Dimitar arrived late afternoon. He knew he still had a few hours before the cut-off, but he wanted to put the money down. He wanted this all to be over. He wanted to play. He was ready to play heads-up poker for a million dollars… and Elena’s life.
The entrance was as grand as any five-star facility in the richest areas of the world. He told the receptionist that he was waiting for a friend of his and gave Peter Serf’s name. Then he went to sit outside. There were at least 20 others situated on pool loungers or at the outdoor bar. The infinity pool itself was stunning, measuring fifty by twenty meters and running right up to the lip of the cliff, which seemed to jut out over the expanse of greenery and plants at the fringes of the property. From that drop, it must have been 200 meters to a stone and dirt track that every vehicle used as it approached the hotel.
Dimitar picked one of the stools at the bar and ordered a lemonade. He wanted to keep his head clear.
‘No swimming costume, sir?’ joked the barman, indicating the pool itself, which was covered from one end to the other in a blue plastic tarpaulin that stretched over each corner. From a distance, it might have looked like the pool was just as accessible as normal, but a sign rested on top of the tarpaulin warned hotel guests that cleaning was in progress.
‘Maybe later.’ Dimitar smiled, looking down at his own clothes. Black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a jacket weren’t exactly hotel wear. He looked like he was a motorcycle short of a road trip around Europe, not at a luxurious five-star hotel.
‘Maybe tomorrow,’ said the barman. ‘Families aren’t supposed to use this pool and a kid was sick.’
Dimitar’s nose screwed up. ‘How sick?’
‘You see The Exorcist? No, it’s clean… we just have to leave it overnight. Tomorrow morning, you can jump in wearing your clothes.’
‘We’ll see how tonight goes.’ Dimitar laughed.
‘Would you like me to charge the lemonade to your room, sir, or…’
Dimitar went to reach for his wallet, but a voice came from beside him.
‘Charge it to Room 1016,’ said Peter Serf, patting Dimitar on the left shoulder. ‘I’ll have the same.’ Serf looked like a man on a business trip in his beige shirt with an azure neck-tie.
‘Of course, sir.’
Peter Serf sat on the next stool to Dimitar.
‘You made it. I’m impressed. What do you think of the place?’
‘It’s just a place. I’ve been running around Europe and I’ve got your money.’
‘My money? My dear Dimitar, it’s not mine. It’s yours… until we play and I take it from you. I want to know what you’ve learned at the poker tables on your little road trip.’
‘I learned plenty. Where’s Elena?’
‘Safe and well.’ Serf said, thanking the barman for his drink. ‘And out of your reach.’
‘How do I know that you haven’t killed her?’
‘Kill her? Why would I rob the world of such a vibrant young lady?’ Serf asked. The smile on his lips was reminiscent of a snake sticking out his tongue. It told Dimitar that Serf knew exactly how vibrant Elena could be.
Dimitar gripped the glass of lemonade so hard he thought it might shatter or slip free from his palm.
‘Let’s just play.’
‘No time like the present.’
‘Where?’
‘We’ll take a seat by the pool. It’s hardly likely to be disturbed is it? We’ll be in full view. I have the money in my own bag right here.’
Peter Serf did indeed have a bag, a laptop case. He flicked the laptop bag open and showed Dimitar. The Bulgarian looked inside and saw the same approximate amount of paper money he had in his holdall.
So the game was on – he really had brought the money. He wants to beat me straight, to show me that he’s better than me, thought Dimitar.
Which meant there was a chance of victory.
They went to the side of the pool, which sat idle, the water shifting and tilting under the tarpaulin, which floated on the shifting surface. They took their drinks as the sun passed across the sky; taking the light as it approached the horizon. The battle had begun. Blinds were agreed upon. They would increase every hour on the hour, until one man had all of the €2,000,000 in their collective possession. Serf really had planned it all out. They had chips to the value of $2 million on the table in front of them, a million each.
‘I promise you, my man—’
‘—Jeremy Rundle.’ Dimitar interrupted sharply.
‘Yes, that’s him.’ Serf said as casually as if he was discussing an incoming weather front instead of kidnap and imprisonment. ‘Jeremy owes me a lot. He has an eye on both Elena and us. Your money is perfectly safe until I take it from you.’
They played for an hour without a word between them other than ‘Call’, ‘Raise’, ‘Check’ or ‘Fold’. Serf took an early lead and was in a gloating mood, although he led by just 400,000 chips, Serf’s stack of 1.2 million ahead of Dimitar’s 800,000. Blinds were still relatively small at 3,000/6,000, meaning Dimitar had 133 big blinds, with Serf on 200 big blinds. They weren’t playing with an ante.
‘You have friends in every city,’ Dimitar said before he raised with eight-seven of clubs. Serf liked to play suited connectors himself but wasn’t as comfortable against them for some reason. ‘But none at home.’
‘Are you trying to provoke me?’ Serf laughed. ‘People can be useful,’ responded Serf, calling to a flop of king-eight-deuce with two hearts and the king of clubs.
‘Is that what people are to you, a useful tool? Don’t you love people, do you miss really connecting with them?’
‘People like my wife?’
‘You killed your wife.’
‘I put her out of the misery she – and you – created. I sought to find a permanent solution. There was no way back. There never is.’
‘Why do you need to beat me at cards? I’d let you have the money if I could have Elena.’
‘There’s no way she’ll be the same,’ Serf sneered, betting the flop. Dimitar raised and got a call.
They were sitting adjacent to the bar, where Dimitar saw a familiar face. He had been looking for Elena, but her physical opposite was sitting at the bar nursing a drink and wearing a light beige suit. Slim McCoy. Dimitar allowed his eyes to scan right past his friend from the cruise ship so that Serf didn’t notice it. Dimitar bet the turn, which came down with the club three. He made a show of keeping it a big bet.
‘I think you’re chasing something.’
‘You know who I’m chasing. I’ve been all over Europe following you to find Elena and bring her home. She was stabbed. She should be resting.’
‘She’s absolutely fine.’ Serf said, re-raising. Dimitar called.
The river was a third eight for Dimitar.
‘Elena is fine. I can’t promise that she’s untouched…’ Serf said, trying to goad Dimitar.
‘Shut up!’ Dimitar roared, standing up and knocking his drink over. ‘I’m all-in. Let’s get this over with if you have it!’
Serf smiled. Was he getting to Dimitar? He looked down at his hand. Ace-king with the ace of clubs. A blocker to the nut flush and top pair with top kicker.
Dimitar breathed hard, going as red in the face as he could muster. He had to make Serf think that he was tilted.
About the Author: Paul Seaton has written about poker for over 10 years, interviewing some of the best players ever to play the game such as Daniel Negreanu, Johnny Chan and Phil Hellmuth. Over the years, Paul has reported live from tournaments such as the World Series of Poker in Las Vegas and the European Poker Tour. He has also written for other poker brands where he was Head of Media, as well as BLUFF magazine, where he was Editor.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.
