The Voting Machine

Rocks, Donkeys, Maniacs and Pros

Along with the Bellagio and the Aria, the Babylonian had one of the most popular rooms for high-stakes Texas Hold 'Em. The room itself was like a giant fish tank surrounded on three sides by glass walls so hotel guests could witness the predators in action. Card sharks gathered around a dozen tables inside, playing with a trance-like intensity.

Texas Hold 'Em players were a separate species but they came in every shape and size and color imaginable. Some wore sunglasses. Many wore headphones.

We watched the table where Pam was dealing. Pam had just dealt the flop card. A supersized, macho Texan decked out in gold chains and a cowboy hat was raising the stakes on the player one seat over, a tiny Asian girl in a Chanel suit and Ferragamo shoes. Tex kept raising the stakes through the turn and the river card, scaring away the other players. But Chanel called his bluff in the showdown with a hand of three kings, collecting the pot and squeezing him out of the game.

"Other games are based on luck," Luke said. "Texas Hold 'Em is based on skill. You have to read the other players' minds and read your own mind. When you start out, you play according to your personality. A Rock is a player who's afraid to take a chance. He folds unless he has the perfect hand. A Donkey is an optimist who always thinks he has a better hand and holds out to the river. A Maniac is a chip bully, the one who thinks he can keep raising until everyone is scared of him."

"Like the Texan?"

"That's right. Chanel trapped the Maniac. She let him bet all the money and called his bluff. She used his own ego against him, like a jujitsu move. That's how a serious player does it. She reads her rival's personality, uses it to her advantage. They bully the Rocks, play it straight with the Donkeys, and trap the Maniacs."

It was around 2:00 a.m. when Pam finally went on break.

We flagged her through the glass wall as she stepped away from her table for a cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" she said.

"We need to speak with you, Sis," Luke said. "It's important."

"Not here," she said. "I am off for an hour. Let's take a walk."

We strolled south through crowds of drunk pedestrians in the walkways between the gardens of Caesar's Palace and the shopping court in the Bellagio. It was the middle of the night, the time when the Strip is at its most boisterous and discombobulated, the manic energy reaching a climax. It's also a perfect time to talk in a noisy, crowded area without the risk of being overheard.

"We need to know about the games," Luke said in front of the Roman Plaza by a ring of plaster angel statues.

"You mean the High Stakes Room? The place I am dealing tonight?" his sister said.

"The other games. The ones in the secret room."

"Goddamn it, Luke! I could get fired if you go mouthing off in public."

"Maybe that's for the best. I'm hearing they's dangerous," he said.

"From who? Those sewer rats you hang out with? You gonna believe everything you hear from tweakers and schizophrenics?"

"Sis, if you ain't worried then why you going to see Mr. Stone for help?"

"You spying on me? You following me around?"

"Answer my question, Pam."

"I needed advice from David."

"Advice on what? You ain't talked to him for years since he helped with the college stuff."

"I handle my own affairs, Luke. I am the one who knows how to play things. That's how I got this far. If I was a Rock, I'd never take any chance and I'd be making shit money just like all them other girls who get too old for waitressing. If I was a Donkey, I'd expect some man to come along and save me instead of doing things myself. And if I was a Maniac, I'd end up overplaying my hand and taking too many risks like you did, Luke. I ain't none of these types because I am a Pro. That's what you have to be to survive in this town. A Pro."

Pam whipped out a cigarette and started smoking.

"Pam we know you're a Pro," I said. "We're just trying to help. I got a message from a man I know, a very dangerous man. He says someone's asking too many questions about the games, like the secret might get out."

"We're just trying to protect you, sis."

She stamped out her cigarette. "I gotta go back to work."

She turned and headed back in the direction of the Babylonian.

"It's my fault," Luke said. "I've screwed up so many times she just doesn't trust me. I don't blame her."

"It doesn't sound like she's the one talking about the games," I said. "Maybe it's somebody else."

"Maybe Zeke Junior can help us figure this out," Luke said.