Aces and Knaves

like spying."
    "So where do I come in?"
    "Well...you know about compulsive gamblers."
    Meaning that I was one, myself. Or at least that's what my father thought.
    He continued, "You could...get to know him. Talk to him..."
    "Ask him if he's a compulsive gambler."
    "No, of course not, but you know what I mean. You speak the same language. You know the symptoms. Find out his attitude toward gambling. But I don't want you to actually do any gambling with him."
    Because I didn't know when to stop. But could I really accomplish anything? I glanced at my father. I hadn't seen him look so worried in a long time. I owed him something, if only because he hadn't kicked me out of the guesthouse when I was down on my luck. I said, "What about hiring a private detective to follow him around?"
    "That's sleazy. Besides, I don't want to bring in an outsider. If word leaked out that our president was a compulsive gambler, that might really tank the stock."
    Was the price of the stock all he worried about? I didn't know whether to be flattered or angry. He comes to me once in a lifetime for help and it's because of my gambling.
    When I didn't say anything, my father said, "Of course I'll pay you—as a consultant. And your expenses. I'll get you an advance."
    I stopped myself before blurting out that I didn't want his money. I was trying to become a businessman so I should act like one. But I still had the need to show some independence, so I said, "I don't need an advance. When would I start?"
    "Immediately. You don't have anything else to do, do you?"
    Not that I was going to admit to him. "How do you suggest I proceed?"
    "Work that out with Arrow. She's my executive assistant."
    "Arrow? As in bow?"
    "Yes."
    "Is she the one who saw Ned playing blackjack?"
    "Yes. And she's very sharp. I'm assigning her to help you."
    "And if I think he's compulsive, what then?"
    "I'll get him treatment. The company provides for it."
    Treatment only works if the subject is cooperative. My father had tried to get me to join Gamblers Anonymous and failed. But then, I wasn't a compulsive gambler. "And if he refuses treatment?"
    "Karl, let's not slay our dragons until we meet them."
    I didn't want to participate in the ruin of Ned Mackay, even though I didn't really know him. But I had to admit that my father appeared to have a problem. And I didn't see any quick and easy solution. In addition, it was a challenge. I like challenges. "Okay, I'll do it."
    My father exhaled again; this time it sounded like a sigh of relief. "Arrow can get you access to Ned or any information you might need about him. And she knows what’s on his calendar."
    "Executive assistant. Is that a glorified name for a secretary?"
    "No. That's administrative assistant. And mine is a man. You probably have something in common with him."
    I could guess what he meant by that.
    "However, Arrow is on a fast track to management. She has an MBA."
    One more degree than I had. And two more than my father. He spent the next five minutes exhorting me to be very careful about leaking any negative information about Dionysus. And not to make Ned suspicious about what we were doing. He needed my help, but he still didn't trust me. Even so, he apparently valued my judgment, at least in this one area—my area of expertise—compulsive gambling.
    When he left I escorted him downstairs. He shook my hand at the door and then strode rapidly past the pool to his castle, the very model of a modern CEO. I couldn't remember the last time we had hugged.

    Chapter 2 ARROW
    I ran back upstairs in time to watch my father go through one of the sliding glass doors into the castle. Jacie, his wife of a year, came into view, clad in a full-length yellow bathrobe. She was not a morning person, like my father and me, but at least she had combed her hair to see him off for work.
    Spotlighted in the rays of the rising sun, she looked good. Her hair was the color of the robe. She should look good; she was a year younger than I was.
    They talked for a minute and then they kissed. Not just a peck on the cheek, either. They kissed like two people in love. At least, I was sure he was in love with her. Then he disappeared toward the garage. Off to work.
    What should I do first? My inclination was to sell Dionysus stock short. A minute's reflection told me I couldn't do that. I would be betraying my father. Besides, it would be illegal. Insider trading was an SEC no-no. If I wasn't an insider by my relationship to the CEO, I