Gambit

An hour later the murder scene had been cleaned up and people had resumed their normal lives. That is, people other than Alex and Jack. Jack's body was being autopsied, and Alex had been detained for mental instability. He would be psychoanalyzed and then his options would be determined.

While Alex was having his shoelaces removed and being checked into a comfortable white room, Léon stood on the lawn of a large manor. A cobblestone driveway stretched to the house on his left. On his right stood Adáo and Jon. They began the hike up to the front door as Jon questioned Léon's intentions.

"Why the hell are we here? Since when do you hire mercenaries…? Aren't we good enough?" Jon asked, motioning to himself and Adáo, and implying the rest of the cult.

"Yes, of course. That is precisely why we are here. We need a scapegoat."

A look of realization played across Jon's face and his lips curled into a sardonic grin. As they reached the steps up to the entrance of the mansion, Léon told the two men to wait for his return. They nodded and took posts on either side of the door, as Léon stepped through.

---

I stepped through the door and into the house, leaving Adáo and Jon outside, and almost immediately regretted coming. The smell of mold, dust, and soot burned my nose and stung my eyes, delaying their adjustment to the heavy darkness that sat in the room. Once I could see clearly, I began the search for the man named Greg Fisher.

Leaving the foyer, I stepped through the dust-covered den and into a dirty kitchen. Soiled dishes lined the shelves and tables. The sink was filled with black water. "Good god…" I thought.

A faint line of light on the far wall caught my eye. A door was cracked, and a sick yellow light barely shone through. I could hear voices on the other side. I positioned myself to see past the door. Two men were sitting at a table. They were playing cards, but I couldn't make out anything else from where I stood. Breathing deeply, I cracked the door enough to slide through and entered the room. Neither man even glanced in my direction. Money was stacked in the center of the table.

They thought they were gambling with high stakes. They didn't know that I held all the cards… that I was taking the biggest risk… and I wasn't even in the game. I watched closely, resolving not to distract them from their petty card game. One man held his cards close to his face, eyebrows knitted in concentration, face flushed with adrenaline. "Show," the man opposite him said calmly. He drew in a deep breath, and then slowly placed pair of Tens, then the Jack of Diamonds, the Jack of Spades, and the Jack of Clubs onto the table. The man relaxed a bit, as if thinking, "A full house, surely that must be enough to win. I'm safe."

I noticed the other man's expression change. His mouth curled into a half-smile as he shows the Ten… then the Jack… followed by the Queen, King, and Ace of Hearts. A Royal Flush.

The first man swallows hard; sitting in a numb shock as the other nonchalantly gathers his money. A glint of mocking satisfaction lingers in the winner's eye. A tear - or perhaps sweat – rolls downs the other's cheek.

"Another g-" The loser never finished his proposal for another game. A knife, thrown by the victor, lodged itself deep inside his brain. His body slowly slipped sideways and off the chair, collapsing onto the floor with a sickening 'thud.'

The killer sighed. "Pity…" He sat, shuffling the deck of cards with the mastery of a stage magician; "I shall have to play solitaire, then."

I stood watching for several long minutes, the tension growing thick in the air. He carefully arranged the cards in their suits pretending not to notice me... or, perhaps, he really hadn't noticed me. When he was nearly finished he looked up at me, a confused expression playing on his face. His sudden acknowledgment of my presence did not surprise me. He looked, then, back at the cards.

"There's a card missing." He stated flatly. I fixed him with a stare like ice for four long seconds, surreptitiously producing a card from my sleeve and flicking it across the room. It landed face down on the table in front of him. He shakily reached out and flipped the card. The Ace of Spades.

By the time he looked up, I was gone.