One
Blackwater, New Austin, March 1916
I took a long pull on my glass of Overholt, contemplating a very difficult decision. I glanced across at the faces around the table. Each was as stonily impassive as the next, but every so often, a glint of uncertain hunger would betray itself in someone's eyes. Jaws were tightening, tempers were shortening and a choice had to be made. Soon.
I set the glass down and cracked a broad smile.
"I'll raise you by three thousand" I pushed a stack of green chips across the felt, into the pot. I signalled to one of the girls to refill my glass of rye, relaxing a little into the chair, giving nothing away, but inwardly hoping my gamble would pay off. The raise had caused disconcertion amongst my fellow players. It was almost as if a current had gone around the table, unsettling those who had, up until that point, believed they had a safe hand.
The pot now stood at fourteen thousand dollars, the equivalent to, if not more than,
the amount most people in this town would make in a lifetime. Not that the men I was playing with where from the ordinary denizens of Blackwater. They were members of a Cabal which controlled the economy and governance of the both the City of Blackwater and the State of New Austin. A group of businessmen, politicians and attorneys who would use any means, even violence to attain and maintain power, who would order a man's death over two cents.
And there I was, playing high stakes poker with them.
