Blind God's Bluff A Billy Fox Novel - By Richard Lee Byers Page 0,60

misses you because it does. And when that happened to me, the Pharaoh wouldn’t need to change any of the cards. So how was I supposed to know when he was really doing it? I didn’t want to fire up the Thunderbird on every hand. I didn’t want to burn through that much power, and I was afraid one of my opponents would notice.

So I lost chips—and eventually the chip lead—sulked, and bitched, while Wotan threw taunts in my direction. Until finally it was the Pharaoh’s deal, I called a bet with the eight-seven of clubs and flopped an open-ended straight flush draw.

That meant I was a six-to-four favorite to end up with the winning hand. So when I didn’t, it would also be six to four that it was because the Pharaoh had screwed with the cards. In other words, now was the time to take a look.

The king of diamonds came out on the turn, and it really was the king of diamonds. Gimble made a big bet, and I had a decision to make. The chances of me picking up a straight or a flush had just dropped to thirty percent. And if I missed, I was going to end up seriously short-stacked.

But sometimes you just feel that you’re going to catch the card you need. And sometimes that feeling turns out to be nothing more than wishful thinking. Still, I had it, so I called, and the others who were still in the hand got out of the way.

The king of spades came on Fifth Street. Except that when I splashed the Thunderbird across the table, it blinked to the king of clubs, then back again.

Bingo! Or at least I thought so for half a second. Then I realized a flush wasn’t the nuts anymore. With a pair on the board, Gimble could have a full boat.

And if he did have me beat fair and square, would it matter if I proved that the one king was really a different king? The cards talk—that’s basic poker—he wasn’t even the one screwing with them, and the others all wanted me gone. That’s why they were colluding against me.

Suddenly scared, I looked at the Pharaoh and tried to figure out just how deep a game he was playing, just how exactly he was setting me up for kill. That shriveled, crumbling face didn’t give away a thing. All I saw was that his cheroot had gone out.

Gimble checked. I figured he wanted to sucker the man on tilt into bluffing, but it gave me a way out. I could check, too, and not risk any more than I had already.

But I realized I didn’t want to do that. I pushed all in, and Gimble beat me into the pot.

We turned over our cards. Gimble’s were the king and queen of hearts, which meant he only had trips. I wasn’t out of the woods yet, but I felt a grin stretch across my face.

Reaching to rake in the pot, Gimble noticed my expression and hesitated. “What?” he asked in that scratchy voice.

“This.” I threw the Thunderbird, and this time, I put everything I had into it. I slammed it down on the tabletop like a sledgehammer.

Except, not a physical sledgehammer. It didn’t make the table break or even jiggle. Nobody’s chip stacks fell over. But all the other players felt it, and jerked back in their chairs. The king of spades turned into the king of clubs, and this time, it stayed that way.

I jumped up and stabbed my finger at it. Not the best poker manners, but I was excited. “I’ve got a flush, and that’s my pot!”

Gimble froze, not taking the chips, but not pulling his segmented tin hands back, either. Over the course of the night, he’d won enough and I’d lost enough that he’d had me covered. But not by much. Giving up this pot would cripple him.

“I felt you use magic,” he said. “I don’t know what you did with it. Maybe you changed the suit of the card.”

“Bullshit. You all know what the Pharaoh was doing. You were all in on it. But if I have to prove it more than I have already, let’s go through the deck. If I changed the card, there’ll be an extra king of clubs and no king of spades. If I just changed it back to what it really is, then there’ll be one of everything.”

Wotan shoved back from the table. “So you accuse us all