“Bull,” he said.
She leaned forward and offered her hand. “I’d like to stay in touch with you.”
“Me too,” he said, taking her hand and holding it. She smiled, then turned and walked towards the elevator.
She opened the slip of paper when she was alone in the elevator. There were four names on it. Philip Chew. Felix Hunter. Jack Maynard. David Douglas. Where was the fifth? Then she saw that Douglas’s name was written next to both Buckshot and Kaybar. She needed to talk to Jack Maynard.
“David Douglas,” Ava said, when she got to her room. She sat down at the desk and opened her notebook.
“What about him?” Maynard asked.
“Who is he?”
“The Disciple.”
“Who?”
“David ‘the Disciple’ Douglas, one of the greatest poker players in the world. A fucking master.”
“I think he’s also Buckshot and Kaybar.”
“Impossible,” Maynard said, dragging the word out.
“Why?”
There was a long pause. “I don’t know. Maybe unthinkable is a better word.”
“Did you play online with him?”
“A couple of times.”
“Did he win?”
“Yeah, but he’s the Disciple. Him winning isn’t exactly a surprise.”
“Check all your records and see if he ever played against you at the same time as either Buckshot or Kaybar, and then call me back.”
“Wait,” he said. “I can correlate that in a few seconds.”
She waited, her head already halfway to Las Vegas.
“Son of a bitch,” he said finally.
“Jack, you can’t discuss this with anyone, not even Felix.”
“I can’t believe this shit. Douglas beat me, Philip, and Felix for maybe five or six million combined, but we never thought twice about it. It was Buckshot and Kaybar who made us freak out. Now I’m looking at my records and kicking myself for not seeing the obvious. None of them ever played together. Ever. And I’m telling you, when you factor Douglas’s play into the numbers we ran on Buckshot and Kaybar, that ninety percent certainty we had that we were screwed jumps to one hundred. And do you know what hurts most?”
“I can guess.”
“We were fucked over big time by the very guy Felix and I almost model ourselves after.”
Ava was beginning to regret the phone call. “Jack, for the last time, please don’t discuss this with anyone.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going after him.”
“For Philip?”
“For my client.”
“Well, fuck that,” Maynard said. “Get our money back at the same time. Then we can all bury that son of a bitch so deep he won’t be able to show his face anywhere in the poker world.”
She knew she had lost him. Douglas’s name had set off a firestorm in Maynard’s head. “Listen to me, Jack. Maybe I can get some money back for you and Felix, but — and please hear me — I made a commitment to the Mohneida that I would keep this quiet. In exchange, they’ve made it possible for us to go after Douglas. Without them we would be nowhere. And I don’t go back on my word.”
“Okay, then don’t. Just get our money.”
“And you’ll stay quiet about Douglas?”
“If I have to.”
“You do.”
“And you’ll take my word for it?”
“Yes, I will. With one caveat.”
“I’m listening.”
“If you cause me to lose trust with the Mohneida, I’ll take it very personally. And my people don’t do car bombs. They do face to face.”
“Shit. I won’t do or say anything, I promise,” he said.
Ava wasn’t sure she believed him but she had no other choice but to go along. “Okay, then I’ll do what I can to get your money back as well.”
“Thank you.”
“Send me an accounting of how much they took from you and Felix.”
“Will do.”
“And then send me your take on David Douglas. Pretend he didn’t screw you. Pretend it’s two weeks ago and you were asked for an objective assessment of him.”
“Can do.”
“I can see from the information the Mohneida gave me that he lives in Vegas. Where does he play?”
“When he’s there, he plays the cash game at Wynn’s. I played with him there myself. They told me he shows up just about every day.”
“Do the people at Wynn’s know who you are?”
“Yeah.”
“Then do me a favour. Call Wynn’s right now and ask if Douglas has been playing there, and then call me back.”
“Okay.”
It took less than ten minutes for Maynard to call Ava back. “He’s been there every day for the past month or so. In fact he’s sitting at one of the tables now.”
“Well, I guess I’m going to Las Vegas,” Ava said.
It was almost five o’clock. She doubted that there would be any direct flights from Victoria to Vegas, and she had no idea if she could get back to Vancouver and catch one from there. She went online and, to her surprise, saw there was a nine-o’clock flight from Vancouver to Seattle that connected with an eleven-o’clock flight that got into Vegas just past midnight. Ava phoned her travel agent in Toronto, but when she couldn’t reach her, she went back online and booked the flights herself.
She was packing her bags when her cellphone rang. The 613 area code again — eastern Ontario. “Ava Lee,” she said.
“It’s Martin Littlefeather.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. I just wanted you to know that I’ve finished going over the data you gave us. At first glance it seems to hold up very well. It’ll take time to confirm, of course, but it’s so well organized that it should take less time than I thought.”
“That’s good.”
“I was also calling to see if you’d like to join me for a drink later.”
“Actually, Martin, I’m flying to Las Vegas tonight.”
“Vegas?”
“Yes, I think that David Douglas is my man, and that’s where he is.”
Ava heard noise erupting from his end. “Just a second. I’m with people and they’ve decided to start to party.”
When he came back on, she heard a toilet flushing. “Sorry about that. Did you say David Douglas?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
