AnotherOldGuy
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2012
- Posts
- 393
The Marina Bay Sands Casino was crowded, as it was every Saturday night, with the Singapore locals and tourists from all over the world. Not that Victor Haynes would know that, of course. At 36, he'd never been out of his home state of Oregon, let alone out of the country or half way around the world. And he'd never been in a casino, which his deceased father had called the playgrounds of the Devil, even though the man didn't have a religious bone in his body.
Despite being surrounded by people speaking a dozen recognizable languages, Victor Haynes felt totally alone. It wasn't a new sensation, of course. He'd spend his entire life alone, in a sense: he grew up a single child, home schooled on a rural farm by his introverted, widowed father; he was orphaned at 16 when Papa, 40 years his senior, dropped dead of a heart attack; and he never married, never got engaged, never dated, never anything and had only lost his virginity when a drunken college girl who thought he was someone else stumbled into his fishing camp one night and practically raped him.
For most of his life, Victor had assumed he would life and die in obscurity. Then, he claimed the largest single lottery jackpot in world history. He took the cash payout -- after taxes, $313 million -- and disappeared, hoping to evade the incessant hounding of the press, of long long family, of investment leaches, and so many others.
He drove two thousand miles to a one horse town and hid out in a seedy hotel, watching cable television and eating delivered take out from the only restaurant in town. And when he happened to be watching a documentary on the upcoming 10th anniversary of the Indonesian Tsunami, he discovered his path.
Which brought him here, to a poker table in Singapore.
The man sitting across from him was Sultan Hassan el Bolkaihn, who asked with a surprised expression, "You want to buy one of my islands?"
"Yes, sir," Victor answered tentatively. "A specific island." He reached into the pocket of the jacket he'd been given to suit the casino's dress code and pulled out a sheet of paper, setting it on the poker table's red felt. One of the Sultan's people unfolded the paper and displayed the Google Map image of an island to his master.
The Sultan stared at the image for a long moment, then looked to Victor and asked, "You wish to buy El Dragon?"
Victor only knew the isle by the name he'd found on the computer, Pula Aceh. He knew nothing about a dragon. He pointed at the print out and said, "According to the documentary I saw, you own that and have been trying to sell it. I want to buy it."
"El Dragon," Hassan explained slowly, "Is ... what is the word ... a mess."
"The tsunami of Oh-Four, yes I know," Victor cut in. "The population and businesses were devastated, and what people did survive were forcibly removed so that you could ... could do what ever, I don't care about all of that. I just want to buy the island."
The Sultan's expression hardened a bit, a sign that he wasn't used to be treated in such a brusk manner, let alone by a nobody commoner American in worn cowboy boots. Hassan studied Victor for a long moment, then gestured one of his men closer. They whispered for a moment before the man turned away and lifted a cell phone to his ear.
As the man talked in a tongue Victor couldn't even identify, let alone understand, Hassan quizzed him politely about his background. Victor was polite, but his answers were short and vague. Eventually the man with the phone returned to whisper to his master.
"Two billion dollars ... U.S.," Hassan said bluntly.
Victor's eyes widened with surprise. "What I read ... was that the island was only worth--"
"Two billion dollars," Hassan interrupted, adding for clarification, "U.S."
Victor was disappointed; no, he was devastated. He'd spent all that time researching the island only to now be told the price was out of his reach.
"Are you a gambling man ... sir?" Victor asked, unsure whether to call him Sultan or Hassan or what.
The Sultan looked about the poker room, smiling knowingly. "This is my casino."
"I know that," Victor answered with a bit of a sarcastic tone, "But back home, where I come from, the liquor store is owned by a woman who's never let a drop of alcohol touch her lips. So..."
"Yes, I am a gambling man, sir."
"You know who I am and how much money I have, right?" It was an unnecessary question, of course. Victor had spent the past three hours proving who he was -- to the Concierge, to the Security Supervisor, to the Casino Manager now standing behind Hassan, and finally to the Sultan's own personal Security Attachment. Victor said bluntly, "Let's bet on it."
"Bet on it...?"
"I don't have two billion dollars," Victor informed Hassan. "But ... people come to casinos to turn what they have into what they need, right?"
"What is your game, sir," the Sultan asked after studying Victor for a long moment. "Texas Hold'em is popular in your America. Or, perhaps--"
"High card wins," Victor cut in. He pointed to the deck sitting still before the Dealer and clarified, "Cut a shuffled deck for high card, winner takes all."
Hassan consulted quietly with the Casino Manager, then looked back to Victor and said, "I do not believe the odds warrant such a bet, do you, sir? It is my understanding that your current wealth is in the neighborhood of a quarter of a billion dollars--"
"Three hundred, thirteen million," Victor corrected, adding with a smirk, "U.S."
