biases that emerged either in the wheel or due to the way the croupier threw in the ball.
Balot looked at the scoreboard. The last five spins were 14 red, 0 red, 17 black, 30 red, and 23 red.
Having glanced at it, she placed a chip on the layout in the space for 2 black. She then threw another one
into the mix, which she placed on 14 red.
The old lady, the croupier, took a look at Balot’s chips.
She hadn’t expected Balot to dive straight in and bet on single numbers, it seemed, and she waited a
moment before carefully placing her hand on the roulette wheel.
“Starting,” the old lady called in a low, steady voice.
She gripped the handle of the wheel with her left hand and spun it around with a deft movement. It
hardly looked like she had put any effort into it at all. At the very same time she threw the ball smoothly in
with her right hand. The wheel spun to the right, and the ball spun around within the bowl, traveling in the
opposite direction. The numbers flew past in a dizzy whirl, and the ball seemed to slide gracefully against
them, the two opposing movements creating a beautiful spiral effect.
Balot thought she might put another chip somewhere on the layout but suddenly stopped herself,
transfixed by the rotations.
“No more bets,” the old lady called out, preventing any additional bets on this spin.
Chip gripped tightly in her hand, Balot followed the ball with her eyes.
The ball and the wheel seemed to be drawing closer together. Or so she thought, but then the ball
ricocheted off one of the eight metal pins that were placed inside the wheel, sending the ball off in a
seemingly random direction. It continued on into the wheel just as its rotations were slowing down, and
the ball slipped into one of the pockets with apparent ease.
The spinning wheel slowed down again. The numbers were much clearer now, and it was possible to
see exactly where the ball had landed.
“Two black,” called the old lady. Then the hand that had just smoothly spun the ball was on the table,
placing a weighted crystal on the layout over the number that had just won.
Balot was surprised to see the speed with which the other dealers moved to prepare and distribute her
winnings.
It was as Oeufcoque had said—she won the first round. They made sure of that.
The croupier had seen the number and placed the ball there with astonishing accuracy. Balot had heard
stories of such skill but never believed them until just now, having seen it with her own eyes. An
incredible display of ability.
Or it could just have been coincidence. The electronic scoreboard suggested that this was indeed a
possibility. It wasn’t as if the numbers of the roulette wheel were neatly lined up from 1 to 36. Rather,
they were arranged in a seemingly randompattern: 14, 2, 0, 28, 9, 26, 30. Looking at the results of the last
five spins, it was possible to detect something of a pattern emerging.
Whether it was due to a biased wheel or some habit of the croupier was hard to tell, but considering
that the odds were thirty-six to one normally, it didn’t seem beyond the bounds of possibility that she had
won legitimately.
Or was it all calculated, part of an act to draw the punter in ever more deeply? Judging by the features
of the croupier in charge, it was hard to discount this possibility. She looked every inch the master of her
craft.
“Congratulations, madam.” One of the other dealers pushed a mountain of chips toward her. Thirtyfive
times her original stake. Flustered, Balot offered the chip that was her original stake to the dealer.
Not to gamble with—as a tip.
–Gosh, what a surprise.
Balot said to Oeufcoque, furtively.
–It felt like someone set you up to win. Probably a trick to draw the crowds in.
Oeufcoque’s words backed up Balot’s existing suspicions.
Before she realized it, there were people gathering at the table. Thirty-five to one was the best payout
there was in roulette—it was the rarest and therefore always interesting. Equally noteworthy were the
figures displayed on the electronic scoreboard beside the roulette wheel. Anyone in the know would soon
realize that the numbers revealed the distinct possibility of a biased wheel—and this could be exploited.
Would the ball continue to fall in the same area, or would the pattern be interrupted? This was the
question, and one that countless keen eyes were now watching to see if they could have answered. It was
what made gambling exciting.
One by one the chairs at the table filled up, and there were other people who placed their bets while
remaining standing. Some placed their own bets on the layout, others called out to the dealers to have
them place chips on their behalf. Before long the table was a kaleidoscope of colored chips. Roulette
fever had taken hold.
–There are body odors everywhere—it’s all one big mess!
Oeufcoque wrote on her hand as normal, but she felt as if he were wailing in despair.
–Let’s head over to another table. We’ve got what we wanted, and the croupier has what she
wanted.
–Wait.
Balot held himback.
–I want to play here again. Please?
Balot already had chips in her hand even as she snarced him.
–There’s no guarantee you’ll win again. The croupier had a strange, capricious smell about her.
–I want to watch the woman a little longer.
–You’re interested in the croupier?
She sensed that Oeufcoque was perplexed, but it didn’t stop her from placing another chip on the
layout.
She went for a straight bet again, a single number: 14 red.
Balot thought she saw the old lady take in the bet with her eyes.
The more Balot looked at her, the more noble she seemed in appearance and stature. Not some act put
on for the job or for the crowds. There was a certain something that seemed to radiate fromher very core.
Balot was reminded of the manager at her old place of work—the one who gave Balot her name—and
also of Queen Bee.
It wasn’t that Balot particularly respected these women, and neither looked much like the croupier.
She just associated themwith each other somehow. That led to another train of thought, and Balot recalled
something that a female movie star had once said in a television interview.
The journalist who was interviewing the star had asked her a question: “Would you ever consider
plastic surgery to remove your wrinkles, just like so many other stars seemto be doing these days?”
The actress just smiled and said, “I worked hard for these wrinkles.”
The words had made a great impression on Balot.
The actress in question had started out in porn before moving into regular acting work, eventually
becoming a great star of screen and stage. Balot did of course, given their similar backgrounds, empathize
with the actress and respected her too. But there was more than that. The actress exuded a certain mute
confidence when she answered the question. If there’s anything in my life that’s worth being proud of,
then these wrinkles are it, she seemed to say.
The lady that stood before Balot now seemed to exude the same aura of quiet certainty. Bell Wing.
Balot said the name to herself once more. She felt lucky that she had been able to sit down at this table.
Nothing to do with whether she was going to win or lose, but a different sort of luck. Just as she felt lucky
that it was none other than Oeufcoque and the Doctor who had brought her back from the brink of death
after Shell-Septinos nearly killed her.
While Balot was thinking this to herself, the distinguished croupier had spun the wheel in the opposite
direction to the previous spin, and likewise the ball.
The two rotated like twin stars, and No more bets was called.
Just before the ball was about to fall into place, Balot sensed something—it was as if the ball were
moving according to someone’s will.
The wheel slowly came to a halt and the winning number was revealed.
“Fourteen red,” Bell Wing called out in a steady voice.
The table exploded. It was her second straight up in a row. Another small mountain of chips moved
toward her, and her pile of chips looked for a moment like a mound of rose petals.
A hundred-dollar chip, thirty-five to one, twice in a row. The pile didn’t include the chips she’d bet or
the 5 percent commission that the house took, so that meant a total of $6,600 in front of her.
The other punters seemed to be encouraged by this—My turn next!—but Balot just stared at the pile of
chips in front of her.
It just seemed too much, as if the money couldn’t possibly be hers.
She wasn’t there for money in the first place, of course. Money was just the means to the end, a step on
the stairway that led up to the real target, and all that the money in front of her really meant was that Balot
was one step closer to her goal. Thinking about it this way helped keep Balot calm.
–The next game is going to be tricky. Best leave this table well enough alone now.
Oeufcoque’s words rang true, and she saw the sense in them. But Balot wasn’t ready to leave the
table, not yet. She started to feel that if she was meant to climb the stairway to the top, step by step, then
she might as well enjoy the journey and value each step for what it was.
–I want to stay here just a little longer. I won’t use up all our winnings or anything, I promise.
Please.
Oeufcoque seemed to think deeply on this, and he paused before he replied.
–Just remember that your winnings so far are still a long way of from our overall target.
He made no further attempt to make Balot leave.
Balot thanked himand took the next chips in her hand.
She slipped them onto the tableau: 14 red, 2 black. Some of the other punters were watching her to try
and ride her coat tails, others figured third time unlucky, and others still were in discussion about the law
of averages and how they applied to this table.
Then the ball was thrown in. The wheel spun to the left, the ball to the right. The white ball against the
red and black wheel of fortune. The numbers melted together, the ball hit one of the pins, and an invisible
hand reached out from the thirty-eight pockets to pull the ball in, one of them ready and waiting to
welcome it.
The ball bounced off the dome in the middle and fell.
The ball and the wheel became one.
There was a collective sigh. The wheel stopped, and the winning number was revealed.
Bell Wing had her crystal dolly in her hand.
“Fifteen black.”
The dolly was placed on the layout, over the winning number. The winners’ chips were distributed,
and the chips that Balot had staked were taken away by one of the dealers.
“You were so close.” The voice came out of nowhere, it seemed, and it took a moment for Balot to
realize that the words had been directed toward her.
Balot raised her head and looked at Bell Wing. Bell Wing, in turn, was looking at Balot. But the
croupier had no more to say and shifted her attention back to the rest of the table.
–There’s nothing close about it.
Oeufcoque was the one to say these words, but Balot was already thinking them.
Fifteen black was almost directly opposite 14 red on the wheel.
More importantly, Balot couldn’t work out why Bell Wing had chosen to speak to her.
Was she trying to determine whether the punter that she had used to draw the crowds was the type who
might get greedy and go for broke? Or was she trying to demonstrate to Balot that she could manipulate
the ball at will and send it to whichever corner she wished?
–Are you going again?
–The first time I won it was because she let me. Now, I want to win for myself. It was a strong
answer from Balot. She felt confident that she could do it. She had learned all the strategies the Doctor
had taught her. More than that, though, she felt a desire welling up inside herself—a desire to use her
newfound abilities, to exploit themfully, to win.
–I think I can, you see.
–Well, I’m here to back you up to the hilt.
Oeufcoque’s answer revealed that he understood what Balot was feeling.
Balot squeezed the chip in her hand before calmly placing it on the tableau.

