–Okay.

The dealer’s fingertips moved smoothly and with great accuracy. Ironically, his very skill made it all the easier for Balot to read his movements.

The Doctor was given the red marker, and he shoved it into the pile of cards haphazardly. The dealer performed another cut—a stealthy, swift movement, one much too quick for the naked eye to follow. And indeed Balot didn’t follow it, not with her eyes at least. But the Lightite skin that covered her entire body was sensitive enough to the sudden movement, and she read it like a book.

–Thirty-two cards in total. Every single one of them worth ten.

–So he’s taken two decks’ worth of tens and royals and removed them from play. What a move…

Oeufcoque seemed simultaneously impressed and blase.

The point tally changed, dropping immediately to minus eighty. The value of the optimal stake per hand also plummeted accordingly. It was time to batten down the hatches and play defensively.

The first cards came. A 6 and 3. Small cards. Balot tried to bring to mind the sensation of what had happened when the dealer last cut the cards. Remembering, feeling which cards surrounded the clumps of ten cards before they were stealthily removed.

She looked over to the Doctor to see he had a 2 and 5. He hit twice, eventually settling on a total of seventeen, at which point he stayed. Balot also hit twice, bringing her total to nineteen.

The dealer’s upcard was a 6. The hidden card was a 2. He drew three cards, bringing his total to nineteen, meaning the Doctor lost and Balot drew, and her chips returned to her.

The next hand saw Balot with a total of twelve, and she hit. She received a 5. When would her luck change? It was all about trying to pin down the precise moment.

Balot stared at her cards, then made her mind up.

According to Oeufcoque’s tactics the right move was to stay. Yet Balot chose to hit. She received a 6. Bust. But this was no longer about the hand. There was a bigger picture.

The dealer quickly collected Balot’s spent cards. As he did so, Balot intuitively grasped the thickness of the pile of remaining cards and chose her moment carefully.

She promptly reconfirmed her bankroll, then plucked out a handful of chips as if she were wrenching them from the mountainous pile. Then she waited.

The dealer revealed his cards. He had eleven and drew a 7 to bring his total up to eighteen.

As a result the Doctor lost, and the dealer collected the Doctor’s cards too.

Balot placed her chips on the table as the dealer made his move. The clink of the chips as they landed on the table distracted the dealer for a moment, causing him to take his eyes from the discard pile. He looked somewhat stunned.

Balot ignored the dealer and turned to the Doctor.

–I have to use them up, really, it’s not fair to the chips otherwise.

The Doctor grunted and appeared to be thinking deeply, but then he announced, “Very well, then. Bring it on!” Throwing caution to the wind he placed a pile of ten-thousand-dollar chips on the table in front of him.

Up until this moment Balot and the Doctor had both been extremely cautious with their opening bets.

This was the correct tactic when counting, after all. The true count was zero at the start of a new round, so it was only prudent to start the betting low and increase their stakes only when the cards started to play in their favor. Balot and the Doctor had been doing their best to cover up the fact that they were doing just that, but even so the dealer would have surely worked out by now that they always started each new game cautiously, even if he didn’t suspect that the tactic was part of their card counting.

The dealer may have worked us out, thought Balot, but we have him worked out even better.

The dealer seemed in better spirits as he put his hand to the card shoe.

First the dealer’s upcard appeared. An 8.

Then the Doctor’s first card. A 10. Then Balot received her card. Also a 10. Then the dealer’s hidden card was dealt. Then the Doctor’s second card. Another 10. Balot’s second card came. Again, a 10.

There were four tens on the table in front of them now. Balot tapped the Doctor’s arm— twice.

–You’ll never beat me unless you stop being so stingy with your chips.

The Doctor put on a troubled face before eventually coming to a decision. Not hitting, not staying, but rather the third option.

“Split.”

The Doctor used his two index fingers to signal his cards being pulled apart.

Then he placed another pile of chips, equal to his original stake, on the table, beside the card that no longer had a stake covering it.

The dealer drew and placed a third card next to one of the Doctor’s. Incredibly, this card too was a 10.

“Stay.”

The Doctor was dealt yet another card. Yet again another 10.

–Look, you can go again if you want, Uncle! If you have the guts, that is…

Balot tapped the Doctor’s arm again.

“Of course…” said the Doctor, and the dealer’s face showed a flash of panic when he saw the Doctor take yet another pile of chips in his hands. “Split.”

Another 10.

The Doctor peered at the dealer’s upcard and hummed, “I think I’d better stay this time.”

In response the dealer now moved on to the second of the Doctor’s two original cards and dealt again. Another 10.

“Split,” the Doctor called again, and again he thrust forward more chips. The dealer was breathing heavily now and seemed to be in some pain. Still, he managed to deal another card to the Doctor. A 10 again. The Doctor stayed. Then another card, for the last split, and yet another 10.

“Stay, I think…” the Doctor said casually. Then he turned to Balot and laughed broadly. “Well, I’ve had a good enough run for my money, don’t you think? Now let’s see if you can do any better.”

–I’ll split too.

The dealer’s face was now drained of all expression, and he was staring at the pile of chips that Balot was preparing to add to the table.

Her card came. It was another 10. The dealer had done his best to contain them, but he couldn’t get them all, and here was the surplus, spilling out uncontrollably, just where he didn’t want them—like the clubs in poker that nobody seemed to want. Like stray dollar bills sticking out the sides of a hastily closed trunk.

–Stay.

For a moment the dealer seemed relieved. But then Balot’s other card received a 10 to go with it.

Balot re-split, received another 10, and stayed. Her second re-split card also received another 10, and she re-split again. And so on and so on. It was only when she came to the sixth split that she drew a 7 and finally stopped.

The dealer looked like a bank robber hemmed in by police on all sides. Police with advance notice of when the break-in was due to take place. The dealer’s shaking hand moved toward his own cards now, slowly turning over his hidden card, well aware that it was the pin to a hand grenade that was about to blow up in his face.

The dealer’s hidden card was a 10. Bringing the total number of tens on the table up to twenty.

The dealer’s total was eighteen. Of the ten bullets that Balot and the Doctor fired toward him, one missed and the other nine landed with deadly accuracy. The dealer was at death’s door.

–The prize is within our grasp now.

Oeufcoque’s words floated up on Balot’s hand as if he were giving her his blessing. Balot was truly thankful to have Oeufcoque silently watching over her.

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