Aces and Knaves

ACES AND KNAVES

    by

    Alan Cook

    SMASHWORDS EDITION

    PUBLISHED BY:
    Alan Cook on Smashwords
    Aces and Knaves
    Copyright © 2008 by Alan L. Cook.

    All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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    BOOKS BY ALAN COOK

    Run into Trouble
    Gary Blanchard Mysteries:
    Honeymoon for Three
    The Hayloft: a 1950s mystery
    California Mystery:
    Hotline to Murder
    Lillian Morgan mysteries:
    Catch a Falling Knife
    Thirteen Diamonds
    Other fiction:
    Walking to Denver
    Nonfiction:
    Walking the World: Memories and Adventures
    History:
    Freedom’s Light: Quotations from History’s Champions of Freedom
    Poetry:
    The Saga of Bill the Hermit

    Chapter 1 THE REQUEST
    The cloud I had been running in an hour before had already burned away when I pressed the button to boot my computer. I looked out my north-facing window and saw that the Los Angeles basin below was still covered with its own cotton cloud-blanket that extended over Santa Monica Bay. It made me feel as if I were alone in the world, even though when that cloud lifted I would overlook an area inhabited by several million people.
    On a horizontal line from me the Hollywood Hills were particularly sharp this morning. I could make out the Hollywood sign and the Griffith Park planetarium with my "hunter's" eyes. (The disadvantage of having hunter's eyes is that I needed to wear glasses to read and use the computer. Maybe I was born in the wrong age.) More than 50 miles away, more east than north, Mt. Baldy's massive granite peak warmed in the morning sun, and I could even see Mt. San Gorgonio, with its higher and even more massive peak, farther east, almost 100 miles away. Haze would obscure it soon, but there was no sign of brown smog.
    My view was the opposite of and better than that from most hillside homes seen in movies, which usually face south from the Hollywood Hills. Palos Verdes Peninsula, which tops out at 1,500 feet above sea level, is a well-kept secret from screenwriters. They must all be near-sighted.
    I had a positive feeling about this world. After all, I was living in a year ending in three zeroes—and how many people were lucky enough to do that. A sense of anticipation enveloped me. Something good was going to happen before long.
    I glanced out of another window, which faces west toward the swimming pool, with my father's castle beyond. (castle: noun. Definition 1.c. A large, ornate building similar to or resembling a fortified stronghold.) To my surprise, the old man himself was striding briskly past the pool toward the guesthouse where I lived. Why was he home at this hour? He was usually in his office in Torrance by seven.
    More to the point, why was he coming here? I couldn't remember the last time he had set foot in the guesthouse. When we communicated with each other, which was rarely, it was in the castle. I quickly looked around; I didn't see anything incriminating, except the computer. And there was nothing I could do about that.
    Maybe I could keep him downstairs. I raced down the stairs, two at a time; the carpeted steps tickled my bare feet. I arrived at the bottom just as he knocked sharply on the door. I opened it so fast that he stepped back with a surprised look on his face.
    "Karl!" he said.