Bond's next two hole cards landed face down in front of him. With a final sharp inhale, he stubbed the cigarette out in the ash tray beside him and blew a long stream of smoke past his lips. A few players were sitting this round out, some possibly recovering from their losses in the previous round, some probably just indulging their drinking habits at the bar. Bond and Schaal remained fixed in their seats, as did the man next to Bond and the woman at the end of the table.
Bond checked his cards – the two of hearts and six of clubs. Not a strong start, but he didn't know what cards would come up yet. And he was still currently the wealthiest player.
The opening bet was a little higher this time, as was to be expected with less players and one round already being over. Now the real risks began.
Two billion was the first bet, placed by a woman with silky blonde hair and crimson lipstick. The next player – a largely built man, Bond knew to be a mob boss – immediately folded. Bond took note of that. The man's funds were clearly a little low and he wasn't a confident gambler.
The bet reached Schaal.
He was slow, considering for a moment. Bond thought for a second that he might raise the bet at this early a stage.
"Call." he said eventually, and the bet continued around the rest of the table.
The dealer laid out the next three cards – the Flop. Bond had to hope that somehow these would help improve his odds.
An eight, a ten and a Jack, all different suits. Useless.
The bet started at one billion. Schaal immediately raised it to one point five. The amount was unchanged when it reached Bond. He remained silent, still for a moment, considering his options. He was on the verge of defeat, the next two cards forming his last desperate hope. But he still had more than any other player. He could afford to take the risk and lose, but he couldn't afford to keep doing so throughout the game. He had to keep his losses to an absolute minimum, or he would stand no chance of completing his mission.
"What's the matter, Mr Bond?" asked Schaal, in a low whispering voice. "I do hope the stakes aren't too high for you. Perhaps you shouldn't be playing with real money yet."
"The stakes aren't a problem." said Bond, making up his mind, "I was just considering whether or not I should make them any higher."
"And will you?"
Bond pushed a pile of plaques and chips forward.
"Call." He gave Schaal a small smile. "I wouldn't want to be too harsh on you this early in the game."
He had committed himself to play now. He would have to see this round through, show he was not intimidated by Schaal.
The Turn was dealt.
The Four of Clubs. The card that represented changes for the worse in divination.
"Check." said the blonde-haired woman.
"Check." said Schaal.
This was good. Bond may not need to lose any more money on this round.
The woman on the end of the table checked too.
The man next to Bond did not.
"Five hundred million." he announced in his heavy African accent.
"Raise." Bond said quickly. He may not have been able to win, but he felt certain he could force more players out. "One billion."
He pushed the amount forward. The blonde-haired woman, to his surprise, matched the bet. So did Schaal. The tall, dark-haired woman on the end of the table folded and the man next to Bond matched the one billion.
The risk had helped very little. He had forced only one player out of the game and paid one billion pounds for it.
The dealer placed the last card on the table.
The ten of spades.
Another one billion pound bet went around the table. Again, it came to a pause at Schaal, who seemed to consider it very carefully, but seemingly decided against raising the amount.
After the final round of bets, the blonde woman delicately turned her cards over and slid them forwards – a ten and a seven.
"Three of a kind." the dealer stated, pushing the ten next to the two that were already on the table.
Schaal's face remained emotionless as he turned his cards over, one placed neatly on top of the other, so as to hide the lower card's face. The top card was a nine. Schaal pressed his fingers onto its white surface and slowly slid it aside. Bond had already guessed what he would see underneath – a Queen.
"Straight." said the dealer, pushing the four and one of the tens forwards and placing Schaal's nine and Queen within the row of cards. A perfect sequence was formed, from eight to Queen.
The man next to Bond threw his two cards, still face down, to the centre of the table. A fold. He had been defeated by Schaal.
Without letting a flicker of emotion show on his features, Bond did the same.
"Mr Schaal wins." the dealer announced, sliding the chips and plaques that had been put down as bets towards Schaal.
"I believe that puts me in the lead." Schaal said casually, with an undertone of aggression.
"I'll sit the next round out." Bond said, before shooting a short, sharp smile at Schaal and leaving the table. Behind him, a few others re-joined the game.
"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" he heard Felix whisper in his ear, as his hand clamped on his shoulder. "Listen to me, James, you cannot let your over-sized ego blow this one up."
"What do you mean?"
