Wild Card

Chapter 16

Uncle Al knew a lot about mirrors, and claimed they were part of every serious magician’s repertoire. Houdini, Thurston, Keller and Blackstone had all used mirrors in their stage shows at one time or another. When Valentine pressed him, Uncle Al admitted that they had one serious drawback. They were light sensitive, and often exposed themselves to the audience.

“You really want to catch these cheaters using beer cans with mirrors hidden in them?”the old magician asked.

Valentine nodded enthusiastically. That was exactly what he wanted to do.

“That’s easy,” Uncle Al said.

Valentine drove to work with a smile on his face. Going upstairs to the surveillance control room, he rounded up the technicians on duty, plus Mickey Wright and Doyle, and explained how they were going to catch the Budweiser gang. Then he picked up the house phone, and called downstairs to the casino floor.

“In one minute, I want you to turn up the house lights,” he told the floor manager.

“Why should I do that?” the floor manager asked.

“Because I told you to.”

Valentine hung up the phone, and went to stare at the wall of video monitors that showed the action in the casino. So did everyone else in the room. One minute later, the house lights were raised. On the monitors, all the players looked up.

“I saw a flash!” a tech shouted.

“So did I,” another tech said.

Valentine had seen it as well. A tiny bright light had appeared at Blackjack Table #30. It had come from third base, the last seat at the table. The seat was occupied by a muscular guy drinking a can of Budweiser. The mirror glued to the bottom of the can was so bright, it was impossible not to see.

“Touchdown,” he said.

The scam was simple. The muscle head was using the mirror to read the dealer’s hole card, then signaling its value to the other members of his gang at the table. Valentine called downstairs, and got six security guards off the floor. Then, he called Lois, who was at home supervising his son during his suspension from school.

“Please bring Gerry over here. I want him to see something.”

Twenty minutes later, Lois and Gerry were sitting in front of the wall of video monitors. Behind them stood six burly security guards, ready for action. Doyle and Mickey Wright had already gone downstairs, and were telling the cashiers working the cage not to pay the cheaters off, in case they tried to leave. Valentine stood next to the monitors, and pointed at the center screen.

“See those guys playing blackjack?” he asked his son.

Gerry nodded. His wife had taken him to the barber down the street, and Gerry looked like a baby Marine.

“They’re cheaters,” Valentine said.

“Really? What are they doing?” his son asked.

“That’s none of your business. I had your mother bring you here because I want you to see what happens to cheaters.”

“Are you going to arrest them?”

“You bet I am.”

Then, Valentine marched out of the room with his posse.

“Pay attention,” Lois said.

Right before coming over, she’d caught Gerry smoking a cigarette behind the garage, and the foul odor was still on his clothes and breath. Like every damn boy that had ever been raised on this island — and this included her own husband — her son was smoking Marlboros, the man’s cigarette.

“I don’t get it,” Gerry said. “Why does Pop want me to see this? I promised him I wouldn’t do it again.”

“This is just in case you get second thoughts,” she said.

“I’m not going to —”

Lois slapped her hand on his knee, and several techs lifted their heads from their monitors. “Your father wasn’t born yesterday,” she said under her breath, “and neither was I. Watch the monitor. It’s for your own good.”

Gerry made a bored face. Lois swallowed the rising lump in her throat. In profile, he was his father’s spitting image.

“Here we go!” one of the tech announced.

Lois and her son stared at the monitor in the center of the video wall which showed the Table #30. The gang had won another round, and were giving each other jubilant high-fives. Suddenly, six security guards swarmed around the table, and knocked the gang’s members off their stools, and onto the floor. For a moment, the cheaters seemed dazed, and struggled helplessly.

Then, the man with the Budweiser can jumped to his feet, and started swinging his arms like billy clubs. Two security guards flew through the air. Soon, more guards were lying on their backs, and Lois watched the melee spread across the casino like wild fire. The cheaters were scattering, the posse doing everything but stopping them.

“Where’s your father?” she asked Gerry.

“Over here,” Gerry said, pointing at a different monitor.

Tony was battling the man with the Budweiser can, his blows bouncing harmlessly off the cheater’s skull. The cheater’s blows were having the opposite effect, and each punch was shrinking her husband an inch. Suddenly, Tony stopped defending himself, and his knees began to buckle.