Chương 164: The Hippodrome

Leo followed Edward Windsor through the corridors of St. James's Palace, past oil paintings of monarchs who looked disapproving even in death, past guards in red tunics who snapped to attention as the prince passed, past a gift shop selling commemorative tea towels.

"So," Prince Edward said as they emerged into the afternoon light.

"Tell me about this Morimoto fellow."

"Formation counterfeiter. Reverse derivation specialist. Spent three years in a federal program teaching students before he escaped. Got recaptured. Apparently escaped again." Leo glanced at him.

"Your family hired him?"

"My cousin Aurelia insisted on hiring him. She's decided the Season's formations need modernizing. I should think she mainly wanted to put her stamp on something." Edward steered them toward a black sedan parked at the curb.

"He's a free man, actually. Early release." Leo gave him a look.

"For now, at least." Edward's jaw tightened. They walked in silence for a moment.

"Edward, right?"

"That's correct."

"Do you have any nicknames?" Edward's stride didn't break.

"None that I answer to."

"How about I call you Eddie?" Edward stopped walking. He turned and gave Leo a look that suggested the question had physically wounded him.

"I would really rather you didn't." Leo opened his mouth to respond.

"It's Prince Edward!" The shout came from across the street. A woman with a phone already raised, her companion fumbling for his own device.

"Prince Edward's out! He's walking around!" More phones appeared. People materialized from doorways. A tour group abandoned their guide mid-sentence and surged toward the curb. Edward's composure cracked for the first time since Leo had met him. His face went white.

"Right." He seized Leo's arm.

"Car. Now." They ran. The sedan's doors were already open, a driver in the front seat, engine running. Leo threw himself inside and Edward followed half a second later. The door slammed. The car pulled away from the curb. Through the tinted windows, Leo watched a crowd of tourists photograph their escape.

"What was that?" Leo looked at Edward, who had pressed himself low in his seat like a man taking cover.

"Did you do something bad?"

"I forgot." Edward straightened slowly, checking the rear window.

"I've been at Garrison London for so long. One forgets that the general public can be rather..."

"Obsessed with royalty?"

"Enthusiastic. I was going to say enthusiastic." Edward reached into his coat pocket and produced a pair of dark sunglasses. Then a flat cap, which he pulled low over his forehead. The transformation from prince to anonymous commuter took about four seconds. Leo stared at him.

"What?"

"Nothing." Leo settled back in his seat.

"So. Eddie." Edward closed his eyes. Opened them. Looked at the ceiling of the car as though appealing to a higher authority. He sighed.

"Fine."

"Great." Leo grinned.

"Let me tell you about the time Morimoto escaped. Back when he was teaching at the International Formations Institute, the man slipped his tracking cuff and vanished."

"He was wearing a tracking cuff whilst teaching?"

"Unlike you Brits, we didn't just take the counterfeiter at his word. Anyway, he slipped it somehow. The government couldn't locate him. They had field agents across three states and nothing. The man just vanished."

"How did you find him?"

"Vivian Xin, a classmate of mine, had this idea. Somewhere along the way I'd memorized Morimoto's spiritual signature, and she figured..." Edward held up a hand.

"Sorry. You memorized his spiritual signature?"

"Bad habit." Edward studied him for a moment longer than was comfortable.

"Anyway." Leo waved the question away.

"Vivian figured the first thing Morimoto would do after escaping was try to make a quick buck. So we drove to Atlantic City."

"Atlantic City."

"Casinos. Lots of them. We spent a day driving around, and I used my omnidirectional awareness to scan each one." Edward's eyebrows rose.

"Omnidirectional awareness. That's rather remarkable. And that's how you found him?"

"Picked him out of a crowd at Caesars Palace. Once we had confirmation, we pointed and the FBI did the rest." The car turned onto a main road. London traffic crawled past the windows.

"The surprising thing," Leo said, "was how many Gold Cores the FBI assembled to catch one counterfeiter. A dozen, at least. Plus a Nascent Soul on standby." Edward said nothing.

"So I'm just wondering." Leo looked at him.

"You think the two of us are enough? Because I've seen what it takes to pin this guy down."

