The Bizarre Detective Agency

Chapter 437: All or Nothing

No matter how safe people claimed the slums were, the place remained a darker, more dangerous part of the city.

Lu Li had faced this kind of situation in the slums before. The only difference was that last time, the robbers had been three children; this time, they were two young men.

And there was another similarity.

— You don't look like thugs.

Lu Li pulled some shillings from his coat pocket. Aside from the money he'd set aside for Jimmy and Remi, he still had several hundred on him.

Mike craned his neck, watching Lu Li with keen interest. Vigil stood meekly at his side, having already dropped his wooden club, afraid Lu Li might get the wrong idea.

In the end, Mike didn't ask for more. He walked up to the carriage, took the 20 shillings Lu Li offered, and clicked them together. Whistling, he said, "Of course we don't. Thanks for your generosity, mister. Have a nice day."

— Vigil, let's go.

Mike didn't look at all relaxed; he was worried Lu Li might come back and cause trouble. As Vigil mumbled, "We should remember his name and thank him when we get rich...," Mike ducked into a dark alley nearby.

...— Thank him? Are you kidding? What, you want to come back here?

Once they were deep in the alley, Mike stashed the 20 shillings and tossed his stick aside. "Forget it," he snapped. "This place is going to be crawling with monsters soon. The Lennon Archipelago is the only safe place left."

— So what now? Are we going to keep robbing people? — Vigil asked, his voice hesitant.

— With you? — Mike scoffed, his voice deliberately loud and mocking. — I thought we were done being homeless kids begging on the street.

— Then how do we get the ticket money?

Mike smoothed out the twenty-shilling note, his eyes narrowing. — Where we lost it, of course.

— You want to gamble again! — Vigil cried, stepping in front of Mike. — You already lost all our money and the tickets!

— That's why we have to win them back!

Mike held up a finger and licked his lips. — Listen, this is our only shot. Not everyone's going to be as generous and easy-going as that gentleman. Who knows what our next mark will be like? I'm not getting caught by the cops and left to rot. You don't want that either, do you? Look over there! The riches and beauties of the Lennon Archipelago are waiting for us!

Vigil followed Mike's gesture, but his gaze fell on nothing more than a filthy street with sewage trickling down its gutters.

— I don't see anything, — said Vigil.

Mike's patience finally snapped. He shoved Vigil out of the way. — If you've chickened out, then scram. I'll go by myself!

Vigil leaned against the wall as Mike stormed out of the alley.

He was angry and decided to ignore Vigil from now on.

— You got my shirt dirty. My mother made it for me, — Vigil's good-natured voice sounded from behind him.

Mike, nearly at the mouth of the alley, stopped short. He turned and jabbed a finger into Vigil's chest. — Don't you say a word unless I tell you to. I don't want anyone taking us for idiots.

— Not a word?

— Not a word!

With a finally silent Vigil in tow, Mike made his way back into the heart of the slums.

Pausing before the Black Mamba Casino, Mike took a deep breath. Under the scornful eyes of two bouncers, he stepped into the noisy hall, a thick stench of sweat and sour cabbage hitting him at once.

— Here, go play with this, but stay out of my hair.

He traded the money for four chips, tossed one to Vigil, gave him a shove, and vanished into the throng.

He drifted between the tables, hesitant to risk all three of his chips. Finally, gritting his teeth, he stopped at a dice table and bet his entire 15 shillings on "high."

The dice rattled in the cup.

Mike’s eyes were glued to the shaking cup, his mind chanting, "High, high, high..."

The cup came down with a clatter on a table littered with chips, shillings, and assorted trinkets. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked onto it.

A mixture of disappointed sighs and triumphant shouts erupted.

The roll was "low"...

Stunned, Mike stared blankly at the table and the dice, completely at a loss.

At that moment, excited shouts erupted from the next table.

Mike glanced over and heard that someone had apparently hit the jackpot, betting on the maximum roll of eighteen.

It felt like a dream, but Mike still clung to the hope that it was Vigil. He lunged toward the next table like a drowning man grasping for a straw.

And there he saw Vigil, surrounded by a crowd.

It was true!

Mike shoved his way through the crowd, grabbed Vigil by the shoulders, and yelled to the onlookers, "He's my brother! That's my brother!"

He shook Vigil, shouting with glee, "Why are you so quiet? My God, you can speak now, Vigil! We're rich! We're going to the Lennon Archipelago!!!"

A mountain of shillings and gold and silver trinkets lay on the table—worth several thousand, at least. They could not only buy back their tickets but would still have over a thousand shillings to spare!

To the side, in the shadows, stood two figures.

In the darkness, the ember of a pipe glowed.

— I don't recognize them. Not locals? — a low voice asked.

— Just like all the other newcomers, — another voice replied.

— The Black Mamba's money doesn't leave the casino.

— I know.

One of the figures stepped out of the shadows, leaving only the glowing ember of the pipe behind.

Meanwhile, a jubilant Mike and Vigil bought back their tickets and, gathering up their precious winnings, headed for the exit.

Mike even fantasized about running into that generous gentleman again. He'd hand him 40 shillings and declare proudly, "Paying you back double."

But all their plans came crashing down when a few thugs blocked them at the exit.

The bald man at the front reeked of blood.

It didn't take a special sense of smell—it was just the stench of his filthy, blood-stained shirt.

Mike grabbed the foolishly grinning Vigil and faced the thugs, raising his voice for the whole room to hear. "What do you want?! You don't let your winners leave?!"

The din in the casino faded. Every eye turned toward them, and a space cleared, forming a circle around the confrontation.

— Just a customer, — the bald man drawled, — said he saw your friend here pocket some chips. We just want to check.

Mike relaxed slightly: — Chips? We didn't steal any chips.

But inwardly, he had his doubts.

Vigil, that idiot, was capable of something like that. If he really had stolen the chips...

"Damn you, you idiot!" — Mike thought.