The first round of betting started with the player to the left of the dealer announcing "Check" in a heavy Russian accent. The check went around the table, until it reached Schaal. He cast a cold glance towards Bond. The two were sat directly opposite each other, with three players between them in the order of play – they each had a man sat beside them and between these men was sat a tall, slim woman of about thirty on the end of the table. Schaal ran his thin tongue over his pale lips, before pushing several plastic plaques forward, making his bet.

"One billion."

There was a quiet murmur of excitement from the spectators. The next two players tossed their cards, face down, into the centre of the table, indicating they had folded. The man sat next to Bond waited a moment, considering the bet. He was a bald, dark skinned man of the same build as Bond and his gaze was locked with Schaal's. There was calmness in the man's eyes, but it was a calm that seemingly concealed a violent storm.

After a few frozen seconds, he pushed his own pile of plaques forward.

"Call."

The bet came to Bond. If he wanted to stay in play for this hand, he would have to match the billion pound bets already made. His eyes flicked briefly to Felix, beyond the railing surrounding the players, and then to Katrina, before coming to a rest on Schaal. Bond picked up one of the plaques in front of him, worth more than any of the round chips that sat in neat piles, and twirled it in his fingers, deciding on his next move…

Bond and Katrina were sat in the breakfast hall as the late morning sun beat lazily through the windows. Katrina had assured Bond that Schaal would have already left the hotel – he apparently preferred to spend the day in the casino before a big game.

The two of them were sat in a small, secluded corner of the vast dining area, which was lit by veils of pale sunlight falling through the French windows. Katrina took a sip of coffee and then leaned forwards, her elbows resting on the soft white table cloth.

"So, tell me more about the game – Poker, I mean. I've never really been involved in playing – just managing Schaal's winnings."

"You've never played?" inquired Bond, which was met with a small shake of the head from Katrina. "It's a simple enough game once you know the hand rankings. The challenge is in understanding your opponents."

"So it's not a simple game of chance?"

"No," said Bond, leaning forwards in his chair. "In Poker you're never playing your cards – you're playing the man sat opposite you. It's a game where the brave win."

"How does it work though?" asked Katrina, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of knowledge that had been kept from her. "Explain the rules!"

"Every player is dealt two cards, called the hole cards," said Bond, interest audible in his voice. "The first round of betting follows. Then the Flop is dealt – three cards, face up in the middle of the table – followed by another round of betting. There are two more cards dealt – the Turn and the River – each followed by a round of bets. The idea is to make the best five-card hand you can, using your two cards and the five on the table. The best hand is a Royal Flush – all the face cards, the ace and the ten all of the same suit – and the rankings go down to a pair or a high card."

"And how does the betting work?" asked Katrina, apparently infected by Bond's interest for the game.

"The first person to bet can either bet or check, which means place no bet. The next player has to match the bet if one has been made, raise the bet, or fold – forfeit the hand. A round of betting ends when one bet has gone around the whole table. The betting is where bluffing comes in."

"Bluffing?"

"If you have a weak hand," explained Bond, "you don't want to let other players know that. If you bet high enough, they might not want to take the risk and they'll fold. On the other hand, they might suspect you're bluffing and continue to raise the bet to try to force you into folding. You need to be able to tell if you're opponents' bets are genuine – like I said, you're playing the man sat opposite you."

"It certainly sounds like a challenge…" said Katrina, sitting back and bringing her coffee cup to her lips. "I wish you the best of luck, James."

"Thank you," said Bond and took a long gulp of coffee from his own mug.

"I hope you realise, you will be facing a tough opponent." There was a note of genuine concern in Katrina's voice. "Schaal is emotionless and he won't back down from a fight. Fear is a foreign concept to him."

"Didn't seem that way when I had a gun pointed at him last night." Bond commented casually.

"In a casino, he's a different man. I've seen him, in the games he plays, and you would not believe he's the same person who lives only for pleasure in his personal life. He shows no mercy, no sign of anything other than a harsh, mechanical need to win."

A small smile touched Bond's lips.

"Then I look forward to the challenge – but I believe he has met his match."

"Call." said Bond, putting forwards a collection of plaques worth the billion pounds.

The bet went around the table, one more player folding, but everyone else matching the billion.

