The cardsharp

Short Story
The cardsharp
By Lawrence Kadzitche

Jack was determined to follow his uncle’s advice not to stop anywhere after withdrawing the money from the bank. He was nearing the bus depot when a big group bubbling with excitement arrested his attention.

He stopped briefly, wondering what had attracted such a crowd. Then he remembered his uncle’s advice. “In town, there’re a lot of thieves. Be careful after you withdraw the money.”

He was about to move on when a thin youth in an oversize T-Shirt materialized at his side from nowhere

“Man, if you want to make money, there is the machine,” the tall thin youngster said pointing at the group.

Jack glanced at the young man. Wasn’t he one of the town thieves his uncle had warned him about? But he considered himself a clever young man. No one could steal the money from him.

“What happens?” Jack asked with interest.

“Come and see for yourself,” said the youth. “By the way, my name is Primo.”

He followed Primo who pushed his way through the crowd until Jack could see inside the circle. In the middle sat a smartly dressed young man with cards. Beside him were stacks of money.

“The game is simple. There are three aces; of diamonds, of spades and of hearts. The diamond is a decoy. You chose the ace of hearts you are rich. You chose the ace of spades and you have buried yourself six feet under the ground,” Primo explained.

Jack watched the game. Some people won, some lost. But what he noted was that he could identify the winning card among the three. Primo was right. If he played, he could make a hefty profit out of his uncle’s money.

He plunged into the game. He would use the money he had withdrawn from the bank-the pay roll for workers at his uncle’s farm.

“This is the diamond, this is the heart and this is the spade,” the gambler said in a singsong voice while shuffling the cards. “Where’s the heart?”

“There, in the middle!”

The dealer flipped the card. Jack had won the bet.

“My God!” cried the gambler.” There goes my money!”

Jack put in a bigger stake. He won twice as much.

“Pontius Pilate, are you here to crucify me like you did with Jesus?” wailed the dealer.

Soon Jack was intoxicated by his continuous success. One by one the other players became skeletons at the feast as Jack’s stakes rose to figures they couldn’t match.

Finally he was the only player. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as Jack won bet after bet. The spectators wildly cheered him on. Fired, Jack carelessly staked higher and higher and still won. The gambler looked like a drowning man.

“Let’s stop the game,” pleaded the gambler. “Leave me with something.”

Jack laughed. “I’m running you out of business, my friend. Here comes the killing blow!”

The gambler shuffled the cards and closed his eyes. “I can’t bear to watch anymore. Someone tell me how much I have lost!”

A snap of the finger and thumb and the card was turned over.

Jack’s eyes almost popped out with surprise. He had lost!

“God I thought I was finished,” croaked the gambler. “Sir, let’s quit before you finish me off.”

Jack greedily stared at the pile of K500 bills still beside the gambler. “You’re quitting only when you have nothing to stake.”

The game went on. Jack played like someone possessed. He lost a bet. And another. And then another. Yet he played on. Then suddenly there was nothing in his pockets.

“Man, let’s stop the game before you lose everything,” the gambler advised as all the money Jack had was being shoveled across to him.

“No way. I got to win my money back,” Jack said hotly. He had to get his money back. What would he say to his uncle if he lost the money? “I’m staking my jacket. Deal!”

“That’s the spirit!” babbled the onlookers. “Get back your cash, man!”

Jack lost the jacket. Furious, he staked his shirt. He lost it, too. Another flip of a card. His wristwatch was gone. A card turned over and he had gambled away his shoes.

“Man, let me have my things,” the dealer said.

“You expect me to walk from here naked?” Jack flared.

The gambler smiled coldly. “Man, how you walk from here is none of my business. I want my winnings now. Just shed your gear or we will take it by force.”

Jack looked about him. Primo was nowhere to be seen, and the people who had been egging him on only moments ago now looked at him with contempt. It was only then that he realized he had been fooled.

His heart lurched. The people were not spectators at all. They were the gamblers accomplices, there to lure unsuspecting victims into the trap.

Six hours later, barefoot and clad only in his trousers, Jack staggered into his uncle big farmhouse.

End