Aces and Knaves

glanced through it. He read some more. "I don't know anything about sports memorabilia. Do you think you can really do all this?"
    "I'll never know until I try," I said, attempting to keep a straight face and making a mental note that if I ever did start a serious business to steal Arrow away from Dionysus.
    We were flying over the coastal mountains of California, climbing to a cruising altitude of thirty-something thousand feet, as the pilot had just informed us. Scattered clouds below us were unsuccessful in blocking the sun's rays, which lit up the harsh brown hillsides. However, at sunset they turned into velvet.
    As the occupant of the window seat, I was getting a good look at some of the many aspects of my native state, the most versatile one in the union in variety of scenery. We had taken off over Santa Monica Bay and then turned right to a northerly heading. Just after takeoff I would have been able to make out my father's castle on the hill south of Los Angeles International Airport if I had had a pair of binoculars.
    Ned and I chatted about starting a business. If I could just soak up some of his knowledge, it would be very helpful, even with my modest aspirations. He was easy to talk to, unlike my father, but my mission wasn't to talk about business. After a while I realized I had to change the subject.
    I said, "I'll be honest with you. The reason I need to be successful in business is to feed my gambling habit."
    "Gambling?" Ned looked concerned. "What kind of gambling do you do?"
    "You name it. Vegas style, sports events, card games, backgammon...if you can bet on it I probably have."
    "You have to be careful with that shit. Gambling can ruin you. Have you run up any debts?"
    Now he sounded like my father. "Nothing I couldn't handle." By tending bar for up to 12 hours a day for three years.
    "You should never bet more than you can afford to lose."
    Something was wrong; Ned was lecturing me as if I were the compulsive gambler instead of him. Maybe I could build on this. I said, "You’ve got to spend money to make money. I'll quit when I hit the big one."
    "And what might that be, the lottery?"
    "I never bet the lottery. The odds aren't good enough. The state only pays out half the money it takes in."
    "At least you've got some sense." Ned looked relieved.
    "But on some of the other games, you can swing the odds in your favor. Like blackjack. Do you play blackjack?"
    "A little."
    "You win more often with a ten-rich deck. So if you count the cards you bet more when there are proportionately more tens. Of course most casinos play with four or more decks now, which makes counting harder. But not impossible."
    "But if they catch you counting they'll throw you out on your ass."
    I grinned. "That makes it more interesting, doesn't t? So where have you played blackjack?"
    "Oh, here and there. Look, if you want to gamble, here's what you do. I have a meeting that will last until nine, or 9:30 at the latest. I'm going to give you an address. Meet me there at 10 o'clock. Or is that too late or you?"
    The last was said sarcastically. My father was usually in bed by ten and didn't take calls at home after nine.
    "Ten o'clock is fine with me." I had been up since five, but I could always take a nap at my hotel.
    Ned wrote an address on the back of one of his business cards and handed it to me. I glanced at it briefly and put it in my pocket.
    "What kind of a place is this?" I asked.
    "It's a private home, owned by a man named James Buchanan. Have you ever heard of him?"
    "No. Should I?"
    "If you follow the business news you might have. He's wealthy and somewhat eccentric. He has part of his house set up like a casino. Of course, having a real casino in your home is strictly illegal; you'll never see any money changing hands. But if you want to gamble, I guarantee you can do it there. You just won't have the thrill of losing your money."
    I was confused. "But what about the police...?"
    "As I say, no money changes hands. And Buchanan is an influential man. He's never been bothered by the police."
    As we approached San Francisco International Airport, Ned became quieter. I could almost feel his powerful muscles tensing beside me. I asked him about the dinner he was attending, but all he would say is that it was a routine business meeting for Dionysus. As we made our over-the-bay approach to the runway I got the distinct impression that he didn't want to land.
    ***
    The evening was cool and clear, with no fog in sight.