Chapter Four: The Informant - He meets a key contact who provides initial leads on Viktor.
The humid air of Singapore wrapped around Alex like a damp blanket as he stepped out of the taxi. The city pulsed with life, its skyline a jagged silhouette against the night sky. Neon signs flickered, advertising everything from street food to high-end boutiques. But Alex’s destination was more exclusive: the Marina Bay Sands, a towering casino that loomed over the city like a modern-day colossus. Its three sleek towers were connected by a sky bridge that gleamed like a crown, a beacon of luxury and vice.
Inside the casino was a symphony of excess. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over marble floors, and the air hummed with the clatter of slot machines, the murmur of voices, and the occasional cheer from a winning table. Alex adjusted his tailored suit, the fabric crisp against his skin, and scanned the room. High rollers in designer clothes mingled with tourists, their eyes wide with awe or desperation. But Alex wasn’t here to gamble, at least not in the traditional sense. The poker game was his ticket to getting closer to Viktor Sokolov’s inner circle, and he needed to play it perfectly.
Elena Petrova stood beside him, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her red dress a striking contrast to the casino’s opulence. She looked every bit the part of a glamorous companion, but her sharp eyes betrayed her true role. “Remember,” she murmured, her Russian accent faint but unmistakable, “the game is as much about reading people as it is about the cards. Viktor’s man will be here, we need to find out who he is and what he knows.”
Alex nodded, his gaze sweeping the room. “Let’s split up, I’ll head to the poker tables, you work the bar. See if you can pick up any chatter.”
She gave him a sly smile. “Don’t lose all our money before I get back.”
He smirked, watching her saunter toward the bar, her hips swaying just enough to draw attention. Elena was a master at blending in, at making people see what they wanted to see. It was a skill that had kept her alive in Viktor’s world and one that Alex relied on now.
The poker room was tucked away from the main floor, a sanctuary of green felt and hushed tension. Alex handed his invitation to the attendant, who nodded and ushered him inside. The room was intimate, with only a handful of tables, each surrounded by players whose faces were masks of concentration. A dealer in a crisp white shirt shuffled cards with mechanical precision, the soft riffle cutting through the silence.
Alex took a seat at the center table, his stack of chips a modest but respectable pile. The other players eyed him warily, a mix of seasoned pros and wealthy amateurs, their expressions unreadable. But one man stood out: a wiry figure with a hawkish nose and eyes like chips of flint. He wore a bespoke suit, his cufflinks glinting under the lights, and his fingers drummed a restless rhythm on the table. Viktor’s man? Alex wondered, Or just another shark in the water?
The game began, the dealer sliding cards across the table with practiced ease. Alex picked up his hand—a pair of jacks, not bad. He tossed in a bet, keeping his face blank as the other players followed suit. The flop revealed a queen, a ten, and a two as Alex’s pulse quickened. A potential straight, but he needed to be careful.
As the betting continued, Alex studied his opponents. The wiry man introduced as Mr. Tan played aggressively, pushing large stacks of chips into the center with a smirk. A woman in a sequined dress folded early, her lips pursed in frustration. A heavyset man with a thick accent raised, his eyes flicking nervously between his cards and the pot.
Alex called, his mind racing. He needed to win enough to stay in the game but not so much that he drew unwanted attention. More importantly, he needed to find the informant—the person who could give him the next piece of the puzzle about Viktor’s cyber weapon.
The turn card was a jack and Alex’s heart skipped. Three of a kind. He bet again, this time with more confidence. Mr. Tan raised an eyebrow, then matched the bet. The heavyset man folded, muttering under his breath, the river card was a harmless four. Alex pushed in a sizable bet, and Mr. Tan hesitated, his fingers hovering over his chips.
“You’re bluffing,” Mr. Tan said, his voice smooth as silk.
Alex met his gaze, his expression unyielding. “Only one way to find out.”
After a tense moment, Mr. Tan folded, his smirk fading. Alex raked in the pot, his stack growing. But victory was secondary. He needed to make contact.
Between hands, Alex excused himself and headed to the bar, where Elena was nursing a martini. She leaned in close, her perfume a subtle mix of jasmine and spice. “Any luck?” she whispered.
“Still fishing,” Alex replied, signaling the bartender for a whiskey. “There’s a player, Mr. Tan and he’s got an edge to him. Might be our guy.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed. “Tan? I’ve heard the name. He’s a fixer for high-rollers, arranges discreet services. If he’s in Viktor’s pocket, he’d know about the shipment.”
Alex nodded, sipping his drink. The whiskey burned pleasantly, steadying his nerves. “I’ll keep an eye on him. What about you?”
She glanced around, her voice low. “There’s a private lounge upstairs, invitation only. I managed to charm my way into an invite. It’s where the real deals happen.”
“Good. See what you can find. But be careful, Viktor’s reach is long.”
Elena smiled, a glint of defiance in her eyes. “I’ve danced with wolves before, Alex. I know the steps.”
They parted ways, Alex returning to the poker table with renewed focus. The game continued, the stakes climbing with each hand. Alex won some, lost others, but he was holding his own. More importantly, he was observing, watching for tells, for any sign that Mr. Tan was more than just a player.
As the night wore on, the room grew smokier, the air thick with tension and the scent of money. Then, during a particularly high-stakes hand, Mr. Tan leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking onto Alex’s. “You’re not like the others,” he said, his tone casual but probing. “Most come here to win. You… you’re playing for something else.”
Alex kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced. “He’s testing me,” he thought. “Just here for the thrill,” he replied, his voice steady. “Same as everyone.”