The dealer drew the next three cards from the top of the deck, sliding them across the green velvet table top with a swift, almost mechanical movement of his hand. Two sevens and a three.

A smaller amount went around the table this time, a bet of one hundred million making its way to Schaal, a few more players folding. Bond had never played with such high amounts and believed neither had most of the other players. Normally nobody would be mad enough to risk so much money, but this time most of it wasn't their own. And there was more than money at risk…

"Raise – five hundred million." Schaal announced.

Another murmur from the crowd. The man next to Bond matched the bet, but Bond took little notice – his gaze was locked with Schaal's. Both wore icy, expressionless glances, staring deep into their opponent. Each dared the other to go further, to call their bluff.

Neither would give in.

"The bet is five hundred million," the dealer announced.

Bond waited, perfectly motionless for a moment.

Then he decided.

"Raise – Seven hundred and fifty million."

He pushed a pile of plaques and two towers of chips forwards. The next two players matched the bet. It came back to Schaal.

"Call."

The man between them followed suit.

The two sevens had been good news – Bond was now guaranteed two pairs as a minimum. But that wasn't to say there wasn't someone sat, still in play, with a better hand than him. Another nine or seven on the table now would get him a full house – three of a kind and a pair – and increase his odds of winning as much as possible.

The dealer placed down the next card. The Turn.

A five.

Useless. But perhaps not to one of Bond's opponents. He would keep betting though, keep giving the impression he was confident of victory and hope that nobody thought he was bluffing.

Another fold, followed by a bet of one billion from a small man with a face like a rat. There was an aura of confidence in his eyes, though Bond suspected it may be an act. He was putting in most of his money, but it could have been a false show of bravery to convince the others he had a strong hand. It would have been a dangerous tactic, but possibly an effective one.

The bet came to Schaal.

"Raise – one point five billion."

"Call." said the man next to Bond, following his now concrete routine.

Bond was silent for a moment, considering.

"One point five billion to call." said the dealer, calmly.

"Call." Bond conceded, pushing the amount forward.

The man who had placed the one billion pound bet matched the raise.

The last card – the River – was dealt.

A nine.

Bond kept himself frozen, allowing no reaction to show. But he knew he was now in a much more powerful position. Saved at the last minute.

The rat-faced man gave a small, wry smile.

"All in."

He pushed all of the remaining chips and plaques in front of him forwards. A gasp came from the spectators. The move was an unexpected one so early in the game. But if he had been hoping to scare the other players, it didn't seem to work.

"The bet is seven hundred and fifty million," the dealer announced, checking the amount that had been placed.

Schaal smiled. He had a lot more money to play with, but wasn't about to waste it all in the first round.

"Call." he said calmly.

"Call." said the man next to Bond.

The idea of raising the bet crossed Bond's mind. He was fairly confident now. But there was still a chance another player had a better hand. He considered for a moment – each remaining player had put in four billion now and that would put a dent in any of their accounts. And that wasn't to mention the varying amounts put in by other players who had forfeited.

"Call." said Bond finally, his voice a level, emotionless sound.

The rat-faced man suddenly looked very nervous. He turned his cards over. Two threes.

"Full house – threes full of sevens." the dealer said.

Schaal smiled, flipped his cards over. A seven and a five.

"Higher full house – sevens full of fives."

Schaal gave a low, empty laugh. The small man who had made the previous hand looked shattered.

The man next to Bond threw his cards face down into the centre of the table, indicating a fold – he had not beaten Schaal's hand. All attention came to Bond.

He waited a moment, eyes locked with Schaal's. The two were trapped in psychological combat, each grappling for the edge over the other.

Bond turned his cards over.

"Higher full house," the dealer said. Something went out in Schaal's cold eyes. "Nines full of sevens. Mr Bond wins."

The large pile of chips and plaques was swept over to Bond, whose reaction was nothing more than a small nod to the dealer.

Schaal's pale hand slithered into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew a fat cigar. He clamped it between his teeth and lit it with a gunmetal grey lighter. Mirroring him, Bond picked up his own cigarette from the case that sat beside him, letting it sit lightly in his mouth, and lit it with a soft click of his own lighter.

Through the thin veil of smoke that drifted between them, Bond's and Schaal's warring gazes remained fiercely interlocked.