The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,68

sensible. Risk big. Win big.

‘Sixty . . . and raise you sixty.’

Zykov stared at Adam as he shoved the chips to join the crowd already at the table’s centre. Both men were now doing the same thing, trying to spot a bluff. Seeing who would crack first.

‘Call.’

If Zykov was bluffing, he was doing a better job of concealing it than before. But nor did he seem as openly confident as he had on previous strong hands. The rising stakes had focused his mind, forcing him to suppress his emotions.

Those emotions would explode back out if he lost, Adam was sure. That would make him easier to lure into the trap outside.

But first, he had to be beaten. And even with all Vanwall’s experience, the American still didn’t know if that was going to happen.

Cards. The four of spades joined Adam’s hand. One pair, at least – but it was still lower than Zykov’s two kings. Nevertheless, he faked a small nod of approval. If he could convince Zykov that his hole card was an ace, he might still be able to bluff him into folding.

Three of hearts for the Russian. A small smile appeared on his lips. ‘One hundred thousand dollars.’ Several imposing stacks of chips slid across the table.

Not many spectators remained in the bar area, most having left when the players they were accompanying had been eliminated, but the size of the bet still provoked sounds of surprise and awe. If Adam called the bet, there would be over six hundred thousand dollars on the table. If he folded, he had just lost two hundred and twenty thousand dollars and put both players back on more or less level pegging.

And he still wasn’t sure if Zykov was bluffing. The Russian obviously wanted him to think he had three kings. But even if he didn’t, his two kings would still beat the pair of fours.

Adam regarded Zykov for a long moment. He appeared confident – but since he held the best hand based on the visible cards, that wasn’t surprising. Third king or not, right now he would still win a showdown.

Was he bluffing?

There had to be a giveaway, a tell. The Russian had been unable to conceal his feelings, positive or negative, earlier in the evening. There was no way he could have suddenly locked himself down now, not with so much at stake. He was smiling, but that meant nothing. Look past the smile, see what was behind it. True confidence, or just bravado?

The two men’s eyes were locked. Both trying to judge the other. A mental duel, seeing who would flinch first . . .

Just for a moment, Zykov’s eyes revealed . . . concern.

The Russian quickly covered it up by speaking. ‘Well? Are you going to bet?’

Adam said nothing. He didn’t know what had caused the tiny flicker of worry, but something about it, an almost indefinable shift in the short man’s . . . aura, was the word Vanwall rather surprisingly chose, convinced him that it was involuntary. Genuine.

He was bluffing.

Make him angry. Attack.

Adam leaned forward, a maddening smirk growing. ‘You know, little comrade?’ Zykov frowned at the insult. ‘I don’t believe you’ve got a third king there.’ He pointed at the other man’s hole card. ‘And I’m so confident of that, I’m willing to bet everything I have on it. All in.’ To audible gasps from the bar, he shoved all his remaining chips into the pot.

Without the video feed from Bianca’s camera the other team members had been quiet, but the gamble drew a reaction even blind. ‘Uh, Adam,’ said Holly Jo. ‘I really, really hope you’ve got a winning hand.’

So do I. He waited for Zykov’s reaction. If the Russian believed his bluff, he would have no choice but to fold and take a hit of three hundred and twenty thousand dollars – half his remaining chips. That would make him extremely vulnerable to another round of high betting in the next game . . .

There was not going to be a next game.

‘All in,’ said the Russian. He pushed all his precisely stacked chips into the centre. They toppled, cascading down across the rest of the pot.

Two million dollars. All hanging on the final cards.

Adam battled to hide his tension. If he was wrong, if Zykov really did have a third king, there was no possible way he could beat it. The best hand he could get was three of a kind, fours – which would not beat three kings.