Chapter 7ROTOR01Balot was close to tears.As a result, she didn't even notice that Oeufcoque had woken up and that his capsule was open.Such was the intensity of the Doctor's training program. On gambling.The basics she learned fromthe legal eCasinos, and she was introduced to all sorts of games.The eCasinos had their own individual variations on the rules, and Balot learned about the variousdiscrepancies. Everything was reinforced further through a number of practice hands with the Doctor.Blackjack, baccarat, poker, high-ball, low-ball, high-low split. On top of that, she also learned the ins andouts of wheel of fortune, roulette, and the slot machines.So far so good. But this was where the Doctor's lecture really started.Right. The Doctor started writing on a blank form, gleefully scribbling down some formulae anddrawing up a table. Let's talk game theory. As we have seen, with a finite game it's possible to expresseverything in normal-form. For a finite zero-sum game, we represent everything in normal-form and thenwork out what sort of strategy the other players are likely to employthis would seem the logical way toapproach things. So, let's examine the logical criteria and try and work out where the game's equilibriumlies.Creases appeared above Balot's eyebrows, and she nodded. The Doctor was trying to teach hersomething. How to win at gambling. The problemwas that she had absolutely no idea what he was talkingabout. Still, she listened as best she could.So, let's express this normal-form game as a payoff matrix. We assign the numbers 1 to n to yourvarious strategies, and on the other side we do the same for my strategies. This way we can clearlydemonstrate through the matrix how your decision influences my payoff, and vice versa. Logically, eachplayer should take the action that maximizes his potential payoff. In other words, you can think about allsorts of possible moves, but in the end the matrix will reveal your optimal strategy. This is what we callequilibriumanalysis.As the Doctor spoke he wrote down a list of letters of the alphabet. Letters with numbers beside them.The plus and minus symbols were fine, easy enough to follow. But then all sorts of other symbols startedappearing, and Balot soon lost track of what they meant, or whether the letters meant anything or whetherthey were code for something elseBut what happens when the players have the opportunity to cooperate? Let's take a look at so-calledcooperative games. The theory is simple. The player's obvious strategy will be to choose one of a numberof finite moves, taking into consideration the logical move that the other player is likely to make so thatthey can optimize their mutual payoff.Balot was starting to feel that the Doctor was becoming ever-so-slightly ostentatious in his display ofknowledge. But she kept at it, listening as intently as she could.So, if we take a subset from our payoff matrix and apply this procedure to it then we can see that theoutcome is going to be different when collusion is involvedthat's what a cooperative game means. It'sa so-called special function: you pass the variable n to the collaborator, and that special function is thenfixed on a unique value.Balot watched the swarm of symbols as they emerged from the Doctor's hand, and wondered howmuch of this it would ever be possible for her to learn. She hoped that she would at least be able tounderstand something of his final conclusion when he did arrive at it, but at the moment she didn't evenknow how to look out for that.As this was going on, Oeufcoque was inside his capsule, waiting for the liquid to evaporate. Once ithad, he turned back into his customary shape of a golden mouse and struggled his way out of the capsule.He landed on the bed and turned part of his fur inside out to make a pair of his usual pants. Then hepottered off toward the sound of conversation.Sheets of paper covered in numerical formulae were littered about the floor, and Oeufcoque steppedover these, looking at the numbers as he passed them. Before long he arrived at the scene of the crime andthe source of the paper.Oeufcoque sniffed the air, as if something were burning, and sighed deeply. He passed under theDoctor, who was in the middle of another animated explanation, and hopped onto the table via the chair.What are you hoping to achieve by throwing a whole load of economic theory at a fifteen-year-oldgirl, Doctor? said Oeufcoque. The Doctor and Balot raised their heads simultaneously. This might beyour field of expertise, Doc, but try not to lord it over the girl too muchyou'll give her an inferioritycomplex. And Balotyou don't have to put up with this, you know. Don't be a martyr. What are youtrying to doexperience the prisoner's dilemma with your own body?Having rebuked themboth, Oeufcoque sat down on top of the sheets of paper that covered the tabletop.Greetings, Oeufcoque. You're awake earlier than I expected. The latest technology from Paradiseseems to have come on a bit since we were last there.Oeufcoque shrugged his shoulders. So, what's been going on?The Doctor brought him up to date, explaining what Balot had discovered while she was at Paradiseand the conclusions that they had come to. All through the Doctor's exposition, Balot's eyes were castdown. She was terribly nervous. Oeufcoque was in easy reaching distance, but she couldn't even turn toface him.Well, putting aside the fact that Balot is now a suspect for crimes against the Commonwealtha factthat we'll revisit later, Doctor, don't think I'm letting that one passsurely there's a better way ofpreparing Balot for certain victory at the gaming table than to throw a whole load of numbers at her? Isn'tthat right, Balot?Balot's body jolted.Oeufcoque and the Doctor looked at her in mild surprise. Balot tried to answer. Something casual. Butthe words just wouldn't come forth.Balot just sat there staring at the table, trying to make herself seem as small as possible, retreating intoherself.Oeufcoque and the Doctor let her be. There were no forceful reproaches, no What do you want? or Ifyou have something to say then say it.I hope you'll find it in yourself to forgive me, Oeufcoque said suddenly. For sleeping through theworst of it, while you were making difficult choices.Hurriedly, Balot shook her head.The Doctor asked Oeufcoque a question, as if to reassure Balot. How are you doing now,Oeufcoque?I probably shouldn't strain myself by turning too vigorously, but if it's just a matter of helping Balotlearn to win at cards then I'mwell up for it.Then Oeufcoque walked over to Balot so that he stood right in front of her eyes. Would you mind if Ihopped on your shoulder?Balot stared at Oeufcoque. Her vision started to blur. She nodded, and tears started to fall. Shecovered her face with both hands, and Oeufcoque reached out to touch her with his paw.I'll put the coffee on. The Doctor rose fromhis seat.Timidly, Balot opened her hands and extended one of themto Oeufcoque.Can I touch you?Sure. Oeufcoque jumped onto Balot's palm. Balot lifted Oeufcoque up, brushing him against herface before placing himon her shoulder.Will you stay bymyside? Just for now?Of course.I'm so sorry, Oeufcoque.I'mfine.There were no more words. Balot was doing everything she could to suppress the turbulent emotionsthat were now bubbling up inside her, and she was desperately trying to stop herself from involuntarilysnarcing themto Oeufcoque.The Doctor returned and laid the cups of coffee out neatly. There was even a tiny cup for Oeufcoque.The Doctor and Oeufcoque waited patiently for Balot to regain her composure.After that, they made their plans. They decided who was going to play what role, and how best to act.They went through every possible scenario they could imagine, and the Doctor agreed to synthesize itall into one master plan.When that was over, Balot prepared dinner. They all sat around the table, making small talk. Aboutwhat they were going to do next. After this case was solved.No one said anything decisive, of course. No detailsjust vague generalizations, half jesting. Theywere all getting along with each other again, on the same wavelength. That was enough for now.After dinner, the Doctor stood up with his plate in his hands. Well, it seems our preparations arecomplete.Oeufcoque smiled, but solemnly. We'll win our case yet.Balot wanted to add something but couldn't think of anything, so she just nodded.Balot had been assigned a private room on the second floor, and as she settled into her bed there,Oeufcoque spoke to her. Shall I stay by your side until you fall asleep? He was hanging upside downfromthe pull-switch of the night lamp.I'll be all right.Balot leaned over to touch Oeufcoque.Thank you.And that was all she had to say. Not only that, she realized that this was all she had wanted to say,right fromthe beginning.Oeufcoque pulled the light switch to turn the lamp off, left the room, and shut the door gently behindhim.In the darkness Balot cried, but just a little.As she cried, she thought. About progress. Oeufcoque and the Doctor both looked to the future. Theystood for progressthey defined themselves by fighting against vague and equivocal values and targets.They aimed for tangible results.But Shell and Boiled were different. They've turned their backs on progress, she thought. They hadspun themselves around, so that each stared at his own past even though it was supposed to have beenlong since dead.The past was just a skeleton, and you could do what you liked with it.That is, provided that you had come to terms with it, given it a proper burial. So Balot thought.But even if the past were firmly buried in its grave, it was still looking back up at you, and all it tookwas a small crack to emerge in the sod and the past could thrust a half-rotten arm right up toward you.And when the hand of the past grabbed hold of your leg and tried to drag you down, you could end uplosing sight of where you were even heading in the first place.When the gaze of the past boring into their backs became too much for Shell and Boiled, they turnedaround to face it and were swallowed up by the darkness.The same darkness that Balot knew she could be swallowed by at any moment.Balot considered what she could do.When she left this silver egg, what exactly would she be able to do?Eventually her tears subsided, and Balot fell asleep.Do you think we're doing the right thing? Oeufcoque jumped onto the chair and then up onto thekitchen table.What's this, now? The Doctor had been gleefully sorting their plans out on the table, and now heturned to look at Oeufcoque, a little fed up.The gifts that we gave to the girlthey've put her in a real dilemma.You mean the plan of action that she's chosen? The plan derives from her own consciousness, youknow!Yes, but you can't say for sure that her latent desire for revenge hasn't unduly influenced hersubconscious mind.You may be right, but it's not as if she's burning with the need for revenge at the moment, is it?asked the Doctor.Hmmno. I think she's humbly putting her mind to the task at handsolving this case.Then I think she'll be all right. Besides, if Balot hadn't chosen the path of Scramble 09 and had justbeen relying on the Ham & Eggers, by now she'd be in little strips, being sold off down at themarketplace.Marketplace? said Oeufcoque.Intelligence from the police that's just come in. About the assassins Boiled hired. They were wellknown among the human-body-part-fetishist community, apparently. They sold off quality body parts.Hmm.They're the ones who deserved to be torn limb from limb. I think so, anyway, and I'm sure Balotthinks so too. But Balot doesn't consider it to be our job to do so. She doesn't have to tear them limb fromlimb to be satisfied or achieve closure. That's a good thing, surely? That's not to say I'm pleased that ourold hideaway is now in ruins, of course. But even that can be fixed up one way or another withreparations fromthe Broilerhouse when we manage to solve this case properly.That's true, I suppose.I also feel that we definitely did the right thing in strengthening the girl. As per usual, someone hadbeen systematically tampering with the Ham & Egg circuits. An inside job, most probablya mole takingmoney to look the other way, not caring in the slightest whether the people bribing them were murderersor fetishists, said the Doctor.So what's happening about the inside man?The police are on the case thereit's out of our hands. You're looking at serious money to try andbail out someone involved in hacking a public network. I'msure there are plenty of police looking to theirnext bonus, eager to pin down the mole.Still, Oeufcoque didn't seementirely satisfied, and he remained sitting on the table.Talk about wishy-washy, Oeufcoque. Anyway, what do you think?About what?The girl, of course.Oeufcoque scratched his head with his small paws. I really hope that her reason and ambitions willtriumph over her negative impulses. That's her real job, to make sure that this happens. Our job is to giveher room to develop by protecting her from harm and helping her to recover all her legal rights andprivileges. It may be that this sort of work is what I was looking for all along.You see yourself as a social worker? If you can't stand the heat you can always get out of the kitchen.Just find another line of work, said the Doctor.Nooverdependency on social welfare can lead to lives being snuffed out in an instant. TheBroilerhouse always overcomplicates things, and they will always need PIs to solve their cases, one wayor another. I want to be useful as a deterrent against an everlasting cycle of violence, to protect lives.That's what Scramble 09 is for.Then what exactly is your problem?I'm not comfortable with the idea of forcing the girl to use me as a weapon, even with the threat of aclear and present dangerAnd that's why we're looking for a chink in the enemy's armorto help us solve this case in thequietest way possible. What's wrong with that?Doctor, I'ma living tool, and you'll never really understand me.Huh?I'm constantly on the lookout for a user. I want someone like Balot to be using me. I had thought thatI'd never again be able to entrust myself to someone else's hand completelySo?I'mdisturbed by the fact that the girl wants to become a PI after we've solved this case.Well, I'mglad of that. The Doctor took his eyes off Oeufcoque for a moment, sipping his coffee.What's there to be glad about, Doctor?Have you heard of the marriage blues, Oeufcoque?No, what are they?They're when you wear yourself out worrying about something that you've already decided.Obsessing about things like self-centered emotions, whether you're feeling all right, whether something isinevitable or whether it's happenstance.Are you saying that I've got the marriage blues?I think that would be a pretty astute diagnosis, though I do say so myself.What's the cure?Patience. You just wait to see how events unfold.Oeufcoque looked the other way and exhaled silently. That's a tough one.Well, it's a problem that's been plaguing us since the beginning of history, so you're in goodcompany. Just do your best.The Doctor poked Oeufcoque's shoulder. He wasn't particularly encouraging.02Dawn was just about to break when the giant silver egg landed on the rooftop of the Broilerhouse.Bathed in the purple glow of sunrise, the Floating Residence known as the Humpty-Dumpty stopped inmidair at a point precisely one meter above the rooftop, and a crack opened up on one side. The crackturned into a number of symmetric hexagonal openings, and part of the shell that had opened up nowtransformed into a ramp that extended down to the roof.The Doctor and Balot stepped out onto the ramp.The wind was strong, and the three-ply metal fencing that surrounded the rooftop was rattling.Balot headed into the building and called up an elevator. Not by snarcing it, but by pressing