“We need to go out on the town and rustle up some coin.”
“Anything in mind?” asked Wren.
I nodded, worried my lip. “We work the gaming boats on Lake Yoe first. Follow my lead, stay low and alert, and you two may learn something.”
“Yes, Captain Ruskie,” said Wren with a cynical salute.
No mention of the phase-distorter from TK, though I knew it was on his mind. Billy was useless to us so he stayed back on the ship. I just hoped the halfwit wouldn’t trash the place. I’d disabled all the controls, and left him with some crude magazines to pore over, unbeknownst to TK, but one couldn’t be too sure.
After scanning the ship’s database for loopholes in the Zanzadeer gambling systems, I discovered we needed some updated props; new games were in play on the boats. I went to work on some loaded die and some fancy cards. Been a while since I’d been to this planet so I had to refresh my memory. My mind worked over the endless scams I could pitch: the spinners, the loopers, the big sting. In that way my brain was like a computer. I could soak up cons like sponges water: spin a mark’s mind up so tight, he’s wanting to get scammed. Or, the big lie, the loopers, the ones almost impossible to believe, but the reward so high that the mark can’t resist.
A simple con came to mind: Me and Wren’d work the game houses along the wharf, a husband-wife team, ‘Emmie and Hamber’, newly-weds, playing the amorous duffers.
Wren, determined and proficient, played the part a little closer to the mark than I expected, but if it earned us credence among the big players, I was game. All the flighty little moves she contrived, the touches, the pets and kisses, pecks on the cheek at the right moment, seemed credible enough. Been five years since I’d worked that scam. Did it with my ex-girl, Katie, back on Kalsinar, but that had ended on a bad note when she got roughed up; it’d soured any attempt on my part to revive it. I was superstitious that way—no raising of old ghosts. But now was not the time for superstition, or to sabotage this venture, seeing as we needed funds so I could get Starrunner back in space.
I was surprised to see Wren wearing a black skirt, tight-pressed that showed her upper curves well, all dolled up, very sexy; she cleaned up well, in my opinion. She must have bought that garment back at the station. The butchy, skinhead look would never fly, so I pulled out the wig and plopped it on her head. “There, black, just as you like.” I patted it down roughly. “Matches everything else on your hide.”
She groused about it, but only a little. I turned her to the mirror and told her she looked beautiful. With a reluctant grunt, she accepted the wig.
With my last instructions to the mechanics, telling them we’d pay them later, we took a tram from the service garage into the glitter and glitz of centertown. The place made Hoath look like a complete scumhole. But the crumbled buildings, gang-graffiti and blackened, shell-torn smokestacks rising beyond the old quarters demonstrated otherwise and still lurked around the edges as we got closer. Much was hidden in Zanzadeer city.
We scouted out several joints, me and TK in disguise, and separately, so as not to attract any outriders by association. We came up with a system, different than others, for the games had changed as I had remembered them, and so had the management. One thing about the con business, never make any assumptions. Do your research, check your facts, figures, plans, and recheck them at least three times before committing. Something I’d failed badly at back in Hoath, trusting Marty with the particulars, and almost getting the two of us killed.
Yoe was a shallow lake and a bunch of entrepreneurs had got together and formed the novel idea of setting their gambling houses up on the water. A flotilla of fun. Dancing, music, the works, house games like Monster, Juju, Bluewrack, and names like Barney J’s Lil’ Ole Boathouse and Iggy’s Pop, and my favorite—Popcorn. Goofy names, but Zanzadeer was a goofy place. Disarm the sheep, separate them of their money. Only moneyed folk could afford these floating mini-palaces, but they were here in this town, as I had discovered early on in my prior visits. The organized crime leaders, the ones with the private guards and the refitted space yachts all dressed in mahogany and marble complete with private bars and waitresses, made it a dangerous arena, but a lucrative one for the clever artist. I’d overcome my fears of fencing with the big boys long ago. All a matter of confidence, a mind over matter thing. If I stripped every vibe of doubt and radiated confidence, there was nothing I couldn’t do. Such a mindset overrode fear mechanisms which got even the best cons killed. Even in the toughest situations I could worm my way out. I used to get juiced up on Myscol before a swindle in my younger years, to build up enough nerve, but I got over that kid’s ploy when I realized it was a losing battle, a battle of addiction that I’d never win. So, I sucked it up, took a deep breath, visualized how it was all going to go down and practiced my affirmation, and my mantras. Most importantly, tried to work with competent players in the game. Now TK and Wren were untested, and I assumed had no experience with real scams, though that Wren was a mean one on her feet, but so far they had shown promise. Let’s hope my instincts were correct about
