The Living End (Daniel Faust #3)(60)

Calypso ashed his cigarette and took a sip of whiskey while he thought it over. Suddenly, he rapped his knuckles on the table and stood up.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, making his way over to the crowded bar.

Caitlin squeezed my hand under the table and whispered, “What are you doing? He just beat you twice without even trying. Is this some sort of pride thing? Calypso’s a legend, Daniel. I won’t think any less of you for walking away from the table.”

I lifted her hand to my lips, and kissed the curve of her fingers. “Trust me. I think I’ve got him figured out. Besides, the monte isn’t a game, it’s a hustle.”

“You think he doesn’t know that?”

“Oh, he knows it,” I said. “In fact, I’m counting on him knowing it.”

I fiddled with my deck, idly shuffling, until Calypso returned. He held up a fresh pack of cards, still sealed in cellophane.

“We play,” he said, peeling the translucent plastic open, “but not with your cards. With these.”

My shoulders tensed. I forced myself to nod and smile. “Fine.”

He handed me the open pack, and I shook the cards out into my palm. Smooth, glossy, never creased, and slick as grease. I fanned out the deck on the table, so they could both see every move I made. I slid out the queen of hearts and held it up.

“Behold, the lady fair,” I said. “This is the money card. Keep your eye on her, she’s more slippery than she looks.”

The jack of spades and the jack of clubs joined the queen of hearts, and the other cards went back in the pack, set off to the side. I flipped the blue-backed cards facedown, then picked up two in my left hand and one in my right.

In any game of three-card monte, the opening throw is the most crucial. A good operator learns how to make a deal from the top of two cards look like a deal from the bottom, and vice versa. Before you even start shuffling the cards around, the mark is already looking in the wrong place. Get that right and the game is yours.

The three cards hit the table. A perfect bottom deal, undetectable and designed to throw Calypso off the trail.

His unblinking gaze darted straight to the middle card. Straight to the queen.





Twenty-Nine



I took a deep breath and laid my fingertips on the outer cards, swapping them, jumping to the middle card and sliding it around to the left, keeping them in constant motion. As I did, an old patter line spilled from my lips, words dancing to the beat of the cards.

“It’s a little game from Kathmandu, the black for me, the red for you. One gets you five, and five gets you ten. I don’t get mad when I lose, I get happy when I win. Hey, diddle diddle, the queen’s in the middle. Now, sir—”

I pulled my hands back. The three cards lay on the table between us, facedown and anonymous, waiting for Calypso’s choice.

“Tell me,” I said, “can you spot the queen? Where’s that slippery lady hiding out now?”

Calypso lifted his chin. He smiled, almost condescending, as his finger hovered over each card…then lifted to point at my arm.

“The queen,” he said, “is up your right sleeve, tucked into your watchband.”

I’d been holding my breath while he chose. I let it all out in one sigh, deflating.

“I’ll be taking my five years now,” he said.

I reached out and flipped over the middle card. Showing him the queen of hearts.

“Don’t think so,” I said. “Weird choice, too. I mean, I told you the queen was in the middle. Weren’t you listening?”

Caitlin flashed a sly smile, like she knew it all along, but I could see the relief in her eyes. Calypso just stared, brow furrowed, as he tried to figure out what he’d missed.

“Pull up your sleeve,” he said, wagging his finger. “I can see the corner of a card poking out there.”

“What, this?” I said.

I tugged out the hidden card and held it up. It was the six of diamonds. I turned it around to show him the twined red dragons on the back, not the blue back from the deck he’d chosen.

“This is one of my cards,” I said. “I slipped it up my sleeve while you were over at the bar, before the game even started. Then I let you see it while I was shuffling. Your assumptions did the rest of the work for me.”

Calypso quirked an eyebrow. Then he laughed, a deep and hearty rumble, lifting his glass and tossing back a swig of whiskey.

“Spirit of the game,” I said. “We both know that three-card monte is a grift. Therefore cheating is in the spirit of the game. You assumed I chose the monte because I thought I could pull one over on you with some simple carny tricks. I chose it because I knew I couldn’t. I did the one thing you didn’t expect.”

I tapped the queen.

“I played fair.”

“Well,” Calypso said, reaching into his suit coat. “That was nicely done, son. Like you said, I don’t get mad when I lose. I get happy when I win. This is yours, fair and square.”

He took a furled sheaf of papers from inside his coat, rolled up and bound with a black silk ribbon, and handed it over to me. I raised my glass to him with my free hand.

“Cheers,” I said. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

He laughed again, looking incredulous. “You won’t? Why you’d better, or I’m gonna have to do all the work.”