the callbutton.The Doctor sent the Humpty back up into the sky, then followed after Balot in great strides. Right,let's go. He leapt into the elevator. We have to be low-profile from here on out. Well, relativelyspeaking.He was in a sprightly mood. The cheeriest Balot had ever seen. He was dragging a large trunk behindhim, and Balot had a bag hanging fromher shoulder.You're in high spirits, Doc, Oeufcoque observed, as a choker around Balot's neck. His tone ofvoice was, unusually for him, relaxedlazy, even.Bring it on! Literally and metaphorically, I mean. I'm not about to pass up the opportunity to makesome noiseit's taken long enough to talk you into gambling. Let's head on in with the mindset that we'regoing to break the bank.Sure, but our aim isn't actually to bankrupt Shell, you know. As Oeufcoque spoke, the fabric of thechoker warped around the edges. He seemed to be yawning. This tickled Balot's neck, and she gave aninvoluntary squirmof the shoulders.I'm not a morning person. It brings out my true nature, Oeufcoque blurted out, and the elevator hadarrived.They were in the first-floor lobby, where they could see various justice department officials headingthis way and that. Many of them stayed in the building overnight, and a large group of people hadcongregated in the cafeteria for their morning dose of coffee. Balot and the Doctor left the buildingthrough the lobby and hailed a taxi.The taxi drove off and headed uptown. During the ride, the Doctor referred to his PDA incessantly,humming a jaunty tune as he did so. A list of numbers was scrolling across the display, and these causedthe Doctor to smile, as if he were looking at the figures of a particularly healthy bank balance.Before long the taxi pulled up at a motel. An airport motel.They entered the lobby to find that their rooms were ready, rooms that the Doctor had reserved usingthe Humpty's NetService. The Doctor and Balot went into their adjoining rooms, as if they had justarrived by air and were about to head into the big city later. Well, they had just been flying, of course, butnot in the manner that a casual observer would have assumed.Their bags contained mostly clothes. Once she was in her room, Balot took a dress from her bag.She'd had Oeufcoque make it for her based on pictures from an online catalog. She brushed it down andhung it up neatly on a hanger before taking some shoes and accessories out of the bag and lining them upon the motel desk.As she was making her preparations, the choker undid itself. It turned inside out in midair, then settledon the shape of a golden mouse, who landed on the desk on two feet before yawning properly.We've still got plenty of time yet. I'd like to take a nap. Not waiting for an answer from Balot,Oeufcoque jumped off the desk. He headed straight for the bed, jumped onto the pillow, and rolled over.Balot followed himto the bed and poked himin his tummy.I've never seen you act so slovenly before.She snarced himand laughed.Oeufcoque shrugged his shoulders. Whatever, he seemed to say. He rolled over, face-up like a human,crossed his arms over his stomach, and stretched his legs out leisurely. Before long he was snoring gently.Balot gazed at him and thought that he probably did need the sleephe hadn't yet recoveredcompletely from his injuries. She decided to leave him alone and took a shower. Then she lay down tostudy the game rules the Doctor had given her, and before long she found herself feeling sleepy too. Thetime was just then six thirty. Balot snuggled under the covers next to Oeufcoque, whom she could sensebeside her, scratching his belly. She was asleep in no time.It was almost noon when she was awoken by a call from the Doctor. Oeufcoque was already awakeand watching television. On mutepicture only. When she asked him if he could follow what was goingon, he replied, I'mpracticing my lip reading.What a strange hobby, she thought for a moment, but of course he wasn't doing it for fun. It's a goodwarm-up exercise for the job we're about to go on, Oeufcoque said, and he stepped down on the remotewith a tiny foot to turn the picture off.The two of them headed down to the motel restaurant, where the Doctor was waiting for them. Therethey had a meal and made their final arrangements. They reconfirmed their next course of action. Thenthere was a little test. Did Balot understand all the rules for all the main games? The rules themselveswere fairly simple. They hadn't targeted any of the more complicated games in the first place. Theproblemwas that rules always ended up producing winners and losers.How much do we need to win? Balot asked, snarcing her Oeufcoque-choker.The Doctor pursed his lips and pushed his glasses up. We need to turn two thousand dollars into fourmillion.It sounded like a wild dream. But the Doctor just shrugged his shoulders. Well, I think you'llunderstand once you actually start playing. The question is, how to find a way of winning for sure. If wecan't work one out then we'll have to abandon the plan.Do you reallythink we have a chance?So, uh, it's not impossible, at least. It's not as if we're actually trying to make the money. All youhave to do is make contact with the chips while sticking to the rules of the casinodo that and we'vewon. The regular punters are there to try and win themselves some money and experience the thrills of thecasino, that's why they handle the chips. What we want to handle is the golden yoke that's hidden insidethe chips. Without necessarily having to get the shell or egg white in the processHow much moneyis a million dollars?The Doctor paused to think. Let's seeDon't think of it as money. Oeufcoque interrupted them in a small voice that only Balot and theDoctor could hear.What do you mean?He means that the chips we're going after just happen to be worth four million dollars, and that'swhat we're calling them, but they're really just chips to us. It's not as if we're actually going in there totry and win their cash from them. That's why we might be able to breach their defenses, and it's also whyI feel that I can help with this plan. Also, even if our plan fails, as long as you've worked out the locationof the chips, we could always try stealing them at a later datealthough if Shell figures out what we'reup to we'll struggle to find them before the trial is over. So we're taking a big gamble before we even setfoot in the casino. In other words, the time is now. This is our last real chance, and also our best, saidthe Doctor.Balot looked at the Doctor's face as she answered,I understand. If the two of you think that we can do it, then I do too.She was speaking the truth.The Doctor smiled affectionately and opened up his PDA. Right, time to get this plan on the road.Much to Balot's surprise he erased the memory on his PDA as he spoke. It was supposed to havecontained all sorts of vital data. Who worked where, what they did, how the money came in, everything.Balot was shocked to see that all this had now been reduced to a blank screen.If we have all the info on us at the point that the casino starts taking an interest in us, we'd be thrownout the moment they discovered it. Not only that, they'd contact all the other casinos in the city on the spot.With our photographs. We'd never be able to set foot inside a casino again. The Doctor's face revealedthat he considered this to be a fate worse than death.Will we be all right without it?If it comes to the crunch, all the data is still inside Oeufcoque. There's no cause for concern.Suddenly the Doctor's brow creased. By the way, have you decided what you'll call me? he asked.Balot looked a little troubled and shook her head.Well, why not try something out.Brother?She burst out laughing even before she finished the word.No good, I suppose, the Doctor said, his face most serious. How about Daddy?This time it was Balot who furrowed her brow.That doesn't feel natural. No good.Hmm.Uncle.You mean?It'll be fine. I don't thing there will be anymisunderstandings.Fine. Henceforth I shall be known as your Uncle Easter.Balot couldn't stop herself from bursting out laughing again, her shoulders shaking. She saw theDoctor looking discouraged and nodded her assent through her wordless laughter.Uncle Easter.She repeated. The Doctor nodded too.It's decided, then.Balot laughed again. But actually the term didn't feel all that out of place. She looked at the Doctorand mimed combing her hair down. As if to say Sort yourself out.Could you at least dye all your hair the same color?The Doctor shrugged, but he seemed to acquiesce.I've wanted to ask you for a long time, actually. Why do you dye your hair like that, anyway?One of the Three Magithe professor whose brainchild Mardock Scramble wasseemed to favorthat sort of hairstyle, Oeufcoque butted in to explain.A complex layer of different hues. A hairstyle based authentically on chaos theory, the Doctorexplained, brushing his hair back.You must have reallyrespected him.He was the one and only master I ever recognized, and he was also responsible for designingOeufcoque. I would have liked you to meet him.Balot gave a small nod. She didn't press them for the details of how this person that they held in suchhigh regard was killed by OctoberCorp. It would be an impudent intrusion into a sacred place in theirhearts. But something did suddenly occur to her, and she asked it.Did your professor like to gamble?He was invincible! the Doctor replied without hesitation.That's what I thought. Balot nodded.After Balot returned to her roomshe took another, thorough, shower, then dressed up.This time the choker was still a Made by Oeufcoque, but it was just an ordinary electronic voice box.Lastly, Balot took Oeufcoque in her hands and brought an image to mind. A soft pair of gloves to coverboth my hands. Oeufcoque's body distorted with a squish, and in a flash he was wrapped around herfingers. The gloves extended up her arms and met behind her shoulders.A gap opened where the two gloves met, and Balot slowly pulled her hands apart. The glovesseparated neatly, and at the same time an Oeufcoque-style design rose to the fore. He must have beenpaying attention to the eCatalogue, as Balot only needed to make two or three minor alterations to thedesign before she was satisfied with her look.She waited in the lobby for the Doctor, and when he emerged he was the very embodiment of someonewho has lived in the amusement world for far too long and forgotten what normalcy was.He wore a long cowboy-style coat topped by a mafioso scarf. His hair was dyed a glossy silver, and itwas slicked back. His heels clicked as he swaggered toward reception to deposit his key, and he reallydid look as if he were ready to head on out for a proper night on the town.The two of them stepped out of the motel to wait out front. Before long the limousine arrived to pickthemup, right on time.It was hardly her first time in a limousine, but Balot suddenly felt tense nonetheless.Right, let's go. Balot? The Doctor tapped her shoulder lightly. It's time to put on your act , he wassaying.Okay.Balot nodded as she touched the electronic voice box on her choker. The limousine driver had apleasant smile underneath his short-brimmed hat as he opened the back door for her. Balot climbed in andcalled out to the Doctor.Aren't you getting in, Uncle?If Balot found it funny to refer to himin this way, she did a good job of keeping it secret.The Doctor got in the car and the driver closed the door behind him. Then the driver sat down in hisseat, and the car drove off.The Doctor's voice echoed around the car for the duration of the ride to the casino. As if to say I'mgoing to show you both just what sort of player I am. Balot added little to the conversation and mostlynodded. She played the part of the niece who had come to the big city to experience the bright lights andwas being well looked after by her uncle. She exuded the easy confidence that came with having relativesliving in the high-class Senorita District, at the foot of the rolling hills.Before long the limousine stopped outside the casino entrance. Right next door was a large hotel.Beyond that were other large and impressive buildings: conference facilities, the headquarters of anumber of prominent organizations. There were also TV and radio stations. The pleasure quarter spreadall around.The Doctor handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill and told him that he'd call the office to order theirreturn limousine when they were ready.The truth was different. The Doctor pointed toward the casino parking lot, a mischievous grin on hisface. A familiar red convertible was waiting there. I asked one of the Broilerhouse staff to have it readyfor us there last night.Balot was genuinely impressed. The Doctor always planned these things down to the last detail.Now, let's go and have some fun. The Doctor accompanied Balot to the entrance.The tension that Balot had felt while she was waiting for the limousine to arrive seemed to disappear.Above the grand entranceway that faced the strip was a sign in the shape of a giant egg, inscribed withthe casino's name: EGGNOG BLUE.The egg was split down the middle, with a 3-D digital display of chips pouring forth.As they passed under the entrance, they felt an unusual sensation. They realized immediately what itwas.They'd had their possessions scanned in an instant. Infrared, surveillance cameras, X-ray imaginghad they been carrying anything undesirable, it would have been spotted immediately and they wouldhave been intercepted.The casino didn't let anything slip through. Not that this seemed to bother the Doctor, who walkedstraight in with easy assurance.It was a large casino. There was a long corridor that led to the hotel next door and a winding pathwaythat led to a children's amusement park. There was also an indoor shopping court, its walls lined withgiant television screens that showed the entertainmentboxing matches and magic shows.Balot had been inside this casino a number of times before, but always on Shell's arm, and with theDoctor by her side pointing out this and that, it was almost as if she were visiting it for the first time.From the gaudy entrance to its dcor, the casino was clearly designed to be welcoming to the masses,a family-friendly joint rather than one that catered to a minority of shadowy, elite big spenders. Thetheory, with legal casinos at least, was that those that catered toward ten thousand customers eachspending a hundred dollars were more likely to thrive than those who went after the one high roller whospent a million. Eggnog Blue was a case in point: the joint was buzzing.The Doctor walked briskly through the hall that was kitted out for the out-of-towners and theiroffspring, paying only the slightest attention. This was the Doctor, after all, and he knew exactly where hewas going without having to refer to a map.The clamor grew. Any illusions that the casino would be experiencing some sort of early-afternoonlull were dispelled by the roar of activity.There was a dazzling array of slot machines as far as the eye could see.The room they were now in was filled neatly with rows upon rows of machines that covered thewhole gamut: from five-cent cheapies to machines for the high rollers that only accepted hundred-dollarcoins.Amazing Balot saidthere was such an uproar that she almost forgot why she was here.You fancy a go, do you? the Doctor asked.Balot nodded, true feelings to the fore.Balot followed the Doctor through the gaps between the slot machines, as varied in size, shape, andcolor as the ammonites that she was so fond of. Electronic noises buzzed all around, and here and therewailed the sound of a sirena bit like a fire engineaccompanied by the shouts of joy of men andwomen of all ages as they hit pay dirt. Whenever there was a major payout, a light on top of the winningmachine would flare up like a police