Chapter 20: Gambling and Revelations

  As I entered my apartment, I knew I wouldn’t sleep well that night. Even if Rahab wasn’t out there, waiting to torment me in my dreams, I wasn’t sleepy. I was tired, but not a sleepy tired, more like a zombie forced to stay awake. I slumped on my couch in the dark, staring at the roof and focusing on my breathing. Actually falling asleep was another matter entirely. I didn’t feel like putting on any anime or any music to fall asleep to, so the silence and the distant waves were the only things apart from the dark and the silence, and the thoughts inside my brain.

  Fortunately, Rahab didn’t strike again during the night. Maybe he’d had enough fun for the evening, or maybe he was busy nursing that broken arm I gave him. Whatever; I needed to protect what little peace I had left. I closed my eyes. Part of me was still on edge, expecting a call from The Major any moment now, but even if I got that call, the hell was I meant to do?

  Sleep, when it eventually came, wasn’t particularly restful, but it passed the time at least. Waking up, for lack of anything better to do, I checked the news, but nothing relevant was showing. The news showed nothing related to Port Moonstone, the usual bullshit of foreign wars, vapid celebrity gossip, outright lies about the economy and all the regular horseshit that the journos get paid to spew. ABC and Murdoch presses were all in an eerie lockstep, deliberately ignoring Port Moonstone. The news cut to some politician yapping about property taxes or superannuation, or some bullshit, I didn’t know and didn’t care. I tried to rack my brain, trying to think of a single occasion where we might have been referenced or brought up outside of Port Moonstone, but my mind was drawing a blank.

  Not for the first time, I found myself pondering one of the deep, existential queries that I figure a lot of Port Moonstone natives eventually ask.

  “Why the everloving fuck does nobody know about, care about, or even acknowledge the existence of Port Moonstone?”

  I got online and started researching, seeing if anybody was actually paying attention to Port Moonstone. Again, less than nothing. Even the blogosphere was silent. I couldn’t even find anybody denying anything was going on in Port Moonstone. I checked Wikipedia, couldn’t even find an article for the city. A whole bunch of Wikipedia articles had been proposed for Port Moonstone, but they’d been deleted, citing a “Lack of Notability”. Okay, I know that Port Moonstone locals joke about being the Australian Bielefeld, but this was going beyond memes, into outright conspiracy territory. I mean, we’re the size of Sydney, at least, and even Mungallala and Eromanga get articles on Wikipedia.

  The only people I talked to who actually gave a shit about Port Moonstone were either A). The people who lived there or B). Diggers stationed there, and once they actually got out of Port Moonstone, they just stopped talking about it. Apart from the Port Moonstone subreddit, which was either trolls or locals or both, the only people talking about Port Moonstone online was Emma’s podcast, and the viewership was pretty abysmal. You’d think that more people would be tuning in to hear about a real life magical girl, but apparently not. Maybe the best way to cover something up was to make it irrelevant.

  I checked the time. 4:30 AM. Maybe waking up this early wasn’t exactly great for what remained of my mental health either. I stepped out of the apartment to watch the sun rise over the water, before planning the remainder of my day.

  I decided that today would be a day of taking it easy: light workout, if any. Light housework, if any. Wrestling wasn’t on today, so today’s viewing would be some good-old-fashioned comedy anime, preferably slice-of-life. Maybe some ecchi, but no outright romance, though: I’ve never been a romance anime sort of guy and even if I was, I didn’t want to risk any wires in my mind getting crossed now that I was hanging around Amy a bit more. I needed to laugh at something, something simple and a little bit brain dead, so I put on Grand Blue, while looking through my profile on Down Under Connections again, for the umpteenth time. Realistically, I should probably step away from the app, but I honestly couldn’t be arsed to remake my profile.

  The flyer for the casino was still sitting on my kitchen table. I hadn’t bothered to throw it away yet. I glanced at it once more. The casino was going to open tomorrow. I could feel a plan, gnawing away at the back of my mind, one that I couldn’t let go of. I knew it was a terrible idea. I don’t know how the hell Sebastian Giallo managed to strike it so goddamn rich in Port Moonstone, but I had a feeling I wanted to stay out of it. Best for me to stay away: there was absolutely no way that gambling under Sebastian Giallo’s nose would turn out well for me. Best to keep my nose clean, and stay well clear. I snorted. Younger me would have slapped the shit out of current me for saying that.

