Don Winslow - Satori

“Could it be?” De Lhandes asked with some sarcasm in his voice. “A royal visit?”

The third car pulled up, troopers opened the back door, and a middle-aged Vietnamese man in a white dinner jacket emerged from the car as the guards, their heads on swivels, looked anxiously around.

“It’s Bao Dai,” Haverford explained to Nicholai. “The Playboy Emperor.”

He waved his fingers, miming a puppeteer.

Bao Dai turned and reached his arm back into the car, clearly to fetch another passenger in the backseat.

“I hope it’s his latest mistress,” De Lhandes said. “The rumor is she’s fantastic”

Nicholai watched as the woman eased gracefully out of the car.

She was fantastic.

Solange.

SHE WORE A BLACK GOWN with fashionably deep décolletage, and her blonde hair was swept up and off her long neck, with just one tendril carefully disarranged to flow down to her shoulder.

Solange took Bao Dai’s offered arm and allowed him to escort her through the cordon of guards, each of whom labored unsuccessfully not to stare at the tall, elegant Frenchwoman who was the emperor’s latest love.

“I heard she’s a ‘film actress,’ “De Lhandes said. “At least that’s what she calls herself.”

“I’d like to be in that movie,” Haverford said.

Nicholai disciplined himself not to slap his stupid face, but could not prevent the flush he felt burning his own cheeks. When it receded, he let his eyes meet Haverford’s, but if the American was ashamed, he didn’t show it.

“I had nothing to do with it,” he whispered to Nicholai.

If you didn’t, Nicholai wondered, who did?

“It’s good to be the emperor,” De Lhandes observed as Bao Dai and Solange came into the casino.

Nicholai watched as Bao Dai introduced Solange to various important men, watched as she held her hand out to be kissed, as she smiled, made small witticisms, and dazzled. She seemed very much at home in this society, a bit too comfortable for Nicholai’s tastes, and he was annoyed with himself that he felt so…

Face it, he told himself, the word is “jealous.”

He wanted to walk over and kill Bao Dai with a single strike.

The way the man pawed her, stroked her bare arm, signaling his ownership of her to all in the room. It was disgusting, and he was angry with her for allowing it.

Hypocrite, he accused himself.

You are a whore as much as her, you both sell yourselves, you are both playing roles. If she plays hers well, so do you, “Michel Guibert.”

“I don’t suppose we’ll be introduced,” De Lhandes said.

Haverford smiled. “We’re not high enough on the pecking order for that.”

De Lhandes sighed. “So I can only lust from afar.”

“Bad for you, good for Le Parc à Buffles,” Haverford said. The casino’s courtesans were well beyond De Lhandes’s limited means, but Le Parc offered a menu for all budgets.

Then she saw him.

Tall, she looked over her companion’s shoulder and spotted Nicholai. Only the most discerning observer could have noticed the small tremor of recognition before her green eyes moved on to a brief glance at Haverford, but Nicholai saw it.

He walked over to them.

Bay Vien looked surprised at the intrusion.

Nicholai glanced at Bao Dai but addressed his words to Solange. “Michel Guibert, formerly of Montpellier and Hong Kong. Enchanté, mademoiselle .”

“Enchantée, monsieur ,” Solange said, her eyes warning him away before she turned her look to Bao Dai.

The emperor noticed the colon ’s rude approach to his mistress but easily hid his annoyance. “Welcome to Vietnam, Monsieur Guibert. What brings you to Saigon?”

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Nicholai said. “I’m starting a business – a manufactury.”

“Superb,” Bao Dai said. “And what will you manufacture?”

“I was thinking of marionettes,” Nicholai said, looking straight at Bao Dai. “You know… puppets.”

It was a deliberate insult and everyone who heard it knew it. But Bao Dai merely smiled and asked, “What sort of puppets?”

“French, I think,” Nicholai said. “Or do you think American?”

“I didn’t think the Americans were known for such things,” Solange said.

“Yes, their ventriloquists use them. They call them, let me think” – Nicholai looked directly at Bao Dai – “yes, ‘dummies.’ It’s quite clever, actually. The dummy appears to be talking but, of course, it’s really the ventriloquist. But if you didn’t know better, you’d swear that -”

“Yes, I think we understand the concept, monsieur,” Solange said, turning slightly to signal Bao Dai that she wished to move on.

“Well, best of luck in your business, Monsieur Guibert,” Bao Dai said. “If there is anything that we can do to facilitate your endeavor, I hope you will not hesitate to let us know. We always like to encourage entrepreneurs.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that,” Nicholai said. “Even as far away as Laos, they speak highly of your cooperative nature.”

Bao Dai’s eyelids closed for just a moment and then opened again. When they did, Nicholai saw that his eyes were black with repressed rage. “Do you gamble, Monsieur Guibert?”

“A bit, Your Excellency.”

“He just beat the house for a tidy little fortune,” Bay Vien said.

“Indeed?” Bao Dai said, raising his eyebrows. “Perhaps, then, you would like to join me in a private game?”

“I’d be honored.”

“I prefer games that match player against player.”

“As do I.”

“Good,” Bao Dai said. “Actually, I’ve become very fond of the American game of poker.”

Solange kept the frozen smile on her face, but Nicholai could tell that she was livid. She stared at him with a look that said Just go away.

He smiled at her.

“It will be high stakes,” Bao Dai said, hoping to embarrass him.

Nicholai looked at Solange and answered, “I like high stakes.”

“No limits, actually,” Bao Dai added.

“Better.”

“I’ll get a table together,” Bay said, “in the private room.”

“Will you be joining us?” Nicholai asked Solange.

Word of the newcomer’s insult of Bao Dai and the impending poker game quickly spread through the house.

Bay Vien passed by Nicholai and muttered, “This game won’t be fixed, you know.”

“I trust you to see that it isn’t.”

He walked over to the bar.

“Christ, man,” De Lhandes hissed, “are you out of your mind? Insulting the emperor. He’ll have your throat cut. But by the love my mother would have laded upon me had she not been so horrified at what emerged from her womb, you have balls, Guibert. Clanging, great, magnificent balls.”

“What are you doing?” Haverford asked.

“Playing poker,” Nicholai answered. “What are you doing?”

“Playing poker, I guess,” Haverford answered. He walked off to find Bay Vien.

Bay was a popular man. A few moments later, Bao Dai pulled him aside. “I want him broken. Every last piastre to his name.”

And De Lhandes said to anyone who would listen, “By the glossy belly of Buddha, would you not love to be in that room?”

SIX MEN SAT at the round table. Nicholai, Bao Dai, Bay Vien, Haverford, Signavi, and the dealer.

Bay Vien announced the rules – the casino would deal, but a buck would rotate from player to player to determine the order of betting and set the game. That “dealer” could choose between one of two games, seven-card stud or five-card draw, the latter with jacks or better to open. There would be no silliness such as wild cards, and jokers were cut from the deck. Importantly, there were no limits on raises or stakes.