"Yes, that may be," the Sultan continued ignoring the other man's snide tone, "But el Dragon ... she is worth two billion dollars ... six times that--"
"She isn't worth six times that," Victor cut in. "That's just what you're asking for her. Right now, the island is sitting there, wasting away, with no population, no businesses, no--"
Victor went silent as Hassan politely gestured and continued, "Yes, yes ... el Dragon is not as ... productive as she once was ... but ... she is still a beautiful piece of real estate that--"
"Best out of three," Victor cut in, "And you start off with one win already."
The Sultan donned a confused expression, as if he was unsure of exactly what Victor was proposing. The Casino Manager leaned down and spoke in yet a third language. Hassan looked back to Victor with understanding. "No ... I think that maybe--"
"Best out of five," Victor cut in again, his desperation beginning to show. He wanted this, and if he had to push his luck, he would. "And you start with two, of course."
Hassan stared at Victor for a long moment. Then, a smile spread on his lips. "Two billion ... versus three million...? I think maybe ... best out of seven. And as you would say, I start with three."
Victor felt his face go white. He wasn't a gambling man, so he didn't know how to calculate the odds of such a bet. The simple fact was that he would have to outdraw the Sultan four times in a row.
Seeing that maybe he'd made a proposal that the simple man wouldn't be able to accept, the Sultan smiled and added, "And if you win, I will throw in anything and every thing that is, at this very moment, on the island or in its ports. That includes my boat."
One of Victor's eye brows raised questioningly. He was betting a third of a billion dollars against an island, and this man thought that tossing in some old, smelly fishing boat was going to seal the deal. Before Victor could respond -- with either his appreciation or his sarcasm -- Hassan casually pointed a finger upwards. Victor lifted his eyes, above the sitting Sultan, above the standing Casino Manager, to the far wall ... where a massive photograph showed the boat in question, a 180 foot yacht with a jet engine helicopter resting on the fan tail.
"The helicopter comes with it, of course," Hassan said, his smile spreading. "I keep the crew, of course. I am a great many things, but I am not a slave merchant."
Victor couldn't help but smile, then chuckle at that. He felt his face flush; this was becoming ... something he'd never imagined he would be involved in. He looked from Hassan to the Casino Manager to the Dealer, then said, "Shuffle,"
The Casino Manager stepped over behind the Dealer and looked to the Sultan for a permissive gesture. Getting it, he proceeded to lay out the rules, then directed the Dealer to prepare the cards. The Dealer opened a brand new deck, removed the non-playing cards, displayed the remaining deck face up in a colorful fan, then shuffled them a dozen times. She slid the deck to Hassan, who cut them; then repeated the gesture with Victor, whose hand was trembling so much that he nearly dropped the half of the deck he cut over to the soft, felt table top.
The Dealer spread the deck out before the two in a nearly perfect line, each card overlapping the one below it. The Casino Manager said, "Mister Haynes, you're first."
Victor hesitantly pulled a card from the middle of the deck, turned it over, and drew an exhilarated breath.
"King of clubs," the Casino Manager announced. He prompted Hassan politely, "Sultan...?"
The other man selected and flipped his first card with confidence.
"Two of diamonds," the Manager said. "Mister Haynes wins. Current score is three to one, in favor of the Sultan, who pulls next."
Victor sat up taller in his seat, trying to control his joy; he still had three winning cards to pull! But he'd survived one pull.
Hassan pulled his second card and turned it.
"Jack of hearts," the Casino Manager said.
Just as suddenly as his spirits had risen, Victor's joy was dashed. He drew and released another deep breath and pulled his second card.
The Casino Manager announced with a touch of his own excitement, "Ace of diamonds!"
Victor sat taller, leaning over the table. Two for two! Half way there.
""Mister Haynes, you trail two to three. If you will...?"
Victor didn't hesitate this time, knowing that if he dragged this out, he was going to have a heart attack, pass out, or at the least piss his pants. He snatched up the card on the end at the end of the deck and flipped it over.
"Three of spade."
Victor's head dropped, causing his ball cap to nearly flop off him to the felt. Hassan gave his opponent a moment to feel the grief, then -- when Victor looked back up -- leaned forward and reached to the end of the deck opposite from where Victor had drawn and flipped over that card.
"Two of spades!" the Manager said, this time his emotion unchecked. "The score is tied ... three to three!"
By now, some of the elites who had access to the Private Card Room had begun to hear about the game in the back corner. They'd begun casually entering the poker room and taking station along the walls to view the action.
Victor had hardly noticed them at first, and when he did he tried his best to ignore them. These were the Sultan's type of people, not his -- there wasn't a pair of Levi's or cowboy boots among them -- so he didn't expect any support from them. So he was shocked when, after the Casino Manager announced the score, a polite round of applause and cheers arose.
When the noise lessened, Hassan leaned in and said with a sincere tone, "You are doing well, young man, and I honestly hope that you do succeed in this venture."
Victor had no idea of how to respond, so he just smiled and thanked the Sultan, reminding him, "Still got one more, though."
