"Harry Harrison - Deathworld 1 " - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

still enough time to find out if Kerk was lying or not.
"All right, we'll do it tonight," he said. "Only I'll have to have one of those bills to verify."
Kerk stood up to go. "Take them all, I won't be seeing you again until after you've won. I'll be at the Casino, of course, but
don't recognize me. It would be much better if they didn't know where your money was coming from or how much you had."
Then he was gone, after a bone-crushing handclasp that closed on Jason's hand like vise jaws. Jason was alone with the
money. Fanning the bills out like a hand of cards, he stared at their sepia-and-gold faces, trying to get the reality through his head.
Twenty-seven million credits. What was to stop him from just walking out the door with them and vanishing. Nothing really,
except his own sense of honor.
Kerk Pyrrus, the man with the same last name as the planet he came from, was the universe's biggest fool. Or he knew just
what he was doing. From the way the interview had gone, the latter seemed the best bet.
"He knows I would much rather gamble with the money than steal it," he said wryly.
Slipping a small gun into his waistband holster and pocketing the money, he went out.


2

The robot teller at the bank just pinged with electronic shock when he presented one of the bills and flashed a panel that
directed him to see Vice President Wain. Wain was a smooth customer who bugged his eyes and lost some of his tan when he saw
the sheaf of bills.
"You-wish to deposit these with us?" he asked while his fingers unconsciously stroked them.
"Not today," Jason said. "They were paid to me as a debt. Would you please check that they are authentic and change them. I'd
like five hundred thousand credit notes."
Both of his inner chest pockets were packed tight when he left the bank. The bills were good and he felt like a walking mint.
This was the first time in his entire life that carrying a large sum of money made him uncomfortable. Waving to a passing helicab,
he went directly to the Casino where he knew he would be safe. For awhile.
Cassylia Casino was the playspot of the nearby cluster of star systems. It was the first rime Jason had seen it, though he knew
its type well. He had spent most of his adult life in casinos like this on other worlds. The decor differed but they were always the
same. Gambling and socialites in public-and behind the scenes all the private vice you could afford. Theoretically no-limit games,
but that was true only up to a certain point. When the house was really hurt, the honest games stopped being square and the big
winner had to watch his step very carefully. These were the odds Jason dinAlt had played against countless times before. He was
wary but not very concerned.
 The dining room was almost empty and the majordomo quickly rushed to the side of the stranger in the richly cut clothes.
Jason was lean and dark and moved with a positive, self-assured manner. More like the owner of inherited wealth than a
professional gambler. This appearance was important and he cultivated it. The cuisine looked good and the cellar turned out to be
wonderful. He had a professional and enthusiastic talk with the wine steward while waiting for the soup, then settled down to
enjoy his meal.
He ate leisurely and the large dining room was filled before he was through. Watching the entertainment over a long cigar
killed some more time. When he finally went to the gaming rooms, they were filled and active.
Moving slowly around the room, he dropped a few thousand credits. He scarcely noticed how he played, giving more attention
to the feel of the games. The play all seemed honest and none of the equipment was rigged. That could be changed very quickly,
he realized. Usually it wasn't necessary; house percentage was enough to assure a profit.
Once he saw Kerk out of the corner of his eye, but he paid him no attention. The ambassador was losing small sums steadily at
seven-and silver and seemed to be impatient. Probably waiting for Jason to begin playing seriously. He smiled and strolled on
slowly.
Jason settled on the dice table as he usually did. It was the surest way to make small winnings. And if I feel it tonight, I can
clean this casino out! That was his secret, the power that won for him steadily-and every once in awhile enabled him to make a
killing and move on quickly before the hired thugs came to get the money back.
The dice reached him and he threw an eight the hard way. Betting was light and he didn't push himself, just kept away from
the sevens. He made the point and passed a natural. Then he crapped out and the dice moved on.
Sitting there, making small automatic bets while the dice went around the table, he thought about the power. Funny, after all