radicalducati Chapter 82 The Penguin Makes a Grand Debut
Chapter 82 The Penguin Makes a Grand Debut
"It's finally here. I was wondering how long the owner of the Iceberg Club could hold out," Jaeger thought.
But while thinking this in his heart, Jaeger outwardly feigned surprise: "Your boss?"
"Yes, sir," the waiter said, "our boss greatly admires your gambling skills."
"Is that so?" Jaeger smiled knowingly, "No problem, but before that, I have something else to do."
"What?" The waiter was taken aback.
"That is..." Jaeger suddenly turned to the card table, raising his voice, "Hey everyone! Thanks to the Iceberg Club, and thanks to all of you who also enjoy having fun at the card table! So I've decided—"
"Buy all the drinks for all the guests around this card table!"
With that, Jaeger raised his hand and shoved the chips, equivalent to money, into the hands of the bewildered dealer. Then, amidst cheers and applause from the crowd, he gave the dealer an innocent look: "I think the Iceberg Club wouldn't refuse to pay with chips, would they?"
"Of course..." The croupier swallowed hard and exchanged a glance with the waiter behind Jaeger.
After all, as the dealer who witnessed Jaeger's almost self-made gambling journey, it was he who hurriedly contacted the boss after Jaeger earned ten million.
At this moment, the dealers and waiters did not understand why Jaeger would suddenly pull this stunt before being invited to meet the boss if he was really just making money at the Iceberg Club by gambling skills.
It can't just be that we were having fun playing cards and then wanted to treat everyone to drinks, right?
The staff of the Iceberg Club were lost in thought, while Jaeger, after his recent act of throwing money around, followed the waiter to the second floor of the Iceberg Club as if nothing had happened.
It was only when a familiar, cold feeling mingled with the suddenly increased crowd near the card table and quietly brushed against Jaeger's leg that a barely perceptible glint flashed in Jaeger's eyes.
He pretended to bend down to adjust his trousers, but actually secretly pulled Burks, who had just received the signal from Jaeger's lavish spending, back into his hand. At the same time, taking advantage of the surrounding noise, he whispered, "How's it going? The thing I asked you to investigate?"
Burks stuck out his tongue, stretched out his tail, and stuffed the note he had written earlier into Jaeger's hand.
Jaeger glanced at them and understood immediately.
At the same time, he quickly hid Burks, stood up neatly, and followed the waiter who hadn't noticed Jaeger's little trick.
Upon arriving at the second floor of the Iceberg Club, the glitz and glamour of the first floor seemed to be isolated by something invisible.
The long corridor was lined with all kinds of paintings and artworks that looked very valuable. Above was a magnificent crystal chandelier, and underfoot was a deep red carpet that stretched as far as the eye could see, as red as blood.
I always felt that the owner of the Iceberg Club had a special fondness for polar-related works, especially penguins.
I don't know why.
As Jaeger walked along, he observed the decorations on both sides of the corridor, thinking to himself.
Just then, the waiter who had led the way stopped in front of a door, then turned back slightly and bowed to Jaeger: "Our boss is inside, sir."
After saying this, the waiter knocked on the door: "...Boss, the person has been brought."
"Please let him in." A slightly high-pitched voice came from inside the room.
So Jaeger finally entered the office, whose decor was exactly the same as the corridor outside, and met the Iceberg Club owner, who was sitting upright on the sofa.
He was short and obese, dressed in a black and white suit, with a peculiar pointed nose and a gold-rimmed monocle hanging over his right eye.
At first glance, it actually does look a bit like the black and white penguins walking in the snow in the paintings on the outside corridor.
"You must be the friend who shines at the poker table." The other person spoke, his laughter sounding strangely high-pitched and unsettling, even though he was smiling. "Welcome, welcome... I'm Oswald Copperfield."
"Mr. Coppert," Jaeger said politely, "I've long admired the Iceberg Club. You can call me Winchester."
"No need for such formalities." Oswald seemed quite pleased with the compliment, and his smile finally held a hint of genuineness. "I won't take up any more of your time, dear Winchester... I'd like to ask you to stop here."
"I see, amazing card skills, and you've already turned two million into ten million." Oswaldmo stroked the umbrella he was using as a cane. "But our Iceberg Club also needs to make money... and if this continues, no one will dare to play at that table where the stakes start at ten million, as long as you stay there."
"So, let's be friends."
Oswald raised his voice: "To give me face, let's call it a night, how about it?"
"In exchange, if there's anything the Iceberg Club needs to do, I'll grant it as long as it's within my power, Winchester."
In Oswald's own view, this was an incredibly generous offer, but the man who called himself Winchester shook his head: "No."
"...What did you say?" A crack appeared in Oswald's expression, and impatience flashed in his eyes. "You think these conditions aren't enough, Winchester?"
“No, you’ve misunderstood,” Jaeger said. “I just want to change the terms—I can quit the poker table if you agree to help me investigate something.”
"I see." Oswald smiled with satisfaction. "Of course, what would you like to know?"
"I don't think the owner of the Iceberg Club could have been unaware of the counterfeit serial murder case," Jaeger stated bluntly. "And I've heard that the counterfeiters and their employees came into contact at the Iceberg Club."
Upon hearing Jaeger's words, Oswald's eyes flickered: "That's right. But I didn't expect you to even know something like this."
"Unfortunately, this is something I really can't reveal easily."
"Why?" Jaeger asked, noticing Oswald's suddenly strange expression.
"That's because—" Oswald suddenly burst into laughter, momentarily resembling a real penguin, "someone offered me $5 million to kill the person who asked me for this information!"