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Bond gave a slow sip of his martini, eyes never leaving the people sitting around him at the table. Each held their five cards casually, but close enough to their chest that nothing could be gleaned about the contents. He watched as a couple members of the table shifted their cards around, sliding a couple together. It could mean something about the value of the cards they held, he was sure, or it could be nothing, after all this was a game with professionals.
“Mr. Bond,” The dealer sat directly on his left said, “it is your turn.”
Bond peeked at his cards once more. Two aces, one seven, one five, and one queen. It wasn’t particularly good, but Bond knew that with a game like this luck could change on a dime. He took a deep breath, before turning his eyes to the steely stare of Le Chiffre. His face was blank, wholly neutral save for the small drop of red welling in the tear duct of his eye. Le Chiffre didn’t break eye contact as he dabbed the blood away with a handkerchief, and Bond knew this was meant to intimidate him. He gave the barest of smirks in response.
“Mr. Le Chiffre,” Bond drawled, leaning back in his chair, “do you have any aces?”
Le Chiffre’s face fell, a scowl darkening his features as he quickly plucked two cards from his hand, tossing them face up across the table in his direction. Smiling, Bond grabbed the aces and put them together in a neat pile in front of him. Though the game of Go Fish was barely into its beginnings, Bond already had two stacks, or if you were a dedicated player ‘books,’ face up in front of him. Le Chiffre had one, along with a man far on the furthest end of the table, Mr. Takahashi. With 9 more books to go, it was truly anyone’s game.
“Mr. Bond, it is still your turn.”
Bond looked around the table again. He’d heard Ms. Underwood ask for sevens, but he was under the impression she was only in possession of one, making it easy for someone to come in and sweep up the book instead. She was his only lead, however, having heard nothing about fives or queens, and he might have a chance with another turn if he got his sevens.
“Ms. Underwood, do you have any sevens?”
He barely caught her frown as she tossed over the card, instead his eyes sweeping across the table as he said his words, looking for any hint of a reaction. Everyone shifted a little, but Bond didn’t miss how Le Chiffre’s hand slowly went to his temple, something Bond had noticed once before and wanted to investigate further.
Bond waited a moment, not wanting to pounce too quickly, before he took the leap. “Mr. Le Chiffre, do you have any sevens?”
The seven was deposited quickly, another scowl on the man’s face as the card was quickly flashed. Though Bond was only in possession of three sevens now, something that could easily be stolen away from him, it was worth it to discover the tell. At this point, Bond was out of leads, picking a person at random.
“Mr. Ngo, do you have any sevens?”
“Go Fish.” Came the quiet reply, and eyebrow raised as Bond deftly grabbed a card from the awaiting stack. It was then that the dealer announced a short break, only fifteen minutes, so Bond rose and made his way over to Mathis and Vesper at the bar.
Planting a kiss that was longer than perhaps necessary on her lips, Bond pulled back and greeted Vesper, “Hello.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing making risky moves like that?” Vesper hissed, pulling back and giving him a glare. “Now the next person who pulls a seven can steal the stack out from right under your nose. We won’t be here past midnight at this rate.”
“It was worth it to discover his tell.” Bond said quietly, making a nonverbal gesture for the bartender to refill his martini.
“His tell?”
“When he has a card that’s been called for, his hand goes to his temple. He gets nervous.”
Vesper raised her eyebrows, obviously still upset, but Mathis looked thoughtful. Quickly, though, the break ran out and Bond was back at the table, sat across from Le Chiffre and his cards held thoughtfully in his hand.
James Bond loved Go Fish. He’d picked it up in America on his travels, and had quickly become enamored with the deceptive simplicity of the game. The premise was simple, collecting all four suits of one value of card by asking other players without being able to see their hand, the winner being the one with the most stacks when the game had run out. It was seen as a children’s game by many, but in reality, for Bond at least, it was a game of memorization and understanding what was in play based on the players themselves. It was a lot like poker in that sense, he supposed. Bond loved the thrill he felt when someone guessed his hand wrong and he could utter the words “Go Fish,” watching them be forced to take a card. The cardinal rule of Go Fish had always been ‘you cannot ask for a card you do not have,’ making the risk of asking for any one card so much greater, revealing your hand to the greater table. That’s what made the game dangerous, and that’s what made Bond come back for more every time.
Apparently he was not alone in this sentiment, as he was currently in the lavishly furnished basement of the Casino Royale, playing high stakes Go Fish with the most skilled players from around the globe. When MI6 had learned that this was the game Le Chiffre had set up to earn his winnings back, M had laughed for five minutes straight, before Tanner had to inform her that he was, in fact, being dead serious. They were all lucky that somehow Bond’s Go Fish addiction had found its way into his file somehow. Most of the service didn’t even know what the game was.
