Dear Impostor (24 page)

          Barrett and his henchman glanced at each other
and laughed as if sharing a prime joke. The evil sound sent a cold shiver up
Gabriel’s spine and into the base of his neck. Barrett sat up to the table and
began dealing from the deck. Barrett dealt thirteen cards to each player and
turned up the last for trump.

          Barrett, his henchman and David all picked up
their hands. Gabriel alone, leaning back in his chair, made no move to pick up
his hand.

          Barrett raised a furry brow. “Planning on
joining us, Sinclair?”

          Gabriel raised a finger in the direction of
the doorway. Annie scuttled up to Gabriel, short skirts twitching.

          “Yes, milord?” she asked breathlessly.

          “A light, please, Annie.” Annie lit the
cheroot swiftly, all eagerness. Gabriel puffed contentedly.

          “Ah, the hands of a woman. So soothing, so
clever, so . . . agile.” He grinned at her through the blue haze of the
cheroot. Annie smiled back, revealing her rotted teeth.

          “Annie!” Barrett barked, “Fetch me a drink and
a cheroot.”

          Annie didn’t turn her head but kept gazing
longingly at Gabriel. “Get it yer own damn self.”

          Barrett drew back his hand but stilled at
Gabriel’s softly spoken words.

          “I’d think hard before striking a lady in my
presence.”

          “I don’t need to. Do I, Annie?” Barrett
lowered his arm, running a hand over his oily hair and then resting it in a
fist on the table.

          Uncertain, Annie turned to Barrett.

          “Annie knows who provides the means to care
for her old granny, don’t you, dear?” he continued. “And she knows who can
remove those means.”

          The light which had shone briefly in Annie’s
eyes dulled. Quickly, she fetched what he had demanded and then faded into the
corner shadows.

          Barrett lit his cheroot and sighed
appreciably. “Now, back to our game.”

          “I’d be perfectly acceptable to that,” Gabriel
began. Barrett nodded with a grunt. “Providing we use an
un
marked deck.”

          Barrett glared at him over the tops of his
hand. But he did not deny the cards were marked. With a snap of his fingers, a
new deck was brought to the table. With insulting condescension, he broke the
seal.

          Barrett sucked in a deep draw and released the
smoke in Gabriel’s face. “Happy?”

          “Almost,” Gabriel drawled.

          “What now?” Barrett snapped.

          “Your men.” With a flick of his cheroot,
Gabriel indicated the men positioned behind him and David.

          “What about them?” Barrett asked through
clenched, yellowed teeth.

          Gabriel spoke precisely, clipping the words. “Move
them.”

          A jerk of Barrett’s head accomplished the
movement of the large men.

          “Before they go,” Gabriel added, “they can
take the mirror with them.”

          Barrett nodded tersely. The men removed the
large, tilting mirror that had been hanging on the wall behind them.

          “Anything else?” Barrett asked, his voice
heavy with hate.  

          Gabriel shook his head, chiding him with
mocking amazement. “Really, Barrett. Can’t your efforts be more imaginative? Those
tricks are positively elementary.”

          Barrett looked steadily at him. A droplet of
sweat trickled down his pale forehead before being absorbed by the heavy brow. Underneath,
Barrett’s dark brown eyes were shuttered, revealing little. But Gabriel knew in
Barrett’s mind, he was dying a particularly violent death.     “Let’s begin.” Gabriel
grabbed the deck before Barrett’s beefy hand could claim it. “I’ll deal, if you
don’t mind.”

          With practiced ease, Gabriel’s long, brown
fingers dealt each player a new hand. He flipped over the last card. It was the
deuce of spades.

          “Trump,” Gabriel declared as he added it to
his hand. “Spades.”

          He gathered up his hand and glanced at Barrett
who was alternately glaring at his cards and Gabriel. His death was getting
more and more violent.

          Gabriel assessed his hand and considered the
trump card. Spades. Spades were used for digging. For digging graves. Gabriel
met Barrett’s evil gaze.

          How appropriate.

          The burly man on his left put down a queen of
hearts. David threw down a jack. God, he was drunk.

          “Don’t waste your face cards,” Gabriel
snapped.

          David blinked, his expression unfazed.

          Barrett threw down a trey, Gabriel added a six
of hearts, and Barrett’s man scooped up the trick.

          He continued to dominate the game for two more
tricks. David was now frowning, but Gabriel’s own expression was calm. In
David’s inebriated state, he might have forgotten that in whist, no points were
given for the first six tricks taken; with the seventh trick, Gabriel would
worry.

          On the fifth trick, the thug threw down a six
of clubs, David was either too drunk to try for the trick or else had a lousy
hand; he put down a four. Barrett, his expression triumphant, placed a King of
clubs on the table. Gabriel lay down a five, and keep his expression even.

          “Cards not going your way, eh, Sinclair?”
Barrett taunted.

          “The game’s not over yet,” Gabriel answered,
his voice quiet. “David, try to pay attention.”

          David yawned and hardly seemed to notice when
Barrett took the next trick.

          “Skill will tell, Sinclair,” Barrett pointed
out, his tone arrogant.

          “Skill did tell, the last time we played,”
Gabriel noted, but he felt a coldness inside him; David was in no shape to help
his partner, and if Gabriel lost the estate back to Barrett, after all he had
been through–no, he refused to think of defeat. The game was not over yet, and
it was not too late to turn it all around.

          Gabriel looked to his hand and prayed to that
fickle goddess of luck who had smiled upon him so many times before. And in his
mind, he kept careful count of the cards that had been already played, trying
as well to gauge from the pattern of play what the other players were likely to
hold. Gabriel had never sunk to tricks of mirrors or even to the signals he was
sure that Barrett and his hired hand were covertly sending back and forth. He
relied on his keen memory, his knowledge of strategy, and his understanding of
his opponents.

