Bond's steel-like gaze passed over the other players. They all remained silent as they stood and waited for the croupier to announce the beginning of the game. Some had associates with them who would be watching play proceed – associates who looked like they may be prepared to remove opponents with the potential to win. The stakes were high, higher than Bond had ever played with before, and none of these people were prepared to lose.

"Good luck in there." an American voice whispered in Bond's ear. He turned to see a tall man with grey eyes and straw-coloured hair stood beside him – Felix Leiter, a CIA agent Bond had worked with in the past.

"Thank you." said Bond. "Are your people in here?"

"Yeah, yeah, they're here." Leiter explained. "We've got eyes everywhere, looking out for any signs of trouble. Something goes wrong, they move in."

"I know you Americans have a tendency to be a little… trigger-happy," Bond said, trying to choose his words carefully, "but don't do anything unless we have a definite situation. We don't want what little cover we still have being compromised. Remember, we've not got much evidence against any of these people and our best bet is to let play continue until there's a winner. If I don't win, then we plan our next move."

"Roger that. You clear on your mission details?"

"Yes. Perfectly." said Bond, remembering the briefing he had received a week ago. He had been staying in a holiday home in Jamaica when the call came from headquarters. Hours later he had found himself in M's office sat in front of the broad oak desk, his boss's cold gaze bearing into him.

"You're the best gambler we've got, Bond. You've proved that well enough in the past and the outcome of this game could have the most significant impact on the world of organised crime we've seen in over a century."

Bond had been rushed to this meeting with such urgency he had not been given a chance to look over any dossiers or files on the nature of the proposed mission. He listened to M now with sharp intent.

"How?" he asked. "Who's playing? What are the stakes?"

"The stakes, Bond," said M, leaning back in his chair, "are higher than even you will be used to. Thirty billion pounds to play for, along with ownership of a global criminal organisation."

Bond leaned forwards, his eyebrows raised, his expression hardening.

"What?"

"Sebastian Delacroix, the owner of Casino Diamant in Monte Carlo, has died and left his fortune to a game of Texas Hold 'Em Poker being held there in a week. Delacroix was a rebellious sort and it's believed he had dreamt of a criminal organisation larger than any form of official government. A super-power that rivalled the law. He had dealt with several major criminal organisations and, in his will, invited ten heavily influential crime bosses to the game that's been arranged in his memory. The players are to have their own funds, and the additional thirty billion will be shared out amongst them. The winner is also entitled to ownership of all of Delacroix's businesses – including the global network of crime he had funded and led."

Bond sat silently for a moment, considering the facts that had been laid before him. He knew he was probably the best man for this job and had already decided he would take the mission. He had only one question for M.

"If the players have already been chosen, how do I get onto the guest list?"

"One eventuality Delacroix didn't cover was if a player could not attend. If one of the players were to disappear, there would be an open space at the table for any other associates of Mr Delacroix. I believe you crossed paths with him on a previous assignment."

Bond had indeed encountered Delacroix once before – the mission had been to protect him from an assassination attempt. It was only after the threat had been removed that Delacroix's criminal nature was discovered.

"Which player won't be attending?" Bond asked.

"We believe we have enough evidence to authorise the elimination of Mr Damien Steele – and the resources to remove any questions about his death, which I think should occur tomorrow at one o'clock in room one-four-five of the Golds Hotel."

M slowly nodded his head at Bond, who gave a short, curt reply.

"Understood."

"If the players would like to take their seats," the croupier announced, "the game will begin shortly."

The velvet rope was lifted and the ten players moved forwards, towards their allocated seats. A small crowd quickly started to appear on the other side of the railing surrounding the poker table. Amongst the many unfamiliar faces, Bond saw Leiter watching, an edge of concern to his features. His slanted catlike eyes were restless, glancing over the crowd. Bond guessed there were some CIA, maybe even MI6, allies stood there that Leiter was checking on. He also guessed there would be a lot more enemies stood around the table than friends – not that it mattered. Until the game ended, this was all Bond needed to focus on.

Poker was not a game of chance or a game where the man with the best hand wins. It was a game of skill and a battle of wits. Bond was not playing against the cards or the odds – he was playing against the nine opponents who surrounded him. At this table, for as long as it took for one man to win everything, the status and power of these people meant nothing. All that counted now was how far they were willing to go, how much of a risk they would take and who had the ability to force everyone else into defeat.

Bond removed his cigarette case from his inside pocket, along with a sleek black lighter and placed them next to him on the table. Flipping the case open, he slid a cigarette free and, clasping it between his middle and index fingers, placed it between his lips before lighting it. As he leant back in the soft chair and laid his arms on the table in front of him, the small blind and big blind were placed. The croupier went round the table twice, dealing the hole cards to each player. As soon as Bond's second card had landed in the space between his arms, he took the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out in the crystal ash tray next to him.

The game had begun.