Authors: EJ McBride
The man clapped, the crowd joining him in a half-hearted applause, signalling to the dealer to begin the game. The dealer introduced herself to the table and began dealing out the opening hand of the game.
Robin leant down behind Clara, gently squeezing her shoulders and whispering into her right ear. 'I think the social norm is to wish you luck', he said.
'So?', responded Clara. 'Or was that it?'
'I don't want to jinx it. This is going to be a walk in the park. In fact, I'm going to take a walk and get a drink', he said. 'Give me a good chance to eh, check the place out a bit.'
He kissed her gently on the cheek before walking toward the bar. Clara blushed slightly, her recent unfamiliarity with human affection showing. She watched Robin as he walked away, before turning her attention back to the game.
The casino had numerous bars, and Robin wasn't fussed about which one he drank at. He knew that he shouldn't stray away from the table for too long so as not to create any suspicion, but also felt it important to get an idea of the layout of the place. Whilst the need for a quick exit was unlikely, he'd always felt it better to be prepared than not. He deliberately picked the bar furthest away from the table, situated almost completely opposite the poker game at the far end of the room. It was a huge square that had been dropped into the building, a lowered ceiling hanging from the main ceiling, small spotlights and LEDs creating beautiful, dancing light patterns on the bar surface below it. Designer metal stools lined the outside, while three tiered shelves ran all the way along the bar behind the serving staff, filled with high-priced liquors and spirits, green and yellow spotlights behind them giving the place the look of a science lab, as if they were serving potions instead of beverages. Robin took a seat, running his hand across the brushed marble counter, which was immaculately clean, more LED spotlights installed in it's surface, shining up through the drinks that patrons would rest on the bar. At one end, a young cocktail waiter dazzled a crowd with his throwing, twisting and shaking skills, creating luminous drinks for his impressed audience, while at the opposite end, a huge chrome bowl was being used to create dry ice, bottles of champagne positioned all around it.
'Good evening sir, what can I get you?', quizzed a bartender, a young man in his mid twenties, immaculately dressed and groomed.
'Scotch and ice', Robin replied. Whilst he didn't want to draw attention to himself by not drinking, he also knew he needed to remain as sober as possible, just in case. Whiskey was his drink, especially when he had it clean, and he knew that so long as he paced himself and drank a few waters, tried to eat something whenever the opportunity arose, he could take a fair few before they had any kind of adverse affect on him.
The bartender disappeared off to the shelves behind him, before coming back with his drink, placing it deliberately on top of one of the table LEDs, the yellow scotch now reflecting off of the bar.
'Thanks', said Robin, turning around in his stool and perusing the room. At the distant end of the casino, he could see the poker table, the game in full swing, the crowd still present. Across the room in front of him a variety of games were being played, from Blackjack to Roulette, the occasional cheer or laugh from a small crowd of players as someone won or lost. To his right was an open doorway leading through to the lounge area, and to the left of the doorway were the slot machines, deliberately positioned away from the main room because of their natural obnoxiousness, a mess of bright neon lights and overly loud noises. The clientele at the slots was different, mainly lone players, small buckets of coins in hand, losing track of how long they'd been playing or how much money they'd spent until it was all gone. Robin paid particular attention to this area as he noticed a black door, deliberately unmarked and designed to blend into the wall in which it was built. He spotted a member of the casino security come out of it quickly and quietly, closing it behind him and walking into the main area of the casino. Robin waited a moment, following the security agent with his eyes, who by this time had stopped to monitor a roulette game. Robin gently eased himself up off of the bar, drink in hand, and walked over to the slot machines. He stood by a bank of five slots, spotting an elderly player at the far end pumping coins into the machine in a steady flow, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. He watched the player for a moment, before scanning his eyes to his right, back to the door he'd just watched a security guard walk through. To it's right, he could clearly make out a small control panel, numbered, and used by the security team to access the door. He took a sip from his drink, pondering how he might be able to get the code to the door. He knew that unless things went desperately wrong this evening he wasn't going to need it, but something in his gut told him that it would be a code worth knowing.
