She watches the dealer place the last card on the table - the king of hearts. She takes a drag off of her cigarette and idly tugs at her earlobe. She's bored; or that's what she wants the other players at the table to think.

A call and a raise – the betting goes around the table until it finally gets to her. She simultaneously stubs out her cigarette and blows the hit of smoke out into the stale air. She pushes her last fifty thousand in chips into the center of the table.

All in.

Her eyes flicker up, over the heads of the faceless men at the table, to the man across the room, and down again. He's been standing at the door, watching her. Watching the cards. Just as the dealer calls for the players to reveal, he leaves. His job is done here; a plan to meet later.

This is it. This is what they've been working for all night.

The cards are turned out onto the table. A pair. Two pair. Three sevens. She sits up straight as she turns her two cards over.

Pocket kings.