The Spoilers / Juggernaut. Desmond Bagley

said Tozier abruptly.

      ‘Why not? Supposing we put on a hundred thousand at ten to one. That’s another quick million.’ Follet spread his hands. ‘Makes the arithmetic easier, too – a million each.’

      ‘It’s too risky,’ Warren insisted.

      ‘Say, I have an idea,’ said Follet excitedly. ‘Jamshid doesn’t know Javid here. Why can’t Javid lay the bet for us? It’s good for us and it’s good for him. He can add his own dough and make a killing for himself. How about that, Javid?’

      ‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Raqi uncertainly.

      Tozier looked interested. ‘It could work,’ he said thoughtfully.

      ‘You could be a rich man, Javid,’ said Follet. ‘You take that sixteen thousand you just won and you could turn it into a hundred and sixty thousand – that’s as much as the three of us made today. And you can’t miss – that’s the beauty of it.’

      Raqi took the hire as a trout takes a fly. ‘All right,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ll do it.’

      ‘Very well,’ said Warren, capitulating. ‘But this is the last time this year. Is that understood?’

      Follet nodded, and Tozier said, ‘Let’s play poker.’

      ‘Until six o’clock,’ said Warren. ‘I have a date tonight. Win or lose we stop at six.’

      He won back most of his losses during the rest of the afternoon. Some of it was made by a big pot won on an outrageous bluff, but he seemed to have much better hands. At six o’clock he was down a mere thousand rials. He had unobtrusively put his watch right, too.

      ‘That’s it,’ said Follet. ‘See you next week, Javid.’ He winked. ‘You’ll be in the big time then.’

      When Raqi had gone Warren got up and stretched. ‘What a way to pass a day,’ he said.

      ‘Our boy’s very happy,’ said Follet. ‘He’s broken into the big time and it hasn’t cost him a cent. Let’s figure out how much he’s into us for. What did you lose, Warren?’

      ‘A thousand as near as damn it.’

      ‘Andy?’

      ‘Close on three thousand. He can play poker.’

      ‘That he can,’ said Follet. ‘I had to cut into him after the race – I didn’t want him to think he can make more playing poker than playing the horses.’ He looked up at Warren. ‘You’re no poker player. Now, let’s see – I’m out a thousand, so he’s taken a total of twenty-one thousand, including that dough I gave him for the race. He’ll be back next week.’

      ‘Greedy for more,’ said Tozier. ‘I thought you said he was honest.’

      ‘There’s a bit of larceny in all of us,’ said Follet. ‘Cheating a bookie is considered respectable by a lot of upright citizens – like smuggling a bottle of whisky through customs.’ He picked up the pack of cards and riffled them. ‘There’s an old saying among con men – you can’t cheat an honest man. If Javid was really honest this thing wouldn’t work. But he’s as honest as most.’

      ‘Can you really take money off him at poker?’ asked Warren. ‘A lot depends on that.’

      ‘I was doing it this afternoon, wasn’t I?’ demanded Follet. ‘You ought to know that better than anyone. You don’t think you started winning by your own good play.’ He extended the pack to Warren. ‘Take the top card.’

      Warren took it. It was the nine of diamonds.

      Follet was still holding the pack. ‘Put it back. Now I’m going to deal that top card on to the table. Watch me carefully.’ He picked up the top card and spun it smoothly on to the table in front of Warren. ‘Now turn it over.’

      Warren turned over the ace of clubs.

      Follet laughed. ‘I’m a pretty good second dealer. I dealt the second card, not the top card, but you didn’t spot it.’ He held up his hand. ‘If you see any guy holding a pack of cards like this, don’t play with him. That’s the mechanic’s grip, and he’ll second deal you, bottom deal you, and strip your pockets. I’ll take Javid Raqi all right.’

      IV

      It was a long week. Warren understood the necessity for inaction but it still irked him. Tozier and Follet played their coin-matching game interminably and Tozier steadily lost, much to his annoyance. ‘I’ll figure this out if it’s the last thing I do,’ he said, and Follet chuckled comfortably.

      Warren could not see the fascination the game held for Tozier. It seemed to be a childish game although there was the problem of why Follet won so consistently in what seemed to be an even game in which there was no possibility of cheating.

      Bryan was as restless as Warren. ‘I feel out of it,’ he said. ‘Like a spare wheel. I feel as though I’m doing nothing and going nowhere.’

      ‘You’re not the only one who feels that way,’ said Warren irritably.

      ‘Yes, but I was stuck playing with that bloody video recorder while you three were having all the fun.’

      ‘That’s the most important part, Ben.’

      ‘Maybe – but it’s over now. You won’t need the recorder this time. So what do I do – twiddle my thumbs?’

      Follet looked up. ‘Wait a minute.’ He eyed Ben speculatively. ‘Maybe we’re passing up a chance here. I think we can use you, Ben, but it’ll need a bit of rehearsal with me and Andy. It’ll be important, too. Are you game for it?’

      ‘Of course,’ said Bryan eagerly.

      So the three of them went to Follet’s room with Follet saying, ‘Nothing to trouble you with, Nick; it’s best you don’t know what’s going to happen. You’re a lousy actor, anyway, and I want this to come as a real surprise.’

      Came Saturday and Javid Raqi arrived early. Follet had telephoned him and suggested a lengthened session starting in the morning, and Raqi had eagerly agreed. ‘We’ve got to have time to strip the little bastard,’ said Follet cynically.

      They started to play poker at ten-thirty and, to begin with, Raqi won as he had the previous week. But then things seemed to go against him. His three kings were beaten by Warren’s three aces; his full house was beaten by Tozier’s four threes; his ace-high flush was beaten by Follet’s full house. Not that this seemed to happen often but when it did the pots were big and Raqi lost heavily. His steady trickle of winning hands was more than offset by his few occasional heavy losses.

      By midday he had exhausted the contents of his wallet and hesitantly drew out an envelope. Impatiently he ripped it open and spilled a pile of money on to the table.

      ‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ asked Follet gently.

      ‘I still have money – plenty money,’ said Raqi tensely.

      ‘No offence,’ said Follet as he gathered the cards. ‘I guess you know what you’re doing. You’re a big boy now.’ He dealt cards. Javid Raqi lost again.

      By two in the afternoon Raqi was almost cleaned out. He had been holding his own for about half an hour and the money in front of him – about a thousand rials – ebbed and flowed across the table but, in the main, stayed steady. Warren guessed that Follet was organizing that and he felt a little sick. He did not like this cat and mouse game.

      At last Tozier looked at his watch. ‘We’d better switch to the horses,’ he said. ‘There’s not much time.’

      ‘Sure,’ said Follet. ‘Put up the stake, Nick; you’re the banker. Javid, you know what to do?’

      Raqi