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  Armstrong ordered a Coca-Cola and took a seat in the corner of the bar. He was relieved that no one recognized him or made any attempt to join him. After a third Coke, he checked that the $410 was in place. It was going to be a long night.

  * * *

  “Where the hell is he?” demanded Forsdyke.

  “Captain Armstrong had to go over to the American sector just before lunch, sir,” said Sally. “Something urgent came up following his meeting with Colonel Oakshott. But before he left, he did ask me to make an appointment if you called.”

  “That was most thoughtful of him,” said Forsdyke sarcastically. “Something urgent has come up in the British sector, and I’d be obliged if Captain Armstrong would report to my office at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll see that he gets your message just as soon as he returns, Major Forsdyke,” said Sally. She would have tried to contact Dick immediately, but she had absolutely no idea where he was.

  * * *

  “Five card stud as usual?” said Max, pushing a bottle of beer and an opener across the green baize table.

  “Suits me,” said Armstrong as he began to shuffle the deck.

  “I have a feeling about tonight, old buddy,” said Max, removing his jacket and hanging it on the arm of his chair. “I hope you’ve got a lot of money to burn.” He poured his beer slowly into a glass.

  “Enough,” said Armstrong. He only sipped at his beer, aware that he would need to remain stone cold sober for several hours. When he had finished shuffling, Max cut the deck and lit a cigarette.

  By the end of the first hour, Armstrong was $70 ahead, and the word “lucky” kept floating across from the other side of the table. He began the second hour with a cushion of nearly $500. “You’ve been on a lucky run so far,” said Max, flicking the top off his fourth bottle of beer. “But the night is far from over.”

  Armstrong smiled and nodded, as he tossed another card across to his opponent and dealt himself a second one. He checked his cards: the four and nine of spades. He placed $5 on the table and dealt two more cards.

  Max countered the bid with $5 of his own, and turned the corner of his card to see what Dick had dealt him. He tried not to smile, and placed another $5 on top of Armstrong’s stake.

  Armstrong dealt himself a fifth card, and studied his hand for some time before placing a $10 bill in the kitty. Max didn’t hesitate to remove $10 from a wad in an inside pocket and drop it on the pile of notes in the center of the table. He licked his lips and said, “See you, old buddy.”

  Armstrong turned his cards over to reveal a pair of fours. Max’s smile became even broader as he produced a pair of tens. “You can’t bluff me,” said the American, and clawed the money back to his side of the table.

  By the end of the second hour Max was slightly ahead. “I did warn you that it was going to be a long night,” he said. He had dispensed with the glass some time ago, and was now drinking straight from the bottle.

  It was during the third hour, after Max had won three hands in a row, that Dick brought the name of Julius Hahn into the conversation. “Claims he knows you.”

  “Yeah, sure does,” said Max. “He’s responsible for bringing out the paper in this sector. Not that I ever read it.”

  “He seems pretty successful,” said Armstrong, dealing another hand.

  “Certainly is. But only thanks to me.” Armstrong placed $10 in the center of the table, despite having nothing more than ace high. Max immediately dropped $10 on top of his, and demanded another card.

  “What do you mean ‘because of you’?” Armstrong asked, placing $20 on the growing pile.

  Max hesitated, checked his cards, looked at the pile and said, “Was that $20 you just put in?” Armstrong nodded, and the American extracted $20 from the pocket of his jacket.

  “He couldn’t even wipe his ass in the morning if I didn’t hand him the paper,” said Max, studying his hand intently. “I issue his monthly permit. I control his paper supply. I decide how much electricity he gets. I decide when it will be turned on and off. As you and Arno Schultz know only too well.”

  Max looked up, and was surprised to see Armstrong removing a stack of notes from his wallet. “You’re bluffing, kid,” said Max. “I can smell it.” He hesitated. “How much did you put up that time?”

  “Fifty dollars,” said Armstrong casually.

  Max dug into his jacket pocket and extracted two tens and six fives, placing them gingerly on the table. “So let’s see what you’ve come up with this time,” he said apprehensively.

  Armstrong revealed a pair of sevens. Max immediately burst out laughing, and flicked over three jacks.

  “I knew it. You’re full of shit.” He took another swig from his bottle. As he started dealing the next hand the smile never left his face. “I’m not sure which one would be easier to polish off, you or Hahn,” he said, beginning to slur his words.

  “Are you sure that’s not the drink talking?” said Dick, studying his hand with little interest.

  “You’ll see who’s doing the talking,” replied Max. “Within an hour I’ll have wiped you out.”

  “I wasn’t referring to me,” said Armstrong, dropping another $5 into the center of the table. “I was talking about Hahn.”

  There was a long pause while Max took another swig from the bottle. He then studied his cards before putting them face down on the table. Armstrong drew another card and deposited $10 with the bank. Max demanded a further card, and when he saw it he began licking his lips. He returned to his wad and extracted a further $10.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got this time, old buddy,” Max said, confident he must win with two pairs, aces and jacks.

  Armstrong turned over three fives. Max scowled as he watched his winnings return across the table. “Would you be willing to put real money in place of that big mouth of yours?” he asked.

  “I just have,” said Dick, pocketing the money.

  “No, I meant when it comes to Hahn.”

  Dick said nothing.

  “You’re full of chickenshit,” said Max, after Dick had remained silent for some time.

  Dick placed the deck back on the table, looked across at his opponent and said coolly, “I’ll bet you a thousand dollars you can’t put Hahn out of business.”

  Max put down his bottle and stared across the table as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “How long will you give me?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “No, that’s not long enough. Don’t forget I have to make it look as if it’s nothing to do with me. I’ll need at least six months.”

  “I haven’t got six months,” said Armstrong. “I could always close down Der Telegraf in six weeks if you want to reverse the bet.”

  “But Hahn’s running a far bigger operation than Arno Schultz,” said Max.

  “I realize that. So I’ll give you three months.”

  “Then I’d expect you to offer me odds.”

  Once again, Armstrong pretended he needed time to consider the proposition. “Two to one,” he eventually said.

  “Three to one and you’re on,” said Max.

  “You’ve got a deal,” said Armstrong, and the two men leaned across the table and shook hands. The American captain then rose unsteadily from his chair, and walked over to a drawing of a scantily dressed woman adorning a calendar on the far wall. He lifted the pages until he reached October, removed a pen from his hip pocket, counted out loud and drew a large circle around the seventeenth. “That’ll be the day when I collect my thousand dollars,” he said.

  “You haven’t a hope in hell,” said Armstrong. “I’ve met Hahn, and I can tell you he won’t be that easy to roll over.”

  “Just watch me,” said Max as he returned to the table. “I’m going to do to Hahn exactly what the Germans failed to do.”

  Max began to deal a new hand. For the next hour, Dick continued to win back most of what he had lost earlier in the evening. But when he left to return home just be