What Tullie was referring to was the special training Phule had arranged for the company’s communications specialist, Mother. Knowing that her shyness would negate her effectiveness on public duty, he had suggested to her, and she agreed, that she stand duty in the casino’s eye-in-the-sky center. This was the room in any casino which monitored the closed-circuit cameras hidden in the ceilings over the various gaming tables.
These cameras were equipped with zoom lenses to allow close scrutiny of any dealer, player, or card, and were one of the casino’s main defenses against cheats on either side of the table.
In an effort to train her for this duty, Phule had rented a half-dozen closed-circuit cameras and microphones and set them up over the tables where the Legionnaires were receiving their instruction so Mother could hear and see what was going on in her accustomed anonymity. Tullie had been skeptical about the arrangement at first, until Phule gave him a headset so that he could carry on a two-way conversation with Mother as the lessons were in progress. Even the cynical instructor was impressed with the speed with which Mother picked up the table routines, and her ability to spot any deviation from them, though it wasn’t clear if he was more taken with the innovative training system or with Mother herself.
“Is that to say I can expect a discounted rate for your services?” Phule asked innocently.
Tullie favored him with a smile.
“I can see why your troops like you, Mr. Phule,” he said. “A sense of humor like yours doesn’t come along just every day.”