White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 3

At gunpoint

Neal mingled among the tables and saw one where the other player rose from his seat. Neal was quick to take it. The man on the other side reminded him of the old Asian man in Gremlins, a cult classic just inches better than Tiles of Fire.

"How you doing?" he greeted the man. "Don't get them wet. Don't feed them after midnight, right?" Not a hint of a smile in return. He just shuffled the tiles without a word.

"Never mind." He dug in his pocket and slapped a bunch of cash on the table. The two thousand he had gained from Peter, plus a few fake notes. It was risky, but he needed at least five thousand to make it believable.

He got them exchanged for chips and the game started. It was not that different from poker, just took him longer to calculate his hand due to less experience.

An hour later and he had won an additional two thousand, but not once had he had the chance to make a bet for what he really came for.

Someone held out a glass to him.

"Yong sing," the slender, gold-glittering Asian woman said. "It's a toast. Drink and win."

Neal took in her beauty. Neal Caffrey, the CI and the convict now undercover for the feds should be suspicious of the drink. Nick Halden however had no reason to.

"Yong sing," he returned before he swept the alcohol. "One down, one to go."

She sat down beside him, watching the game.

He got his tiles and took a look. Without revealing the excitement he felt he gazed at the man across the table. He placed his two hands on the table.

"Eight and seven, nice hand," the woman pointed out. It was, but his hand was better and it was time to act.

"I'm out," he declared.

As the dealer pushed the chips over at his side Neal placed his two hands on the table and got eye-contact across the table. The man had seen. And got the message.

"You could have won," the woman pointed out.

"There are more important things than winning," he told her and watched the men behind the dealer whisper.

Silence fell as Lao walked into the gambling room. The dealer left his seat and the gangster sank down in the chair with a relaxed grace.

"You folded on a good hand, Mr...?"

"You know who I am," Neal replied. "And you know why I'm here."

"For a man of your reputation, Mr. Halden it took some time for you to find the hand you needed." His voice was calm, articulated and sharp as the edge of a blade.

"Pai Gow isn't my game," Neal smiled with a little shrug. It was the truth alright.

"What is your game?"

"Perhaps we should discuss that in private," Neal suggested.

Lao glanced at the woman between them with a smile and looked back at Neal.

"We have time for that. Another hand?"

Peter paced back and forth behind Lauren and her laptop.

"Don't rush him, Neal."

"I'm always in for one more game," Neal said over the speakers. Peter grinned.

"Good, good."

"Peter, we got a problem," Jones interrupted his thoughts. "N.Y.P.D. got a tip-off. They're about to raid the game."