Mardock Scramble полностью

Balot focused on sensing what the dealer was trying to do with the shuffle. His fingers were moving smoothly, deliberately, creating intricate patterns. Patterns that represented the dealer’s will, as he manipulated the rules, stacking the odds in his favor. This must have been the intangible sense of unease that Balot had felt ever since sitting down at the table.

–I can feel it, Oeufcoque.

–Feel what?

–This dealer isn’t just shuffling the cards.

–You mean he’s manipulating their order?

–He’s changing the way he shuffles them according to which customer he’s targeting.

–I doubt that even he could memorize the entire contents of the card shoe, though.

–Maybe not. But he is at least thinking about the patterns of play, I’m sure of it.

–You think you know what the dealer’s plan is?

–Pretty sure.

–Really?

Oeufcoque’s reply came from within the glove. He seemed impressed—amazed, even. Balot nodded in confirmation, then realized that she had done so in reality, not just in her heart. Hurriedly she made a shaking movement with her head to cover it up, and it seemed that she succeeded. She continued her conversation with Oeufcoque, more carefully this time.

–Not in terms of exact facts and figures like you, of course. Just in a general sense.

–Enough to put it to use to your advantage?

–I just tried it out back then. I was right half the time. With a bit more practice, I think I’ll get even better.

–Right, then. I’ll do what I can with the numbers and the dealer’s odor. You use your senses. We’ll use our combined skills to ramp things up and move on to the next stage. Are you ready?

For a moment Balot thought she could hear Oeufcoque’s growly laughter.

Laughter that suggested a hint of mischief—but laughter that she could rely on.

Balot nodded. Firmly inside her heart, this time.

The dealer had finished shuffling and had stacked the mountain of cards into a neat pile. He turned to Balot. For a second she had no idea what he wanted, and then it dawned on her: the red marker was held toward her, neatly, for her to take.

For the second time since taking her seat at the table, Balot received the transparent red card for her to place in the deck as she pleased.

She focused her attention on the pile of cards and felt a certain something that seemed to emanate from one point. She slipped the marker right in at that exact place.

The dealer cut the cards one last time, smoothly as ever, then placed the cards in the card shoe. Balot felt the movement ever so keenly; it was as if she had set off a little ripple that could now spread out across the whole pattern, and more importantly, the dealer responded to that ripple—to its influence—when he cut the cards.

–We’re taking our system through to the end, it looks like. Best tell the Doctor that we’re moving into the final stage.

Balot squeezed back at the words as they emerged in her hand. Affirmative.

–Uncle, I have a feeling that I’m going to win big this time. My lucky streak is about to arrive, I’m sure of it.

“Dear, dear, and the game’s hardly even begun…” The Doctor wrung his hands, skillful as ever in his portrayal of the part of the indulgent uncle who was now gently exasperated at his young charge’s impatience. He looked like he was surrendering.

His eyes, though, told a different story as he caught Balot’s own eyes for an instant. Then they went back behind the smokescreen.

“Well, then, we’ll have to get serious! Let’s see who can win the most—you or me!”

That was the cue for them both to bring their chips to the table.

The dealer smiled and checked their chips before dealing out the cards with the utmost care.

The game had begun. The game that Balot was going to win.

05

–I’m now going to display the true count.