  Still, I didn’t want to stay cooped up all day, so I decided to take a walk around the city. The Diggers were finally filtering out, leaving the people of Port Moonstone to pick up their lives again and try and rebuild. A lot of shops were still opening up. I passed Dungeon Comics and Games, and saw a kid walking past with a big box of gunpla, with a promo image of Silverback on the front. Good to finally get some recognition. Out of curiosity, I checked online listings for our toy division. I saw a couple of eBay and Amazon listings for the Silverback gunpla, and bits and pieces for Amy and Emma’s Crystal Guardian costumes, but nothing in the way of reviews. It was still too early to have lunch, and even if it wasn’t, a lot of the restaurants were still fixing everything. And even if things were back to normal, and we weren’t all collectively rebuilding the city, I didn’t actually have anything that I wanted to buy. I considered going home, when I heard a familiar voice echoing out of a department store.

  “Oh come off it, darling, the dumb sow doesn’t mean a damn thing, I promise. Of course she still needs to be at the casino: it’s the only way to get this all to work. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now? Ah, for feck’s sake, we’ll speak at home.

  I pretended to be interested in my phone as Manannán McClear walked out of the department store, arm in a sling. He walked past me without seeing me. I craned my neck, making sure I’d heard what I thought I heard. I seethed. I couldn’t do anything openly to hurt the bastard, not without hurting Amy and not without proof, but something about the phrase “Needs to be at the casino” had my hackles raised. Why would Amy ever need to be at the opening of a casino? I had no choice. I didn’t know what he was planning, but none of it sounded good. I considered seeking advice, but who could I even talk to about this? And how would I even explain something like this?

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  As I got home and continued watching Grand Blue, I didn’t have a coherent plan. I wished that there was a way to do this without looking like a complete and utter jerk. But that’s my lot in life, and I figure my headstone, if the Army lets me have one, will say “Here lies Elias Beltran: Loving son, failed soldier, absolute asshole.”

  The night of the casino’s grand opening came. After a shower, I checked my closet, found the one outfit that was formal-ish: black suit, red tie, no jacket, lemony cologne. I did my hair, and went to the casino, just down the road from the beach.

  Sebastian was up at the top of the stairs next to the State Member for Moonstone, looking as smug as ever, who was droning on about the importance of the casino to the all-important tourism sector. I kept my eyes down, focused on blending into the crowd, while trying not to roll my eyes too hard. There was less press than you might think: Once again, Port Moonstone’s ability to never have a single news story written about it struck yet again. I sighed, fixed my tie. As the assembled people filtered into the casino, I tried to predict which table Manannán would want to play, but what gambling games would even interest someone like him?

  I’d been in the building for maybe a minute when I spotted Sebastian Giallo walking in my direction, holding his phone to his ear, talking to someone. Crap. I needed to throw him off my trail, so I moved through the crowd, trying to act nonchalant, like I was meant to be there, like I hadn’t ever been in a knock-down brawl with the owner. Still, he was getting closer, and I couldn’t tell if he was following me or not. This was the absolute last thing I needed. Suddenly, I saw the sign for the bathrooms. Perfect. He wouldn’t follow me in here, surely?

  I entered the bathrooms. They were mercifully clean. I hid in a stall, but heard the sound of Giallo’s shoes echoing off the tiles. Goddammit. I was running out of options, and I was slowly facing up to the idea that I might have to fight Sebastian in a bathroom again. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the actual fighting part would be easy: As long as he didn’t have a weapon on him, I had better training, I was stronger and fitter, and while I didn’t have the element of surprise, neither did he. But I definitely didn’t stand a chance of getting away with it. Of course, I could try and talk my way out, but I somehow doubted Sebastian would let bygones be bygones. What would I even say? “Oh hey, Sebastian, long time no see, remember when I tried to expose you for cheating with dudes, then choke-slammed you in front of your ex and two entire Year 12 classes? Good times, welp, gotta go rescue your ex-girlfriend from whatever bullshit that you and your boyfriend have cooked up, adios senor.” Best case scenario is security throws me out. Worst case, we end up in a knock-down brawl, so I’m back to square one again.

  But his shoes didn’t stop in front of my stall. They kept pacing up and down the bathroom, clicking as they did so. As I balled my hands into fists, I heard him talking to someone. I didn’t see anybody else, then I realized. He’d been talking to someone. Good old Bluetooth headphones.

