Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [100]
DeMarco swallowed hard. “I’m listening.”
“Your uncle stole the scam from a guy named Jack Donovan, then had Jack murdered. It’s never completely made sense to me why he had Jack killed. Your uncle could afford to buy the scam from Jack, and murdering people is usually only a last resort. Well, I figured out the reason.”
“What’s that?”
“Jack Donovan told your uncle that the scam was dangerous, and should be used sparingly. Like in a private game, where you only need to win one pot to come out ahead. The scam was never intended to be used in a tournament. Even though Jack was a scammer, he wasn’t a bad guy. My guess is, Jack would have found out what your uncle was using the scam for, and contacted you.”
“So Uncle George had him killed.”
“That’s right.”
Outside the lavatory DeMarco could hear the sounds of the other players approaching. He thought back to what his father had said that morning. You need to escape your uncle’s dark shadow. He’d never known how dark that shadow was, until now.
46
The men’s lavatory quickly filled up. DeMarco felt Valentine’s hand on his sleeve.
“I want one more thing out of you,” Valentine said.
DeMarco could hear other players swirling around them, the slamming of the stall doors, the loud banter of the players still remaining in the tournament. “What’s that?”
“Level the playing field between you and your opponents.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
Valentine drew close to him, put his mouth a few inches from DeMarco’s ear. “Lose a few hands so that everyone at your table has about the same amount of chips.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because then the tournament will be even,” Valentine replied.
It was DeMarco’s turn to whisper. “Why should I do that, if you’re going to have me and my uncle arrested?”
“Because I’m not going to have you arrested,” Valentine whispered back.
“You’re not?”
“No.”
DeMarco gazed at the floor. “I really appreciate this.”
Valentine squeezed DeMarco’s arm so hard that he winced in pain. “I’m not letting you go because I like you,” the older man said.
“Then why?” DeMarco asked.
“Just because you and your uncle cheated this tournament doesn’t mean you have the right to ruin it. I want the World Poker Showdown to end fairly, with a clean winner. Understand?”
DeMarco took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. His arm was singing with pain where Valentine had squeezed it. “Yeah, I understand,” he said.
“Good,” Valentine said. “Now get the hell out of here.”
DeMarco walked out of the men’s lavatory to find Guido waiting for him. When his uncle’s bodyguard got excited, his breathing accelerated, each breath sounding like a short pant. He was doing that now and said, “Skip, your uncle needs to talk to you.”
“That’s nice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t want to talk to him. Walk me back to the table.”
DeMarco stuck his arm out, and Guido took it and escorted him back.
“How many players are left in the tournament?” DeMarco asked.
“Only ten,” Guido said. “A bunch of guys got knocked out in the last hand. They’re down to the final table. Look, Skip, I don’t know how to tell you this—”
“Then don’t.”
“—but your uncle has decided to leave Las Vegas right away. The situation in Atlantic City is bad. Karl Jasper has a private plane waiting for us at an airport just outside of town.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, you, me, and him.”
DeMarco stopped. They had reached the feature table, and he could hear the TV people adjusting their equipment and talking about the lighting. He could also hear gamblers in the crowd setting the odds on the remaining ten players in the tournament. They were calling him the favorite. “I’m not going,” he said.
“Say what? Your uncle—”
“Tell my uncle to call me, and I’ll meet up with him later.”
“Skip, that’s not such a good idea. Your uncle—”
“—isn’t running the show anymore,” DeMarco interrupted. “I am. I’m the tournament chip leader, and everyone expects me to play. So I’m going to play.”
“Don’t make me do this, Skip.”
DeMarco turned so he faced his uncle’s bodyguard.
“Do what?