Suddenly, something caught his eye, moving past his peripheral vision to his right, two members of the security team heading toward the door, deep in conversation. Robin made momentary eye contact with one, reading him in a second, realising that these guys were planning the rest of their night, a shift about to finish, and probably weren't going to be coming back through that door anytime soon. He moved quickly, heading toward the pair, drink still in his right hand. The security agents reached the door, one of them reaching out their hand, fingers just inches away from touching the buttons.
'Excuse me', shouted Robin as he approached them.
'Can I help you sir?', said one of the staff, the pair eyeing him with an expression of intimidation that he didn't have to read.
'Where are the bathrooms?', he asked.
The security men looked at one another, puzzled, before one gestured directly behind them, back toward the lounge door, at the large, neon sign that read 'Bathrooms'.
'Aha', laughed Robin, 'Thanks. Oh god, I'm so sorry', he said, pointing at the number pad. 'If you're anything like me and my cashpoint pin number I'll have made you forget the code!', he said, grinning. He stared into the eyes of the agent as the numbers, '
301184
' almost being read out in front of him.
'No sir', snapped the security guard, his 'fuck off' expression now clearer than ever. 'Is there anything else we can help you with?'
'No thanks gentlemen, you've both been more than helpful already', said Robin, walking past them, taking particular care not to look back. He knew that the staff would be waiting until he was fully out of sight before they even considered touching the door panel now, so he slinked off into the bathrooms as quickly as he could.
Clara stared down at the cards in front of her, eyes transfixed on the pictures and numbers. She was aware that what she was holding was not a bad hand. It was in fact, to most poker players, a good hand. But Clara was by this point two hands into the game, and struggling to focus, and thanks to a cocksure first hand gamble, was a considerable number of chips down. She took in a large breath of air and shuffled in her seat, gazing up at her competition, all staring back at her.
'Madam', said the dealer. Clara looked over, the dealer's impatience successfully masked by her polite questioning.
'Uh, fold', said Clara, dropping the cards on to the table. She sighed, and watched as yet another hand went against her, Jepsom taking the spoils with a humble but fake smile. Clara looked to Bill, who was only doing marginally better than her, the grin on his face clearly demonstrating his lack of emotional interest in the game.
'Not our night hey?', he said.
'I guess not', replied Clara, taking a sip of her drink and fighting her instincts to wring her hands nervously. She was choking and she knew it. She looked back up at the table, flitting her eyes around to each player, reading them instantly, a barrage of information flying back at her, nothing tangible enough to help her. She knew she had to focus, something she was finding more difficult with each losing hand.
'So uh, when do you start playing?' A hand appeared gently on her right shoulder, Robin whispering sarcastically into her ear.
'Easy for you to say', she whispered back. 'See lots of nice things on your walk?'
'Sure. I saw the door they're going to use to kick us out of here if anyone thinks we're up to something. Now how about you try winning a few hands?'
He leant in and kissed her on the cheek, Clara's angry expression not changing even for a second. The dealer checked everyone was ready before beginning the next hand.
Robin moved himself into the crowd, away from the table and along with all of the other spectators and friends of players. A bit of 'good luck' communication was allowed between hands, but anything more than that would look suspicious, and he was confident that Clara's 'opening night' nerves would disappear soon enough. He sipped his drink, half-focused on the game and half surveying the room, when a figure approached his left side.
'I'm guessing a career in professional poker isn't on the cards for her?'
Robin looked to his left, the tall and beautiful wife of Bill Sanderson looking right into his eyes, her tedium at her husband's bravado and flashiness apparent to him.
'I'm sorry?', asked Robin. She pointed, drink still in hand, in the direction of Clara.
'Hardly cleaning up is she?'
'Ah. No, I guess not. Your husband, does he play much poker?'
'Bill? No, as you can probably tell. Truth be told he was never that good at anything, not even business. But his father left him the company, and he likes any excuse to play with the big boys, whatever the sport.'
She sipped her drink, before glancing over at her husband. 'It'll be a good story for his golf buddies I suppose. What about your wife? Don't take this the wrong way but she doesn't look the type for poker?'