"I should think I'll manage."

"One Gold Core against Morimoto."

"Bit premature for that." Edward adjusted his sunglasses.

"We don't actually have proof of anything. I can't very well mobilize the household guard because an American footballer has a hunch." Leo gave him a look.

"I'm a reasonably experienced cultivator, Leo. I think between the two of us we can manage one elderly Japanese gentleman." Maybe Edward was stronger than Leo thought.

"What's your Elo?" Edward considered.

"By the American system? Somewhere around one thirty-nine, I should think." Silence. Leo's jaw tightened. He stared straight ahead. His Elo was seven. Seven. He was going to have a word with someone about that when he got back to New Jersey. Edward glanced at him. The corner of his mouth twitched. He looked away, out the window, and said nothing.

"Shall we focus on finding Mr. Morimoto?" Edward offered after a generous pause.

"Yes."

"Splendid. So you think he's gone to a casino?" Leo forced his expression neutral.

"Morimoto probably has around fourteen million pounds right now. What casino would you go to with fourteen million pounds?"

"There isn't really anything like that in London." Edward frowned.

"The proper establishments require memberships. Years of vetting. Background checks. The only place one could walk in off the street with that kind of money would be the Hippodrome, I suppose."

"Then that's where we're going." Edward nodded to the driver, who adjusted course.

"Though I am curious." Edward turned back to Leo.

"How did Morimoto come up with the initial capital? My family paid him a signing bonus of three hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Generous, certainly, but hardly fourteen million."

"He bet it. All of it. On Ever Enduring, at forty to one."

"There is no gambling at the Royal Ascot." Leo gave him a look of pure pity.

"Eddie. There is gambling everywhere. Morimoto put three fifty on a horse nobody believed in, the horse won, and now he has fourteen million pounds." Edward processed this. After a quiet moment he asked, "How do you know the odds were forty to one? Had you placed a wager as well? What exactly was your..."

"Why did your family hire the old counterfeiter?" Leo said, changing the subject.

"It was my cousin Aurelia's doing. I had nothing whatever to do with it." Edward's voice cooled a fraction.

"If it were left to me, I'd be at Garrison London. Proper work. The Catacombs don't sort themselves. But my mother insisted I come back for the Season this year."

"Sounds rough."

"You really don't know the half of it." The car slowed. Through the window, Leo saw an ornate facade lit up against the afternoon gray. The Hippodrome Casino, Leicester Square. Edward looked at the entrance. Then he looked at his flat cap and sunglasses. Then back at the entrance.

"I should mention," he said carefully, "that I'm not really supposed to be here."

"At the Hippodrome?"

"At a casino. Generally. The Queen has rather firm views about members of the family being in gambling establishments."

"No problem, Eddie. You look like a completely different person." Leo stepped out of the car and straightened his morning coat. He looked down at it. It was wrinkled and grimy. He'd been wearing it since yesterday.

"I need a laundry talisman." Edward stared at him.

"I sat in your family's jail for twelve hours," Leo said.

"Haven't showered. Haven't changed. The least you can do is clean me up."

"It wasn't my family's jail. St. James's Palace is Crown property, which is technically distinct from..."

"Eddie." Edward sighed. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a small slip of jade covered in intricate formation script. Leo snatched it. He pressed it flat against his chest and activated the array. Spiritual qi rippled outward. The wrinkles smoothed. The grime lifted. The faint smell of horse stable evaporated. In three seconds, his morning coat looked freshly pressed. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

He tucked the spent slip into his pocket and grinned.

"Ready when you are, Eddie."

Leo stepped through the entrance of the Hippodrome and stopped. The casino floor spread out before him. Chandeliers hung from coffered ceilings three stories high. Roulette wheels spun beneath formation displays that projected winning numbers in gold. Slot machines chimed in harmonized sequences. Chips clicked against felt. Cards slid across tables. Somewhere deeper in the room, someone whooped as a craps table paid out. Leo's wallet felt lighter just standing here. He thought about his empty bank account.

