Peter Serf folded his cards.
‘I think I’ll let you have a slight lead rather than a big one.’ He said, swirling wine in his glass. ‘You played it like a busted flush. Maybe that’s all it was. But you showed me a lot of emotion. You made something along the way, didn’t you?’
Dimitar tossed his cards at the deck of cards between them without a word. It was a perfect throw, and his two cards landed perfectly under the deck. He stacked his newly acquired chips and ordered another drink while cursing himself for going too hard on the amateur dramatics.
‘I want to speak to Elena before we go any further,’ he said. ‘I could be playing for nothing if you’ve killed her already.’
Peter Serf rolled his eyes. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
‘Jeremy. Could you escort our quarry to the window?’ he asked.
Just a few seconds later, with twilight illuminated by the window’s soft amber light, Elena appeared on the 10th floor. She opened the balcony doors and called out to Dimitar. The cry died in her throat as Jeremy Rundle grabbed her from behind and pulled her back into the room. He carefully shut the doors to the balcony and nodded at Peter Serf.
The light went out.
‘If he hurts her…’ Dimitar trailed off. Peter Serf simply shuffled the cards and began the next deal.
Dinner came and went. The evening was fully dark, with guests covering the bar. Some of the hotel patrons had turned their attention to the action between Dimitar and Peter Serf. None of them had any idea of the stakes that were being played for. They just saw two guests engaging in an entertaining game of poker. Dimitar wanted to tell them all to go back to their rooms so that he could concentrate, but having a crowd bothered him less and less with each hand that passed.
The blinds were significantly higher than when they started. There were only 80 big blinds on the table, and Serf had 42 of them.
‘Are you mentally prepared to win, Dimitar?’
‘As ready as you are to lose,’ replied Dimitar as he bet again. This time, he held pocket fives. Serf raised, and Dimitar called in position to see a flop of A-4-2 fall. Dimitar bet again. Serf open-folded a pair of queens.
‘How to advertise you have the ace in three easy lessons, my boy.’ Serf said, pushing the deck over to Dimitar, who slid his cards to the bottom of the deck.
‘It’s your deal.’ Dimitar stated dryly as he fanned the cards across to Serf, who surreptitiously looked to the bottom of the deck to see his opponent’s hole cards. Dimitar noticed but said nothing. He had marginally more chips and, for the first time, had rattled Serf.
Why else would he sneak a look at the cards?
*
In the hotel room, Jeremy Rundle threw Elena to the floor. She picked herself up with an intentional lack of grace, breaking a heel in the process. This had been part of her ploy all along. It was merely a matter of timing, and as Dimitar had always told her, the secret to a bluff was timing and execution.
Changing into a new pair of shoes was mandatory. When she did, she sought out the knife she had hidden in the closet. Slipping it into her heel, she lay on the bed pretending to read, having slipped the knife underneath her pillow.
Jeremy Rundle checked his phone and went for the holdall he had placed under the table during the last shift change. Inside the bag were more than a few industrial-strength plastic zip-ties. He used them to secure Elena to the bedposts.
Over the next 30 minutes, Jeremy Rundle took less of an interest in Elena and more in what was happening below by the pool. He could see at least two dozen people at the bar or on other tables. Most of them were edging forward in their seats, watching every hand. He took out the binoculars so that he could see the pair in action. From one angle, he could almost make out Dimitar’s hole cards when he first flicked them up.
Serf sent him a text, and he answered in the affirmative. He could help his boss out, who cared if he beat this guy straight or not?
Elena smiled to herself, slipping the knife out from underneath the pillow and edging her wrist against its tip. Breaking the plastic, she managed to pull her hand free. Using her free hand, she slowly cut through the ties on her feet and finally her other wrist. She put the knife underneath her pillow and lay her limbs over the ties.
Jeremy Rundle looked closer at the hands through the binoculars. He could see what Dimitar held. But the phone signal was terrible. It was better near the door and in the hotel corridor.
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.
