The Power of Five Oblivion

she knew something they didn’t. Perhaps she’d been studying the wheel. Number five was red, odd, low. More people crowded in, the chips piling up on those bets. Some of them even followed her, betting on the number itself. Five dollars, fifty dollars, even a hundred dollars. Soon there was a pile of plastic on the square and the croupier was looking very nervous indeed. If Scarlett’s number came up, the entire casino could fall.
    Richard Cole couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It didn’t matter to him very much if Scarlett lost the money. He had no use for it anyway. But she had set herself directly against the sheikh, and by betting with her, his own people had shown they were on her side. They really wanted to see him get a bloody nose.
    “What is going on here? What is going on?” The sheikh hurried forward, pushing people out of the way until he reached the edge of the roulette table. “You do not understand what you are doing, you stupid girl. You do not understand the rules.” He looked around him and saw the sullen faces of the crowd. For once, he was isolated, on his own. “All right!” he exclaimed. “Spin the wheel! In a minute I am going to be very rich!”
    The croupier did as he was told. First he spun the wheel. Then he dropped the ball in, sending it flying in the opposite direction, so fast that it was no more than a blur.
    Richard moved closer to Scarlett. “Are you going to win?” he whispered.
    “I think so,” Scarlett whispered back.
    But was she? The ball was already slowing down. She could see it rolling over the numbers. Seven, twenty, thirty-two, seventeen … and there it was. The number she had chosen. The ball was moving too fast. It couldn’t possibly slow down enough to fall into place on the next revolution.
    The crowd was getting uneasy. Those who had backed Scarlett, particularly with the larger bets, were already wishing they had been less hasty. It wasn’t only the money that they might lose; they had also taken on Sheikh Rasheed and he wouldn’t forget it. There were stories of torture chambers deep underneath the royal palace. It was well known that if you offended the sheikh on one day, you might well disappear before the next.
    The ball was dipping in and out now. It hit one of the pockets and bounced out again with a rattle. Scarlett took a deep breath. The ball had almost fallen into number twenty-seven. It travelled on – past thirteen, one and double zero. Five was coming up again. As if suddenly losing its strength, the ball fell one last time. There was complete silence in the room.
    The ball was being carried round and round. It was in slot number five.
    The croupier was the first to react, looking down at the ball and then up at Scarlett as if she was somehow connected to it by a thread. And once again, Scarlett examined his face: the neat moustache, the round glasses, the gold teeth. She knew him, of course. She had seen him several times in the dreamworld and always he had said the same thing to her. “Five”. Nothing to do with the Gatekeepers, everything to do with the game she would one day play. Scarlett had gambled this evening … but only on her certainty that the dreamworld was there to help her. And she had been proved right.
    Sheikh Rasheed grimaced. His face was a riot of emotions as he was torn between shock, disbelief, the knowledge of how much he had just lost and the need to reassert his authority.
    “What is happening here?” he quavered. His eyeballs were almost bulging out of his head. “How could this be allowed to happen?” He stared down at the scattered piles of plastic chips crowding the number five. Then, without warning, he seized the croupier and punched him hard on the nose. The man was thrown onto the roulette wheel, sending chips flying. “The game is disallowed!” he announced. “The girl is under the age of sixteen. She should not have been permitted to play.” He turned to address the rest of the crowd. “The casino is closed for the evening. You must all go home. The gambling is over!”
    The gamblers didn’t look happy but none of them were foolish enough to complain. The bodyguards were waiting for the first sign of dissent and would have cut them down before they could utter a word. Slowly, they began to move away. The croupier picked himself up. There was blood streaming from his nose. He began to collect the plastic chips.
    Sheikh Rasheed came over to Scarlett. His mood seemed to have changed