Gambler's World, Page 3

  III

  "I take it," Retief said, "that the casino is a front for his politicalactivities."

  "He makes plenty off it. This PAFFL is a new kick. I never heard aboutit until maybe a couple months ago."

  Retief motioned toward a dark shed with an open door.

  "We'll stop here," he said, "long enough to strip the gadgets off theseuniforms."

  Illy, hands strapped behind his back, stood by and watched as Retief andMagnan removed medals, ribbons, orders and insignia from the formaldiplomatic garments.

  "This may help some," Retief said, "if the word is out that twodiplomats are loose."

  "It's a breeze," Illy said. "We see cats in purple and orange tailcoatsall the time."

  "I hope you're right," Retief said. "But if we're called, you'll be thefirst to go, Illy."

  "You're a funny kind of Nenni," Illy said, eyeing Retief, "Toscin andVug must be wonderin' what happened to 'em."

  "If you think I'm good at drowning people, you ought to see me with aknife. Let's get going."

  "It's only a little way now," Illy said. "But you better untie me.Somebody's liable to stick their nose in and get me killed."

  "I'll take the chance. How do we get to the casino?"

  "We follow this street. It twists around and goes under a coupletunnels. When we get to the Drunkard's Stairs we go up and it's right infront of us. A pink front with a sign like a big Luck Wheel."

  "Give me your belt, Magnan," Retief said.

  Magnan handed it over.

  "Lie down, Illy," Retief said.

  The servant looked at Retief.

  "Vug and Toscin will be glad to see me," he said. "But they'll neverbelieve me." He lay down. Retief strapped his feet together and stuffeda handkerchief in his mouth.

  "Why are you doing that?" Magnan asked. "We need him."

  "We know the way. And we don't need anyone to announce our arrival. It'sonly on three-dee that you can march a man through a gang of his palswith a finger in his back."

  Magnan looked at the man. "Maybe you'd better, uh, cut his throat," hesaid.

  Illy rolled his eyes.

  "That's a very un-Nenni-like suggestion, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "Ifwe have any trouble finding the casino, I'll give it serious thought."

  There were few people in the narrow street. Shops were shuttered,windows dark.

  "Maybe they heard about the coup," Magnan said. "They're lying low."

  "More likely, they're at the palace picking up their knives."

  They rounded a corner, stepped over a man curled in the gutter snoringheavily and found themselves at the foot of a long flight of litteredstone steps.

  "The Drunkard's Stairs are plainly marked," Magnan sniffed.

  "I hear sounds up there," Retief said. "Sounds of merrymaking."

  "Maybe we'd better go back."

  "Merrymaking doesn't scare me," Retief said. "Come to think of it, Idon't know what the word means." He started up, Magnan behind him.

  * * * * *

  At the top of the long stair a dense throng milled in the alley-likestreet.

  A giant illuminated roulette wheel revolved slowly above them. Aloudspeaker blared the chant of the croupiers from the tables inside.Magnan and Retief moved through the crowd toward the wide-open doors.

  Magnan plucked at Retief's sleeve. "Are you sure we ought to push rightin like this? Maybe we ought to wait a bit, look around...."

  "When you're where you have no business being," Retief said, "alwaysstride along purposefully. If you loiter, people begin to get curious."

  Inside, a mob packed the wide, low-ceilinged room, clustered aroundgambling devices in the form of towers, tables and basins.

  "What do we do now?" Magnan asked.

  "We gamble. How much money do you have in your pockets?"

  "Why ... a few credits." Magnan handed the money to Retief. "But whatabout the man Zorn?"

  "A purple cutaway is conspicuous enough, without ignoring the tables,"Retief said. "We've got a hundred credits between us. We'll get to Zornin due course, I hope."

  "Your pleasure, gents," a bullet-headed man said, eyeing the colorfulevening clothes of the diplomats. "You'll be wantin' to try your luck atthe Zoop tower, I'd guess. A game for real sporting gents."

  "Why ... ah ..." Magnan said.

  "What's a zoop tower?" Retief asked.

  "Out-of-towners, hey?" The bullet-headed man shifted his dope-stick tothe other corner of his mouth. "Zoop is a great little game. Two teamsof players buy into the pot. Each player takes a lever; the object is tomake the ball drop from the top of the tower into your net. Okay?"

  "What's the ante?"

  "I got a hundred-credit pot workin' now, gents."

  Retief nodded. "We'll try it."

  The shill led the way to an eight-foot tower mounted on gimbals. Twoperspiring men in trade-class pullovers gripped two of the levers thatcontrolled the tilt of the tower. A white ball lay in a hollow in thethick glass platform at the top. From the center, an intricate patternof grooves led out to the edge of the glass. Retief and Magnan tookchairs before the two free levers.

  "When the light goes on, gents, work the lever to jack the tower. Yougot three gears. Takes a good arm to work top gear. That's this buttonhere. The little knob controls what way you're goin'. May the best teamwin. I'll take the hundred credits now."

  * * * * *

  Retief handed over the money. A red light flashed on, and Retief triedthe lever.

  It moved easily, with a ratcheting sound. The tower trembled, slowlytilted toward the two perspiring workmen pumping frantically at theirlevers. Magnan started slowly, accelerated as he saw the direction thetower was taking.

  "Faster, Retief," he said. "They're winning."

