Ian Hamilton - The disciple of Las Vegas

“Obviously.”

“By whom?”

“Some people from The River.”

“I don’t know what they told you, but our position is that someone seems to have breached the security of the software attached to The River’s poker program and manipulated it to cheat other players.”

“It isn’t our software. We just administer it for them,” Francis said quickly.

Martin interceded. “Ms. Lee, to follow up on what the Chief said, I got a call from one of the techies at The River a little while ago, and he told me they suspected there had been a breach. He said they had identified what they thought was the problem and that they would have it corrected. He made it sound like something quite minor.”

“Then why were you discussing the situation so intently while I was outside? I couldn’t help overhearing how concerned you all seemed.”

“That was me being paranoid,” Francis said.

“About what?”

“We license and regulate online gambling. We have a trust to maintain. People are sending their money into cyberspace with only our assurance that it’s safe and secure and that any gaming they do is above board. Anything that undermines that trust is of the ultimate importance to me.”

“As it should be.”

“I called Jeremy Ashton at The River after Martin told me about his talk with the techie. He assured me it was just a glitch that they had caught and fixed. He said that some of the players were grumbling but they were handling the problem, and we shouldn’t talk to them if they approached us. He said it was mainly a public relations issue and that they were on top of it.”

“So why were you still talking about it this morning?”

Francis stared at her. Again Ava met his gaze. His eyes were dark brown, so dark that the lack of contrast made his irises look abnormally large.

“I can understand your reasons for wanting to keep this quiet. What you need to understand is that we have our own reasons for wanting exactly the same thing.”

She sensed Martin squirming in his chair and turned to him. “Did you do some investigating on your own?” He looked at Francis.

“Tell us what you know,” Francis said to Ava.

“No,” she said. “We need to have an agreement first.”

“You want to drag lawyers into this?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then what?”

Ava opened the envelope and placed the copies of Maynard’s and Hunter’s work in front of her. “We hired two experts, mathematicians from MIT and Stanford. We had them analyze high-stakes play on The River’s website for the past six months. The raw data was provided by some of the players involved. These are their reports. In their minds, the numbers are statistically anomalous.”

Francis looked to Martin. “Chief, that means the numbers are bullshit — they don’t make any sense,” Martin said.

“Would you give us those reports?” Francis said.

“Yes, that could be arranged.”

“Martin, how long would it take our people to do their own examination of the data and to cross-reference everything?” he asked.

“To do it properly, it could take months.”

“I don’t have months,” Ava interrupted.

“Then why give us the reports?” Francis said.

“I want to trade.”

Francis leaned back, balancing his chair on its rear legs. His pulled at his braid again. “What do we have that you need?”

“The real names of a handful of players who were involved in the high-stakes action.”

“How many players?”

“Five.”

Martin leaned over to Francis and whispered in his ear. The Chief nodded and turned to Ava. “How much money do you think was scammed?”

“Does that matter if your main priority is preserving the integrity of your system?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

She smiled. “I do understand that there are degrees of damage,” she said. “In this case I think we’re talking about somewhere between sixty and eighty million dollars.”

Francis glared at Martin, who shook his head slowly from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Francis said. “Is that true?”

“It’s outlined here,” she said, tapping the documents.

“So Ashton was blowing smoke?”

“It would seem so, unless he really thinks that sixty million dollars is inconsequential.”

Francis closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He didn’t stir for a minute or more, his lips moving from time to time.

“Chief, as I said, we have no interest in going public with this,” Ava said finally. “I can also say that we have no doubts about your integrity, and I’m prepared to give the band complete indemnification from any fallout, legal or otherwise.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes.”

“In writing?”

“If you need it.”

“So I give you the names and you give me what? The reports, a commitment not to go public, and complete indemnification from any future legal action?”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do with the names?”

“Go after them for the money.”

“How can you do that and keep us out of it? I mean, I don’t care how good your lawyers are — ”

“We don’t use lawyers,” she said. “We use more traditional, less expensive, and more time-sensitive methods.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Mainly me, but I have support if it’s required.”

“I’m not sure I believe what I’m hearing.”

Ava shrugged. “Let me tell you what the alternative is. The people in the Philippines are incredibly wealthy. They are also vindictive, particularly when members of their family are affected. And one has been — he’s already tried to commit suicide. So we’re talking personal here as well as money. If we can work out an arrangement, I guarantee you will never hear from them.”

“And if we don’t make an agreement?”

“They’ll get the lawyers involved. They’ll bring in public relations companies. They’ll cost you millions in expenses and they’ll drag your name through the mud. They’ll make sure that no one in Asia considers even a ten-dollar investment in the band. It will be your standard train wreck.”

“I wondered how long you were going to be sweet and reasonable.”

“I still am. I just don’t think it’s fair to lie to you, to leave you with the idea that there’s no cause and effect.”

Francis looked at Martin. “What do you think?”

“I think Ms. Lee has made us a sound business proposal,” Martin said.

“Five names?” Francis said.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ve heard the last of this?”

“You will never hear from us again.”

He tugged at his hair. “Give the names to Martin.”

She extracted a slip of paper from her notebook. “Chinaclipper, Brrrrr, Buckshot, Felix the Cat, and Kaybar. I need to know who these people are, and I want addresses, phone numbers, email addresses — everything you have on file for them.”

“I don’t want to go to my lawyer to draft anything,” Francis said. “He’s a stickler for the fine points of the law, and he might think we’re compromising ourselves by giving you those names.”

“I’ll send you an email with my commitment in it. Print it and I’ll sign it.”

“Assuming you actually have the authority to sign anything.”

“If you need to call Hong Kong, I’ll gladly provide you with a number.”

“No,” Francis said, writing down his email address and handing her the paper. “For some reason I trust you.”

Ava stood. “The trust is mutual,” she said. “Although I do need to ask that no one from the band contact anyone at The River. I think it’s best all around if they think this issue is behind them.”

“All right,” Francis said.