"Aren't you even interested that those goons were looking for you?"

"Well sure, but let's keep our eye on the ball here. More data, more!"

"I lost, on a queen and an eight. The dealer hit twenty-one. Now if I jog your elbow again, you nip over and wait by the ladies' room there."

It happened three times more in the next two hours, and became rather comic. Different groups of burly and unhappy men came out to look for someone who haunted their video pictures but could not be found in real life. To further confuse them, Rob had Edwin circulate around the room and pretend to observe other players. "You just remember the hands I miss,"

Edwin said.

Rob had been stowing extra chips in his pockets for some time now, but he knew the pit bosses had him marked as a heavy winner. They had already given him complimentary food and entertainment passes, all the incentive goodies other winners received. His huge luck plus Edwin's uncanny presence were sure to provoke some more reaction, and Rob waited for it with watchful interest.

Finally one more group came out. These men were much better dressed, in neat dark suits instead of the yellow sports jackets. In the middle of the group was a tall thick man in a very expensive suit indeed: a wolf dressed like a sheep, the front man. He came straight up to Rob and said, "How do you do, sir? I'm Conrad Baskin, manager of the Lady Luck Casino Royale." He held out a hand.

Rob took it without hesitating. "Hi, my name is Jones."

Baskin smiled. His handshake was smooth and dry. "An alias, surely, Mr.

Jones."

"Oh yes-my wife doesn't know I'm here, you see."

"And how long have you been playing casino blackjack?"

"This is my first visit to a casino, ever."

Rob, carefully observing Baskin's thought processes, saw that Baskin didn't believe him. With amusement he watched Baskin ape surprise and genial pleasure. "My goodness, your beginner's luck is phenomenal, then! Fred, Marie, do the honors!"

A smiling waiter appeared with champagne and an ice bucket. The camera girl snapped Rob's picture as Baskin put his arm around his shoulders. The cork popped loudly. People turned to look as Baskin announced, "His very first visit to the Lady Luck, ladies and gentlemen, and he's won, what? Ten thousand dollars or so, in one day's play! And he's not done yet, right, Mr. Jones?"

"Oh no," Rob said. "It's too early yet."

"That's the spirit! Here, let me present you with this-" More goodies appeared, a yellow Lady Luck T-shirt, vouchers for rooms and more meals, tickets to see Regis and Kathie Lee. "And did I understand that you're traveling with a friend? We'd be happy to offer him a room voucher too-where is he?"

Rob smiled. What a lot of rigmarole, to work up to that question! "He slipped on the boardwalk and sprained a wrist, so he went back to our room to watch cable TV."

"We have cable too, the adult channels, everything. Please, both of you, be the Lady's guests!"

"I'm sorry, we've already made other arrangements for this evening." Rob watched to see what lurid interpretation Baskin would put on this: call girls, of course. Baskin's men would probably waste hours trying to find and suborn these phantom call girls.

"Perhaps some other time very soon then," Baskin said cordially, shaking Rob's hand again in farewell. "You're always welcome here!"

As soon as the fuss died down Edwin came back. "I thought they'd want to sock you on the jaw or something," he said. "What's with the cornucopia?"

"They can't possibly assault me here," Rob said. "It'd be horribly bad advertising. Would you like some of this champagne? They want me to stay-first, because I might lose all this money back again, and second, because they haven't figured out our scam yet."

"This is terrible," Edwin said, sipping from a plastic champagne flute.

"The cheapest money can buy, I'm afraid. How much longer do I have to do this?"

Edwin checked his numbers. "Another fifty hands will do it. Say another hour."

"It's getting tiresome," Rob grumbled. He persevered, however. Thanks to Mr. Baskin, his pleasant anonymity was gone. Other gamblers made side bets on him, and tourists goggled at his pile of chips. An admiring crowd followed him to the cashier when he went to cash in. The camera girl popped the flash at him.

"Wonder if I should buy one," Edwin said. "I'll turn out in her pictures, won't I?"

"Neither of us will. She took her lens cap off, and then I had her put it back on."

Edwin laughed. "But they still have your image and mine on videotape."

"That I don't care about. What I don't want is for Julianne to open the paper tomorrow and see my picture with a caption: 'First Time Blackjack Player Wins Big.' "

Rob was supposed to fill out IRS tax forms too. He handed them back blank to the cashier and had her return them to her drawer. No way these people were going to get his name and address. Then she began to count out money, an enormous wad of limp old bills, greasy with the sweat of losers. "-and twenty makes thirteen. Thirteen thousand, one hundred and five dollars!

Thank you for playing at the Lady Luck Casino Royale!"

The cashier beamed. With difficulty Rob wedged the rolls of fifties and twenties into every pocket he had. Cameras flashed. Mr. Baskin appeared, flanked by confetti-tossing showgirls, and cried, "Congratulations, Mr.

Jones! We're sending you home in the casino stretch limo!"

"I'm sorry, but I've already arranged for my friend to pick me up." Rob nodded slightly at Edwin, who took the hint and went to fetch the Mazda. A huge white stretch limo pulled up at the awning anyway. Rob recognized the doorman who opened the door, and the fellow stared stonily at Rob from under his ridiculous yellow fez.

But nothing was going to happen here, in a crowd of admiring tourists and onlookers. Rob smiled easily at the cameras and promised Mr. Baskin he'd come back tomorrow. When Edwin pulled up Rob noticed the ripple of astonishment instantly-a car rolling along with no driver! Hastily he dropped the tarnhelm effect. With luck nobody would believe their eyes.

"You're visible," he told Edwin as he climbed into the front seat. "Wave at the nice doorman!"

Edwin waved and grinned. "This is a gas," he laughed. "Don't laugh too soon. This is where we start being paranoid."

"You didn't stay in their hotel, you didn't get into the limo. How else can they get their claws in you?"

"Well, they could follow this car and catch us at the motel."

"I never thought of that!" Edwin slowed down to look in the rearview mirror. "Do you want to drive then?"

"No, you do it. I might need to do other stuff. Let's tour the town a bit."

It was fully dark now, but the garish neon signs pushed back the night. The side streets and minor avenues were sleazier than ever. Rob stared through the window without seeing them. He was sure someone was following their car. It would be what he would do in the same situation. The only problem was pinpointing it. A slight effort, though, and in a few minutes he said, "Got them. That blue sedan."

Edwin looked. "What do they have in mind?"

"Oh, they just want to know where we're staying."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Hmm. Driving is so complex, there are lots of possibilities. Usually I have the driver confuse the brake pedal with the gas for a while." The blue sedan suddenly stopped with a screech in the middle of an intersection.

Edwin kept on driving. "Can we go to the motel now?"

"Fine. But park across the street, in that little shopping center. Driving a car like this is better than wearing your own neon sign. Oh, and if you feel nervous about sharing a room again, I'm sorry-but we really should stay together."

"I do not either feel nervous," Edwin said indignantly.

The following morning, Rob commandeered the motel bill and paid it from his winnings. "You would never have had to come here, but for me," he pointed out.

"But you'll need that money," Edwin argued as he tossed his bag into the back seat. "You're homeless and jobless."