siren light, and a throng of people would congregate around thewinner to offer conspicuous congratulations. Balot thought that the wave of excitement caused by theelectronic sounds and the jangling of coins as they poured out of the machines were enough to give anyonea headache.The Doctor collected a number of different types of chips at the reception counter and passed some ofthemto Balot.Then he took his twenty-dollar bills and bundled themup.The first thing to do is soak up the atmosphere. Get used to things, ride the wave. A bit like surfing.So saying, the Doctor tripped off to check out the slot machines with a haste that would have been illadvisedhad there been any real waves around.At the back of the hall were a number of real AirCars and other luxury vehicles, with a sign abovereading: HIT THE JACKPOT AND DRIVE AWAY IN ONE OF THESE BEAUTIES!The Doctor sat down at a slot machine near the cars. Even as he explained its workings to Balot, hewas pouring coins down its hatch. The cylinders started revolving, and the moment of truth approached.One of the symbols clicked into place, then another, and the Doctor's fortune was decided. Of the fourlines he had bet on, one just about resulted in a payout, and five twenty-cent coins clattered into the traybelow. Not a bad way to test your luck, eh?Carefully, he slid some more coins into the slot and pressed the button.For a moment, Balot thought she might try snarcing the machine to produce the result she wanted.But her Oeufcoque-gloves pulled Balot's left hand away. Then the palm of her hand was by her ear,and she heard Oeufcoque's voice. Don't underestimate the security here.Her heart thumped.The machine was swallowing up all of the Doctor's coins. But the Doctor seemed unconcerned andcontinued throwing in more coins with abandon, as if he were testing out its rhythm.Balot stopped and sensed the inner workings of the machine. It was set up so that the slightest bit ofexternal interference would cause it to lock down completely. Not the most subtle systemin the world, butall the more secure for it.Suddenly, Balot felt that she was being watched. She looked up at the tall ceiling. All sorts of coloredilluminations were scattered around, and in between them Balot noticed an incredible number of securitycameras, all firmly set in place. She gulped involuntarily.The Eye in the Sky, Oeufcoque said, sensing Balot's thoughts. Originally developed for militaryuse. Every single one of those cameras is powerful enough to accurately distinguish between dif erentsets of footsteps in a field from a distance of twenty thousand meters. There's a whole team ofsurveillance staf watching behind the scenes, probably, watching every move down here. The secondyou try anything with the slot machine, the warning goes up and cameras will be trained on you fromall angles.Balot squeezed her hand, indicating to Oeufcoque that she understood himloud and clear.Would you like a go yourself, Balot? the Doctor asked suddenly. It seemed that his coin count wasfluctuating up and down, winning some then losing themagain.Balot nodded, then asked a question through the crystal on her choker.Am I allowed to choose my own machine?Why not? Let's split up for the next half hour or so, see how we do on our own. We'll establish oursupply train here, ready to move on later. May fortune smile upon you!Balot left the Doctor and started wandering around the machines.She stared at themone by one, trying to feel the wave that the Doctor had been talking about.She may not have been able to snarc the machines to manipulate them directly, but she could at leastsound themout for variations and anomalies.Each machine moved to its own complicated rhythm. It wasn't as if they were all standardized to somesort of median average. Before long she started to get a feel for the overall patterns.She remembered something she had once read. A wave may be made up of individual droplets ofwater, but the wave doesn't actually move the surface of the water; all it does is cause the surface of thewater to bob up and down as it passes.Balot was now starting to experience this for herself.Balot sat down in front of a machine. It was a one-dollar slot machine in the shape of a whiskey bottle.She'd selected this one because she felt that its rhythmwas settling down.Balot had been sensing all these loudexaggeratedsounds from her surroundings. She felt thatthese were due to the complicated rhythms of the machines ebbing and flowing, never quite calm enoughto properly read, but this machine was different. Calmer, she sensed.Balot placed some coins in the slot, pressed the button, and watched the symbols spin around.She sensed their movements as she stopped the wheels. Each one landed on a different symbol, almostimpressively so.Balot put another coin in the slot. Just the one, this time. She spun the wheel.No luck. She put another coin in and again had no luck. She repeated the process a number of times,and suddenly she had won.Balot grasped her feelings at that moment. She thought that Oeufcoque might have tried to saysomething, but she couldn't hear him. She couldn't even hear the tumultuous roar of the machines aroundher anymore.Balot continued with the machine, losing the next round. She felt just like the machines all around herebbing and flowing. Then she felt a sensationher whole body being lifted. Her hand moved up to theslot naturally, automatically. She threw coins down the slot in quick succession, leaving just the slightestof gaps, until the wave was at its crest before pressing the button with perfect timing.FlawlessShe heard Oeufcoque's voice. Balot came to her senses. The roar of the machines returned.She squirmed when she heard the piercing sound of the siren. She wondered if she had done somethingwrong. Voices pressed in on her from all around. She realized that she was now surrounded by a huddleof people.Amazed, Balot looked around at the throng. Everyone was voicing their astonishment.For a moment Balot thought that she was about to be hauled away by the police, but she was wrong.The very next moment, an incredible clanging of metal assaulted her, and she looked down at herhands.She'd never seen so many coins before in her life. At first she wondered how she was possibly goingto fit such a large quantity in her pockets, but as the coins kept coming, it wasn't long before sheabandoned that idea as impossible. That was how many coins there were.Envious voices were heard all about. A casino attendant pushed his way through the crowds.Balot's face was still startled when she looked at him, and he smiled at her, flourishing a basket.Shall I store your coins for you, madamoiselle?Balot nodded, wondering if he was about to cart all her coins away.But she had a strong feeling that the coins weren't really hers to begin with.As he was scooping her coins into the basket, Balot's left hand flew up to her ear again.Give him a tip. One dollar ought to be enough. Hearing Oeufcoque's words, Balot scrabbled aroundfor a one-dollar bill and took it fromher pocket.The attendant turned to her with the basket full of coins in his hands. He saw the proffered note andreceived it graciously. Then he took Balot over to the counter, where he exchanged the full basketsoheavy that it was like carrying around a set of bowling ballswith a considerably lighter roll of hundreddollarcoins.Balot took the hundred-dollar coins along with the basket. She counted them to discover that therewere precisely sixty of them. For a moment she couldn't even work out how much money that was.Basket in hand, Balot walked back toward the slot machines. Feeling the wave, as she did before.Then she sat down at another machine where she sensed that the wave was settling down. This time it wasa five-dollar coin machine. She had only three of these in her pocket. She sat there waiting carefullybefore placing the first one of these in the machine.She slotted it in gently. The wheel spun and settled, and she was nowhere near winning. She stuck thenext coin in.She let it go at precisely the moment she felt the wave rising. She lost again. But as a result, she sensedclearly that the wave still had farther to go. Balot breathed in, then out.She waited for the wave to rise, coin held firmly in her hand.Then her hand moved. Before she knew it, the coin had been released, the button pressed.What?Balot snarced Oeufcoque, surprised.It's not a good idea to win too much at this stage. You'll be marked out. Such was Oeufcoque'sanswer. He had caused her to let go of the coin early.The wheels in the machine spun around and stopped.There was no siren. Instead, about twenty five-dollar pieces clattered out of the bottomof the machine.Balot was confident that if she'd been allowed to get the timing absolutely right, she would have won atleast ten times that.Remember that out of all the chips in the casino, we just need the four that we've come for. We couldwin hundreds of other chips along the way, or not, it really doesn't matter in the endeither we get thefour we're after, or we fail. For now, best play it safe and make sure we don't draw the casino's attentionunnecessarily.I thought you said you'd let me have some funBalot seemed a little disappointed.It might seem like fun to you, but somehow I don't think the people around you will see it the sameway. Casinos like winnersbut not people who win too much.Oeufcoque's words reminded her again of the cameras overhead.Balot meekly collected her winnings in her basket and went to rendezvous with the Doctor.03So, you think you've started to get the hang of it? said the Doctor.The Doctor had nothing in his hands, so at first glance it looked like he had lost all his chips, but,Looks like we're just around the ten thousand mark combined, he went on to say, surprising Balot bypulling out a handful of thousand-dollar chips fromhis pockets.Aren't we going to use these machines to try and get Shell's chips?Even if we were to bleed all the slot machines dry, we'd still be shy of two million. There's no waywe could reach our target. In any case, we don't want to seemlike we're taking the casino head-on.So what are we going to do?Make some money off the other punters.Balot's ears pricked up. They'd been over the plan a number of times, but only the main points and inbroad strokes: what to do, when, and how to do it. The overall master plan was firmly the Doctor'sterritory.Well, looks like our supply train has come in. All that's left for us to do now is mosey on down to thefront lines. The Doctor finished speaking and walked over to the other side of the slot machines.Once they had escaped the maze of the slot machines they arrived in a large, expansive room, bigenough to fit a number of tennis courts side by side.A number of gaming tables were lined up in the middle of the roomin an orderly fashion, and on eitherside were green plants decorating a cocktail bar. The bustle and clamor of the previous room hadcompletely disappeared.This space was far more chic, and the atmosphere could have been described as sophisticated.A number of immaculately turned out dealers stood behind their tables, like actors holding the stage.Waitresses carrying trays of complementary drinks circulated briskly. Some of them wore traditionalbunny outfits, and others sported outfits bearing card-inspired designs or the brand names of certainalcoholic drinks.You know what a mechanic is, don't you? the Doctor asked under his breath, and Balot nodded inresponse.The Doctor had told her all about mechanicscard sharps. Everything from their modi operandi totheir motivationswhy they risked everything to cheat at cards. Some did it for the sheer thrill, otherssaw it as a shortcut to fame and riches. In other casesparticularly for those who grew up as dealers inthe territories where casinos were illegalcheating was just par for the course, an act as natural andobvious as eating and drinking.Let's see if we can hook ourselves a couple, said the Doctor. If we targeted the casino right at theoutset then we'd be out on our heels before we knew it. So our next maneuver should be one that benefitsus the most while benefiting the casino at the same time, and certainly not causing them any loss. That'show we'll dig our trench, so as to provide us with a solid foundation fromwhich we can launch an all-outoffensive laterBut would we be thrown out even if we didn't actuallycheat?Well, look at it this way. If we tried to turn ten dollars into a million in the space of an hour, we'd beasked to leave long before we got there. Even if our ambitions were more modesta thousand into ahundred thousand, saywe'd get away with it to a point, but you can be sure the casino would sniff us outbefore too long and stop us from going much further. What we need to do is turn a hundred into athousand, then a thousand into ten thousand, gradually, without attracting any untoward attention. The realbattle starts only once we've built up a proper war chest.Balot understood exactly what the Doctor was saying. But she had a question.How do we know which ones are the mechanics?I found us our marks while you were playing on the slot machines back there.How do you know, though?It's like I told you. Our next maneuver should be one that benefits us the most while benefiting thecasino at the same time. The Doctor looked up at the ceiling with a triumphant air, flashing her thethumbs-up. Amid the hustle and bustle of the casino, Balot gleaned his meaning all too well. Mechanicsare seen by the casino as the ultimate pest. Anyone who looks in the least bit suspicious is noted, and thebest dealers are immediately put on the case to sniff them out and catch them in the act. Alternatively, thedealers themselves might be in on the act, and the casinos are well aware of this possibility, so they havemeasures in place to detect this too. The dealers have to share reports of any suspicious activities everyhalf hour, and there are pit bosses and floor managers taking records in the background, floating behindany and every dealer that has the potential to come in direct contact with the customers. Mama seeseverything, is the idea.Balot realized why the Doctor had been grinning in the general direction of his PDA. He'd beeneavesdropping on the conversations of the most suspicious people and what games they were playing.Now then, my pretty little niece, let Uncle show you just what a dab hand he is at the gaming table.The Doctor was suddenly speaking in a loud voice, humming away, conspicuously checking out thedifferent games in progress. He looked every bit the cocky country squire, here in the big city determinedto prove to the world that he was no bumpkin, and probably ready to lose the shirt off his back to feed hisgambling habit. Truth be told, he played the act so convincingly that Balot was a little embarrassed to beseen with him.All the while Balot was playing the part of a girl who had no interest in the actual games but ratherwas overwhelmed by the glamour and the sophistication of her surroundings. This was her assigned roleand again she felt more or less this way in reality too.Right, let's try this spot here. Looks like there might be some nice pokers rolling around, the Doctorboomed, arriving at a table that was in between games.Pokers?The Doctor indicated to Balot to sit down, and she did.The Doctor had an extremely self-satisfied look on his face. Yeah, pokers for prodding each otherwith. That's the sort of game poker is. So saying, he laid his chips on the table.The dealer looked at Balot. Is the young lady with you, sir? he asked. He was a young man, whoseblond hair went well with his clear blue eyes.Indeed. Though once she's at the table beside me, she's as good as a rival, the Doctor said, and thennodded without delay. You have a go too, young lady. You've played in your game room at home, right?If you don't