Deathworld Read Free Page A

trained dogs. Jason took his time and concentrated on the psychology of the players and the stick man. It took almost two hours to build his money on the table to seven hundred thousand credits. Then he caught the stick man signaling they had a heavy winner. He waited until the hard-eyed man strolled over to watch the game, then he smiled happily, bet all his table stakes — and blew it on one roll of the dice. The house man smiled happily, the stick man relaxed — and out of the corner of his eye Jason saw Kerk turning a dark purple.
    Sweating, pale, his hand trembling ever so slightly, Jason opened the front of his jacket and pulled out one of the envelopes of new bills. Breaking the seal with his finger he dropped two of them on the table.
    “Could we have a no-limit game?” he asked, “I’d like to — win back some of my money.”
    The stick man had trouble controlling his smile now, he glanced across at the house man who nodded a quick yes . They had a sucker and they meant to clean him. He had been playing from his wallet all evening, now he was cracking into a sealed envelope to try for what he had lost. A thick envelope too, and probably not his money. Not that the house cared in the least. To them money had no loyalties. The play went on with the Casino in a very relaxed mood.
    Which was just the way Jason wanted it. He needed to get as deep into them as he could before someone realized they might be on the losing end. The rough stuff would start and he wanted to put it off as long as possible. It would be hard to win smoothly then — and his psi power might go as quickly as it had come. That had happened before.
    He was playing against the house now, the two other players were obvious shills, and a crowd had jammed solidly around to watch. After losing and winning a bit he hit a streak of naturals and his pile of gold chips tottered higher and higher. There was nearly a billion there, he estimated roughly. The dice were still falling true, though he was soaked with sweat from the effort. Betting the entire stack of chips he reached for the dice. The stick man reached faster and hooked them away.
    “House calls for new dice,” he said flatly.
    Jason straightened up and wiped his hands, glad of the instant’s relief. This was the third time the house had changed dice to try and break his winning streak, it was their privilege. The hard-eyed Casino man opened his wallet as he had done before and drew out a pair at random. Stripping off their plastic cover he threw them the length of the table to Jason. They came up a natural seven and Jason smiled.
    When he scooped them up the smile slowly faded. The dice were transparent, finely made, evenly weighted on all sides — and crooked.
    The pigment on the dots of five sides of each die was some heavy metal compound, probably lead. The sixth side was a ferris compound. They would roll true unless they hit a magnetic field — that meant the entire surface of the table could be magnetized. He could never have spotted the difference if he hadn’t looked at the dice with his mind. But what could he do about it?
    Shaking them slowly he glanced quickly around the table. There was what he needed. An ashtray with a magnet in its base to hold it to the metal edge of the table. Jason stopped shaking the dice and looked at them quizzically, then reached over and grabbed the ashtray. He dropped the base against his hand.
    As he lifted the ashtray there was a concerted gasp from all sides. The dice were sticking there, upside down, box cars showing.
    “Are these what you call honest dice?” he asked.
    The man who had thrown out the dice reached quickly for his hip pocket. Jason was the only one who saw what happened next. He was watching that hand closely, his own fingers near his gun butt. As the man dived into his pocket a hand reached out of the crowd behind him. From its squarecut size it could have belonged to only one person. The thick thumb and index finger