"Sultan, you're turn," the Manager said politely.
Hassan looked across to Victor, studying him for a long moment. Again, he leaned forward, asking, "If I was to offer you a draw, sir ... I keep my island ... you keep your millions...?"
"No thank you," he answered before he'd even considered the offer. "I ... this is what I want. There is nothing more for me than this."
Hassan nodded his head, understanding Victor's desire, then reached out to an as-of-yet-undisturbed portion of the deck and turned over a card.
The crowd gave out a collective groan even before the Manager announced, "Ace of spades."
Victor slumped back into his seat, defeated. It had been too good to be true, of course, and now that it was over, he cursed himself for being so stupid.
"It seems almost fitting," the Sultan said barely. "I believe that you Americans view the ace of spades as a symbol of death...?"
"Something like that," Victor responded, wondering Doesn't every one?. He could remember photographs of his great-uncle wearing the card on his helmet during the war in Viet Nam. Did we come up with that...?
At the Manager's urging, Victor stood, pulled a card and flopped it to the table without even looking at it. "It's a good thing I chartered the jet for a round trip, then--"
"Ace of hearts!" the Manager almost screamed, causing the crowd to go ballistic in its excitement.
Victor simply stared at the card, unable to believe that he'd pulled one of only two cards left that would save him. His trembles returned, sending a chill up his spine that made him visibly shake.
Hassan was laughing heartily, switching back and forth between English as he congratulated Victor and his own tongue as he talked to the Manager and the men and women behind him who Victor had begun to realize were part of his entourage.
"Next Round, gentlemen," the Manager finally got in through the excitement still pervasive in the room. "The score remains, three to three. Mister Haynes ... your card, please."
Victor returned to his seat, stared at the cards, tried to conceive of some logical way to make his choice but in the end simply reached out, put his fingertips on a card, pulled it back, and--
"Wait!
Victor looked to Hassan, surprised, thinking Did I do something wrong...? Please tell me I lost and don't even know it!
"Will you allow me to show my card first, Mister Haynes?" When Victor answered affirmatively, Hassan selected a card without hesitation, but only pulled it away from the deck and left it face down, as Victor's card was. He met Victor's eyes again and said, "Your fate -- or at least the fate of your fortune -- is sealed by these cards. Or ... is it...? My offer still stands. Keep you millions ... hundreds of millions. I will keep my rock in the middle of the sea."
Victor considered the offer ... for about a second. "Thank you, sir ... but no."
Hassan shrugged his shoulders, took his card in his hand, lifted just the corner ... and set it back down as a smile spread across his face. He looked back to Victor. "I offer you another deal, then. Allow me to keep my little boat and ... what was that funny name ... its whirly bird...? And I give you el Dragon ... and these last cards ... they need not ever be seen."
"Deal!" Victor said quickly, bursting out in relieved laughter, ready to simply collapse from the suspense. "Deal. It's a deal, yes. I ... I don't like boats anyway, and helicopters...?" His body visibly shook again at the thought of being in the air directly below what amounted to a giant meat slicing machine.
The crowd erupted again, with the emotions running the gambit between excitement for Victor's win and disappointment that the final cards were not turned over. As Hassan stood and nodded his acknowledgment of a well played game to Victor, a chant slowly filled the room: "Show them, show them, show them!"
Hassan looked back to Victor, who only shrugged. The Sultan leaned over the table and flipped over his card.
"Four of clubs," the Casino Manager announced.
Hassan smiled broadly. "I thank you for allowing me to keep my boat."
Victor looked at his card. He wasn't sure he wanted to see it. He had surely beat Hassan's four and had lost the multimillion dollar boat and its whirly bird. But, he'd known a lot of people who had let greed get the better of them and he was determined not to regret his decision by simply not turning over the card.
But the crowd's chants were only growing, and looking up to see the Sultan's own look of curiosity, Victor reached down and turned over his card.
"Three of clubs!"
The room erupted in a final round of mayhem at the realization that Victor would have left her with nothing but a free plane ride had he not taken Hassan's deal. Victor looked up to the laughing Sultan and said, "Thank you for letting me keep your island."
"You are very welcome," the Sultan said, again gesturing his farewell and heading for the room's private exit, escorted by his entourage.
Suddenly, Victor was mobbed by people, patting him on the back and shaking his hand, whether he'd offered it or not. And all Victor could think of was the reactions back in Oregon weeks earlier when he'd won the lottery, and how all he'd wanted to do was get away. He struggle to rise to his feet amid the mayhem and, catching the Casino Manager's eye, pleaded, "Can you get me out of here, please."
Twelve hours later, as his jet was returning over Pacific on its way to Los Angeles, Victor was heading the opposite direction, nearing the end of a long float plane flight. The Pilot -- a British expatriate -- allowed him to sit up front, and when they were within sight of el Dragon, pointed downward and said, "There she is. Home sweet home."
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