spend your pocket money here you'll only squander it on clothes anywaywhy not use it forsomething a bit more thrilling for a change?How manychips will I need, Uncle?As she spoke, Balot grabbed a handful of hundred-dollar coins from her basket. The dealer and theother punters at the table were momentarily taken aback. Those must be quite some clothes for her tosquander that much money on themIn reality, all the clothes she had ever bought in her life up to this pointwith the money that she hadstruggled so hard to earncould have easily been bought twice over with less than the amount she wasnow holding in one hand.Is this enough? Balot asked. The dealer seemed troubled for half a second as he watched Balotspeak through the device on her neck, without moving her lips, but then he nodded.The dealer exchanged the coins for chips and gratefully accepted the tip that the Doctor thrust out.Then the dealer made a broad gesture for the floor managerto show that he had received this tiplegitimatelyand placed it in the middle of the table on the designated spot for tips, for all to see. Balothad thought he might put the chip away in his pocket, but then she realized that all his pockets were neatlysewn up. This joint ran a tight ship. Indeed, it seemed a point of pride for the dealer to conspicuouslyshow off how upright and cleanhanded he was. Back straight, he looked at the customers around the table.There were four other punters at the table besides Balot and the Doctor. One wore a cowboy hat andwas chomping on a cigar, and to his right was a quiet-looking man dressed in an unobtrusive businesssuit.These two sat to the right of Balot and the Doctor. To Balot's left was an elderly gentleman with neat,close-cropped hair, and to his left a middle-aged man with a potbelly.According to the Doctor, one of these four was a mechanic.Oh, by the way, do you mind if we use sign language? the Doctor asked the dealer. The dealerlooked a little worried and shook his head. Negative.But she's disabled; her larynx doesn't work. Surely you can see that just by looking at her? I'm notasking you to overlook it if she mispronounces something, I'm just asking if it's okay for me to interpretand speak on her behalf if anything goes wrong with her machine.The dealer touched the earphone close to his ear to clear the request with his manager.That should be fine, sir, he said. By all rights we should say no, but we'll make an exception justthis once as you're here to enjoy yourselves, his face seemed to say. If ever the Doctor's demeanor weregoing to be useful, it would be here. From the dealer's point of view, the two punters in front of him weresitting ducks, ready to be plucked, and he was prepared to bend the rules to accommodate them howeverinappropriate the request.The same went for the other players around the table. What about you gentlemenany objections?asked the Doctor.The cowboy hat shrugged his shoulders, while the suit next to him answered courteously that he hadnone.Neither did the potbelly or the old gentleman have too many worries, it seemed. Indeed, they wereonly too happy to have a young lady join them at the table, they said. The cowboy hat suddenly chimed into suggest that someone should make special chips for the disabled. Everyone else pretended not to hearhim. Balot immediately hoped that he was the mechanic.Without warning her left hand rose to touch her earring. Pay him no attention, she heard Oeufcoquesay, as her fingers twiddled with her earring.Within her heart, Balot nodded. That was all it took to communicate her feelings to Oeufcoque.From now on, we do everything by the book, okay? Listen to your left hand. Don't deviate from thescript, said Oeufcoque.Balot's face tightened.Don't worry. I won't make anymistakes.And then the betting commenced.The game was Hold'em.Each player was dealt two cards facedown, and the idea was to try and combine these with the fivecommunity cardsthat were dealt face up on the tablein order to make the best hand, with four roundsof betting to each hand.The minimumbet at this table was thirty dollars at a time, the maximumsixty dollars.It was a spread-limit game with up to three raises, meaning that the stakes could quickly rise to a largesumof money.The dealer signaled that the game had begun, stopping any new entrant fromattempting to join in.With slick hand movements the dealer placed the cards into a machine and pressed a number ofbuttons.After confirming to all at the table that the deck of cards had been officially cut, he gathered up thecards and slipped theminto the card shoe and began the first hand.First to be dealt a card was the suit, then counterclockwise to the cowboy, the Doctor, Balot, the oldgentleman, and the potbelly, then repeating, so that they all ended up with two cards each.The dealer's button was in front of the suit, indicating that he would have been in the dealing positionif there hadn't already been a house dealer.The cowboy to the left of him was the blind better for this hand. The blind was like the ante in normalpoker and was more like a participation fee than an actual bet at this stage, as no one had anything to goon other than their hole, the first two cards.The first blind bet was called the small blind, where the player could bet anything up to half theminimumbet. The cowboy threw in ten dollars.Then it was the Doctor's turn to respond with the big blind.The purpose of the big blind was not just to call the small blind, but also to force a raise.The Doctor raised the cowboy by twenty dollars.Fromthen on, the other players had to start off by throwing in the sumof the two betsthirty dollarsin order to call and thereby stay in the hand. Or they could raise the stakes further, in thirty-dollarincrements, or fold and drop out of the hand completely, losing any stake they had placed up to that point.Balot's two cards that she had been dealtin the holewere the ten of clubs, 10 , and the seven ofspades, 7 . At this point in the game, twelve cards had been dealt to the players out of a total of fifty-twoin the deck. She was third along fromthe dealer's button.It was a nothing hand, the sort of hand you should fold on immediately. Even Balot knew this. Hold'emwas one of the games that Balot had beaten into her last night in the Humpty.But Oeufcoque signaled differently.You should call.Balot felt the instructions float up on her left hand. She picked up a thirty-dollar chip.Thirty dollarsI'd like to call.She placed the chip on the table.The old gentleman called too, and the potbelly quickly folded.Last to go was the suit who held the dealer's button. He called, then raised by another thirty.The cowboy and the Doctor called.Balot followed Oeufcoque's instructions and called.The old gentleman called.There were no more raises. There was now $280 in the pot on the table.The first round of betting was over, and the dealer discarded the first card in the card shoe. The burncard, an anti-cheating measure. A standard step taken to eliminate the possibility of any player gaining anunfair advantage by marking the cards.Then the dealer placed three cards facedown in the center of the table. Community cards, called theflop. It was now time for the second round of betting.The dealer turned each of the flop cards over.K , 8 , and 2 .At this point, Balot had no pairs and no chance of a flush.A straight was still possible, using the ten, eight, and seven, but Balot didn't know what the odds wereof that happening.The second round of betting started with the blinds: the cowboy put in thirty dollars, which the Doctorcalled, as did Balot on Oeufcoque's instructions.At this point the old gentleman folded, placing his cards facedown on the table.The suit, on the other hand, called, and then raised by another thirty. No one folded, and by the timethey were back at the suit, the pot had swollen from its original $280 to $520. Balot suddenly thought ofwhat she would have had to do in her previous line of work in order to make that much money. Thethought made her sick.She knew that she would struggle to walk away from the hand now. She didn't want to know whatOeufcoque had planned.It seemed that Oeufcoque was ruminating deeply. As to the identity of the mechanic. She realized thathe might not even be bothered by the actual outcome of this hand.The third round commenced.The dealer discarded the burn card again, then revealed the fourth community card.The turn card, it was called, the penultimate community card. It was J . Balot jumped unconsciously.She now had the jack, ten, eight, and seven; if the next card was a nine she'd have a straight.She sensed that Oeufcoque was working out the next card using something beyond human perception.If not, and he was just forcing her to call regardless, he was a rank amateur.Or was he just trying to get her to act as if she was?The cowboy started off with a thirty-dollar bet, which the Doctor called.Raise by sixty dollars.The words floated up on her handshe could feel them clearly, but still she had to check a number oftimes to convince herself that this was right.I'll call the thirty dollars and raise an additional sixty, please.She placed the chips down. Balot now had a total of $210 riding on this hand.She saw visions of all her winnings from the slot machines disappearing in an instant, and she felt apang of fear.The suit called her sixty and raised another sixty. The cowboy called, and the Doctor did the same. Itwas Balot's turn again.Raise by sixty.This was the instruction she was given. It was do or die. She had no idea why she had to go in sostrong in the very first hand. Balot called the sixty raised by the suit. Then she raised herself, bringing hertotal contribution to the pot to $330.The suit showed not a moment's hesitation. Indeed, he went on to re-raise himself.The cowboy calledand, incredibly, raised again.At this point the Doctor checked. A special move permitted from the third round of betting onward inwhich the player chooses to stay in the game without betting any more money at this stage. Balot becameacutely aware that it was up to her now, and when the instruction came from Oeufcoque to call sheactually felt relieved. She'd been worried he was going to make her raise again. She paid the $120 tomatch the suit and the cowboy, making her total outlay to this point $450.The suit called, and just when it seemed that betting for this round was over,Raise. It was the suit again. Returning fire, thorough and ruthless.Call.So came Oeufcoque's orders. The cowboy called, as did Balot. $510, now.The Doctor, however, folded, laying his cards on the table. Ho hum, he grumbled. But Balot was theone who sighed.After the suit called again, the cowboy called too. Moreover, Raise, sixty dollars, he added.Oeufcoque was telling her to call again. She obeyed. She was now up to $570.The suit called, and finally the round was over. There was nearly two thousand dollars in the pot.This stupid sumof money was about to flutter away like a paper plane.The old gentleman and the potbelly, though both out of the hand, were watching the progress with deepinterest.The dealer discarded the burn card for the third time this hand, then revealed the river card, the fifthand final community card.They were in the final round of betting.Balot looked at it without thinking, and it was all she could do not to reveal her disappointment.The card was 7 . She'd come this far, and in the end all she was left with was a pair of sevens. Orwere the suit and cowboy both bluffing too, and did she have enough to beat them even with her weakhand?Oeufcoque should be able to snif out their bluf ing in an instant, surelyRight now, though, the cowboy was leisurely increasing his bet.Call.Following Oeufcoque's instructions, Balot threw another sixty in, trying to appear as disinterested aspossible.I'll see your sixty dollars and raise another sixty, said the suit, and the cowboy called and re-raised.CallBalot stuck in another $120 to call, but then she realized Oeufcoque's instruction was not yetcomplete, and he was finishing it now:Callthen raise sixty dollars.Balot's stomach was churning, but she knew that she had to go along unquestioningly or else shewould arouse the suspicion of those around her. Furrowing her brow without even realizing it, Balotraised again. An outlay of $180.The suit glanced at Balot. Call, and raise sixty dollars, he said calmly, laying his chips on the table.Teeth bared, the cowboy called and then raised again.Oeufcoque's next instruction was abrupt.Fold.Balot's handalready holding the chips required to callstopped suddenly. This was nonsense.Completely at odds with what she'd been doing up till now. I could at least check for now, she thought,knowing that it wouldn't have cost her any more to stay in the game for the time being. But, with thegreatest of reluctance, she laid her cards down on the table.Fold.A broad smirk broke out across the cowboy's face. A most disagreeable smile, as if he were coercingsomeone to do something against their will. Then he turned to square off against the suit.The suit, on the other hand, called with a breezy tone and raised again. The cowboy growled, calledfor the last time, and then the betting was over and it was time for the showdown.The suit was the last to raise, and he revealed his hand first.K and 2 . Two pairs, kings over deuces. There was no bluffing involved with this hand. Had eitherthe turn or the river card revealed a king or a deuce, he would have had a nearly unbeatable full house.Whoa, the cowboy exclaimed. He threw his cards down, revealing his hand.K and 8 . The same handtwo pairsbut his was higher. The cowboy reached out and dragged thepot toward himself. Like a dog at dinnertime.The dealer was just starting to collect all the cards when the Doctor tapped Balot on her shoulder.So, what sort of hand did you have, then? he asked her, loudly.An unthinkable question under normal circumstances. And it was the Doctor himself who hadimpressed upon her in training that there was nothing that gave your opponents the upper hand more thanrevealing your cards unnecessarilythey'd learn to read you like a book. Yet here the Doctor was,brushing Balot's hand away as she tried to protect the cards fromhis reach. He flipped themboth over forall to see.Ah, I see what you were doing. Going for the straight, eh? A little too ambitious with a hand like this,though. You really should have folded at the start, you know.He didn't really need to tell her this, of course, and she shrank up into a ball.On the other side of the table the cowboy burst out laughing. His mood couldn't have been better.Nor did the other players make a secret of the fact that they were digesting Balot's hand and itsimplications. The full extent of her inexperience and lack of skill was now clear for all to see.You know, it's a real shameif only I'd been as bold as you the Doctor continued, flipping overhis own hand just before the dealer got to it.2 and 2 . Three of a kind! The cowboy's eyes widened, and the other players looked on, the sceneclearly making a great impression on them.Rockthe name given to the type of player who bets prudently, even on a strong hand. In this instance,the description fit the Doctor perfectly. But wasn't it the Doctor himself who had taught her that excessivecaution could be just as much a cause of defeat as recklessness? The other players surely now saw him asa godsend of an opponent, just like Balot, but for entirely different reasons. Balot was about to forgetherself and say something to him, but then the Doctor winked. Quickly and discreetly, so that no one elsewould have noticed. Balot understood that his actions weren't entirely without cause.Balot made a sulky face as they proceeded on to the next game.Part of her was acting, of course, on cue. But there was another part of her that really was sulking.Oeufcoque and