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turned
    his back. No, he had only been reflexively probing, firing into the
    tree line, checking to see whether he'd hit anything and whether
    anyone fired back.
    The banker handed the first card to the dealer. As he did so, I
    leaned forward and crossed my hands, my right fingers settling
    across the Traser P5900 I was wearing on my left wrist. On the underside
    of the watch was a thumbnail-sized squib containing a little
    cocktail, one unlikely to be served by the casino's bar girls. The
    concoction in question consisted primarily of staphylococcus
    aureus--a rapid-onset food poisoning pathogen--and chloral hydrate,
    a compound that causes nausea, disorientation, and unconsciousness
    within one to four hours. The first would get Belghazi
    back to the hotel in a hurry. The second would ensure that he slept
    soundly, if not terribly comfortably, when he got there. I eased the
    squib free and held it at the junction of my right middle and forefinger.
    I'd wait for the right moment--one of Belghazi's head-turns,
    or a big win or loss for one of the players, or some other
    distraction--and then make my move.
    I realized there was an important side benefit to my plan: the
    symptoms of staph infection are so acute, and set in so quickly, that
    there was a good chance Belghazi would return to the hotel room
    without, or at least ahead of, the blonde. And, even if she came
    back with or only shortly behind him, he might very well send her
    away for a while, so he could endure the effects of his rebelling
    stomach in privacy.
    I won the first round. So far so good: I didn't know how long
    this would take, and, even with baccarat's favorable odds and
    leisurely pace of play, Kanezaki's money wouldn't hold out forever.
    A pretty attendant came by. Belghazi ordered a tonic water. At
    fifty thousand a hand, I supposed he wanted to exercise a little alcohol
    discipline. I followed suit.
    The blonde leaned toward Belghazi and said, "Je vais essayer les
    tables de des.Je serai de retour bientot." I'm going to try the craps tables.
    I'll be back in a little while. She got up and left.
    Perfect. I stole a glance, just a quick one, the kind Belghazi
    would find neither surprising nor disrespectful. She was wearing a
    black skirt to match the bolero. Her legs were stunning, and she
    walked with the unpretentious confidence of someone who long
    ago came to understand that she is beautiful and today finds the fact
    neither remarkable nor worthy of flaunting.
    Belghazi doubled his bet on the next round. I stayed with the
    minimum. This time we both won.
    The attendant came by with the drinks, carrying them perched
    on a silver tray. She placed Belghazi's on the table next to him, then
    leaned forward and moved to do the same with mine. He was
    watching the banker, who was getting ready to deal. Now.
    I half rose from my seat, reaching for my drink with both hands
    as though concerned that I not spill it during the transfer. As my
    right hand passed over Belghazi's glass, I paused for an instant and
    squeezed, and the seal at the squib's bottom, thinner than the surrounding
    plastic, parted silently and released the contents within. I
    used my torso to obscure the move from above, where the overhead
    cameras might otherwise have recorded it. Done. I eased back
    into my seat, tonic water in hand.
    Belghazi ignored his drink during the next round, and during
    the one after. The ice in his glass was melting, and I began to grow
    concerned that one of the attendants would come and replace it. I
    had another squib, of course, but didn't want to have to repeat the
    risky maneuver of getting it into his glass.
    As it turned out, there was no need. At the end of the fifth
    hand, he picked up his glass and drank. One swallow. A pause, then
    another. He put the glass down.
    That was enough. It was time for me to go. I played one more
    hand, then collected my chips. "Good luck," I said to him, moving
    to stand.
    "So soon?" he asked.
    I'd been there less than