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The Soul Buyer The cards fell on t he baize- t opped t able wit h a soft slap, slap. The fat man wit h t he purple- veined nose reached out a meat y hand wit h rings, lift ed t he corner of his down- card. He puckered his lips, count ed off bills, t ossed t hem in. "Up five hundred. " Tony Adair breat hed a six- inch smoke ring across t he t able, propelled a t iny one t hrough t he cent er, not wat ching as rubber bands snapped against rolls, bills dropped on t he green drift under t he shaded billiard light . "To you, Adair, " said a freckle- blot ched man wit h red hair like an eyebrow over each ear. Behind Adair a small man, dapper in a yellow vest and black shirt leaned forward. "Take it easy, Tony boy. " Adair reached a slim wallet from an inner pocket , laid t wo crisp bills on t he t able. "See t he five and up a t housand. " The fat man beet led small eyes in a red face. "You' re playing it cold as an eight - hour corpse, mist er. You got a four - card flush working against t hree aces and kings over on t he board, and you ain' t even looked. " Adair smiled gent ly. The fat man snort ed, count ed out money. "Okay, smart man. I ' m calling t he grand梐nd up a grand. " Two players cursed and folded. The freckled man cursed and added money t o t he pot . Adair spread t wo more new bills on t he t able. "And up anot her t housand. " The color drained from t he fat man' s j owls. He riffled his roll. "Ta |
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