With a good two hours until showtime, Genaro suggested that since they were alone and still had a deck of cards, they play a little stud.
"You just saw how I fixed the damned deck," said Remo. "Do you really think you have a chance to win?"
"You wouldn't cheat me."
"Of course I would. Look, buddy. I may be the only friend you have across a table."
"Why are you doing this? Friends don't come across gambling tables."
"Because I see someone who wants to help. You're not just another shyster ambulance chaser. You're someone who cares. You wouldn't be joining this Save Humanity spectacular if you weren't."
"Two hands," said Genaro.
"I want to talk about saving people."
"I'll deal and then we know it will be fair. I never cheat. "
"How did you hear about the Gupta disaster so quickly? And how did you know what was wrong so quickly?"
"Blackjack. One hand of blackjack. You can deal. The odds are with you. What's a hand of blackjack?" asked Rizzuto. His dark eyes were begging. "Ten seconds. Then I'll tell you. Anything you want to know. My love life. The inner workings of Palmer, Rizzuto You name it. One simple hand. Do you know how to play blackjack? You deal one card down to me, one card down to you. Then I bet. I call for another card. Two simple cards. I keep calling for cards to get as close to twenty-one as possible. If I go over, that's it. I lose. What's the most cards you can possibly deal, seven, right? Seven cards, and then I tell you anything you want to know. "
Rizzuto shot out the words like a machine gun and was shoving the cards into Remo's hands.
Remo dealt out a hand of blackjack, not expecting all that was promised. Rizzuto lost.
"Okay, I just want to know what you attribute your success at your firm to. You're probably the most successful negligence lawyers in the country. The reason I ask is I have an aunt who's really . . . "
"What're you doing with the cards?" asked Genaro, as horrified as if Remo had just thrown a baby out of a window.
"We played a hand. Now we talk," said Remo.
"What hand?" said Genaro with such vehemence that his gold jewelry tinkled on his dark hairy chest. "You don't play a hand of blackjack. You play a deck. How can I have a chance to win if I don't see what cards come up?"
"You said a hand. You didn't say a deck."
"I didn't say a deck," said Rizzuto, imitating Remo. "What's the big problem? Deal. We'll talk as you deal. "
"You seem to have the best technical assistance in the business," said Remo as he dealt another hand. "I mean you really know what causes accidents. How do you know so quickly and so well? Is it you? Is it Schwartz? Is it Palmer?"
"Hit me," said Rizzuto, signaling for another card. Remo would have loved to. He could have gotten everything he needed in thirty seconds by simply taking one ankle of one negligence lawyer and hanging the party of the first part out of the hotel window by the ankle of said party of the first part, until in maximum fear, party of the first part would divulge to Remo, the party of the second part, exactly how his law firm was raping America, immobilizing industries, and generally turning the protection of the law into an unbearable burden for the people.
But Smith had said no. Precisely because they were lawyers they had to be destroyed by legal means. It was the law that CURE was trying to protect. Remo thought momentarily of burying them all under lawbooks. He held up the card.
"We're good. That's all. You want us to take your aunt's case? You got it. Hit me."
Remo gave him his card. Rizzuto wanted another. "Who deals with your technical people?"
"Palmer. Hit me."
Remo gave him another card. Rizzuto went over twenty-one and sat drumming his hands on the table. Remo dealt a card again. Rizzuto bet again. Remo held up the next card.
"What does Schwartz do?"
"Tactics. Palmer does strategy on the general idea of what we should do. Schwartz shows how to do it. And on the big cases, I do it myself in a courtroom. I'm a trial lawyer. I'm wonderful. Another card, please."
Remo dealt. Then he dealt to himself. He won again by getting closer to twenty-one.
"Why would you say you are so successful? More successful than any single lawyer or law firm?"
"Because we know what we're doing and we'll take care of your aunt. We have law offices all over the country. We travel all over the world. When you get Palmer, Rizzuto you get a world of protection. Now deal, dammit."
Remo played blackjack with Rizzuto for almost two hours, getting little information he felt he could use, but winning seventy-five thousand dollars without thinking about it. Ten thousand in cash and sixty-five thousand in IOU's.
He walked with Rizzuto to the giant auditorium, wired now to reach out live to the world. When they got to the aisle with screaming fans and televison cameras and paparazzi, Remo ducked into the crowd and moved through it, hidden by the dense sea of people. He caught up with Rizzuto by coming up on the blind side of a guard who was posted to ensure that no one crossed the line to be with the celebrities. "Gambling's pretty expensive for you," said Remo.
"No. Not expensive."
"You lost seventy-five thousand dollars in two hours. "
"You figure wrong. That was the total loss. But do you know how much was wagered in winning and losing, and going back and forth? Maybe almost a million dollars. I got a million dollars of action for seventy-five thousand. Now where else can you get a return on your money like that? Take buying shoes for my kid. Fifty bucks for a pair of shoes. That's it. They're labeled fifty dollars. You pay fifty dollars, good-bye. Now when you gamble, that money can come back. For fifty dollars that I waste on a pair of my kid's shoes I get maybe five hundred dollars in action. And that's if I lose."
"You're a compulsive gambler, Genaro," said Remo. This might be a weakness he could work on to get some sort of legal case for CURE to transfer to some prosecutor.
"No. I'm not a compulsive gambler."
"If you're not, who is?"
"People who are worse than me. There are guys who will bet the clothes off their backs. I mean it. Guys who get killed by loan sharks because they borrow to pay loans from other killers."
"Where do you draw the line, then?"
"Right beneath me," said Rizzuto, who bet Remo there was an odd number of performers on the stage. Remo refused to bet. The stars were packed on the stage like so many cattle. The lights in the center of the auditorium were blinding, and the heat was oppressive. But the stars all managed to look as though they couldn't be happier, even when having to quaff emergency water rations. It was like a marathon run for the singers, except the singers had to smile. Rizzuto wore a lavender tuxedo with a neon-blue cummerbund and a diamond-studded bow tie. On this stage he looked subdued. Remo tried to stay near him, but he saw Chiun in the rear signaling to him.
Debbie Pattie, who was going to do the last solo, needed special wiring held by her bodyguards. Since none of them were here after Remo got into a shoving match with them, and since the new ones for some reason hadn't arrived yet, would Remo do the decent thing and carry Debbie's wires?
"Which ones?" asked Remo, looking at the dark tangle of wires.
"I don't know. My regular equipment didn't get here for some reason, and all this stuff is new. All I know is I have to have powerful amps on my voice and guitar or I sound like a squeaky little kid."
"Like at Gupta."
"Yeah. Although it's still real Debbie Pattie."
"I don't like gadgets."
"You know how many people would give an arm to be this close to me, Remo? Chiun, you tell him. You know what's going on."