The body refining debt. The rent he'd barely covered last month. Somewhere in this building, Morimoto had seven million pounds that belonged to Leo. He extended his divine sense. The casino bloomed into focus. Spiritual signatures everywhere. The dealers' steady qi, the gamblers' fluctuating emotions as they won or lost, the faint hum of formation arrays woven into every table. He pushed deeper. Tried to read the cards themselves. Nothing.

The cards were smooth, featureless rectangles that his divine sense slid off like water on glass. He pushed harder, searching for any gap in the material's defense. Still nothing. The cards might as well have been blank. A hand landed on his shoulder. Leo turned. A security guard stood behind him, broad-shouldered, Foundation Establishment, wearing the kind of smile that said he'd seen this exact scene play out a thousand times.

"First time?" The guard smirked.

"Everyone tries. Nobody succeeds." He patted Leo's shoulder patronizingly.

"The cards are Thornwood composite. You'd need Nascent Soul divine sense to read through them, and at that point, why would you be gambling?" The guard wandered off, still smirking. Leo waited until the guard disappeared into the crowd. Then he glanced left. Right. Nobody watching. Thornwood composite. He activated his ortho-k enhanced vision. The cards sharpened into focus. Every scratch on the table surface leapt into detail. The weave of the dealer's jacket. The fingerprint smudges on nearby chip stacks.

The cards were perfectly smooth. Not just uniform. Smooth in a way that nothing natural could be. No grain. No wear patterns from shuffling. The Thornwood composite presented an absolutely featureless surface. He let the technique fade and looked around. A woman at the next table was studying her chips. A dealer was shuffling. Nobody had noticed him squinting trying to see through the backs of playing cards. Good. That would have been embarrassing.

He turned to find Edward pressed against a pillar, hat pulled so low it covered his eyebrows, sunglasses reflecting the chandelier light. The prince looked uncomfortable.

"You alright?"

"I shouldn't be here." Edward glanced toward the exit.

"If anyone recognizes me, my grandmother will hear about it before I've..."

"Relax." Leo extended his divine sense upward, sweeping through the building's upper floors. Foundation Establishment signatures dotted the second level. Gold Cores clustered on the third, around what had to be the high roller area. And there. Familiar. The specific resonance of a man who had spent a year teaching Leo about the inverse derivation while wearing a tracking cuff.

"Third floor," Leo said.

"He's here." Edward straightened slightly.

"You're certain?"

"His signature is burned into my memory. I spent too many hours listening to him complain about intellectual property law to forget it." They moved toward the elevators. The doors opened with a soft chime, and Leo stepped inside. Edward followed, checking over his shoulder twice before the doors closed. The elevator rose. Silence filled the car. Leo watched the floor numbers climb and thought about the problem. He'd brought Edward along because Edward had freed him from custody. Because Edward had a car.

Because Edward was a Gold Core who could actually apprehend Morimoto if it came to a fight. But Edward wanted justice. Edward wanted to drag Morimoto back to the palace and make him answer for Windsor's Pride. Leo wanted his seven million pounds. Those two goals were not entirely compatible. The elevator reached the second floor. The doors opened. A couple in evening wear stepped in, saw Edward's hunched posture and pulled-low hat, and decided to wait for the next car. The doors closed.

"I've been thinking," Leo said.

"Mm."

"Morimoto is a formation master. He's going to be cheating." Edward turned his head slightly. The sunglasses made his expression unreadable.

"Think about it," Leo continued.

"The man just walked away from the Royal Ascot with fourteen million pounds. He's not going to stop there. He's addicted to schemes. Right now, he's probably running some kind of array on the casino's cards."

"The cards are..."

"Thornwood composite, I know. I know. But Morimoto seals proprietary formations for a living. You think casino security is going to stop him?" Edward was quiet.

"If we catch him cheating," Leo said, "we don't have to confront him ourselves."

"Go on."

"Casino security handles it. They detain him. They call the authorities. They put a new spiritual cuff on him." Leo gestured at Edward's disguise.

"And if all goes well, nobody ever knows you were here. You just pick him up from the local jail tomorrow morning." The elevator reached the third floor. The doors opened. Edward didn't move. Leo watched him think. The prince's jaw worked beneath the shadow of his hat.