"What were your cards in that round?"
"A two and a six."
"You should have folded on the Flop, anyone could tell you that! But Schaal taunted you into carrying on."
Bond brushed Felix's hand from his shoulder and started walking over to the bar.
"I had to keep betting, Felix. I needed to see what Schaal would do. Early rounds are important; I need to learn his tactics."
"Then why are you taking a break so early in the game?" Felix asked.
"I need a drink. I have just lost five and a half billion pounds, you know."
"You're going to end up a drunken mess if you need a drink after every loss." said Felix with a laugh. "Besides, overall you've gained money thanks to the first round."
"Doesn't matter." said Bond. "This isn't an ordinary game of Poker. It's not about me making some quick cash, I need to bankrupt all nine of these players."
"Well, you've already managed one."
"Schaal's winning, though."
"Yeah, and as soon as he beat you, you left the table." Felix's tone was becoming increasingly agitated. "This is making you look weak."
"Exactly." Bond snapped. "I'm not weak, he's not getting to me, but if I let him think he is I can use it against him. He'll become overconfident; I'll be able to trip him up. This isn't just a game of cards, it's psychological warfare."
They reached the bar and Bond immediately got the barman's attention. He had built up something of a skill for that.
"Can I get you something, monsieur?"
"Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred."
"Of course, monsieur." He turned to Felix. "Anything for you?"
"No thanks."
The barman went to prepare the martini and Bond turned back to Felix.
"The man who lost his money in the first round – who was he?" asked Bond.
"Salvador Montez. Spanish terrorist confederate. Clearly quite reckless."
"He just lost a lot of money – is that going to cause any problems? If it wasn't all his, he might have just made someone very angry."
"We've got people looking into it," Felix said. "He's still in the casino, so we can keep an eye on him for now."
"Good. If you could keep an eye on the game for me, I'd appreciate it. I'll find you again shortly."
Felix left the bar with a little reluctance, returning to the spectators' area around the Poker table. As the barman returned with his drink, Bond became aware of the female presence at his side. He thanked the barman before glancing to his side to see the blonde woman from the table.
"Hello. Mr Bond, isn't it?"
"Yes. And you are?"
"Sylvia Hayden." she said in her soft voice with a slight accent.
"American?" Bond enquired.
"Yes. You know, your tactics at the table were very brave. Or very foolish."
"Well, I've got a reputation for being both." Bond said with a smile. But Sylvia apparently wasn't in the mood for humour.
"You're trying to clean out Schaal."
"I'm trying to clean out everyone at that table." He took a long gulp of the martini before continuing. "You know how this game works – it's winner takes all."
"Well, if that's the case Mr Bond, I suggest you put aside whatever personal grudge you have with Schaal and focus on the bigger picture."
"What do you mean?"
"You two have been playing a big game of chicken the whole time. You're focussing on each other, but not the other players."
"Thanks for the tip." said Bond and downed what was left of his drink. "But I don't need advice from you."
"What's the matter? Scared of a woman's touch, Mr Bond?"
"Not at all," said Bond, turning to face her fully. "I welcome it in the right place."
"And where would the right place be?"
"I'm sure if you came to my hotel room later we could work it out. But it's certainly not in my professional life."
"Your career is in gambling?" Sylvia asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Risk-taking." Bond corrected her. "Excuse me."
Leaving the bar, he wandered back towards the table, coming to a stop where Katrina was stood.
"Enjoying the game?" he asked.
"Schaal's still winning."
"I thought he might be. Well, it's my job to put a stop to that."
"Then you'd better take your seat. The next round's about to start."
Bond turned to leave the spectators' area, when she grabbed onto his arm. He turned back to instantly find her lips being pressed against his. Closing his eyes, he embraced the kiss, accepting a moment of bliss before returning to his battlefield.
"Good luck." Katrina whispered as Bond stepped away.
"Thank you." he said, before making his way around the railing and over to his seat.
Slowly, he took his place in the chair, facing Schaal once again.
"Nice of you to join us, Mr Bond." Schaal said, sitting behind a substantially larger pile of plaques and chips. Bond noticed there were a couple more empty seats, with no chips or personal belongings waiting by them. Two more players who had lost all their funds to Schaal. Sylvia Hayden took her seat on the other side of the dealer again, her gaze flicking momentarily over to Bond.
The hole cards were dealt.
The round began.