“Marc, answer me.”
I was so frustrated with Matt that a growl actually emanated from my throat before I could contain it. Not wanting to go deaf, I kept the phone a good six inches from my ear as I answered. “Yes Matt, I can hear you. In fact I think the folks in the rooms next to me were able to hear you.” Taking a short calming breath I pressed on before he could scream at me again. “There is no reason to shout like that. And on top of the auditory damage you’re causing me I think you just made me miss something on the video feed.”
“No! You don’t get to change the topic that easily Marcus!” Matt exclaimed, still using the same volume. “I know you. You’re planning to run some kind of game on Dempsey and he isn’t just some local thug. He owns almost everything and everyone east of the Mississippi and south of the District.”
Due to the nature of our conversation I was simply unwilling to place Matt on speaker. But, I had to do something; I turned down the volume. When he actually wanted to have a conversation with me, rather than just deliver a diatribe, I would turn it up. This was the reaction I had been expecting and had planned to deal with after the tournament. So I waited, hopefully it wouldn’t take him too long to calm him down a little. When Matt’s tirade paused, I assumed he was simply catching his breath or, who knew, maybe getting himself something to drink. Either way I decided to use the opportunity and started my well-rehearsed speech.
“Matt, you know the story, and that’s all it is. I’m sure that all of Dempsey’s influence has just been exaggerated, most of the stories probably originated with him. Besides even if, and I cannot stress that word enough, he was controlling an empire of that size, you do remember who this tournament was engineered for, right? You do remember how we found out about it don’t you? The spoiled rich kid from one of our longer cons? He called me up and told me about it. But before you can object, I’m sure there will be a mix of pros and his goons, but the majority will be like our friend.
After all who else can afford to throw that kind of money away on something like this? Now, also keep in mind that those very kids are by their nature not the most tight-lipped, they don’t really understand what they have been given, for most of them it is just money. Dempsey has to know that this would eventually spill over and become known. I would be shocked if the local police didn’t already know of the game’s existence, they probably don’t know where it is, but I’m sure they know about it.
Another fact for you to chew on is that our friend said this game is a yearly occurrence. Now, armed with all of this knowledge, we can safely assume that Dempsey views these people as walking, talking piggy-banks. I’m also willing to bet he likes to add banks to that collection. Yes, yes, he could break the little, well in this case I should say rather large piggy-banks, but then he would not be able to revisit them over and over and over again. Besides nothing that I am carrying with me tomorrow has been directly procured with any of my transformations. This is just a simple tournament and you know that I’m more than a fair hand at hold’em. You know that.”
As I sat there waiting for Matt’s reply, a sudden chill ran up my spine. Was he simply gearing up for another verbal assault? But that would be out of character for him. Then I remembered what I had done less than a minute ago and quickly turned the volume on the phone back up. When I was able to hear his voice again I managed to catch the tail end of his response. “…cut and run.”
With what I had already heard and what I knew about Matt, it wasn’t all that difficult to fill in the missing words. “Listen Matt, you’re worrying too much.”
“No Marc. I’m not! You are only as good as you are at hold’em because you change the occasional card. The local tables you went to don’t use cameras and you’ve been lucky to boot. You can’t rely on luck to keep avoiding the trouble you’re due.”
“Would it make you feel any better if I told you that Dempsey doesn’t use cameras on his tables either?” His rather loud scoff answered the question as clearly as anything he might have said. But I was getting impatient with the length of this argument so I elaborated. “When he first started this thing yes, he used cameras, five years ago he stopped it when it became painfully obvious that no one was cheating him.”
Exasperated, Matt automatically replied, “Just because he stopped doesn’t mean he can’t or won’t bring them back.”
“Matt, you just have to trust me, I’ll be fine. Besides I’ll fit the part of a spoiled rich kid.” Biting my lower lip I mentally hoped that his curiosity would latch onto that crumb. At least with that conversation I would be able to turn some of my attention back to the video stream.
“Yeah? And just how are you going to manage that?” The resignation behind this question told me that while he was still reluctant to change the topic, he knew that I would never back down and withdraw from the tournament. He didn’t like it, but he was accepting that it was my decision. A decision that I would probably pay for later.
“You’d be surprised just how far you can go with one million dollars, despite needing to keep half for my fee.”