"That is," Edward said slowly, "actually rather sensible."

"I have my moments." They stepped out into the high roller area. The third floor was quieter than the main casino. Fewer tables, more space between them, dealers in formal attire that probably cost more than Leo's monthly rent. Morimoto was somewhere in this room. Leo could feel him. Northeast corner, near the blackjack tables. But first, Edward. The prince stood in the middle of the floor like a soldier. His shoulders were rigid. His hands hung at his sides with military precision.

He kept scanning the room in systematic sweeps.

"Eddie." Edward turned.

"What are you doing?"

"Standing. Looking about. Being perfectly normal." Leo grabbed his arm and pulled him toward a pillar.

"Stop that. You're going to attract security before Morimoto even notices you."

"I'm blending in."

"You're not blending in. You're the opposite of blending in." Leo pointed at a nearby mirror.

"Look at yourself." Edward looked. His reflection stared back. Sunglasses. Flat cap pulled low. Shoulders squared like he was about to receive a briefing. Feet planted shoulder-width apart in a textbook ready stance. He looked like a soldier who just came back from a tour of the Catacombs.

"Ah," Edward said.

"Go play some cards. Get a drink. Act like you belong here." Leo pushed him toward the tables.

"Last thing we need is security approaching you before we find Morimoto." Edward hesitated. Then he caught his reflection again and winced.

"Right. Cards..." He straightened his coat, which somehow made him look even more suspicious.

"I'll just... blend in. As one does." He walked off toward the chip counter. Leo watched him go. Then he turned toward the northeast corner. Time to collect.

He found Morimoto at a blackjack table staring intently at the cards. Leo slid onto the stool beside him.

"Mr. Morimoto."

"Ah." Morimoto didn't look up from his cards.

"Mr. Chen. What a pleasant surprise."

"We need to talk about money."

"Do we?" Morimoto placed a chip on the table. The dealer slid him two cards.

"I left you a very clear IOU. The terms were quite reasonable. Payment upon receipt of funds."

"You have funds. You're sitting on fourteen million pounds."

"I have potential funds. Unrealized gains. In finance, as in formation theory, premature extraction destabilizes the entire system. You wouldn't pull a pivot rune from a live array, would you? Same principle."

"You're gambling it away."

"I'm reinvesting. There is a critical difference between gambling and capital reallocation, Mr. Chen. The gambler acts on hope. The investor acts on information. I act on information." He glanced at Leo for the first time.

"Did you keep the pill I gave you?" Leo had destroyed the pill. And the IOU. He'd burned both in a fireplace because he didn't want anyone finding evidence that connected him to Morimoto. He decided not to mention this. Morimoto was exactly the kind of man who would treat a destroyed IOU as a destroyed debt.

"Seven million pounds, Mr. Morimoto. That's what you owe me."

"And you'll get it." Morimoto waved a hand.

"Eventually. These things take time. Rome wasn't built in a day. Neither was my retirement fund." The dealer waited. Morimoto had seventeen showing. The dealer's upcard was a nine.

"Watch carefully," Morimoto murmured.

"This is what I was going to teach you at the institute before certain bureaucrats decided my syllabus required handcuffs. Inverse derivation applied to probability fields." Leo watched Morimoto's divine sense extend toward the deck. He used it to brush the top card of the deck. Leo could see the old man's spiritual energy wrapping around the card's edges, testing its weight, its density, the microscopic variations in its surface.

"The cards are opaque," Morimoto said quietly.

"But they still exist in physical space. They still obey the laws of material reality. And material reality leaves traces." He tapped the table. Hit. The dealer drew the top card and flipped it. Three. Twenty. Morimoto stood. Leo stared at the three.

"How did you..."

"Inverse derivation." Morimoto's smile was insufferable.

"You learned to read formations by analyzing their spiritual power flow. The same principle applies to any system with hidden variables. You don't need to see the answer directly. You observe the system's behavior, deduce the constraints, and derive what must be true." Leo's mind raced. This was genuinely useful. If he could learn to read cards the way Morimoto taught him to derive formations... A crash from across the room. Leo's head snapped around.

