The Spoilers / Juggernaut (15 page)

‘You’re not the only one who feels that way,’ said Warren irritably.

‘Yes, but I was stuck playing with that bloody video recorder while you three were having all the fun.’

‘That’s the most important part, Ben.’

‘Maybe—but it’s over now. You won’t need the recorder this time. So what do I do—twiddle my thumbs?’

Follet looked up. ‘Wait a minute.’ He eyed Ben speculatively. ‘Maybe we’re passing up a chance here. I think we can use you, Ben, but it’ll need a bit of rehearsal with me and Andy. It’ll be important, too. Are you game for it?’

‘Of course,’ said Bryan eagerly.

So the three of them went to Follet’s room with Follet saying, ‘Nothing to trouble you with, Nick; it’s best you don’t know what’s going to happen. You’re a lousy actor, anyway, and I want this to come as a real surprise.’

Came Saturday and Javid Raqi arrived early. Follet had telephoned him and suggested a lengthened session starting in the morning, and Raqi had eagerly agreed. ‘We’ve got to have time to strip the little bastard,’ said Follet cynically.

They started to play poker at ten-thirty and, to begin with, Raqi won as he had the previous week. But then things seemed to go against him. His three kings were beaten by Warren’s three aces; his full house was beaten by Tozier’s four threes; his ace-high flush was beaten by Follet’s full house. Not that this seemed to happen often but when it did the pots were big and Raqi lost heavily. His steady trickle of winning hands was more than offset by his few occasional heavy losses.

By midday he had exhausted the contents of his wallet and hesitantly drew out an envelope. Impatiently he ripped it open and spilled a pile of money on to the table.

‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ asked Follet gently.

‘I still have money—plenty money,’ said Raqi tensely.

‘No offence,’ said Follet as he gathered the cards. ‘I guess you know what you’re doing. You’re a big boy now.’ He dealt cards. Javid Raqi lost again.

By two in the afternoon Raqi was almost cleaned out. He had been holding his own for about half an hour and the money in front of him—about a thousand rials—ebbed and flowed across the table but, in the main, stayed steady. Warren guessed that Follet was organizing that and he felt a little sick. He did not like this cat and mouse game.

At last Tozier looked at his watch. ‘We’d better switch to the horses,’ he said. ‘There’s not much time.’

‘Sure,’ said Follet. ‘Put up the stake, Nick; you’re the banker. Javid, you know what to do?’

Raqi looked a little pale. ‘Just make the phone call,’ he said listlessly as Warren counted out large denomination notes on to the table.

‘Hell, no !’ said Follet. ‘Jamshid doesn’t accept credit bets over twenty-five thousand, and we three are putting up a hundred thousand. You have to stake it at Jamshid’s place—cash on the barrel head. How much are you putting in, Javid?’

Raqi swallowed. ‘I don’t know.’ He made a feeble gesture at the table. ‘I’ve…I’ve lost it,’ he said plaintively.

‘Too bad,’ said Tozier evenly. ‘Better luck next time.’

Warren patted the notes together. ‘A hundred thousand,’ he said, and pushed the stack across the table.

‘You’ll still put this on for us, won’t you?’ said Follet, pushing the money across to Raqi. ‘You said you would.’

Raqi nodded. He hesitated, then said, ‘Could…could you…er…could you lend me some—until it’s over?’

Follet looked at him pityingly. ‘Hey, kid; you’re in the big time now. You play with your own dough. You might swap nickels and dimes in a penny-ante school but not here.’

Tozier’s snort of disgust seemed to unnerve Raqi and he flinched as though someone had hit him. ‘But…but…’ he stammered.

Warren shook his head. ‘Sorry, Javid; but I thought you understood. Everybody here stands his own racket.’ He paused. ‘I suppose you could say it’s not good form—not good etiquette—to borrow.’

Raqi was sweating. He looked at the backs of his hands which were trembling, and thrust them into his pockets. He swallowed. ‘When do I have to go to Jamshid’s?’

‘Any time before the nags go to the post,’ said Follet. ‘But we’d like to get the dough in fairly early. We don’t want to miss out on this—it’s the big one.’

‘Do you mind if I go out for a few minutes?’ asked Raqi.

‘Not so long as you’re back in time,’ said Follet. ‘This is the big one, like I told you.’

Raqi got up. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘Not more than half an hour.’ He went out and seemed to stumble at the door.

Follet listened for the click of the latch, then said softly. ‘He’s hooked.’

‘But
will
he come back?’ asked Warren.

‘He’ll be back. When you put a sucker on the send he
always
comes back,’ said Follet with cynical certitude.