  “Oh, fucking bite me, you metal-faced bitch. You already botched the operation at Takeuchi Industries, you’re hardly in a position to negotiate terms with me. I told you to stay remote, but you told me you wanted a direct confrontation with that purple-haired, man-stealing, sparkly skank! You’ve already had two chances, now I give the orders, you Phantom of the Opera wannabe!”

  Instinctively, I curled up in a ball, heart thumping in my chest. Sebastian knew that Amy was the Crystal Guardian. Sebastian knew that she’d been at Takeuchi Industries. Sebastian knew Iron Mask had been there. In short?

  Sebastian knew and was in contact with Iron Mask. I held my breath as he continued his diatribe.

  “And another thing: I specifically asked you to make that stealth suit waterproof, and you promised me that it was. When I say waterproof, I mean salt and fresh water. It fucking fell apart in the ocean, twice! You’vey not lived up to your reputation. You promised me advanced technology and both technical and combat expertise: I’ve seen neither. Fucking waste of time and money. No more games: you do what I say. I’ve gotta go, I’ve got a casino to run. We’ll talk tonight. Bye, fuckwit.”

  My eyes were the size of dinner plates. My heart was louder than a heavy metal concert. Admittedly, with everything that was going on, Amy’s stalker had been lower on my priorities list than I might have liked. But the wheels of my mind were turning. I couldn’t speak in terms of opportunity, but I had a full confession, demonstrating means and motive. I’d been so focused on Manannán that I had completely overlooked the possibility of a co-conspirator. I looked at my phone. And like an idiot, I’d forgotten to record the conversation.

  I waited for Sebastian to leave the bathroom before I planned my next move. I should have contacted the police, but I paused. Sebastian was loaded, clearly had connections in low places, and I didn’t have much in the way of proof. Plus, Iron Mask had already attacked me once: I wasn’t about to tangle with her again. I needed to play it subtle, extract Amy and make it look natural, like the Secret Service. I needed to keep it casual and plausible.

  I began drafting a text message. Hey, can I talk to you about work stuff? I’ve got a theory that I wanted to discuss with the others, and I wanted to run it by you first. Quick sanity check and all. Let me know if it’s a good time.”

  I couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night, so I hit send, left the stall, washed my hands, and made my way back into the casino. I kept my eyes low to the ground, trying not to look nervous or suspicious. I tried to think of where Amy might be. Maybe the bar or the restaurant?

  I went to the bar, ordered myself a lemon-lime & bitters, something to take the edge off and blend in a little bit. That’s when I heard a certain Irish son-of-a-bitch talking about getting a drink and heading to the poker tables afterwards. I looked over, trying not to look obvious. I paid attention to her drink, making sure nothing untoward was being dropped in. She looked at her phone, tapped away. I got the response.

  “Can it wait, at all? I’m kind of on a date right now. Maybe Emma or The Major could be helpful?”

  I muffled my phone as best I could. She must have heard the alert because she whipped her head in my direction, but I did my best to disappear into the crowd of suits and dresses. Amy looked beautiful, because of course she would, but there was something wrong. She’d said she was on a date, but she didn’t look happy or excited. She looked melancholy, resigned even. I considered just going up to her and coming clean, just having a real adult conversation, but Manannán was back, and I missed my opportunity.

  I slipped over to the counter, then checked my account balance. My pay check had come through. I’d have to play it conservatively: a gambler can easily get caught up in emotions, and once you let emotion take over, then it’s over for you. I exchanged some cash for chips, then went back to the card tables, looking for the poker games. I played the first round, lost a few dollars: fine by me. I wasn’t here for the money.

  When Manannán finally arrived, he looked at me curiously. He had his arm wrapped around Amy’s waist, and she didn’t look overly comfortable. The three of us stared each other down over the table. I couldn’t let any emotion show, just a raised eyebrow, like I was surprised to see him. It wasn’t long before he sat down at the table, dropping a stack of chips and plaques at the table, and letting Amy arrange them. Fuck me silly: this prick was loaded. He smiled. “Long time no see. Elliott was it? Hope you don’t mind if I join in?”

  I steepled my fingers, controlled my breathing as I greeted him politely. Amy looked alarmed when she saw me. I had to act natural, figure out the play, before Manannan and Sebastian put plans into action.