  "This is against the clock, gents," the bullet-headed man said. "Ifnobody wins when the light goes off, the house takes all."

  "Crank it over to the left," Retief said.

  "I'm getting tired."

  "Shift to a lower gear."

  The tower leaned. The ball stirred, rolled into a concentric channel.Retief shifted to middle gear, worked the lever. The tower creaked to astop, started back upright.

  "There isn't any lower gear," Magnan gasped. One of the two on the otherside of the tower shifted to middle gear; the other followed suit. Theyworked harder now, heaving against the stiff levers. The tower quivered,moved slowly toward their side.

  "I'm exhausted," Magnan gasped. He dropped the lever, lolled back in thechair, gulping air. Retief shifted position, took Magnan's lever withhis left hand.

  "Shift it to middle gear," Retief said. Magnan gulped, punched thebutton and slumped back, panting.

  "My arm," he said. "I've injured myself."

  The two men in pullovers conferred hurriedly as they cranked theirlevers; then one punched a button and the other reached across, usinghis left arm to help.

  "They've shifted to high," Magnan said. "Give up, it's hopeless."

  "Shift me to high," Retief said. "Both buttons!"

  Magnan complied. Retief's shoulders bulged. He brought one lever down,then the other, alternately, slowly at first, then faster. The towerjerked, tilted toward him, farther.... The ball rolled in the channel,found an outlet--

  Abruptly, both Retief's levers froze.

  The tower trembled, wavered and moved back. Retief heaved. One leverfolded at the base, bent down and snapped off short. Retief braced hisfeet, took the other lever with both hands and pulled.

  There was a rasp of metal friction, and a loud twang. The lever camefree, a length of broken cable flopping into view. The tower fell overas the two on the other side scrambled aside.

  "Hey!" Bullet-head yelled. "You wrecked my equipment!"

  Retief got up and faced him.

  "Does Zorn know you've got your tower rigged for suckers?"

  "You tryin' to call me a cheat or something?"

  The crowd had fallen back, ringing the two men
. Bullet-head glancedaround. With a lightning motion, he plucked a knife from somewhere.

  "That'll be five hundred credits for the equipment," he said. "Nobodycalls Kippy a cheat."

  * * * * *

  Retief picked up the broken lever.

  "Don't make me hit you with this, you cheap chiseler."

  Kippy looked at the bar.

  "Comin' in here," he said indignantly, looking to the crowd for support."Bustin' up my rig, callin' names...."

  "I want a hundred credits," Retief said. "Now."

  "Highway robbery!" Kippy yelled.

  "Better pay up," somebody called.

  "Hit him, mister," someone else said.

  A broad-shouldered man with graying hair pushed through the crowd andlooked around. "You heard 'em, Kippy. Give," he said.

  The shill growled but tucked his knife away. Reluctantly he peeled abill from a fat roll and handed it over.

  The newcomer looked from Retief to Magnan.

  "Pick another game, strangers," he said. "Kippy made a little mistake."

  "This is small-time stuff," Retief said. "I'm interested in somethingbig."

  The broad-shouldered man lit a perfumed dope stick. "What would you callbig?" he said softly.

  "What's the biggest you've got?"

  The man narrowed his eyes, smiling. "Maybe you'd like to try Slam."

  "Tell me about it."

  "Over here." The crowd opened up, made a path. Retief and Magnanfollowed across the room to a brightly-lit glass-walled box.

  There was an arm-sized opening at waist height. Inside was a hand grip.A two-foot plastic globe a quarter full of chips hung in the center.Apparatus was mounted at the top of the box.

  "Slam pays good odds," the man said. "You can go as high as you like.Chips cost you a hundred credits. You start it up by dropping a chip inhere." He indicated a slot.

  "You take the hand grip. When you squeeze, it unlocks. The globe startsto turn. You can see, it's full of chips. There's a hole at the top. Aslong as you hold the grip, the bowl turns. The harder you squeeze, thefaster it turns. Eventually it'll turn over to where the hole is down,and chips fall out.

  "On the other hand, there's contact plates spotted around the bowl. Whenone of 'em lines up with a live contact, you get quite a littlejolt--guaranteed nonlethal. All you've got to do is hold on long enough,and you'll get the payoff."

  "How often does this random pattern put the hole down?"

  "Anywhere from three minutes to fifteen, with the average run ofplayers. Oh, by the way, one more thing. That lead block up there--" Theman motioned with his head toward a one-foot cube suspended by a thickcable. "It's rigged to drop every now and again. Averages five minutes.A warning light flashes first. You can take a chance; sometimes thelight's a bluff. You can set the clock back on it by dropping anotherchip--or you can let go the grip."

  Retief looked at the massive block of metal.

  "That would mess up a man's dealing hand, wouldn't it?"

  "The last two jokers who were too cheap to feed the machine had to have'em off. Their arms, I mean. That lead's heavy stuff."

  "I don't suppose your machine has a habit of getting stuck, likeKippy's?"

  The broad-shouldered man frowned.

  "You're a stranger," he said, "You don't know any better."

  "It's a fair game, Mister," someone called.

  "Where do I buy the chips?"

  The man smiled. "I'll fix you up. How many?"

  "One."

  "A big spender, eh?" The man snickered, but handed over a large plasticchip.