Chapter One

Chapter Two

The name was familiar.   Balls searched the files while he summed the man up.  Mr. Brady was tall, athletic, and dressed in the conventional disguise with which Brooks Brothers covers the shame of the American millionaires.  The man carried a stylish black leather travel bag out of which one corner was poking out the toe end of an Ugg boot.  He must have packed in a hurry.

Balls’ memory raced back.  Yes, of course.  Tom and Gizelle had been Nos 4 and 5 at the baccarat table in Monte Carlo.  Balls had been 6.  They had seemed harmless people. He was glad to have had them on his left that fantastic night when he had broken Blatter.  Now, Balls saw it all again – the bright pool of light on the green baize, the pink crab hands across the table scuttling out for the cards.  Balls looked across at Mr. Brady and smiled at the memory. ‘Yes, of course I remember.  Sorry I was slow.  But that was quite a night.  I wasn’t thinking of much except my cards.’

Brady grinned back, happy and relieved. ‘Why, gosh, Mr. Balls.  Of course I understand. And I do hope you’ll pardon me for butting in.  You see…’ He snapped his fingers for a waitress. ‘But we must have a drink to celebrate.  What’ll you have?’

‘Thanks.  Bourbon on the rocks.’

‘And cranberry vodka.’  The waitress went away.  Mr. Brady leant forward, beaming.  A whiff of Old Spice came across the table.  ‘I knew it was you. As soon as I saw you sitting there, I told myself, Tom, you don’t often make an error over a face, but let’s just go make sure.  Well, I was flying to Houston tonight and, when they announced the delay, I watched your expression and, if you’ll pardon me, Mr. Balls, it was pretty clear from the look on your face that you were going there too,’

The drinks came.  Mr. Brady raised his glass. ‘Your very good health, sir.  This sure is my lucky day.’  Balls smiled noncommittally and drank.  Mr. Brady leant forward again.  He looked around.  There was nobody around.  Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. ‘I guess you’ll be saying to yourself, well, it’s nice to see Mr. Brady again, but what’s the score?  Why’s he so happy to see me?’ Mr. Brady arched his eyebrows as if acting Balls’ part for him.  Balls put on a face of polite inquiry.

‘Now, if you forgive me, Mr. Balls.  It’s not like me to pry into other people’s secre…er – affairs.  But, after that game in Monaco, I did hear that you were not only a grand card player, but that you were – er – how do I put it? – that you were a sort of – uh – investigator. You know, kind of an intelligence operative.’  Mr. Brady’s indiscretion had made him go red in the face.  He sat back, took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.  He looked anxiously at Balls.  Balls made no comment.  He glanced at his watch to hurry Brady’s play of the hand.

He made a note to handle his own cards carefully.  Mr. Brady had a nice baby-face with a puckered, rather feminine turn-down mouth.  He looked as harmless as any American tourist who took a picture outside Buckingham Palace.  But Balls sensed many tough, sharp qualities behind the fuddy duddy facade.  Brady’s sensitive eye caught Balls’ glance at the watch. ‘Now see here, Mr. Balls.  I’ve got me a problem on which I’d greatly appreciate your guidance. If you can spare me the time and if you were counting on stopping over in Vegas tonight, I’d reckon it a real favor if you’d allow me to be your host.  I am a silent partner in one of the best casino hotels in town.  You shall have the best suite and you will have the best meal of your life at our signature restaurant.’

Balls had already decided to accept – blind.  Whatever Mr. Brady’s problem – blackmail, gangster, women – it would be some form of typical rich man’s worry.  Here was a slice of the easy life he was looking for.  Take it.  Balls started to say something politely deprecating.  Mr. Brady interrrupted.  ‘Please Mr. Balls, I’m very grateful indeed.’ Brady snapped his fingers again and settled the bill out of sight of Balls’ eyes. ‘Now let’s get you straightened out.’  With a few curt phrases on his mobile, he arranged for Balls’ suite, dinner reservations, and a limo to the hotel.

As they were walking towards the limousine area, Brady asked, ‘Mr. Balls.  Tell me, what do you know about sports commissioners?’

to be continued…