Play continued around the table, cards shifting hands and “Go Fish,” being sung out a couple times, but no new stacks appearing. It seems as if this would be a challenging game. Finally, play returned to Bond, nobody having grabbed his sevens but his five having been stolen as play continued. Bond was left with three sevens, a queen, and a four he’d been forced to pull earlier, not entirely desirable if he hadn’t known that there was at least one queen on the table in Mr. Takahashi’s hand.
“Mr. Takahashi, do you have any Queens?”
Two queens slid across the table into his possession. Even better than Bond had anticipated. He didn’t miss how Le Chiffre’s hand flitted to his temple for just a moment at the question, and Bond had to hold back a grin. Slowly, enjoying the moment, Bond turned to face Le Chiffre.
“Mr. Le Chiffre, do you have any queens.”
Bond reveled in the way Le Chiffre’s face fell, his hand sagging as he looked balefully at Bond. Then, something in his eyes changed, became harder, and his entire face flipped on a dime to become a menacing grin.
“Go Fish, Mr. Bond.”
His heart sank, eyes closing briefly to block out Le Chiffre’s smug look. He didn’t have to look to the side to see the shocked face of Mathis or the frustrated glare of Vesper. It only became worse when play continued to Ms. Santos, who quickly took all of Bond’s queens, depositing a book in front of her with a smile. Play continued, and then it was back to Le Chiffre, asking slowly and articulately, “Mr. Bond, do you have any sevens?”
Damn him, Bond thought, slowly sliding the three cards across the table, he must have pulled the final seven from the deck the last time he had to draw. Le Chiffre took his time tapping the stack against the table, making all of the ends even as he sat it down in front of him. Bond could have stabbed him if he’d had a knife.
He sat there silently, contemplating his one card. A single four. He was out of moves, out of luck, and out of leads. He let out a slow exhale, peeking over to Vesper and Mathis before quickly looking back at his card. There was no way he could avoid revealing what was in his hand. This could so easily be the killing blow.
“Ms. Santos,” Bond could hear his heart beating in his ears as he said the only question he was allowed to ask,”Do you have any fours?”
“Go Fish.” The executioner dropping the axe, the smug look of everyone at the table knowing what cards he had, the shameful reach across the table for his card. An eight. Fuck. It wasn’t particularly helpful.
“We will now have another short break, play will resume in twenty minutes.”
Bond couldn’t stand to look at his allies, instead making his way upstairs, back into the main casino to find a nice secluded balcony to think on. This game was going south quickly, all of his other options exhausted, Bond was left with nothing else to do but think.
It seemed like Vesper Lynd had other plans.
Bond watched in his periphery as she walked up beside him, mirroring his stance as she leaned against the balcony.
“I have this under control.” Bond said quietly, still not looking at her, his eyes instead tracing the silhouette of a particularly ornate shrubbery in the distance.
“Oh really? I was under the impression we were risking millions of dollars on a literal child’s game you can’t seem to be able to win.”
Bond felt the sting to his pride hit so hard it was almost a physical slap. He jerked his head to the side, and she looked at him her blue eyes angry and unwavering.
“The game isn’t finished yet.”
“It might as well be with the way you’re playing.”
“I’m sorry, would you like to take my place?” Bond felt his voice rising.
“I’m sure I couldn’t do any worse.”
Bond frowned, restraining himself. There was so much he could yell, but instead he said,
“Have a little faith, Vesper.”
Vesper leaned forward, her scowl deepening, “I’ll be sure to put it with my store of pixie dust.” And then she was gone, leaving Bond alone on the balcony once more.
He took a deep breath, his mind going back to the cards on the table, trying to recall which cards were still in play and which had been tucked away into different hands. There Seven books yet to claim, still a chance to get things back if only he could get more damn useful cards.
“What a game, huh?”
Bond practically jumped, not even noticing the man who had surreptitiously snuck up behind him, now taking Vesper’s place at the balcony. He recognized him as Mr. Edwards, the American who had been playing to his right for much of the game. He hadn’t been faring particularly well, no books on his side, but at this point he seemed to have more of a chance than Bond.
“Indeed.” Bond said shortly, pushing off from the balcony, about to leave, before a hand snaked out, catching him by the arm.
“I wouldn’t leave so soon,” the man said in a low tone, pulling Bond closer, “you and I have a mutual interest.”
Bond’s body tensed, already prepared for a fight. Based on the grip of the man, he was far more fit than he first appeared. A bodyguard, or a mercenary perhaps? “And that might be?” He forced his tone to sound casual.
