Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [63]
The croupier spun the wheel again and this time the little white ball came to a halt in black 4, and Henry’s chip was raked in by the croupier. Two bets, and Henry had broken even. He placed another ten-pound chip on red. Henry had already accepted that if he was to exchange all the cash for chips, it would be a long and arduous process. But then Henry, unlike most gamblers, was a patient man, whose only purpose was to break even. He placed another ten pounds on red.
Three hours later, by which time he had managed to exchange all £2,970 of cash for chips without anyone becoming suspicious, Henry left the table and headed for the bar. If any one had been following closely what Henry had been up to, they would have observed that he had just about broken even. But then that was his intention. He only ever meant to exchange all the surplus cash for chips before he could execute the second part of his plan.
When Henry reached the bar, his Gladstone bag empty and his pockets bulging with chips, he took a seat next to a woman who appeared to be on her own. He didn’t speak to her and she showed no interest in him. When Angela ordered another drink, Henry bent down and deposited all of his chips into the open handbag she had left on the floor beside her. He was already walking toward the exit before the barman could take his order.
The manager pulled open the front door for him.
“I hope it won’t be too long before we see you again, sir.”
Henry nodded, but didn’t bother to explain that the whole exercise was about to become part of a nightly routine. Once Henry was back outside on the pavement, he walked toward the nearest tube station, but didn’t start whistling until he’d turned the corner.
Angela bent down and closed her bag, but not before she’d finished her drink. Two men had propositioned her earlier in the evening and she’d felt quite flattered. She slipped off her stool and walked across to join a short queue of punters at the cashier’s window. When she reached the front, Angela pushed the pile of ten-pound chips under the steel grille and waited.
“Cash or check, madam?” inquired the teller, once he’d counted her chips.
“A check please,” Angela replied.
“What name should the check be made out to?” was the teller’s next question.
After a moment’s hesitation, Angela said, “Mrs. Ruth Richards.”
The cashier wrote out the name Ruth Richards, and the figure, £2,930, before slipping the check under the grille. Angela checked the figure. Henry had lost £40. She smiled, remembering that he had assured her that over a year it would even out. After all, as he had explained often enough, he wasn’t playing the odds, but simply exchanging any traceable cash for chips, so that she would end up with a check which no one would later be able to trace.
Angela slipped out of the casino when she saw the manager chatting to another customer who had clearly lost a large sum of money. Henry had warned her that the management keeps a much closer eye on winners than losers, and that as she was about to embark on a long and profitable run she shouldn’t draw attention to herself.
One of Henry’s stipulations was that there should not be any contact between the two of them, other than when he came to collect the takings, and then again for that brief moment when he deposited the chips into her open bag. He didn’t want anyone to think that they might be an item. Angela reluctantly agreed with his reasoning. Henry’s only other piece of advice was that she should not be seen collecting the cash herself during any function.
“Leave that to the volunteers,” he said, “so that if anything goes wrong, no one will suspect you.”
There are one hundred and twelve casinos located across central London, so Henry and Angela didn’t find it necessary to return to any particular establishment more than once a year.
For the next three years, Henry and Angela took their holidays at the same time, but never in the