Gamblers World | Page 5

goes on, gents, work the lever to jack the tower. You got three gears. Takes a good arm to work top gear. That's this button here. The little knob controls what way you're goin'. May the best team win. I'll take the hundred credits now."
* * * * *
Retief handed over the money. A red light flashed on, and Retief tried the lever.
It moved easily, with a ratcheting sound. The tower trembled, slowly tilted toward the two perspiring workmen pumping frantically at their levers. Magnan started slowly, accelerated as he saw the direction the tower was taking.
"Faster, Retief," he said. "They're winning."
"This is against the clock, gents," the bullet-headed man said. "If nobody wins when the light goes off, the house takes all."
"Crank it over to the left," Retief said.
"I'm getting tired."
"Shift to a lower gear."
The tower leaned. The ball stirred, rolled into a concentric channel. Retief shifted to middle gear, worked the lever. The tower creaked to a stop, started back upright.
"There isn't any lower gear," Magnan gasped. One of the two on the other side of the tower shifted to middle gear; the other followed suit. They worked harder now, heaving against the stiff levers. The tower quivered, moved slowly toward their side.
"I'm exhausted," Magnan gasped. He dropped the lever, lolled back in the chair, gulping air. Retief shifted position, took Magnan's lever with his left hand.
"Shift it to middle gear," Retief said. Magnan gulped, punched the button and slumped back, panting.
"My arm," he said. "I've injured myself."
The two men in pullovers conferred hurriedly as they cranked their levers; then one punched a button and the other reached across, using his left arm to help.
"They've shifted to high," Magnan said. "Give up, it's hopeless."
"Shift me to high," Retief said. "Both buttons!"
Magnan complied. Retief's shoulders bulged. He brought one lever down, then the other, alternately, slowly at first, then faster. The tower jerked, tilted toward him, farther.... The ball rolled in the channel, found an outlet--
Abruptly, both Retief's levers froze.
The tower trembled, wavered and moved back. Retief heaved. One lever folded at the base, bent down and snapped off short. Retief braced his feet, took the other lever with both hands and pulled.
There was a rasp of metal friction, and a loud twang. The lever came free, a length of broken cable flopping into view. The tower fell over as the two on the other side scrambled aside.
"Hey!" Bullet-head yelled. "You wrecked my equipment!"
Retief got up and faced him.
"Does Zorn know you've got your tower rigged for suckers?"
"You tryin' to call me a cheat or something?"
The crowd had fallen back, ringing the two men. Bullet-head glanced around. With a lightning motion, he plucked a knife from somewhere.
"That'll be five hundred credits for the equipment," he said. "Nobody calls Kippy a cheat."
* * * * *
Retief picked up the broken lever.
"Don't make me hit you with this, you cheap chiseler."
Kippy looked at the bar.
"Comin' in here," he said indignantly, looking to the crowd for support. "Bustin' up my rig, callin' names...."
"I want a hundred credits," Retief said. "Now."
"Highway robbery!" Kippy yelled.
"Better pay up," somebody called.
"Hit him, mister," someone else said.
A broad-shouldered man with graying hair pushed through the crowd and looked around. "You heard 'em, Kippy. Give," he said.
The shill growled but tucked his knife away. Reluctantly he peeled a bill from a fat roll and handed it over.
The newcomer looked from Retief to Magnan.
"Pick another game, strangers," he said. "Kippy made a little mistake."
"This is small-time stuff," Retief said. "I'm interested in something big."
The broad-shouldered man lit a perfumed dope stick. "What would you call big?" he said softly.
"What's the biggest you've got?"
The man narrowed his eyes, smiling. "Maybe you'd like to try Slam."
"Tell me about it."
"Over here." The crowd opened up, made a path. Retief and Magnan followed across the room to a brightly-lit glass-walled box.
There was an arm-sized opening at waist height. Inside was a hand grip. A two-foot plastic globe a quarter full of chips hung in the center. Apparatus was mounted at the top of the box.
"Slam pays good odds," the man said. "You can go as high as you like. Chips cost you a hundred credits. You start it up by dropping a chip in here." He indicated a slot.
"You take the hand grip. When you squeeze, it unlocks. The globe starts to turn. You can see, it's full of chips. There's a hole at the top. As long as you hold the grip, the bowl turns. The harder you squeeze, the faster it turns. Eventually it'll turn over to where the hole is down, and chips fall out.
"On the other hand, there's contact plates spotted around the bowl. When one of 'em lines up with a live contact, you get quite a little jolt--guaranteed nonlethal. All you've got to do is hold on