Everything else had stopped in the Casino and people were standing on tables and chairs to watch. There wasn’t a sound from that large
crowd. The dice bounced back from the board with a clatter loud in the silence and tumbled over the cloth.
A five and a one. Six. He still had to make his point. Scooping up the dice, Jason talked to them, mumbled the ancient oaths that brought luck and threw again.
It took five throws before he made the six.
The crowd echoed his sigh and their voices rose quickly. He wanted to stop, take a deep breath, but he knew he couldn’t. Winning the money was only part of the job-they now had to get away with it. It had to look casual. A waiter was passing with a tray of drinks. Jason stopped him and tucked a one hundred credit note in his pocket.
“Drinks are on me,” he shouted while he pried the tray out of the waiter’s hands. Well-wishers cleared the filled glasses away quickly and Jason piled the chips onto the tray. They more than loaded it, but Kerk appeared that moment with a second tray.
“I’ll be glad to help you sir, if you will permit me,” he said.
Jason looked at him and laughed permission. It was the first time he had a clear look at Kerk in the Casino. He was wearing loose, purple evening pajamas over what must have been a false stomach. The sleeves were long and baggy so he looked fat rather than muscular. It was a simple but effective disguise.
Carefully carrying the loaded trays, surrounded by a crowd of excited patrons, they made their way to the cashier’s window. The manager himself was there, wearing a forced grin. Even the grin faded when he counted the chips.
“Could you come back in the morning,” he said, “I’m afraid we don’t have that kind of money on hand.”
‘What’s the matter,” Kerk shouted, “trying to get out of paying him? You took my money easy enough when I lost-it works both ways!”
The onlookers, always happy to see the house lose, growled their disagreement. Jason finished the matter in a loud voice.
“I’ll be reasonable. Give me what cash you have and I’ll take a check for the balance.”
There was no way out. Under the watchful eye of the gleeful crowd, the manager packed an envelope with bills and wrote a check. Jason took a quick glimpse at it, then stuffed it into an inside pocket. With the envelope under one arm, he followed Kerk toward the door.
Because of the onlookers, there was no trouble in the main room, but just as they reached the side entrance two men moved in, blocking their way.
“Just a moment,” one said. He never finished the sentence. Kerk
walked into them without slowing and they bounced away like tenpins. Then Kerk and Jason were out of the building and walking fast.
“Into the parking lot,” Kerk said. “I have a car there.”
When they rounded the corner, there was a car bearing down on them. Before Jason could get his gun clear of the holster, Kerk was in front of him. His arm came up and his big ugly gun burst through the cloth of his sleeve and jumped into his hand. A single shot killed the driver and the car swerved and crashed. The other two men in the car died coming out of the door, their guns dropping from their hands.
After that they had no trouble. Kerk drove at top speed away from the Casino, the torn sleeve of his pajamas whipping in the breeze, giving glimpses of the big gun back in the holster.
“When you get the chance,” Jason said, “you’ll have to show me how that trick holster works.”
‘When we get the chance,” Kerk answered as he dived the car into the city access tube.
3
The building they stopped at was one of the finer residences in Cassylia. As they had driven, Jason counted the money and separated his share. Almost sixteen million credits. It still didn’t seem quite real. When they got out in front of the building, he gave Kerk the rest.