‘How much did we take him for?’ asked Tozier.

Follet counted money and did a calculation. ‘I make it just over forty-eight thousand. He must have drawn out his savings for the big kill, but we got to it first. He’ll be sweating blood right now, wondering where to raise the wind.’

‘Where will he get it?’ asked Warren.

‘Who cares? But he’ll get it—that’s a certainty. He
knows
he’s on to a good thing and he won’t pass up the chance now. He won’t be able to resist cheating Jamshid, so he’ll find the dough somehow.’

Tozier and Follet matched coins while they waited for Raqi to come back—a sheep to the slaughter—and Follet came out the worse for a change. He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter—the percentages are still on my side.’

‘I wish I knew how,’ said Tozier venomously. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this one yet. I think I can see a way.’

There was a soft knock at the door. ‘That’s our boy,’ said Follet.

Javid Raqi came into the room quietly when Follet opened the door. He came up to the table and looked at the hundred thousand rials, but he made no move to touch the money. Warren said, ‘All right, Javid?’

Slowly Raqi put out his hands and took the wad of notes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m ready.’ He turned suddenly to
Follet. ‘This horse
will
be all right—it
will
win?’ he asked urgently.

‘Christ !’ said Follet. ‘You’re holding a hundred thousand of our money and you ask that? Of course it will win. It’s all set up.’

‘Then I’m ready to go,’ said Raqi, and swiftly put away the money.

‘I’ll go with you,’ said Follet. He grinned. ‘It’s not that we don’t trust you, but I’d hate some smart guy to knock you off when you’re carrying our dough. Consider me a bodyguard.’ He put on his jacket. ‘We’ll be back to watch the race,’ he said as he left, shepherding Raqi before him.

Warren sighed. ‘I feed sorry for that boy.’

‘So do I,’ said Tozier. ‘But it’s as Johnny said—if he were honest this would never be happening to him.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Warren, and fell silent. Presently he stirred and said, ‘Supposing the horse wins?’

‘It won’t,’ said Tozier positively. ‘Johnny and I picked the sorriest screw we could find. It
might
win,’ he conceded, ‘if every other horse in the race breaks a leg.’

With what might have been a chuckle Warren said, ‘But what if it does win? Someone must have faith in it.’

‘Then we’ll have won a hell of a lot of money—and so will Raqi, depending on how much of a stake he’s been able to raise. We’ll have to go through the whole business of breaking him again. But it won’t happen.’

He began to match coins with himself and Warren paced up and down restlessly. Follet and Raqi were away for quite a long time and arrived back just as Warren switched on the set to get the race. Raqi sat at his place at the table; a slight, selfcontained figure. Follet was jovial. ‘Javid has the jitters. I keep telling him it’ll be okay, but he can’t stop worrying. He’s been plunging, too—I reckon this is a bit too rich for his blood.’

‘How much did you back the nag for?’ asked Tozier curiously.

Raqi did not answer, but Follet gave a booming laugh. ‘Fifty thousand,’ he said. ‘And the odds are fifteen to one. Our boy stands to make three-quarters of a million rials. I keep telling him it’s okay, but he doesn’t seem to believe me.’

Tozier whistled. Three-quarters of a million rials was about £4,000—a fortune for a young Iranian clerk. Even his fifty thousand stake was a bit rich—about £260—approximating to a sizeable bite of Raqi’s annual income. He said, ‘Where did you get that much? Did you go home and break open your piggy bank?’

Warren said sharply, ‘Shut up! The race is about to start.’

‘I’ll pour the drinks for the celebration,’ said Follet, and went over to the sideboard. ‘You guys can cheer for me—the nag’s name is Nuss el-leil.’

‘I don’t get the lingo,’ said Tozier. ‘What’s that mean, Javid?’

Raqi opened bloodless lips. He did not take his eyes off the screen as he answered, ‘Midnight.’

‘A good name for a black horse,’ commented Tozier. ‘There they go.’

Warren glanced sideways at Raqi who was sitting tensely on the edge of his chair, the bluish gleam of the television screen reflected in his eyes. His hands were clasped together in a knuckle-whitening grip.

Tozier jerked irritably. ‘Where the blazes is that horse? Can you see it, Javid?’

‘It’s lying fourth,’ said Raqi. A moment later he said, ‘It’s dropped back to fifth—no, sixth.’ A tremor developed in his hands.

‘What’s that bloody jockey up to?’ demanded Tozier. ‘He’s throwing it away, damn him!’

Fifteen seconds later the race ended. Nuss el-leil was not even placed.

