A long, swirling trail of smoke ran through Bond's teeth and out into the air in front of him. He slowly stubbed the cigarette out in the crystal tray beside him, dropped it into the pile of ash and then cupped his left hand over the two cards in front of him, while lifting them with his right. Two aces. His face remained set like stone, not betraying the slightest sign of emotion at his sudden possession of the best possible hole cards.
A check went the whole way around the table. Bond matched it, deciding that betting now would only draw attention to himself and while some players may think he was bluffing, others may realise his advantage.
The soft, sharp sound of the three cards in the flop scratching against the deck was the only noise in the room. After each almost silent scraping sound there came the dull, light thud of a card placed on the velvet table top. A harsh silence surrounded this process, the eyes of every player glancing emptily into the three cards that were revealed – the two of clubs, the five of spades and the king of diamonds. The silence remained, as though nothing had happened at all, as though not one of the cards that had just been dealt meant anything to any of the players now around the table.
None of the cards helped Bond, but his high pair could still be enough. The bet came to Sylvia Hayden first.
"Five hundred million." A low bet – she was nervous. Or bluffing. Bond suspected the former, however – it would be difficult to form that strong a hand with the three cards that had just been dealt.
"Raise – two billion." said Feng, pushing the amount forwards in plastic plaques. Bond observed him carefully, but his face was a perfectly calm, emotionless mask. There was no way of telling if this was a bluff or not. Feng had a fairly substantial amount of money to play with and the two billion hardly put a dent in his funds.
"Call." said Schaal, matching the bet.
"Fold." The man sat next to Bond pushed his cards into the centre of the table. He was running low on chips and must have had a fairly poor hand.
"Call." said Bond, throwing two billion worth of plaques forwards.
"One point five billion to call, Miss Hayden." announced the dealer.
Sylvia Hayden remained very still for a moment, considering her options in utter silence. She then pushed forwards a large plastic plaque and a few chips.
"Call."
Another moment of silence. Everyone waited as the dealer placed the next card on the table – the seven of diamonds.
"Five billion – all in." Sylvia announced, placing the last of her chips in the centre of the table. It was a brave move – the others could match the five billion whilst maintaining some of their funds, but it seemed unlikely Sylvia was about to lose when she was showing such confidence.
Feng, Schaal and Bond each matched the bet. They may well have just agreed to partake in a round they couldn't win, but all of them could afford to play on if they were defeated now. It all came down to this final card.
The dealer pressed his hand against the top of the deck, sliding the card free from the others. In a swift motion that seemed to last an eternity, he slid it towards the centre of the table where it came to rest with the four cards already face up.
A pause.
The dealer took hold of the card.
He flipped it face-up.
The ace of spades.
Bond glanced back down at his own two cards – the two red aces stared brightly back at him, promising him three of a kind.
"Ten billion – all in." said Feng, pushing forward the last of his plaques and chips.
"Call." Schaal was winning and could match the ten billion whilst having twenty left to spare.
Bond also had only ten billion left. If he matched the bet now, it was all or nothing. The odds were in his favour – unless someone had a three and a four, there was no way he could lose. But he knew the odds could betray him. And yet, if he won, Feng and Sylvia were both cleaned out, leaving only Bond, Schaal and two others in the game.
"Call." said Bond. He knocked his pile of plaques and chips into the middle of the table, risking everything on this one bet.
In this round of betting alone, the entire donated thirty billion had been bet. The only thing keeping players in the game now was the additional funds that they had contributed themselves. These alone had come to a total of fifty billion.
Sylvia showed her cards – she had gone all in too early, betting everything on a fleeting chance, or perhaps trying to bluff her way to safety. She had a three and a six. Had a four come up instead of the ace she would have won. Instead, she had nothing. In that moment of revelation, she knew she had lost.
Feng revealed his cards – a king and an ace.
"Two pairs." announced the dealer. "Kings and aces."
Schaal folded – once again, his cards could not beat Feng's.
"Mr Bond?"
Bond picked his cards up and moved them slowly forwards, still face-down, ensuring they could be seen clearly. His hand halted. He turned them over and let them drop softly down to the green velvet cloth.
"Trip aces." said the dealer, placing the two aces next to the one on the table. "Mr Bond wins."
The full amount in the pot was slid towards Bond, replenishing his funds. Three players had just risked everything and Bond had come out on top, the other two now penniless.
"All the best, Miss Hayden." Said Bond as Sylvia stood up, a little stiffly, and left the table. Bond turned to Feng, who was suddenly paralysed with shock and disgust. "Sorry, Mr Feng – that's got to burn."
"You must forgive me, Mr Bond," said Feng with a slight quiver in his voice, "if I do not wish you the best of luck for the rest of your game."
And with that, Feng got to his feet and swiftly left the table.
"Shame," muttered Bond. "I thought we were getting on like a house on fire."
As Feng exited the roped off playing area, another player re-entered – a tall, slim, bald man in a grey suit. He took his place at the far end of the table, where his smaller pile of chips was waiting for him. Bond recognised the man as a former double-agent, who had once been identified within MI6, by the name of Vagason. Bond wasn't sure who he worked for now, but it was certainly no friend of the British government.
This was it. The final four. Bond, the man who had been beside him throughout the whole game, the former double, and Quentin Schaal. The ending was within sight.
Bond felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked around and saw Felix Leiter stood behind him, a grim expression on his face. Bond raised a questioning eyebrow and Felix leant down, whispering in his ear.
"MI6 and the CIA have been after Feng ever since we lost him in Operation Storm Front. He's walking to the back door now; his people have a car waiting outside."
"So go and get him – I thought we had backup all over this place." Bond whispered in reply.
"We do, but his people are everywhere out the back – and there may be a possible hostage situation."
"Hostage?"
"Sylvia Hayden. She's from an organisation that have been offering Feng protection from his enemies – he just lost all his funds, can't afford to pay them anymore, so he takes one of them captive to try to blackmail them. But if her people realise how much she just lost them, it might not end well."
Two hole cards landed in front of Bond. He gave them a quick, cursory glance, before the bet of three billion reached him.
"Fold." he said and threw the cards forward. "I'll be back for the next round."
"I do hope, Mr Bond," said Schaal, in a slow and measured tone, "that the game isn't starting to wear you down."
"Of course not, Mr Schaal," said Bond. "I just thought I'd see if I can reserve my celebratory drinks now."
Without looking back, Bond strode away from the high table, walking past Katrina, whose expression turned to one of anxiety once she saw the concerned look on his features.
"What's wrong?" she asked in a hushed but panicked tone.
"Talk to me later," said Bond, carrying on past her.
He half-ran to the door at the back of the casino, which led to the elaborate dining area. His hand was inside his jacket, clasping the handle of his Walther PPK, ready for what lay beyond the broad double doors he was facing. With a short, sharp shove, he pushed his way through. Then he was running for the figures by the exit.