          Barrett, he knew quite well. He also knew his
method of play–and how much he relied on trickery. So the next time Barrett’s
henchman reached up to scratch his ear or his nose or his chin, Gabriel lifted
his glass of wine a little too fast and splashed the man.

          “ ’ey, watch it,” the man snarled, but he
never finished his signal, and Barrett looked nonplused. It was Barrett’s lead,
and he hesitated, but his partner was wiping his face with a grimy kerchief and
seemed to have forgotten to signal his employer which suit to lead.

          Barrett frowned, and at last led with a ten of
hearts. From his smug expression, he was confident that all the higher cards of
this suit had been played. Gabriel got rid of his last heart and held his
breath as the man on his left added a eight. But David, unexpectedly, seemed to
do something right; he threw down a five of spades. Trump. Gabriel tried not to
laugh at Barrett’s expression of fury as David took the trick. Another point
for Gabriel and his partner.

          “Have you no hearts left?” Barrett demanded. “Or
are you too drunk to know what you’re doing!”

          “Nope,” David said cheerfully. “I’m heartless,
you might say.” He laughed lustily at his own lame joke.

          Gabriel couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

          Barrett’s partner looked guilty under the
force of Barrett’s glare. Their signals had gone awry. And the next hand was no
better; as the man on Gabriel’s left reached to make the usual signal, Gabriel,
with casual nonchalance, stomped on the man’s foot.

          “Oww!” The man said, and he dropped a jack of
clubs into the hand.

          “Careless of me, so sorry,” Gabriel said. Barrett
fumed, David revived enough to throw down the queen of clubs Gabriel had been
betting he held, and they took another trick.

          David led with a ten of clubs, and Gabriel had
the ace. He had control of the game.

          Taking a deep breath, Gabriel smiled sweetly
at Barrett’s grimace. He held his cards close to his chest, and he played with
consummate skill, for David’s fortune, for his own future.

          More tricks fell to Gabriel, or to David. But
the score was too close; they could not afford to lose another trick. On the
very last round, Gabriel knew there was an errant queen of diamonds lurking in
someone’s hand. Judging by Barrett’s play, Gabriel though it was his
opponent’s.

          The rest of the room was very quiet; Barrett’s
face was drawn with tension, and his henchmen seemed afraid to distract him by
even a cough. The smoky air was even thicker than usual, as if the tension
could be felt from wall to dirty wall.

          David put down his last card, a ten of
diamonds, and yes, Barrett played the queen, smirking with triumphant. But
Gabriel had been hoarding the ace of diamonds. He laid it down slowly, and
heard a hiss of indrawn breath as Barrett saw his sweet victory waver.

          It came down to Barrett’s man; did he have a
diamond left, or would he trump the hand and win it all?

          According to Gabriel’s count of suits and
cards played, there should be another diamond left. If he was wrong–they all
waited, watching the fourth player, and the room grew even more still. Gabriel
had been watching all night to make sure no one switched a card, and now he
narrowed his eyes, watching the man’s hands more than his face.

          The man’s expression was twisted into a
nervous grimace, and he held the last card so tightly it was nearly crumbled in
his hand.

          “Play it, you idiot,” Barrett barked.

          Glancing at his employer, the man put down his
card–a jack of diamonds. Barrett swore, his voice thick with anger.

          “Yes!” Gabriel said, and David whooped with
glee. The game was theirs.

          Gabriel reached across and caught up the
all-important deed, tucking it safely back into his inner pocket. Then he took
the crumbled IOU which had David’s signature upon it and tore it into tiny
pieces, afterwards scooping up the stack of coins that lay beside it.

          Barrett’s eyes glittered with an anger almost
impossible to contain.

           “Skill does come through, when the trickery
is put aside,” Gabriel told him. “I win again,”

          “Dead men don’t collect their spoils.” Barrett
spoke slowly, as if having trouble moving his jaw. He seemed rigid with fury.

          Gabriel had considered that problem, too. David
was drunk and unlikely to be much help. He glanced around the room, checking
for quick exits, but the murky hazy air obscured any easy answer.

          “David,” Gabriel said. “We are going now, Get
up.”

          David stood, swaying a little. “So s-soon? But
we won. It was a g-great game. Wanna play another hand?”

          “No, I have some very fine brandy you need to
taste,” Gabriel told his childhood friend. “It’s time to leave.”

          “Oh, right.” David took one step and swayed
again.

          Gabriel felt stiff with apprehension; he would
never be able to get them both out of here alive. And to give that rat Barrett
the pleasure of winning, by fair means or foul–

          He heard loud voices from the other room, then
three large men pushed their way past a protesting servant in a dirty set of
livery.

          “Baker, what–what are you doing here?” David
looked unhappy.

          Gabriel was not; he took a long breath and
felt his shoulders relax.

          “Milord, you should not have escaped us.” The
man approached their table, the other two stalwart servants behind him. ”Your
mother will be worried. We’ve searched every hell in London for you tonight.”

          Against the wall, Gabriel saw Annie; the
harlot had left the room some time ago, he realized; he’d been absorbed in the
game and barely noticed. But her eyes showed a gleam of victory. Was this how
David’s guard dogs had been summoned to his–their aid?

          Gabriel flashed a quick smile of thanks, and
she nodded, then slipped out of the room before Barrett should recognize her
involvement.

          “Your timing is excellent,” Gabriel murmured
to the first Westbury bodyguard.. “His lordship and I were just about to
leave.”