“The name’s Felix Leiter, a brother from Langley. You and I are both here for the same man.”
Bond had been made aware the CIA was on this case as well, but he hadn’t been briefed on who it was. Looking the man, he couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to have an ally for a mment. His face went back to neutrality, however, when the reality of his situation hit him.
Bond was losing, and he was losing hard.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Bond said, giving a tight smile. “What made you blow your cover?”
Leiter’s voice dropped, “You’re a better player than me, Bond, I can tell you’ve just had a bad run of the cards. I know there’s something going on at this table that I’m not keyed into, but I want to help you win.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“If you beat Le Chiffre, the CIA takes him in.”
“And the money?”
Leiter gave a wolfish grin, “We can discuss that later. Let’s win first.”
“How do you intend to help me win?”
“It would be a real shame,” Leiter said, pulling even closer, “if someone knew I had two eights, a five, and a two.” Letter mimed checking a watch that wasn’t even on his wrist, “Oh, look at the time. I think we have to get back for the rest of the game.”
The walk back was quick and pensive, a plan blooming at the back of Bond’s mind.
Bond’s turn was before the break, so he had the benefit of watching everyone ask for cards. Luckily for him, his low card count made it impossible for him to be much of a target, others going for easier kills. Two whole rounds passed, Bond picking up a two and a king. This, in addition to his four and eight, gave him a wide selection of cards, but nothing to make a book. When it got to Le Chiffre’s turn, he snagged two whole books, setting them down in front of him with a smirk. His count had increased to three, currently the highest number and beating out Bond’s two.
Bond’s entire body felt tense at this realization, but he kept his posture cool and collected. He’d known Le Chiffre had noticed the easy moves along with him, so it wasn’t surprising. The deck had run out at this point, and there were five books left up for grabs. Now was the sweep, now was when Bond had to make his move.
“Mr. Ngo, do you have any eights?” Leiter asked, cards help precariously in his hand. The other man shook his head, and Leiter made an unhappy noise.
The turn finally moved to Bond. He glanced up, looking for his allies one final time. Vesper wouldn’t look at him, nursing her drink and an unhappy expression, while Mathis gave him a small thumbs up. He took a breath, looking into Le Chiffre’s smug eyes. The man obviously thought he had won.
“Mr. Edwards,” Bond turned to Felix, “Do you have any eights?”
Two slid across the table to Bond.
Bond thought through the plays of the day. Le Chiffre was unlikely to be carrying any, or he would have pulled them off Felix long ago. Mr. Takahashi’s cards were already accounted for thanks to the number of cards he were forced to ask for… meaning, “Ms. Santos, do you have any eights?”
A single card flew across the table. Bond thought he’d heard a gasp from the crowd, after all she’d never revealed she had the card, but he bit back his smile. He still had more work to do. The stack of eights was neatly deposited on the table.
His gaze turned, “Mr. Takahashi, do you have any kings?”
Two kings and a scowl answered him.
“Mr. Le Chiffre, do you have any kings?”
If glares could kill, Bond would have fallen dead on the single king that was now in his possession. Bond neatly stacked another book. At this, Bond was certain he heard gasps. He wasn’t done yet.
“Mr. Edwards, do you have any twos?”
Bond already knew he did, turning back across the table, “Mr. Ngo, do you have any twos?”
Another two slid across the table.
“Ms. Underwood, do you have any twos?”
Another clean book was in front of Bond, his total now coming up to five books in front of him. Two books left for grabs, and Bond was left with one card. He was left with five books on his side, and Le Chiffre with three, but if he messed this up they could very well tie, because Le Chiffre was left with a suit of each, Bond was close to positive.
“Mr. Le Chiffre, do you have any fours?”
The pause Le Chiffre gave almost made Bond wonder if he’d guessed wrong, but after a long heartbeat the card slid across the table to him.
“Mr. Takahashi, do you have any fours?”
The final two slid across the table to Bond. His sixth stack neatly placed in front of him as play continued, Mr. Ngo taking the final stack, but at this point it didn’t matter.
“Congratulations, Mr. Bond, you are the winner.” The dealer announced, with an impartial formality.
Le Chiffre left the table in a huff, scattering his cards as he left. Bond stood, Vesper suddenly at his side, giving him a surprised look.
“Aren’t you going after him?”
Bond shrugged, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to his side. Leiter gave him a quick smile before standing up himself, discreetly following after Le Chiffre.
“Mmmm,” Bond hummed, leading Vesper away from the table, “There are plenty of other fish in the sea to pursue him. First, let’s get some dinner.”
And so the two of them left the card table, James Bond once again the proud victor of a game of Go Fish.