'You'd be surprised', replied Robin. The pair continued talking, Robin's attention being split between the conversation and the game, more specifically Clara, who he was finding it increasingly difficult to take his eyes off.
'You two make a lovely couple', said Mrs Sanderson.
'Really!?' Robin's response was excited, more excited than you would expect from a married man when commenting on the woman he'd, in theory, spent the last 10 years of his life with. Robin realised this, correcting himself.
'I mean thank you, it's nice to hear someone say something so, well, nice.'
Robin smiled at Mrs Sanderson and sipped his drink, his eyes being caught by movement behind her. He switched his attention on a part of the casino he'd spotted earlier but not really logged, a series of windows, what looked like a second floor, but positioned almost completely in the centre of the room, a kind of 'crows-nest'. He'd figured they were just offices, something swanky for the casino manager to relax in, but the hurried movement had alerted him. The windows were tinted, but he could make out two figures looking through, one in a suit and the other wearing the same uniform as the security staff he'd bumped into earlier. They were hard to make out, certainly facial expressions or lip-reading were off the card, as was eye contact, but there was one thing Robin could read loud and clear. As the security agent pointed down to the casino table and picked up a walkie-talkie, Robin felt his stomach flip.
'Excuse me', he said to Mrs Sanderson, moving in the direction of the eye in the sky control room.
Chapter 08
Robin made it about halfway across the floor before he could really, fully make out what was going on in any kind of detail. He was still unable to make eye contact with anyone in the control room, but he figured this wasn't such a bad thing. He was keen to see what was happening, but also knew there was a slim chance that the commotion happening above him might not be anything to do with him and Clara, and his erratic behaviour down on the ground wasn't going to help matters either way. He knew he had to stay calm, and decided to hold for a few moments, perched near a game of roulette, giving him a clear vantage point of what was happening in the room above.
A crowd of six or seven people were watching as an elderly man took turns throwing the dice, the occasional cheer as he'd win or a collective group sigh if he'd lose, and Robin decided this was as good a place as any to scope things out. Although he couldn't see a huge amount of detail in the room above him, he could see the white glow of LED screens, which he assumed were CCTV camera feeds, and the shadows moving about toward the back of the room indicated there were a number of people in there now, and that they were all moving around with some kind of purpose. Robin knew he needed to get close enough to find out what was happening, or at the very least rule out the notion of them being in trouble. He switched his vision to the security door he'd been stood at earlier on, closed and locked, with nobody anywhere near it, the noise of the slot machines nearby making it an ideal entrance to the security function of the casino, provided there was nothing too dangerous immediately on the other side.
For a few moments, Robin batted the idea of going through the door about in his head. He ran a couple of potential scenarios through, good and bad although mainly bad. If anyone caught him trying to break into the secure area in a place like this he’d be in trouble, but he also knew that places like this had countless service corridors and staff entrances, and they couldn’t all be monitored with the level of intensity that the movies would have people believe. He wasn’t convinced either way, but by the time he’d worked a couple of potential outcomes through his mind he found himself moving toward the thing anyway, his subconscious forcing him on a mission that his conscious didn’t want to be a part of. The door was now only feet away from him, and as he lifted his right arm up, ready and waiting to key in the access code, it flew open, two security staff walking out, not yet spotting the man moving directly toward them, arm outstretched. Robin changed his direction immediately, bolting left, not entirely sure what his next move would be, until he reached the slot machines, instinctively pulling out a stool and sitting in front of one, pushing the buttons and fumbling around in his pocket looking for change that he knew wasn't there. He knew that if he'd been seen, he'd probably raised enough eyebrows to at least get thrown out of the place, and breathed a huge sigh of relief as he spotted the security guards, still stood by the door, talking to one another, but not looking at him. He stood up, pushing away from the stool, and headed for the bathrooms on the other side. He knew he couldn't afford the eye contact this time, that he'd already been seen acting suspiciously by too many of the casino's staff, and wondered if a bit of good old fashioned detective work might do the trick instead. He moved quickly, deliberately not looking at the pair, but getting as close to them as he could without risking raising the alarm. As he moved just inches by them, he listened intently to a brief snippet of their conversation.