the Doctor were still aiming to winthey just hadn't shared any information with her as tohow they planned to go about doing so.The card shoe containing a new deck was brought forward, and the second hand had begun.Balot's hand was Q and 8 .The dealer's button had moved round, and the Doctor was now the blind better.The first bet was ten dollars. Balot quickly raised, as she had to, and the calls went round the table.The cowboy seemed to have acquired a taste for winninghe was the only one to raise, anywayandthe potbelly folded from the outset, just as in the previous hand. The calls finished, and the three flopcards were turned over.5 , 8 , Q . There was another round of calling and raising, and the suit, seemingly tired out by beingpushed to the wire on the previous hand, folded.They moved into the third round of betting, and the turn card was revealed.It was K . Balot's heart skipped a beat. She realized that she had the chance of making a club flush,even if she might be hoping against hope at this late stage in the game.Even if she didn't make it, she would still be left with two pairs, queens over eights. She thought aboutthe eight hundred she had just lost and realized that this was her chance to turn things around.Fold.Such was the instruction she eventually received, but only after the old gentleman raised after her calland the cowboy's raise Disappointed, Balot placed her cards down. The writing in the palm of herhand subsided, and the active players finished their calls, moving the hand on to the final round.The fifth card, the river, was A . Balot was thrown into deep confusion.The flush was now complete. Including the money she'd lost on this hand, she was now down by wellover a thousand dollars. The only explanation she could think of was that she was somehow supposed tobe playing in a nonsensical manner.And, sure enough, that was the case.The Doctor ended up folding in the final round, leaving the cowboy and the old gentleman to fight itout.The old gentleman raised, and the cowboy saw and raised him. This process repeated a number oftimes.The cowboy was now well into the game, totally absorbed, passionate.The old man, on the other hand, remained composed, lining up his chips in an orderly fashion.The betting came to a close. Showdown, and the old gentleman led by revealing K and K . Three of akind. A strong enough hand in Hold'em.Snapthe cowboy suddenly flung his cards to the table with a flourish.At first Balot thought that he must have thrown his cards down out of frustration that he had just lost,but she was wrong.Teeth bared, the cowboy laughed coarsely and declared his hand.A and A that was what was in the hole for him. Three of a kind, aces. The cowboy had won. Thispushed the cowboy's winnings to just shy of four thousand dollars.Balot could no longer see the cowboy as anything other than the mechanic.How are the Doctor and Oeufcoque planning on beating him? she wondered.The next hand commenced. We'll get him this time, she hoped.Balot was dealt 6 and 3 . The dealer's button was in front of the Doctor now.Balot made her blind bet without a moment's delay. Yet again the potbelly folded in the first round.The cowboy raised, and everyone else called, and the first round was over.The flop was dealt to the center of the table and turned over one by one.10 , 5 , and 4 .It was hard for Balot to contain her excitement. She now had six-five-four-three, and all she neededwas a two or a seven to make her straightor she could use the 5 to aimfor a flush.Fold.The instruction came just as she was about to bet. Unbelievable. Oeufcoque's order directlycontradicted every natural impulse Balot felt. She closed her eyes and placed her cards down on thetable.Why?She spoke directly to Oeufcoque now. Folding at this point meant that all she could do for the rest ofthe hand was watch the other players as the hand progressed.I've worked it all out.This was Oeufcoque's answer.You've worked out who the mechanic is?I've worked out everything.Balot frowned.You mean that the man who's winning is the mechanic? she asked, as if to say I've worked thatmuch out for myself.But Oeufcoque's answer couldn't have been more different.The man to the far right and the man on the end at the left are partners in crime.Balot was amazed. He was talking about the suit and the potbelly.As they talked, snarcing to each other, play had progressed to the third round.The turn card was J . Balot and the potbelly were out, so it was between the other four now.Looks like clubs are a lucky suit for you.Not that Balot was remotely interested. It was Oeufcoque who'd squashed her two chances for a flush,after all.More importantly, won't you tell me how you know? Why do you say those two are themechanics?I can tell by their odor and their actions.Even though they're losing?There's not much mileage in winning from the outset. The best way to make money is to letsomeone start winning, hook him, then take it all back and more. That's what these three seem to thinkanyway.Three?The dealer is in on the action too.Before she could stop herself, Balot had glanced at the dealer. He was just in the process of dealingthe river card for the last round. It was A . She didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved; thecard meant that she would have had neither a straight nor a flush.So the cowboyisn't a mechanic?No. He's a rabbit in the headlights, just waiting to be mowed down. You just watchhe's about tostart losing heavily.Oeufcoque's blunt words seemed to put Balot in a slightly better mood, and she asked him anotherquestion.How can you tell when people are cheating?I'll show you, but you have to act nonchalant. The suit is going to win this hand.Balot looked at the suit. He had a poker face onthe termcould have been coined for him.The old gentleman raised, and the suit called and re-raised. The cowboy went red in the face andcalled, and the Doctor looked toward Balot as he called too.So, do you think you're starting to get the hang of it? The important thing is to get used to theambience. The Doctor spoke to her as if he were some sort of great authority, and everyone else aroundthe table listened.Balot, though, was the only one who understood the subtextwhat he really meant by this.Yes, I think I'm starting to get it. What about you, Uncle? I hope you win this hand!She was growing into her role.The pile of chips are ordered in such a way to show what numbers he has.Oeufcoque explained. He was referring to the first pile of chips that the suit had used in order to call.And, indeed, the numerals on the chips ran parallel to the white lines on the table.The man on the far left is holding a chip between the middle finger and ring finger of his lefthand.The potbelly was indeed doing that.The man in the suit is the designated winner of this handhe has three aces. The Doctor has twopairs, fives over fours. The cowboy next to the Doctor has three jacks. And the old man next to you hastwo pairs, tens over fours.How can you possibly know all this?It was hard to believe. Reading emotions through odor was one thing, but surely there was no way hecould accurately work out what every card was?The man on the far left is exchanging information with the dealer and the man wearing the suit. Ijust picked up on that. As for the rest, I just observed for a while, and I can tell how certain peoplestart to smell when they get dealt a certain hand.Balot found herself growing more and more impressed as Oeufcoque's words appeared on her hand.The man on the left is broadcasting who has what pairs in relation to the community cards. He'susing the position of the chip in his right hand to show the others the strongest hand among us marks.The shape and posture of his left hand is showing them what the other people have, and whether thedealer is able to deal the man in the suit a stronger hand or not. The man in the suit placed his chipsthe way he did to signal for the river card to be an ace.Theycan manipulate the cards that are dealt too?They have certain cards concealed in the card shoe. Marked cards. The sort you can identify bytoucha funny shaped corner, or one card slightly bigger than the others. They don't need to markevery single one; as long as they have a couple of high cards such as aces and kings, and know whichsuit is which, they have an overwhelming advantage.Balot noticed that the dealer's hands did indeed brush against the cards in the card shoe now and then.The move was disguised so that it looked entirely natural, but she could see that he was definitely feelingthe shape of the cards.The sneaks!Looks like the mechanics are about to win.The old gentleman folded, and the Doctor folded too.The cowboy raised and raised again, through gritted teeth that ground together so noisily that Balotthought they might crumble to bits. She almost felt sorry for him, the sitting duck that the mechanics werepreparing to pluck and roast.The betting was finally over, and the cowboy revealed his hand with vigor. Three jacks. Just asOeufcoque had predicted.The cowboy's manner seemed to suggest that it was a close call but he felt he had a good chance ofvictory.But that was what good cheating was all aboutmaking the mark feel he has a chance when in realityhe has none.The suit revealed his hand. The cowboy recoiled.Three aces. It was just like the previous hand, except the shoe was now on the other foot.Balot watched the chips flow over to the suit, and at last she realized what was happening. Youneeded bait to catch a sucker, and what better bait than another sucker? They let the cowboy win at first,then just as he started getting into the mood they would take it all back from him and then some, all thewhile keeping alive the flame of false hope that he might still have a chance.The suit won the next hand too. After that the old gentleman won, then the cowboy, then back to thesuit.As far as Balot and the Doctor were concerned, money was only flowing one way. They gave aconvincing impression of a pair who were delighted just to be there and happy to pay for the privilege ofbeing allowed to participate.The mechanics weren't slow to recognize this. In other words, they made sure that Balot and theDoctor had good cards, or at least good enough to dangle a glimmer of false hope before them beforepulling it away at the last minuteuntil the next hand.The second round of betting had just begun when Oeufcoque suddenly asked Balot a question.Do you think you could snarc one of the overhead cameras?Probably, yes.Try shifting the camera that's watching over your hand.Balot did so. She sensed the security cameras on the ceiling without so much as a glance in theirdirection.There were three cameras pointed at the table. Not that they were particularly paying attention to it atthe present timethey were simply three of the many that scanned the room, and they happened to monitorBalot's table.Balot snarced the three cameras ever so slightly, causing them to shift just a few millimeters. Thesecurity systems on the cameras themselves were fairly easy to crackafter all, it wasn't as though thecustomers were likely to climb up to the ceiling and adjust them individually. Balot did adjust them, sothat there was now a small blind spot that happened to be just about where she was sitting.Balot's cards at the time were K and 8 .The flop was 10 , 6 and J .See if you can tune into everyone's breathing patterns.Balot obeyed, honing in on the breathing rhythms of everyone at the table, including the dealer. Theybreathed in, then out. In again, then out again.There wasn't a single one of themwho could survive without breathing, after all.The cowboy's breathing was the roughest. His breaths were centered around the area from his chest tohis shoulders. The old gentleman's exhalations came from below his belly. The dealer, the othermechanics, and the Doctor all breathed fromthe area between their chest and their belly.Their breathing changed as the game progressed, and in particular all of them began breathing heavilywhen it came time to call.Aim to call your hand at the precise moment everyone has fully exhaled.Balot followed Oeufcoque's orders obediently, and she fell into a new pattern of play, almost withoutmeaning to.Try and relax, go with the flow.The moment Oeufcoque said this, Balot's right hand moved suddenly, of its own accord. This was theinstant that everyone at the table had just finished exhaling. Balot found that she had exchanged one of hercards with one of the Doctor's cards that he had just laid down on the table after folding in the first round.You see, the instant between exhaling and starting a new breath is the moment a person's guard isat its lowest.Balot's cards were now K and Q . Nobody had noticed.Looks like clubs really are your lucky suit.Oeufcoque's words were simultaneously an observation and a prediction.The third round of betting began. The Doctor and the potbelly had both already folded, so it was now afour-horse race. The turn card was J . This made a pair with the jack in the flop, so anyone who had threeof a kind on another number would automatically end up with a near-unbeatable full house. The hand nowcame down to a battle of wits as each attempted to guess whether the other players were nearly there,already there, or just bluffing.The old gentleman raised, and the suit called. The cowboy called and raised again.Raise to the limit.Balot entered her money to call, then raised a further $120. The calls went round the table, the cowboyraising and Balot re-raising. By the end, the pot contained over two thousand dollars.The calls finished, and with themthe third round of betting.Balot couldn't stop her chest fromthrobbing.The dealer put his hand to the card shoe.The fact that his eyes glanced at the hand signals of the man on the far left didn't escape Balot.The river card was flipped over.A .Incredibleand for a moment, Balot really couldn't believe it.That's what I thoughtI figured our chances were about one in four for this one , Oeufcoquewhispered to Balot as she continued to raise the stakes throughout the round.It's a peculiarly human characteristic to be biased toward a certain suit or number, to give of aparticular smell whenever confronted with it. The man on the far right gives of relief whenever aspade is dealt, for example. The others, too, give of distinctive odors whenever they see a certain suit.It seems that clubs aren't very popular at this table.Is that whyso many are coming to me? I'm getting everyone's leftovers?I suppose you could call it the inevitable surplus, yes. But, you know, this is what many peoplewould call luck, or destiny.Oeufcoque was as wishy-washy as ever.The old gentleman folded. Just the suit and the cowboy left to beat.They both raised to the end, as did Balot.The cowboy was the first to show his hand.6 and J . Full house. The gloating grin that covered his entire face contrasted sharply with the curtsmile of the suit.The suit then opened his hands to reveal his hand: A and A . A full house, aces over jacks. Virtuallyunbeatable. To do so would require a now-impossible full house of aces over kings or queens, anincredibly rare four of a kind, or an even rarer straight flush or a royal straight flush. And four of a kindwas also impossible at this point in the hand, the cowboy having played the third jack. All that was leftwas the infinitesimally small chance of a straight flush or a royal straight flush.So everyone was confident that the suit would now win.The cowboy gritted his teeth, rolled his eyes, and watched as the suit leaned over to claimhis chips.I do believe I've won, Balot said aloud. Nobody quite seemed to understand her at first. A secondlater, the old gentleman sitting next to her let out a loud cry. All eyes were now on Balot, and all weresilent.K and Q .The suit, the potbelly, and the dealer were all horrified.The king