CHAPTER FIVE

"OK, I'll raise you five Kyler,"
The voice was calculating, and slow, but with a covering air of nonchalance, as if more rested on this than the speaker suggested,
Coins were pushed from a pile on one side of the table to a pile in the centre. Cards were then re-examined, before a voice spoke.
"I'll see you that, and raise you another ten."
In a voice such as this, statements such as "Eat hot lead", "By the way, the cognac is poisoned", and "Is that your head in the wallaby's crotch, Mr President?" have been made, but rarely with such a degree of finality or certainty.
More coins, this time from a position ninety degrees clockwise of the original, were pushed into the slowly growing piles. A further re-examination of the cards, a short pause, a sigh or resignation.
"Fold."
Cards thrown onto the table, this time from the player opposite the original speaker. The cards landed in front of one of the more determined of the remaining players, a heavily built aphid, with a sensory hair growth on his upper lip, which, to human eyes, would appear to be a rather fetching handlebar moustache.
"Fold."
More cards, this time thrown by the fourth, and last, individual at the table. The sound of scraping chairs heralded the exit of the two folders from the continuing game, the speed of their exit showing their wish to get out of the blast radius. A long pause suggested musing, and the movement of the remaining players placed them opposite to each other. A grim determination settled over the table, giving it the mood of a battlefield, as two opposing generals, old rivals in this game, faced each other.
"I'll see your ten and raise it twenty," the moustachioed player opened the offensive, flicking the folded bill at the centre of the table, following it with two shining gold coins.
"See you, raise it fifty," his opponent, a lightly built, middle aged aphid, countered, setting down his heavy tumbler, filled with Leafburner, before placing two notes on the table and manoeuvring them towards the pile "Raise it one hundred."
"Two hundred."
"Five hundred."
A pause, then the older of the players pulled a wallet out of the pocket of his jacket, opened it with an almost audible creak, counted out fifteen large notes, and placed them meaningfully on the table.
"One thousand." The words had the same quality as "Checkmate". Handlebar smiled, counting out ten notes from his own resources.
"OK," he said in an almost lyrical tone, smiling, "Let's see you."
"Full house. Three sevens, two nines." The cards were laid on the table in front of the middle aged aphid for the inspection of all.
A pause, filled with the smug, joyful air of one individual feeling he is about to be owed a large amount of money, as the other cards were laid slowly on the table.
"Three aces." the arms of Handlebar reached forward to grab the spoils from the table. The arms of his opponent shot out and caught the grabber, stopping the movement of the pile.
"Full house beats three of a kind. I'm surprised I had to point that out." the voice of the older aphid shot out icily.
"I suppose so," the original caller withdrew his hands, then, too fast for anyone to stop him, drew a nasty looking black gun, "But a Kyd 41 beats a full house."

The old aphid smiled. "You're a clever guy, Handlebar, you deserve something for that. Go on, take your money."
Handlebar bent over the table, and swept the wealth towards his side. As he moved, a heavy piece of solid diamond descended, clutched in the fist of his opponent and hit him in the small of the back. Handlebar fell, surprised by the sudden nature of the attack, and the surprising amount of force levelled by his opponent.
"You stupid kid!" the old aphid jeered at his stricken opponent, as he cast the tumbler to one side, and kicked the gun to an inaccessible part of the room, "Did you really think I'd let you walk out with my money? It's lucky I'm the first person you tried this on. There's some real bastards out there who would've slit your throat if you'd tried this on them. Me, I'm just happy to teach you the basics in card sharping.
"Rule one," the aphid's fist shot out viciously, knocking Handlebar backwards, flipping him over from where he was protectively curled, exposing him to the blows of his aged assailant, "Wherever possible, play the game, or at least appear to. You're not likely to get away with it for long if you have to win every game by threatening your opponent. If someone doesn't know he's being fleeced, he can't complain."
"Rule two," Handlebar ran at the older aphid, who ducked nimbly to one side, so Handlebar's momentum made him run into the card table, scattering coins and notes all over the floor, "A talented sharper will not appear to be sharping at all, every hand will seem like pure luck, and his face has to be under control all the time. No lapses in concentration are allowable."
"Rule Three," the old aphid moved one hand around as he spoke, colliding the hand with Handlebar's approaching face hard enough to cause blood to spurt from his gums, but in such a way that it almost seemed accidental, "Never, ever, however else you play, win too much. If someone goes home with ten grand in their back pocket, then even the most stupid opponent will think that something is up. No-one suspects the quiet man who makes maybe a couple of hundred in the night, they just don't see that it is as much of a skill to cheat and lose as it is to cheat and win."
"Rule four-" but at this point, the interesting and, in at least one case painful, lecture was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. The older aphid picked up his opponent by the lapels of his jacket. "You expecting anyone?"
"Nnn-no" mumbled Handlebar through his mashed, swollen face, the bruising around his mouth distorting his speech. The knocking got louder. The older aphid looked on in alarm, "If that knocking gets much louder, he'll knock down the-"
With an almighty crash, the door was propelled into the room, pulling the lock out of the wood around it. The light from the street outside shone in brilliantly, before being blocked out by the figure who stepped into the room. The four occupants of the room looked up to see a caterpillar standing just inside the doorway.
"Miguel" Remiel said, "I need you. I've got a lead on Cornelius's killer."
Then he was gone, almost before he had finished what he was saying. The elderly aphid let go of Handlebar and let him slide to the floor, then walked out of the shabby poker game. Ten long seconds passed before anyone dared breathe. The aphid by the bar eventually broke the silence,
"What the hell was-"
Miguel re-entered the room slightly sheepishly, picked up his winnings, and left again after his boss.

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Copyright 1999 Ian Rennie, for Remiel Productions.