Edward was standing at a poker table, chair knocked back, facing a broad-shouldered man in an expensive suit. The man was also Gold Core. And very angry.

"I don't care who you think you are," the gambler snarled.

"You've been staring at my cards for the last ten minutes."

"I assure you, I was doing nothing of the sort." Edward's voice was stiff.

"I was simply observing the game."

"Observing my ass." The gambler reached out and flipped Edward's hat off his head. It tumbled through the air. Edward's face was exposed. Sunglasses still on, but his face and bearing were unmistakable. Someone gasped.

"Is that..."

"It can't be."

"It's Prince Edward!" The room erupted. Leo turned back to Morimoto's stool. Empty. He caught a glimpse of rumpled coat disappearing into the crowd. Moving toward the stairs. Moving fast but somehow not running, each step placing him exactly where a gap in the crowd was about to open. Leo pushed off his stool and gave chase. The crowd surged the other way. Everyone wanted to see the prince. Everyone wanted a photograph. Foundation Establishment cultivators pressed forward with phones raised.

Gold Cores who'd been playing cards abandoned their tables. Leo couldn't pull his flying sword. Not inside a building. Not surrounded by civilians. He shoved through bodies. Lost ground. Morimoto was already at the stairs.

"He's cheating!" Leo shouted.

"That old man, the one in the spectacles, he peaked at the cards!" Security guards turned. Two of them moved to intercept Morimoto. The old man didn't slow down. He stepped left as the first guard reached for him, pivoted right as the second lunged, and somehow he was past them both without either touching him. The guards stumbled into each other and went down in a tangle of limbs. Alarms blared. Red lights flashed. The crowd panicked. Leo lost sight of Morimoto entirely.

The old man had been walking, just walking, but he'd slipped between bodies, and now he was gone. Leo pushed toward the stairs. Fought through a wall of panicking gamblers. Reached the second floor. Nothing. He extended his divine sense. Swept the building. Morimoto's signature had vanished. Gone.

They emerged from the Hippodrome twenty minutes later. The cool evening air hit Leo's face. He stared at the sidewalk. Seven million pounds. Right there. Right in front of him. And he'd let it slip away because Edward couldn't play poker for ten minutes without causing an incident.

"Well," Edward said.

"That could have gone better." Leo didn't respond.

"On the bright side, we confirmed his location. We know he's gambling. We know he needs more money. Next time..." A voice cut across the street.

"Edward." They both turned. Aurelia Windsor stood beside a black sedan, her arms crossed, her expression suggesting that someone was about to have a very bad evening. She wore a burgundy evening gown and a look of absolute fury.

"Aurelia." Edward's voice went careful.

"What a surprise. I wasn't expecting..."

"You used your personal credit card." She stepped forward.

"At a casino. To purchase chips. In Leicester Square."

"There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this."

"How wonderful." She stopped three feet away.

"Because I would love to hear the explanation. I would love to understand what possible thought process led you to believe that gambling in a public establishment, during the Season, during my Season, was in any way acceptable."

"In fairness, there were rather significant extenuating circumstances."

"Were there?" Aurelia's voice rose.

"Were there extenuating circumstances, Edward? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've just handed every tabloid in London tomorrow's front page."

"The Royal Ascot situation required immediate follow-up, and I thought it best to..."

"The Royal Ascot was a disaster. Yes. The Season has been one humiliation after another, and I have spent every waking hour attempting to salvage it. I organized an impromptu charity dinner tonight specifically to rehabilitate my image. Trauma counseling for the horses. Donations to equine mental health. It was going to be my comeback." Edward opened his mouth.

"And now," She jabbed a finger toward him, "instead of headlines about my generosity and charitable giving, tomorrow The Sun is going to print PRINCE EDWARD CAUGHT GAMBLING IN LEICESTER SQUARE. With photographs. And witnesses. And your credit card receipt as evidence." Edward looked to Leo for help. Leo pointed at the Hippodrome.

"Is that Morimoto?" It was not Morimoto. But Edward and Aurelia turned to look, and Leo used that opportunity to fly away.