and queen of clubs, joined by the jack, ten, and ace.The hand so rare that it could, for all intents and purposes, be discounted for normal playing purposes.The odds against it were roughly 65,000 to one. A royal straight flush.I have won, haven't I?Balot appeared uncomfortable under everyone's gaze. She looked as if she were worried that shemight have gotten it wrong and was visibly relieved when the dealer nodded in affirmation.Suddenly there was a burst of excitement all around. Passersby were stopping to gawk at Balot's hand.Balot started raking in the mountain of chipsover three thousand dollars totalwhen the dealeradded a number of thousand-dollar chips to the pile, along with some sort of certificate. It seemed that thehouse provided a special prize to anyone who made a royal straight flush. On top of the bonus cash was afree night in the suite of the casino's sister hotel, a number of tokens to exchange for prizes at reception,and instructions on how to arrange for the commemorative photograph at the table.The dealer seemed calmand composed enough, but Oeufcoque had different ideas.He smells of anger and fear.The table had originally been selected by the Doctor after he had carefully scrutinized the casinorecords. He chose it because its patterns diverged slightly from the house average. Not quite enough todraw the suspicion of the houseyetbut any further deviations from the norm would be likely to resultin a lot of interest in the dealer's actions.And it wasn't only the winners who caused the averages to go askew.When a plan to swindle marks goes bad, it can go really badand that was when the most extremeoutcomes emerged.They'll probably start to get serious about now. And that's when we go in for the kill. Cheatershave it tough in legal casinos, in a very dif erent way from illegal ones.Balot felt Oeufcoque's explanation in the palmof her hand.Legal casinos consider cheats to be the worst hazard there isthey're bad for business, and theyinterfere with the family-friendly image that the casinos try so hard to cultivate. A cheat who is caughtfaces immediate expulsion, a permanent ban from all casinos, and he'll never be able to work in thegaming industry ever again. He won't even be allowed to own shares in a casino or take a backroomrole. He'll be out, thoroughly and with absolute finality.This was why the dealer and the other mechanics now had to try and bring the table back towardaverage. Their livelihoods, if not their lives, were at stake. If you pricked them, would they not bleed?The answer was: most definitely.I'm sure the mechanics have been moving from table to table, using their same tricks every time.But if we can wrong-foot just one of themwell, catch one, catch all.The dealer's actions and his shifty, sharp eye movements seemed to confirmOeufcoque's every word.The dealer dealt the next hand, and as Balot picked up her cards she noticed a number of thingslooking toward her that hadn't been there a minute ago. More overhead cameras, responding incrediblyquickly to recent developments at the table.The cameras were focused in on all the people at the table except for Balot.The casino, after all, could draw on their records to note how much Balot had lost at the table up tothis point. A duty manager was far more likely to conclude that a cheating maneuver from someone elsehad somehow backfired, rather than assume that Balot had anything to do with the cheating herself.The mechanics and the dealer understood this fact all too well, and this only contributed to the intensepressure they were now under.And yet they needed to continue cheating in order to try and bring the table back toward some sort ofaverage. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.Balot's cards were 2 and 4 .That's their game, then. No more high cards for usthey'll be keeping the aces and kings tothemselves from now on.What should we do?Raise them.Balot did so. In the first round she acted assertively, raising and re-raising when she had the chance.She was just as forceful in the second round.She felt the dealer and the two other mechanics give a collective sigh of relief. They seemed tobelieve that she had fallen for their plan, and now she was betting indiscriminately on a weak hand.This would make it easier for them to bring things back toward an average pattern of play, or so theyhoped. Even the potbelly was raising now, as if to acknowledge that this round was their opportunity toput everything right in one fell swoop.No one folded, and they moved into the second round of betting.The flop cards were 5 , K , K .There were a number of rounds of calls and raises, during which the old gentleman folded.The cameras.Balot knew what Oeufcoque meant and followed his orders automatically. She snarced the cameras,moving them by a couple of millimeters so that none of them were focused directly on her, deliberately ornot. Then her gloves squished, swallowing one of her cards and spitting out another in a split second,without anyone noticing. Her cards were now 2 and 3 .They moved into the third round.The moment the turn card was revealed, the cowboy folded with a sigh. It was 4 . The potbelly raisedcautiously, the Doctor met this and raised him back, and Balot and the suit both called. They went aroundthe table a number of times, each performing the same set of actions.After the raises and re-raises were finished they moved into the fourth round.The river card was A .It was just like the last hand. Balot did wonder whether they might not be pushing her luck, but:I know for a fact that nobody has the real 3 in their hand. Relax.So she did, silently obeying Oeufcoque's instructions, calling when necessary. They were fighting firewith fire, and with Oeufcoque on her side Balot knew she had more or less won before the game had evenstarted.Eventually the Doctor folded and the potbelly too, sensing that his task of raising the stakes had beenaccomplished. The suit raised, and Balot called without a second thought. The suit looked troubled for amoment, unnerved by her confidence. But he couldn't retreat at this point. There was no retreat.The suit revealed his hand. His cards were an extremely impressive A and K .A full house, aces over kings. Surely an unbeatable hand.I think I've won.The suit's hands were already reaching for the pile of chips when Balot interrupted.His hands stopped deadly still, and the only sound was the cowboy roaring as he clocked Balot'scards.The suit withdrew his hands from the pile of chips and, with the dealer, looked on in horror at Balot'shand.I have the ace, two, three, four, and five of clubs.Not royal, but a full-on straight flush nonetheless.One of the very few hands in the game that beats a full house of aces over kings.The mechanics blanched, and even the cowboy and the old gentleman were stopped still in theirtracks. The Doctor was the Doctor, and played his part of the overenthusiastic country bumpkin withrelish.Balot proceeded to rake in her winnings. Oeufcoque nimbly changed her altered card back to normal,and the cards were returned facedown. Ever the professional, the dealer returned the cards to the cuttingmachine and opened a new deck, but even as he did so his eyes flitted to the other two mechanics.And so it beginsthe seeds of doubt have been planted, and they're about to reap what they'vesown.Oeufcoque explained that it was only natural for the dealer to assume now that the two othermechanics were taking advantage of him, cutting him out and somehow using Balot to defraud the casino.At the same time, from the perspective of the two mechanics who were playing, it looked like the dealerwas deliberately manipulating the cards in order to sting themand drive themfromthe table and out of thecasino so that he could keep all their ill-gotten gains for himself.Let's have the Doctor win a round now.Balot knew her cue when she heard it and gave a cue of her own in turn.You need to show a bit more courage, Uncleyou'll never win anything unless you keep bettinglots right to the end of the hand.She had her impression of the eager niece down to a teehow could anyone imagine in a millionyears that she had just given the Doctor his cue to bet heavily on his next hand?You're right! Well, it seems to be working for you, so let's see if I can ride your coattails. TheDoctor understood her perfectly.The game commenced, mutual suspicion swirling around the three mechanics.Balot's cards were 8 and 7 .The flop was K , 8 , and A , and the suit was the blind better.There were a number of raises and calls. The cowboy, evidently shocked back into a measure of coolheadednessby the two straight flushes on the trot, folded without a second's hesitation.The potbelly, on the other hand, was doing everything he could to catch the dealer's eye to try andcommunicate his intentions.Look, the dealer's started cheating, so he's committedmight as well be hung for a sheep as alamb. You'll see he gets increasingly bolder now.And, sure enough, Balot clearly caught the dealer as he dealt a card from the bottom of the deck in thecard shoe.The turn card was 8 .Amid the melee the potbelly folded, followed by the old gentleman.They moved on into the final round, and the river card was revealed. At the very same instant Balotinterfered with the overhead cameras again, snarcing them, and Oeufcoque pounced. In a movement thatwas too fast for human eyes to pick up on, he switched one of the Doctor's cards, then:Time to fold.The river card was A .The suit raised, and the Doctor raised again, and at this point Balot folded. The dealer and the twomechanics seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.Then the betting was over, and the hands were revealed.The suit had A and K . Another full house. The best full house there was, twice, back to back. Eventhe cowboy seemed suspicious.But all that was put aside in the next moment. The Doctor paused for a beat, then said, Hmm, lookslike I might have won.The suit had his hands over the chips again, but all the strength seemed to flow from his body when heheard the Doctor's words, and he almost swooned as he turned to look at the bad news.8 and 8 .If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and if you can't join 'em, beat 'em. There was no way the Doctorcould have had a better full house, so he had gone one betterfour of a kind.Their system is quite a simple one, really, and it's just based around getting high-scoring fullhouses. They haven't really planned ahead as far as being able to deal with hands such as a low fourof a kind or straight flushes.Oeufcoque had nailed it. Fromthat moment on, either the potbelly or the suit always seemed to turn outa full house of one shape or another. No thought for averages or odds. Caution was thrown to the wind,prudence out the window.The cowboy went into a sulk, throwing chip after chip at the table. And it only took another handbefore the old gentleman reached his limit; the old man silently stood up and walked away fromthe table.Neither the dealer nor the two other mechanics had any idea what was going on. They grew impatientand frustrated, and were exactly where Oeufcoque wanted them, dancing to his tune.They had been doomed to failure from the beginning. However good a poker face was, there was nohuman being on this planet who could control their body odor at will. Oeufcoque read their emotionsprecisely and to the most minute of details, and Balot almost started feeling sorry for the mechanics, astheir very essence seemed to be, layer by layer, exposed raw.The cowboy's chips ran out mid-hand, and as he was now all in, a second pot was created inaccordance with the tap-out rules. In the end, he lost.The cowboy left the table, spitting in disgust, and it was all the mechanics could do to watch himas hedisappeared.Other customers milled around the area, but none of them came near the table directlythere was ageneral sense that all was not quite right with the table. So now it was just Balot, the Doctor, and the threecheats.Before long, though, the dealer stopped paying any attention to the other two mechanics. And soonenough, one of the remaining mechanics slipped up with a hand signalor was it the other one whomisread it?and the trust between them completely broke down. All three mechanics were fit to burst.Oeufcoque noted everything, sliced away at their innermost feelings, and ruthlessly took their chips.It wasn't long before the potbelly was out of chips. He rose up and left the gaming table without aword.The suit watched him go before getting up himself, his handful of remaining chips clenched tightly inhis hands. He looked as if he could murder the dealer, but in the end stormed off in the opposite directionof the potbelly.Well, welldidn't that game turn out all fine and dandy? the Doctor roared.The dealer just about managed a smile, though it took his every last remaining drop of self-restraint todo so. When the Doctor rose and turned his back to leave, the dealer's eyes went black immediately.It's the first time I've ever seen anyone who looks as if they could bite another person's head of ,thought Balot.For, at that precise moment, this was indeed how the dealer looked.04Truly marvelous! bellowed the Doctor.They were at the baccarat table. The high rollers' corner. Men puffing on cigars, women sportingjewels and low-cut dresses, all in thrall to the mountainous piles of high-value chips.Why did we win? The other side had a higher hand than ours.The Doctor answered Balot's question as he was raking in the pile of his winnings. The side whosehand adds up to the number closest to nine wins. The player side only had a four so was obliged to drawanother card, which turned out to be a six.But four and six make tenthat's closer to nine than you were!A hand that adds up to ten is called baccarat and equals zero in this gameit's the worst handpossible.Balot nodded vaguely. Baccarat wasn't one of her designated games, and the rules were now only afaint memory. She was standing right behind the Doctor now, left hand on his shoulder. Her knavish lefthand. Oeufcoque could read almost any game in progress and pass the message on through Balot's lefthand to the Doctorthis was the setup.Baccarat was supposed to be a game of pure chance; participants would bet on the player or bankerside, trying to guess which one would draw closer to nine. But, of course, once Oeufcoque entered thegame the rules went out the window.He was able to sniff out the people who drew on the player side or the banker side, and use this towork out roughly what cards they had drawn, what numbers they had seen, and what sort of plan theywere hatching.The Doctor had completely grasped every little habit and tell of every player at the table, and said toBalot, Here you gosome of the winnings. Go have some fun. He passed a whole basket of chips overto Balot.This was a cue to say that he no longer needed Oeufcoque's help and could manage perfectly on hisown now. Balot was impressed as ever by the Doctor's superhuman memory and observational skills, butshe couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that she would be walking away from this game withoutreally getting it, without understanding why it was supposed to be so absorbing.I'll be at the place you told me, so come and find me if you start losing.She tapped the Doctor's shoulder as she left. What she really meant, of course, was that he shouldcome and find her if he needed Oeufcoque's help again, but the Doctor just smiled back at her to showthat he was invincible.We've already reached the figure we need for now. We need to consider the casino as a wholewhen we make our next move. If we throw one particular game too far out of kilter we'll attractsuspicion. So let's not get carried awayyou're not here to enjoy yourself.Oeufcoque seemed to be able to read Balot's thoughts as perceptively as ever, and