Phules Paradise

"Captain Jester."

"Jonesy."

The two men eyed each other with open wariness. Neither offered to shake hands.

"Jonesy, here, is visiting us from ... I guess you'd call it one of our sister organizations." Maxine smiled. "His superiors have expressed an extreme interest in how you and I manage to work out our differences."

The Oriental gave a small movement of his shoulders. "I'm afraid, Captain, that curiosity is only natural for those in our line of work. Should we ever find ourselves-how should I put this?-in a similar relation to you that Mrs. Pruet is, I trust you will accept that there would be no personal rancor involved. I'm sure that, if anyone, you would understand that business is business."

"Of course," Phule answered through tight lips. "In return, might I suggest that you inform your superiors, from me, that if they choose to visit Lorelei to witness our methods firsthand, I will do my best to see they are treated with the same hospitality as we have shown Mrs. Pruet and her organization?"

Jonesy's eyes flickered slightly.

"I'll be sure to do that, Captain," he said with a small bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, they're holding a seat for me at one of the tables."

"I don't think he likes you, Captain," Max said softly as they watched the Oriental walk away.

Phule smiled humorlessly. "I think I can live with that. Then again, I don't think he was particularly happy with you, either, for singling him out that way."

Maxine gave an unladylike snort.

"Believe it or not, Mr. Phule, the possibility of Jonesy's associates appearing on Lorelei is even less appealing to me than it is to you. Besides, as I said earlier, `honorable enemies and dishonorable friends.' I considered it a matter of courtesy to make you aware of what you might be up against someday."

"I see," the commander said, looking at her thoughtfully. "All right, I guess it's up to me to return the favor. Do you see that man sitting at the far right on the end blackjack table? The pale one?"

Maxine craned her neck slightly, then nodded.

"Well, realizing your interest in collecting casinos, he's someone you might want to watch out for in the future."

"Really?" Max said, studying the indicated individual. "What is he? A card cheat?"

"Not hardly," Phule said easily. "In fact, we've taken steps to screen out as many known cheats as possible-part of our job as security, you know. It might be of interest to you that we've already sent over a hundred of them back to the spaceport so far today."

Maxine digested this news in silence for a few moments.

"That's quite a claim, Captain," she said at last, speaking slowly and carefully. "Might I inquire as to how you managed to detect them?"

"It wasn't that difficult," the commander said. "We had spotted most of them during the past week, along with the dealers who were feeding them bad deals and extra chips. Tullie Bascom, the new casino manager, helped us pick out the rest. It seems he knows most of them on sight. Once they were identified, it was just a matter of picking the right time to weed them out without disrupting the legitimate guests, and I felt today was the right time."

"Tullie Bascom." Max said the name as if it tasted bad. "I thought he had retired. For that matter, I was under the impression that Huey Martin was the manager."

"He was," Phule confirmed. "Unfortunately he was also weeded out today. Some question as to whether he was working for the house or against it, if I understand correctly."

"I see."

"However, I was about to tell you about the gentleman at the blackjack table," the commander continued, as if unaware of Maxine's reaction to his disclosure. "His name is Albert, and he heads a team of computer auditors-some of the best I've ever worked with."

"Computer auditors," Maxine echoed tonelessly.

"Yes. I highly recommend him if you ever feel the need to have your central computer's programming checked." Phule locked eyes momentarily with his rival. "I know you'll find this hard to believe, but Albert there discovered that someone had been tampering with the Fat Chance computer. According to him, someone had put in a time-triggered program which would have drastically changed the payout odds on the progressive slot machines at midnight tonight." He made a show of looking at his watch. "We had him correct it, of course, but I was curious to see who might be watching those slots at midnight and what their reactions would be when the machines simply continued to eat the money instead of paying out millions like they expected. Now here it is nearly half past and all I've done was talk with you. C'est la guerre, I guess. I really must be going now, but it has been a real pleasure spending the time with you, Mrs. Pruet."

With that, he gave her a mock salute with his index finger, then turned and walked away, smiling.

Watching him go, Maxine did not share his smile. Rather, the look she focused on him was not unlike that of a snake watching a supposedly flightless meal disappear into the clouds.

"Max ... I think we've got problems," Laverna hissed, materializing at her side.

"What's that, Laverna?" Maxine blinked, tearing her eyes away from Phule's retreating back.

"I said we've got problems," her aide repeated. "It's been nearly half an hour since midnight, and those damn machines aren't-"

"I know," Max snapped, cutting her off. "Tell those idiots to stop feeding our money into the house's coffers. And don't bother being subtle. The gambit has been blown and countered."

"It has?"

"Just go," Maxine said. "Come up to the room when you're done and I'll fill you in on the details. Right now, as you pointed out earlier, every minute's delay is costing us money."

"On the way," Laverna said, and headed for the slots with a speed quite unlike her characteristic amble.

"Mr. Stilman! A moment, if you please?"

At her summons, the ex-astroball player floated over to her.

"Yes, Mrs. Pruet?"

"I want you to take over the floor operations for a while," she said. "See if you can arrange some sort of incident to remind Mr. Phule's troops that we haven't forgotten them completely. I need some time to rethink things."

"Is something wrong?"

"It seems I've underestimated our Mr. Phule ... Rather badly, at that," Max admitted, shaking her head. "I'll be in my suite with Laverna trying to figure where we go from here."

Preoccupied as she was with her own thoughts as she headed for the elevators, Maxine failed to look directly at her violence specialist after she spoke. If she had, her usually alert warning signals might have been triggered by the rare, slow smile that spread across Stilman's face.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Journal #236

One would think that the key turning point of this particular assignment was the event chronicled in the last chapter, the grand opening of the Fat Chance Casino, when my employer's forces successfully prevented the implementation of Maxine Pruet's multifaceted assault on Gunther Rafael's financial resources.

While there is no denying the importance of that skirmish, viewing the conflict from ground zero, as is my privilege, I would have to say that the events immediately following the opening were in many ways far more crucial to the eventual outcome of the confrontation.

Nicknames tended to abound among gamblers. What was more, certain nicknames were recurring almost to the point of being traditional. Thus it was that anyone in the gambling circles named Edward would invariably be hailed as "Fast Eddie."

Lucas, however, had managed to avoid the obvious title of "Lucky Luke" and was known to his associates simply as "Lucas." This was, in part, because he strove for, and achieved, a certain degree of anonymity in the casinos, dressing and acting the part of an accountant or an actuary on vacation. Mostly, however, the nickname was avoided because Lucas didn't think of himself as a gambler. He thought of himself as a crook, and luck had nothing to do with his success.