Follet stood transfixed at the sideboard. ‘The little bastard double-crossed us,’ he breathed. In a moment of savagery
he hurled a full glass of whisky at the wall where it smashed explosively. ‘I’ll fix his goddam wagon come tomorrow,’ he yelled.

Warren switched off the set. ‘Calm down, Johnny. I told you it couldn’t last forever.’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t reckon it would end this way,’ said Follet bellicosely. ‘I thought Jamshid would cotton on to us. I didn’t think I’d be gypped by that little monkey on the horse. Wait until I get my hands around his scrawny neck.’

‘You’ll leave him alone,’ said Warren sharply. In a more placatory tone he said, ‘So we’ve lost a hundred thousand—that’s only five per cent of our winnings up to now. We’re all right.’ He sat at the table and gathered the cards. ‘Who’s for a game?’

‘I reckon Johnny’s right,’ said Tozier in a hard voice. ‘We can’t let this pass. No jock is going to get the better of me, I tell you that. When I buy a jockey, he bloody well stays bought.’

‘Forget it,’ said Warren curtly. ‘That particular game is over—we move on to something else. I told you this was the last time, didn’t I?’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘For God’s sake, come over here and sit down, Johnny. The world hasn’t come to an end. Besides, it’s your deal.’

Follet sighed as he took his seat. ‘Okay—but it goes against the grain—it really does. Still, you’re the boss.’ He riffle-shuffled the pack and pushed it across the table. ‘Your cut.’

Javid Raqi sat frozen and did not move.

‘Hey!’ said Follet. ‘What’s the matter, kid? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

Two big tears squeezed from Raqi’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

‘For God’s sake!’ said Tozier in disgust. ‘We’ve got a crybaby on our hands.’

‘Shut up, Andy!’ said Warren savagely.

‘What’s the matter, Javid?’ asked Follet. ‘Couldn’t you stand the racket? Couldn’t you afford the fifty thousand?’

Raqi seemed to be staring at an inward scene of horror. His olive complexion had turned a dirty green and he was trembling uncontrollably. He moistened his lips, and whispered, ‘It wasn’t mine.’

‘Oh, that’s bad,’ said Follet commiseratingly. ‘But remember what I told you—you should always play with your own money. I did tell you that, you know—and so did Nick.’

‘I’ll lose my job,’ said Raqi. His voice was filled with desperation. ‘What will my wife say? What will she say?’ His voice rose and cracked. Suddenly he was babbling in Persian and none of them could understand what he was saying.

Follet’s hand came out sharply and cracked Raqi across the cheek, shocking him into silence. ‘Sorry about that, Javid; but you were becoming hysterical. Now, calm down and talk sense. Where did you get the dough?’

‘From the place I work,’ said Raqi, swallowing hard. ‘The chief clerk has a safe—and I have a key. He keeps money for out-of-hand expenses. I went back to the office and…and…’

‘Stole the money,’ said Tozier flatly.

Raqi nodded dejectedly. ‘He’ll know as soon as he opens the safe on Monday. He’ll know it’s…’

‘Take it easy, kid,’ said Follet. ‘You’re not in jail yet.’

That was an aspect that had not hit Raqi, and he stared at Follet with renewed horror. Follet said, ‘Maybe we can help you.’

‘Count me out,’ said Tozier uncompromisingly. ‘I’m not going to subsidise a freeloading kid who’s still wet behind the ears. If he can’t stand the heat, let him get out of the kitchen. He should never have come into this game, anyway. I told you that in the first place.’

Warren looked at Follet who just shrugged, and said, ‘I guess that’s so. You’ve gotta learn by your mistakes, kid. If we bail you out now, you’ll do it again some time else.’

‘Oh, no; I promise—I promise.’ Raqi spread his arms wide on the table, grovelling before Follet. ‘Help me—please help me—I promise…’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, stand up and be a man!’ barked Tozier. He stood up. ‘I can’t stand scenes like this. I’m getting out.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Follet. ‘I think I’ve got something.’ He pointed his finger at Tozier. ‘Weren’t you telling me about a guy who wanted to get something from the company this kid works for? Something about some chemicals?’

Tozier thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘What about it?’

‘How much would he pay?’

‘How the hell do I know?’ said Tozier in a pained voice. ‘This chap was working an angle in which I wasn’t interested.’

‘You could always ask him. There’s a telephone there.’

‘Why should I? There’s nothing in it for me.’

‘For Pete’s sake, can’t you be human for once in your goddam life?’ asked Follet in an exasperated voice.

Warren’s voice was quiet but it cut through the room with authority. ‘Use the phone, Andy.’