he communicatedthis lecture through her left hand again.Taking her cue, Balot reluctantly left the table. She was playing out a common scene at the high stakestables. The punter gets drawn in completely, and he throws the woman on his arm a few chips in order toget her out of his hair, telling her to go and kill some time elsewhere.Balot watched the game from farther back for a while, but it wasn't nearly as much fun. She felt like aleft-out child, and before long she wandered off aimlessly. This was the act that she was meant to playalthough she did genuinely feel it too. In spite of the barely concealed enthusiasm of the players at thetable, she hardly felt interested in the game at alland it was this more than anything else that made herfeel the most disappointed.It may well have been a deliberate ploy of the casino to make her feel like this, of course. No oneliked to feel left out, and she'd be back before long.Balot walked past the tables and into another room. Before she knew it she was in more plushsurroundings with the games around her more expensive. No expense seemed to be spared on thefurnishings or the dealers' outfits, and Balot had the distinct feeling that she was now moving closer to theheart of the casino.She was aiming for the area where the roulette tables were. Men and women of all ages were millingabout, the balls chasing the numbers as they spun around. Balot realized that this was ither firstopportunity to fly solo.The Doctor believed that with Balot's and Oeufcoque's abilities combined, roulette would be the bestway to win a large sum of money directly from the casino; it was a game of chance, and no one coulddispute the result.Balot ran through the rules again in her head and started looking for a table when a message appearedin her left hand:Sit at table number seven.It looked like Oeufcoque was onto something. Balot proceeded to the table and took a seat near thedealer. The Doctor had advised her that the closer she was to the roulette wheel, the more likely it wasshe could use her abilities effectively.We're going to win the first spin. They'll make sure of that.The previous writing on her hand had disappeared to be replaced by a declaration of victory.Balot passed her chips over to a dealer, who exchanged themfor roulette chips.Balot would be betting with red hundred-dollar chips.There were three dealers in all. One in charge of the wheel, the other two responsible for exchangingchips, cashing themin, and paying out winnings.The crowd around this particular table was much sparser than the others, and Balot was the only oneat the table. The dealer who exchanged Balot's chips did so solely for Balot.There had probably just been a big match here, and the crowd must have dispersed the moment thehigh rollers left the table. Or perhaps the table had been reserved for an entire party who had recently leften masse. Either way, Oeufcoque had managed to sniff out a situation that was potentially very much totheir advantage.Where should I place my bet?Wherever you like.Such was Oeufcoque's reply.Balot glanced at the dealer. The dealer in charge of the ball.Balot was surprised to see that she was an older woman. An elegant, beautiful lady. She must havebeen at least sixty years old, but she stood tall, back straight, and her eyes were a keen blue. She wore astrong, calm expression. The casino had its fair share of female dealers, but she must have been theoldest.She's so cool.Balot was looking down at the roulette layout now but couldn't help herself from sharing her feelingswith Oeufcoque.According to our data her name is Bell Wing. One of the leading croupiers in the casino world.Croupiers?It's what they call dealers whose job it is to place the ball into the roulette wheel as it turns.Even cooler, Balot thought, still looking over the layout.The green felt in front of her had printed on it the numbers 0, 00, and 1 to 36 in alternating black andred squares, in addition to a number of squares to denote the outside bets.To one side of the wheel was an electronic scoreboard showing all the numbers that had come upduring the last twenty minutes. A form guide. One of the enjoyments in roulette was to try and work outany biases that emerged either in the wheel or due to the way the croupier threw in the ball.Balot looked at the scoreboard. The last five spins were 14 red, 0 red, 17 black, 30 red, and 23 red.Having glanced at it, she placed a chip on the layout in the space for 2 black. She then threw another oneinto the mix, which she placed on 14 red.The old lady, the croupier, took a look at Balot's chips.She hadn't expected Balot to dive straight in and bet on single numbers, it seemed, and she waited amoment before carefully placing her hand on the roulette wheel.Starting, the old lady called in a low, steady voice.She gripped the handle of the wheel with her left hand and spun it around with a deft movement. Ithardly looked like she had put any effort into it at all. At the very same time she threw the ball smoothly inwith her right hand. The wheel spun to the right, and the ball spun around within the bowl, traveling in theopposite direction. The numbers flew past in a dizzy whirl, and the ball seemed to slide gracefully againstthem, the two opposing movements creating a beautiful spiral effect.Balot thought she might put another chip somewhere on the layout but suddenly stopped herself,transfixed by the rotations.No more bets, the old lady called out, preventing any additional bets on this spin.Chip gripped tightly in her hand, Balot followed the ball with her eyes.The ball and the wheel seemed to be drawing closer together. Or so she thought, but then the ballricocheted off one of the eight metal pins that were placed inside the wheel, sending the ball off in aseemingly random direction. It continued on into the wheel just as its rotations were slowing down, andthe ball slipped into one of the pockets with apparent ease.The spinning wheel slowed down again. The numbers were much clearer now, and it was possible tosee exactly where the ball had landed.Two black, called the old lady. Then the hand that had just smoothly spun the ball was on the table,placing a weighted crystal on the layout over the number that had just won.Balot was surprised to see the speed with which the other dealers moved to prepare and distribute herwinnings.It was as Oeufcoque had saidshe won the first round. They made sure of that.The croupier had seen the number and placed the ball there with astonishing accuracy. Balot had heardstories of such skill but never believed them until just now, having seen it with her own eyes. Anincredible display of ability.Or it could just have been coincidence. The electronic scoreboard suggested that this was indeed apossibility. It wasn't as if the numbers of the roulette wheel were neatly lined up from 1 to 36. Rather,they were arranged in a seemingly randompattern: 14, 2, 0, 28, 9, 26, 30. Looking at the results of the lastfive spins, it was possible to detect something of a pattern emerging.Whether it was due to a biased wheel or some habit of the croupier was hard to tell, but consideringthat the odds were thirty-six to one normally, it didn't seem beyond the bounds of possibility that she hadwon legitimately.Or was it all calculated, part of an act to draw the punter in ever more deeply? Judging by the featuresof the croupier in charge, it was hard to discount this possibility. She looked every inch the master of hercraft.Congratulations, madam. One of the other dealers pushed a mountain of chips toward her. Thirtyfivetimes her original stake. Flustered, Balot offered the chip that was her original stake to the dealer.Not to gamble withas a tip.Gosh, what a surprise.Balot said to Oeufcoque, furtively.It felt like someone set you up to win. Probably a trick to draw the crowds in.Oeufcoque's words backed up Balot's existing suspicions.Before she realized it, there were people gathering at the table. Thirty-five to one was the best payoutthere was in rouletteit was the rarest and therefore always interesting. Equally noteworthy were thefigures displayed on the electronic scoreboard beside the roulette wheel. Anyone in the know would soonrealize that the numbers revealed the distinct possibility of a biased wheeland this could be exploited.Would the ball continue to fall in the same area, or would the pattern be interrupted? This was thequestion, and one that countless keen eyes were now watching to see if they could have answered. It waswhat made gambling exciting.One by one the chairs at the table filled up, and there were other people who placed their bets whileremaining standing. Some placed their own bets on the layout, others called out to the dealers to havethem place chips on their behalf. Before long the table was a kaleidoscope of colored chips. Roulettefever had taken hold.There are body odors everywhereit's all one big mess!Oeufcoque wrote on her hand as normal, but she felt as if he were wailing in despair.Let's head over to another table. We've got what we wanted, and the croupier has what shewanted.Wait.Balot held himback.I want to play here again. Please?Balot already had chips in her hand even as she snarced him.There's no guarantee you'll win again. The croupier had a strange, capricious smell about her.I want to watch the woman a little longer.You're interested in the croupier?She sensed that Oeufcoque was perplexed, but it didn't stop her from placing another chip on thelayout.She went for a straight bet again, a single number: 14 red.Balot thought she saw the old lady take in the bet with her eyes.The more Balot looked at her, the more noble she seemed in appearance and stature. Not some act puton for the job or for the crowds. There was a certain something that seemed to radiate fromher very core.Balot was reminded of the manager at her old place of workthe one who gave Balot her nameandalso of Queen Bee.It wasn't that Balot particularly respected these women, and neither looked much like the croupier.She just associated themwith each other somehow. That led to another train of thought, and Balot recalledsomething that a female movie star had once said in a television interview.The journalist who was interviewing the star had asked her a question: Would you ever considerplastic surgery to remove your wrinkles, just like so many other stars seemto be doing these days?The actress just smiled and said, I worked hard for these wrinkles.The words had made a great impression on Balot.The actress in question had started out in porn before moving into regular acting work, eventuallybecoming a great star of screen and stage. Balot did of course, given their similar backgrounds, empathizewith the actress and respected her too. But there was more than that. The actress exuded a certain muteconfidence when she answered the question. If there's anything in my life that's worth being proud of,then these wrinkles are it, she seemed to say.The lady that stood before Balot now seemed to exude the same aura of quiet certainty. Bell Wing.Balot said the name to herself once more. She felt lucky that she had been able to sit down at this table.Nothing to do with whether she was going to win or lose, but a different sort of luck. Just as she felt luckythat it was none other than Oeufcoque and the Doctor who had brought her back from the brink of deathafter Shell-Septinos nearly killed her.While Balot was thinking this to herself, the distinguished croupier had spun the wheel in the oppositedirection to the previous spin, and likewise the ball.The two rotated like twin stars, and No more bets was called.Just before the ball was about to fall into place, Balot sensed somethingit was as if the ball weremoving according to someone's will.The wheel slowly came to a halt and the winning number was revealed.Fourteen red, Bell Wing called out in a steady voice.The table exploded. It was her second straight up in a row. Another small mountain of chips movedtoward her, and her pile of chips looked for a moment like a mound of rose petals.A hundred-dollar chip, thirty-five to one, twice in a row. The pile didn't include the chips she'd bet orthe 5 percent commission that the house took, so that meant a total of $6,600 in front of her.The other punters seemed to be encouraged by thisMy turn next!but Balot just stared at the pile ofchips in front of her.It just seemed too much, as if the money couldn't possibly be hers.She wasn't there for money in the first place, of course. Money was just the means to the end, a step onthe stairway that led up to the real target, and all that the money in front of her really meant was that Balotwas one step closer to her goal. Thinking about it this way helped keep Balot calm.The next game is going to be tricky. Best leave this table well enough alone now.Oeufcoque's words rang true, and she saw the sense in them. But Balot wasn't ready to leave thetable, not yet. She started to feel that if she was meant to climb the stairway to the top, step by step, thenshe might as well enjoy the journey and value each step for what it was.I want to stay here just a little longer. I won't use up all our winnings or anything, I promise.Please.Oeufcoque seemed to think deeply on this, and he paused before he replied.Just remember that your winnings so far are still a long way of from our overall target.He made no further attempt to make Balot leave.Balot thanked himand took the next chips in her hand.She slipped them onto the tableau: 14 red, 2 black. Some of the other punters were watching her to tryand ride her coat tails, others figured third time unlucky, and others still were in discussion about the lawof averages and how they applied to this table.Then the ball was thrown in. The wheel spun to the left, the ball to the right. The white ball against thered and black wheel of fortune. The numbers melted together, the ball hit one of the pins, and an invisiblehand reached out from the thirty-eight pockets to pull the ball in, one of them ready and waiting towelcome it.The ball bounced off the dome in the middle and fell.The ball and the wheel became one.There was a collective sigh. The wheel stopped, and the winning number was revealed.Bell Wing had her crystal dolly in her hand.Fifteen black.The dolly was placed on the layout, over the winning number. The winners' chips were distributed,and the chips that Balot had staked were taken away by one of the dealers.You were so close. The voice came out of nowhere, it seemed, and it took a moment for Balot torealize that the words had been directed toward her.Balot raised her head and looked at Bell Wing. Bell Wing, in turn, was looking at Balot. But thecroupier had no more to say and shifted her attention back to the rest of the table.There's nothing close about it.Oeufcoque was the one to say these words, but Balot was already thinking them.Fifteen black was almost directly opposite 14 red on the wheel.More importantly, Balot couldn't work out why Bell Wing had chosen to speak to her.Was she trying to determine whether the punter that she had used to draw the crowds was the type whomight get greedy and go for broke? Or was she trying to demonstrate to Balot that she could manipulatethe ball at will and send it to whichever corner she wished?Are you going again?The first time I won it was because she let me. Now, I want to win for myself. It was a stronganswer from Balot. She felt confident that she could do it. She had learned all the strategies the Doctorhad taught her. More than that, though, she felt a desire welling up inside herselfa desire to use hernewfound abilities, to exploit themfully, to win.I think I can, you see.Well, I'm here to back you up to the hilt.Oeufcoque's answer revealed that he understood what Balot was feeling.Balot squeezed the chip in her hand before calmly placing it on the tableau.