The Geographer's Library

Jon Fasman
“I got it,” Hewley said, escalating from finger drumming to slapping his
palms on the table in a quick rhythm. “How about we play a hand of poker,
eh? These queens can’t stay virgins forever.”
“I have no wish to handle these cards any more than necessary. The
queens will stay undefiled. However, as you are technically my guest, I cannot
refuse such a slight wish as a hand of poker. For what stakes?”
Hewley started to pull out his wallet, then stopped suddenly and looked
at Voskresenyov: a cartoonish, but not inaccurate, representation of a sudden
thought. “Why not play for what we got here? One hand, winner takes all.”
“You certainly are a reckless young man,” laughed Voskresenyov. “I offer
you, in fair exchange, a sum sufficient to settle most, if not all, of your debts,
and still you want more. What is that deck of cards worth to you anyway?”
“It’s not me that’s buying, my old son.” Hewley winked. “If you’ll pay a
hundred grand in a back room, all secret, I reckon I could fetch a bit more by
holding a proper auction. Have Sotheby’s over to check out the cards, make it
public, all that.”
“I thought we had a deal, Mr. Hewley, and if you wish to go into the same
line of work as your father, your word must be beyond reproach. His was.”
“Yeah, and look where it got him. You know, we couldn’t even have a
viewing for him? Pulled him up from the bottom of the Severn gray as an old
fish, all bloated and peeling like one, too. Not for me, that sort of death.”
Hewley shuddered, then straightened up and smacked the table. “And I’m
feeling in good spirits today. Lucky, you know what I mean? One hand of
poker, and the winner walks off with a hundred grand and this deck of cards,
worth—I don’t know—we could say, maybe . . . twice that?”
Voskresenyov shrugged. “If you like. Only I must beg you, if you should
win, forgo the auction and name your price in this room. I really have taken a
fancy to those queens.”
“You don’t mind me asking, how’s a Russian like you come up with this
kind of bread? I thought all of you were supposed to be equal-like, you
know?”
“Yes, equal. We are. But some are more equal than others. Without causing
offense, I wish to observe that another reason your father lived as long
and succeeded as well as he did was his distinct lack of curiosity. Never
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