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Authors: Russell Hamilton
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night,” Alex explained. “You know how I get when I win, always afraid I’m going to lose it right back.” Alex sipped his orange juice. He never could adjust to the horrible taste of coffee, and he preferred starting the day with something that was actually healthy instead of an artificial caffeine high that lasted fifteen minutes.
“You’re about to become a spook, for crying out loud . You need to relax some if you want to keep the world safe.”
“I know. I tell myself the same thing. Eventually I’ll learn,” Alex responded as he shook his head.
“Don’t take me too seriously. I would imagine a little paranoia in a job like that is a good thing. Keeps you one step ahead and keeps your name out of the newspaper,” Michael said with a nervous smile. Alex knew his friend was trying to be positive, but he also knew his new job scared his friend. Michael saw the devastation of the Twin Towers up close and personal, and he understood the immense evil that perpetrated the heinous acts.
He still thinks I’m a little nuts for wanting to go toe-to-toe with them, Alex thought to himself before replying. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. That case I worked on opened my eyes though. You have no idea what these types are capable of.” Alex downed the last of his orange juice. “Forget about it. We have three days of fun ahead of us. We can talk about the other side of life later. Let’s go gamble,” Alex said as he tossed his napkin onto the table and stood up to leave.
The early morning was a dead time for the casino, and Alex and Michael quickly found two seats at a blackjack table near the f ront entrance of the hotel. The night owls had just gone to sleep a few hours ago, and the casino would not pick up until the early afternoon gamblers came in. They sat down at a five-dollar minimum table with a lady who looked to be about sixty years old. The two large stacks of chips in front of her looked impressive, but her stoic face gave no hint as to whether she was winning or losing. Alex slipped his six-foot frame into the middle chair at the table, and Michael took the seat to his left.
“Damn, it’s cold in here,” Alex said quietly. The frigid air of the casino was a jolt to his system this early in the morning. Still, he knew the cargo shorts he was wearing were a necessity if they planned on walking outside in the desert heat. Looking at his watch, he saw that Cindy was not due to meet them for another twenty minutes. He palmed a fifty-dollar bill onto the table, figuring that should be more than enough to occupy his time until she arrived.
After fifteen minutes of playing, Alex’s good fortune still stood intact and he gave his friend a look of confidence just before the dealer busted again, making his hand of thirteen a winner. The dealer placed another thirty dollars worth of chips in front of him. Years of playing blackjack had taught him to ignore his hunches and follow the percentages no matter what he tried to talk himself into. It did not always pay off. It was gambling after all, however he found that if you randomly made decisions, your odds grew progressively worse. A quick accounting of his stack showed that he was ahead another ninety dollars since they sat down at the table. The weekend seemed destined to be a profitable one.
A waitress dressed in a skimpy version of a Japanese kimono brought him out of his contemplation as she sat a Diet Coke in front of him. He took a sip and looked up from the table to hand her a five-dollar tip when he caught the familiar face. Sitting at a blackjack table to their left was the same short, stocky man who was at their craps table the night before. The man sat at the far end of his table, and he had a perfect view of Alex’s table. He studied the stranger for a few seconds before turning his attention back to his game. He was the same man sitting near them eating
“You’re about to become a spook, for crying out loud . You need to relax some if you want to keep the world safe.”
“I know. I tell myself the same thing. Eventually I’ll learn,” Alex responded as he shook his head.
“Don’t take me too seriously. I would imagine a little paranoia in a job like that is a good thing. Keeps you one step ahead and keeps your name out of the newspaper,” Michael said with a nervous smile. Alex knew his friend was trying to be positive, but he also knew his new job scared his friend. Michael saw the devastation of the Twin Towers up close and personal, and he understood the immense evil that perpetrated the heinous acts.
He still thinks I’m a little nuts for wanting to go toe-to-toe with them, Alex thought to himself before replying. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. That case I worked on opened my eyes though. You have no idea what these types are capable of.” Alex downed the last of his orange juice. “Forget about it. We have three days of fun ahead of us. We can talk about the other side of life later. Let’s go gamble,” Alex said as he tossed his napkin onto the table and stood up to leave.
The early morning was a dead time for the casino, and Alex and Michael quickly found two seats at a blackjack table near the f ront entrance of the hotel. The night owls had just gone to sleep a few hours ago, and the casino would not pick up until the early afternoon gamblers came in. They sat down at a five-dollar minimum table with a lady who looked to be about sixty years old. The two large stacks of chips in front of her looked impressive, but her stoic face gave no hint as to whether she was winning or losing. Alex slipped his six-foot frame into the middle chair at the table, and Michael took the seat to his left.
“Damn, it’s cold in here,” Alex said quietly. The frigid air of the casino was a jolt to his system this early in the morning. Still, he knew the cargo shorts he was wearing were a necessity if they planned on walking outside in the desert heat. Looking at his watch, he saw that Cindy was not due to meet them for another twenty minutes. He palmed a fifty-dollar bill onto the table, figuring that should be more than enough to occupy his time until she arrived.
After fifteen minutes of playing, Alex’s good fortune still stood intact and he gave his friend a look of confidence just before the dealer busted again, making his hand of thirteen a winner. The dealer placed another thirty dollars worth of chips in front of him. Years of playing blackjack had taught him to ignore his hunches and follow the percentages no matter what he tried to talk himself into. It did not always pay off. It was gambling after all, however he found that if you randomly made decisions, your odds grew progressively worse. A quick accounting of his stack showed that he was ahead another ninety dollars since they sat down at the table. The weekend seemed destined to be a profitable one.
A waitress dressed in a skimpy version of a Japanese kimono brought him out of his contemplation as she sat a Diet Coke in front of him. He took a sip and looked up from the table to hand her a five-dollar tip when he caught the familiar face. Sitting at a blackjack table to their left was the same short, stocky man who was at their craps table the night before. The man sat at the far end of his table, and he had a perfect view of Alex’s table. He studied the stranger for a few seconds before turning his attention back to his game. He was the same man sitting near them eating
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