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Hmmm, Cami thought. Best way of doing that?
There was only one way to get the table's attention, and that was to play recklessly and aggressively. That made people mad, but it also captured their focus. She'd had much more experience of online poker than of live, but she guessed that the basic logic was the same.
She could see herself losing twenty dollars very fast.
The dealer dealt. Cami glanced at her hand. A jack and a nine, unsuited. Not a great hand, in fact, a very average one. At an online table of eight, she’d have folded it, but now, she had to play. In fact, she had to do more than that. She had to bet.
“Four dollars,” The laconic words came from the guy on her right.
“I’ll call that,” the baseball wearer said. Boyd hesitated.
“Call,” he said, and pushed the chips in.
Cami took a deep breath. “Raise you!” she said, and pushed in eight dollars’ worth of chips.
Now, she had the table's attention. And in particular, Boyd’s.
“Reraise you!” one of the other guys said, taking it to twelve.
Out of the corner of her eye, Cami saw Connor appear in the doorway. And she could see that Boyd was just about to glance around again. Only one way to delay this. She needed to make the most aggressive move she could.
“All in,” she said, and shoved all her chips into the table’s center.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Wow.”
“What a move.”
“You got pocket aces there baby, or you just looking to lose twenty dollars, fast?”
Comments – some admiring, some scornful, resounded from around the table.
Everyone’s attention was on the cards as the dealer prepared to deal. Even Boyd was too distracted to look around as he’d been intending to do.
And then, Connor was there. At the table, grasping his shoulder in a tight grip. Boyd shouted out a cry of alarm. He tried to scramble up from the table, but Connor's grasp was tight. And this poker table, unlike the drinks table, was way too solid to be tipped over.
“A word, please, Mr. Langdon?” Connor’s voice was polite.
His grasp was inexorable. Boyd was practically hauled to his feet and then Connor, grasping his arm, marched him outside.
Cami got up to leave, but to her surprise, the guy sitting next to her grabbed her elbow.
“Hey, wait!” he said urgently. “Don’t walk away! You got two calls on your all-in, and look there. Three Jacks on the flop. You got four jacks, it’s unbeatable, you can’t abandon your hand.”
“I can,” Cami said, pulling her FBI cap onto her head again. “If I win, take the money on my behalf. Donate it to – to an animal charity, or a refuge for battered women, or something like that. I’ve got to go and help my partner.”
Turning her back on the undoubtedly winning hand, with all her focus on the interview ahead, Cami got up and left.
Behind her, the only gasps were of admiration now, but she barely heard them. She hurried through the door where Connor had gone. He was waiting for her outside.
"We're going to bring him in," he said, still holding Boyd's arm firmly, except now, Cami saw, he had handcuffs on. "He's tried to run for it twice. I'm not letting go of his arm until the cops get here."
***
The look of the suspect, sitting across the table from them half an hour later in the interview room, was familiar to Cami. Boyd was hostile and defensive looking. He was glowering at them in a way that told Cami they were not going to get the information they needed quickly or easily.
Connor didn’t seem to be worried by that, and calmly regarded Boyd for a few minutes, letting the silence build. Gradually, Boyd began to fidget. Swiftly, he started looking less defiant and more uneasy.