Mr. Tan’s lips curled into a thin smile. “I doubt that, you’ve got the look of a man with a mission.”
Before Alex could respond, the dealer interrupted, calling for bets. Alex pushed in his chips, his eyes never leaving Mr. Tan’s. The game resumed, but the undercurrent of suspicion lingered.
Hours later, as the game wound down, Alex found himself heads-up against Mr. Tan. The pot was enormous, a mountain of chips that could make or break a player. Alex’s hand was strong, he had a full house but he knew that in poker, as in espionage, the real game was in the mind.
“I’ll raise,” Mr. Tan said, pushing in a stack that nearly matched the pot.
Alex studied him, searching for a tell. A slight twitch of the eyelid, a tightening of the jaw—there. He was bluffing. Alex matched the bet, then raised again. “All in.”
The room fell silent, the other players watching with bated breath. Mr. Tan’s smile faltered, his confidence cracking. After a long pause, he folded, his cards slapping the table in frustration.
Alex exhaled, raking in the chips. But as he did, Mr. Tan leaned forward, his voice a whisper. “Meet me in the lounge upstairs in ten minutes. Alone.”
Alex’s heart skipped. This is it. He nodded, keeping his expression impassive.
Ten minutes later, Alex ascended the spiral staircase to the private lounge, his senses on high alert. The lounge was a cocoon of luxury decorated with plush velvet sofas, low lighting, and the soft hum of jazz from a hidden speaker. Mr. Tan sat at a corner table, a glass of scotch in hand as he gestured for Alex to join him.
“You’re not here for the poker,” Mr. Tan said, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’re here for information about Viktor Sokolov.”
Alex’s pulse quickened, but he kept his cool. “And if I am?”
Mr. Tan sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving Alex’s. “I can help you. But it’ll cost you.”
“How much?”
“Not money,” Mr. Tan said, leaning forward. “A favor. There’s a man in Viktor’s organization, a rival and I want him gone. You make that happen, and I’ll give you what you need.”
Alex’s mind raced. A deal with the devil but it might be his only shot. “Who’s the rival?”
“His name is Dimitri Volkov. He’s been muscling in on my territory. Take him out, and I’ll tell you where the shipment is coming in.”
Alex hesitated. Killing wasn’t off the table, but it was a last resort. Still, if it got him closer to stopping Viktor… “I’ll need proof you’re not setting me up.”
Mr. Tan slid a folded piece of paper across the table with coordinates. A warehouse in Jakarta. That’s where the cyberweapon is being assembled but you’ll need more to stop it. That’s where I come in.”
Alex pocketed the paper, his mind already calculating the risks. “I’ll consider it. But if you’re lying—”
“I’m not,” Mr. Tan interrupted, his voice cold. “I want Viktor weakened as much as you do. He’s bad for business.”
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of footsteps. Elena appeared at the entrance, her face pale. “Alex, we need to go. Now.”
He stood, his instincts screaming. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced over her shoulder, her voice tight. “Viktor’s here and he’s not alone.”
Alex’s blood ran cold. If Viktor was in the casino, it meant he knew or suspected that someone was onto him. The game had just escalated.
Without another word, Alex and Elena slipped out of the lounge, weaving through the crowd toward the exit. But as they reached the main floor, Alex spotted him Viktor Sokolov, flanked by two burly bodyguards, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk.
Their gazes locked for a split second, and Alex saw the flicker of recognition in Viktor’s eyes. Then, chaos erupted. Gunfire rang out, shattering the casino’s tranquility. Screams filled the air as patrons dove for cover.
Alex grabbed Elena’s hand, pulling her behind a row of slot machines. “Stay low!” he shouted, drawing his pistol.
Bullets tore through the air, splintering wood and glass. Viktor’s men were advancing, their weapons trained on Alex’s position. He fired back, the recoil jarring his arm, but his shots went wide.
“We need to get out of here!” Elena yelled, her voice barely audible over the din.
Alex nodded, his mind racing. The exit was too far, and Viktor’s men were closing in. But there was another way through the service corridors. He’d scouted them earlier, just in case.
“This way,” he said, leading Elena through a side door into a narrow hallway. The sounds of pursuit echoed behind them, but they didn’t stop. They sprinted through the labyrinth of corridors, past startled staff and stacks of supplies, until they burst out into the humid night air.
A black SUV screeched to a halt in front of them, the door flying open. “Get in!” a voice barked. It was Jack Donovan, his grizzled face set in a grim line.
Alex and Elena dove into the back seat, and Jack floored it, the tires squealing as they tore away from the casino. Gunfire peppered the rear window, but the bulletproof glass held.
“Nice timing,” Alex said, catching his breath.
Jack grunted. “You’re welcome. Now, care to tell me what the hell just happened?”
Alex glanced at Elena, then at the paper in his hand. “We’ve got a lead, Jakarta. But Viktor’s onto us and we need to move fast.”
Jack nodded, his eyes on the road. “Then let’s not waste time. Next stop, Indonesia.”
As the city lights blurred past, Alex’s mind whirled. The poker game had been a trap or a test. Either way, he’d walked away with a name and a location. But the cost was high, Viktor knew his face now, and the hunt was on.
He looked at Elena, her face pale but determined. “You okay?”
She nodded, but her eyes were haunted. “I didn’t think he’d come himself. He must be desperate.”
“Or confident,” Alex said, his voice grim. “Either way, we’re in deep now.”
The SUV sped into the night, leaving the chaos of the casino behind. But Alex knew that the real game was just beginning and the stakes had never been higher.