‘Nuts,’ said Leiter succinctly. ‘You’ll have to do better than that if you want my blood pressure to go up. Anyway, let’s get the hell out of here and go have ourselves some eggs and bacon in one of those clip joints on Bay Street. It’ll cost us twenty dollars plus tax, but the
15 | CARDBOARD HERO
The Nassau Casino used to be the only legal casino on British soil anywhere in the world. How this was justified under the laws of the Commonwealth no one can quite figure. It is leased each year to a Canadian gambling syndicate and their operating profits in the smart winter season are estimated to average around $100,000. The only games played are roulette, with two zeros instead of one, which increases the take to the house from the European 3.6 to a handsome 5.4; black jack, or 21, on which the house makes between six and seven per cent; and one table of chemin de fer, whose cagnotte yields a modest five per cent. The operation is run as a club in a handsome private house on West Bay Street and there is a pleasant dance and supper room with a three-piece combo that plays old favourites in strict time, and a lounge bar. It is a well run, elegant place that deserves its profit.
The Governor’s A.D.C. had presented Bond and Leiter with membership cards, and after they had had coffee and a stinger at the bar they separated and went to the tables.
Largo was playing chemin de fer. He had a fat pile of hundred-dollar plaques in front of him and half a dozen of the big yellow thousand-dollar biscuits. Domino Vitali sat behind him chain-smoking and watching the play. Bond observed the game from a distance. Largo was playing expansively, bancoing whenever he could and letting his own banks run. He was winning steadily, but with excellent manners, and by the way people joked with him and applauded his coups he was obviously a favourite in the Casino. Domino, in black with a square-cut neckline and with one large diamond on a thin chain at her throat, was looking morose and bored. The woman on Largo’s right, having bancoed him three times and lost, got up and left the table. Bond went quickly across the room and slid into the empty place. It was a bank of eight hundred dollars – the round sum being due to Largo making up the cagnotte after each play.
It is good for the banker when he has got past the third banco. It often means the bank is going to run. Bond knew this perfectly well. He was also painfully aware that his total capital was only 1,000 dollars. But the fact that every-one was so nervous of Largo’s luck made him bold. And, after all, the table has no memory. Luck, he told himself, is strictly for the birds. He said, ‘Banco.’
‘Ah, my good friend Mr Bond.’ Largo held out a hand. ‘Now we have the big money coming to the table. Perhaps I should pass the bank. The English know how to play at railway trains. But still,’ he smiled charmingly, ‘if I have to lose I would certainly like to lose to Mr Bond.’
The big brown hand gave the shoe a soft slap. Largo eased out the pink tongue of playing card and moved it across the baize to Bond. He took one for himself and then pressed out one more for each of them. Bond picked up his first card and flicked it face up into the middle of the table. It was a nine, the nine of diamonds. Bond glanced sideways at Largo. He said, ‘That is always a good start – so good that I will also face my second card.’ He casually flicked it out to join the nine. It turned over in mid-air and fell beside the nine. It was a glorious ten, the ten of spades. Unless Largo’s two cards also added up to nine or nineteen, Bond had won.
Largo laughed, but the laugh had a hard edge to it. ‘You certainly make me try,’ he said gaily. He threw his cards to follow Bond’s. They were the eight of hearts and the king of clubs. Largo had lost by a pip – two naturals, but one just better than the other, the cruellest way to lose. Largo laughed hugely. ‘Somebody had to be second,’ he said to the table at large. ‘What did I say? The English can pull what they like out of the shoe.’
The croupier pushed the chips across to Bond. Bond made a small pile of them. He gestured at the heap in front of Largo: ‘So, it seems, can the Italians. I told you this afternoon we should go into partnership.’
Largo laughed delightedly. ‘Well, let’s just try once again. Put in what you have won and I will banco it in partnership with Mr Snow on your right. Yes, Mr Snow?’
Mr Snow, a tough-looking European who, Bond remembered, was one of the shareholders, agreed. Bond put in the eight hundred and they each put in four against him. Bond won again, this time with a six against a five for the table – once more by one point.
