CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS

At the time of night, the Hippodrome Casino was very quiet. All was silent, except for the rain. It pattered on the window and slapped against Leicester Square's too-smooth paving. The occasional strained whisper of the guards at their door. They complained about their shifts and asked each other for a smoke.In the topmost office sat Mr. Li Xing and his assistant, one Jack Ahlquist. The latter was fiddling around with an Alco terminal, one of the fewer new models Xing's men could salvage. His brow was furrowed, perpetually half-lidded eyes reading what was on the screen. For a second they widened; Xing took note of it immediately, but wouldn't yet act upon it. Still, he knew that bad news was soon to come."Sir? I've got something you need to see." Ahlquist's voice wavered, more out of sheer hesitation than fear. His eyes didn't leave the screen, reading what was on it over and over again. Xing couldn't tell if it was out of disbelief or his simply trying to decipher it."Very well," He said. "Pass it here, if you would."There was an all-too-tense moment of silence, as Xing took the terminal in his hands. The user interface read:5/3/20 15:33 - Arthur L. RE: Miss me?The fifth of March—that was earlier today. Xing gently set the terminal on his black marble desk, a monolith that dominated the room. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Was it not confirmed just today that Mr. Langdon is dead?""It was, sir.. By the janitor, I forgot his name." Ahlquist stammered, not liking the look of Xing's face. It was something grim, like a snake that had just had its tail stood on. Waiting, biding."Roland, you mean?" He asked, his tone frightfully calm."Yes sir, hin. I think he came with the Prime Minister's brother.""Correct, he did. But Roland is either a liar or a fool. He claims to have killed Langdon, who then initiates communication with you?"'Those are the facts as I see them, sir. I tried to trace his location. But the company's offline coms used Morse code sent via radio waves. "I could only get as specific as a village in southern Yorkshire. That's where the message was transmitted."Xing knew not to grab at straws, but he couldn't help asking just one question."Is that the entire message?""Yes, it is.""Then we will properly kill him here. What of our other man in Yorkshire? The American infected? He said he would be here by the seventh.""I wouldn't worry about him, sir. In fact, I think it would be best to direct your attention to the state of Mr. Piers. The medic we had on hand had to cauterize his ear wound and amputate his leg."Xing only shook his head, turning to look behind him at the starry night sky. The finest light show there ever was, on exhibit right above everyone's heads. "Well, thank you. You can leave now, Jack."Once again, silence ruled over the Hippodrome.--------A car journey to London from Yorkshire can take over four hours. For Arthur, it was a relief from the tedium of walking nonstop. He and James had found a very unassuming Ford Focus. It seemed unaware it had survived the end of civilization. It was too good to be true—the keys were still in the ignition, and the windows were rolled down."Ohhh, crap! Arthur—look here, man! We've got ourselves a ride!" James said, positively buzzing at the opportunity to not have to walk. He was very much dead. Still, he had to worry about his body. He especially feared his muscles rotting away."Oh, thank the Lord, we—" Arthur started, only to get cut off by a hoarse groan from within the Ford Focus. "James. Is that a blighter in there?"..I don't know—could just be some kinda hobo? The hell you asking me for?" ell, err." The blighter reared its grey, miserable-looking head out of the window. It snapped its jaw at Arthur."Not to be rude, but doesn't it take one to know one?""Hey what?! That's- that's just rude. You can't be saying that just because I got bit." James rolled his eyes. His cheshire grin turned into an exaggerated frown. He drew a revolver from his jacket, placing the barrel on the blighter's forehead. He didn't spare so much as a glance at the thing before pulling the trigger."For the love of—James? Are you trying to ruin my suit? It has dead person all over it now!""Don't worry your stitchy little face about it, we'll clean it later. B'sides, it was already looking horrible when I first saw it. Now, you gonna drive, or will I?" Arthur paused for a moment. Looking down at his clothes, now splattered with gore, and then up at James."Depends, where are we supposed to go?""I got a fella in Kew I need to check up on, go around Gunnersbury, then to your warehouse,, then to the Hippodrome.""Then you drive, since you probably have the route already in your head."His warehouse- damn straight it was his. Along with a good chunk of London, if he could take out Xing. He'd be cutting off Piers's arm in London, and from there taking the fight to him in Scrubs. He remembered going to a secondary school nearby. It was once a girls' school, then a Church of England one. What a miserable place it was. Prayer every day—to whom, Arthur asked himself. If God was there, his prayers would have been answered by now. He wouldn't have split his back for everything he wanted. Hell, maybe he would have been raised by actual parents. Or had a wife who tolerated him-"Hey Arthur, you all right there?""What? I'm fine, yeah, fine.""Then don't give me that thousand-freakin'-yard stare. Get in. Tank should be full, at least halfway there."There was the thump of the blighter's body falling out of the passenger seat, onto the floor. Another, as the car door shut. Clicks—two quiet ones for the seatbelt, a louder one for the ignition. Then a sputtering, rattling from the engine. Another couple of clicks before that sputtering settled into a pleasing purr."Heck yeah, that's what we like to hear," Janes said to himself. He knew Arthur wasn't listening, too busy perusing his past to care.And what a state he was in—Arthur caught a glance of himself in the rearview mirror. Texas Chainsaw Massacre still came to mind, and he still hated it. If there were a God, he thought, Roland would have used something other than rat shot. But no, he was still stuck on earth, now looking like a villain from one of the comics he avidly consumed in his boyhood.Riddle me this, Batman—what's incompetent, freakish-looking, and gets shot by his own janitor? Arthur? Gee, Batman, you did it again. Two more riddles to go, else I blow up this orphanage.Looking back, he couldn't help but smile. It was like some great big joke. Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the hill—only to reach the peak and fall. All that fame, fortune, back-breaking work for naught. He was reduced to a freak with a stitched-up face, who had no choice but to associate with zombies to get what he wanted. But this gamble—if he could get rid of Xing, everything would fall into place. He was sure of it.Little did Arthur know, he still had a long way to push. before. he could reach the peak.