Chapter 6 A plan 2
Rick felt a jolt of ice in his stomach. "What? Why not?" His voice, usually so calm and authoritative in his fifties, was now the indignant squeak of a teenager.
Mr. Pinter sighed, placing the paper back on the counter. "Kingdom law, son. You have to be at least eighteen to purchase lottery tickets. It's on the sign, right there," he pointed to a small, laminated poster near the cash register, detailing the age restrictions. "Regulations, you understand. Nothing personal."
"But… but I have the numbers!" Rick protested, his voice rising in desperation. This was it. The critical hurdle he hadn't fully considered. He was only seventeen. A year too young. All his carefully laid plans, all his knowledge of the future, rendered useless by a simple age restriction.
"I understand, son," Mr. Pinter said, his tone softening with a touch of pity. "But rules are rules. I could lose my license if I sold to a minor. You'll have to wait until your eighteenth birthday."
"No, you don't understand," Rick pleaded, leaning closer to the counter, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "This is… this is really important. Life-changing important. Can't you just… make an exception? Please? I can pay you extra. A commission." He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a handful of crumpled bills – his meager allowance. It was pathetic, he knew.
Mr. Pinter's eyebrows arched slightly at the offer of a bribe, but his expression remained unyielding. "Son, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but my answer is final. No exceptions. Come back when you're eighteen, or… bring an adult with you." he said with a wink.
Rick slumped against the counter, the weight of his predicament crushing him. An adult. Who? He had no one. His parents were strict, traditional; they'd never agree to something like this, especially not for the lottery, which they viewed as a vice. He had no older siblings. His distant relatives were unreliable at best. He couldn't ask Jenny; she'd never participate in something so clearly against the rules, and he couldn't risk exposing his secret. He needed someone, an adult, someone he could trust, or at least, someone he could convince.
He thanked Mr. Pinter mechanically, his mind racing, a dizzying spiral of panic and desperation. He stumbled out of the shop, the harsh sunlight doing little to dispel the gloom that enveloped him. He stood on the bustling sidewalk, watching the river of humanity flow by. Students, workers, shoppers – all oblivious to the monumental, time-sensitive task he faced. He needed a proxy. Someone willing to buy the tickets for him. But who? And how would he convince them? He had no money to bribe anyone significantly, and his story was unbelievable.
He started walking aimlessly, his eyes darting through the crowd, searching for a face, a clue, a glimmer of an idea. He passed the university campus gates again, the manicured lawns and grand old buildings mocking his current helplessness. Then, he saw him.
A young man, perhaps a few years older than his current seventeen, maybe twenty or twenty-one, sat hunched on a bench near the campus bookstore. He was dressed in worn, faded clothes, a stark contrast to the crisper uniforms of the students around him. His face was drawn, etched with a fatigue that spoke of sleepless nights and gnawing worry. He was meticulously counting a small stack of coins in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration, then he sighed, a sound of profound disappointment, and slowly put the coins back into his pocket. He looked up, his gaze distant, devoid of hope, scanning the faces of passersby as if searching for an answer to an unasked question. Rick remembered him. Leo. Leo Chen. A struggling student from a poorer district, known for taking on odd jobs, always quiet, always looking tired. Rick had seen him around campus, but they had never spoken.
This was it. Desperation, Rick knew, could be a powerful motivator. He straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked towards Leo.
"Excuse me," Rick said, his voice, surprisingly, steady.
Leo looked up, startled, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, widening slightly. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice wary, a defensive edge to it. He looked Rick up and down, taking in the school uniform.
"I hope so," Rick replied, trying to project an air of calm confidence, despite the frantic drumming of his heart. He sat down on the bench a respectful distance from Leo. "My name's Rick. Rick Lane." He extended a hand.
Leo hesitated, then shook it, his grip surprisingly firm, though his hand felt rough. "Leo Chen."
"Leo," Rick began, choosing his words carefully, "I saw you counting your money. And… you looked a little down. I don't mean to pry, but I might have… an opportunity for you. A way to make some quick money. Legitimately."
Leo's eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion replacing the weariness. "Quick money? Sounds like trouble. I'm not interested in anything illegal." He started to rise.
"No, no, nothing like that!" Rick quickly interjected, raising a hand. "Please, just hear me out. It's perfectly legal. It just… requires someone over eighteen. Which I am not." He gestured vaguely at his uniform. "And you, I presume, are?"
Leo settled back onto the bench, his curiosity piqued, but his guard still up. "I'm twenty-one. What exactly are you talking about?"
"I want you to come with me and buy me a lottery ticket," Rick said, cutting straight to the chase, deciding honesty about the mechanism was better than vague hints, though the why would remain a secret.
Though Rick is desperate, he is still cautious. He was someone who did not trust just anyone after all. But he was just a little desperate this time, so he wanted to bite the bullet.
"But… I have two conditions before we do this. If you agree, then I will pay you 2,000." He looked at Leo's face trying to see his reaction.
Leo stared at Rick, then at the coins in his hand, his expression a mixture of doubt and utter bewilderment. He laughed, a short, dry, humorless sound. Why would this person pay him 2,000 for a lottery ticket? It was something too good to be true.
"You're serious? Why? And you want me to buy them for you?"
"Yes… I'm sure that I can win the prize." Rick suddenly said with a crafty smile.
He is testing if this guy would show a greedy look on his face. However, only confusion could be seen in Leo's expression.
"Kid, if that's true, why aren't you buying them yourself? And why are you sharing it?"
"Because," Rick explained, his voice low and earnest, "as I just said, I'm seventeen. I can't buy them. And as for sharing… I need someone to do it. Someone I can trust, or at least, someone who's motivated enough to be discreet and follow instructions. And from the look on your face, you could use a break." He gestured subtly at Leo's worn clothes and the earlier coin-counting.
Leo stiffened, a flash of pride in his eyes. "What makes you think I'm that desperate?"
"Not desperate, just… practical," Rick corrected smoothly, sensing the pushback. "We all need opportunities. And this is a big one. Think about it, Leo. If I win or lose, you will still get 2,000. This is a life changing experience, right?"
Leo leaned forward, his initial skepticism warring with a potent surge of hope. "I will get 2,000? This sounds like a dream. Or a very elaborate prank."
"It's no prank," Rick asserted, his gaze steady, unwavering. "As for how I know… I can win, let's just say I have a… unique system. It's based on extensive research, historical data, and a bit of… intuition. I've been studying the patterns. These aren't random guesses. These are precise calculations." He omitted the 'future knowledge' part. "I've been preparing for this."
"Calculations, huh?" Leo scoffed, but there was a tremor in his voice, a sign that the idea, however outlandish, was taking root. "So, you're a genius, and you just happen to need me, a stranger, to make you rich? Why not ask a family member? A close friend?"
"Family… they wouldn't understand. They'd think it was a foolish gamble. Friends… the fewer people who know, the better. This needs discretion. Absolute secrecy. And I saw you. You seem… sensible. Trustworthy, despite your initial skepticism. And you have a clear need for money, which makes you reliable. I'm looking for a partner, not just a runner." Rick played to Leo's sense of self-interest and a hint of flattery.
"A partner," Leo repeated slowly, testing the word. "So, I will get 2,000, everytime I buy a ticket?"
Rick paused, calculating. He needed Leo to be invested, to feel it was worth the risk of even buying the tickets, let alone handling the potential millions.
"For this first trial, I pay you 2,000. But… as the winning goes, higher… how about… twenty percent of the winning." Rick offered.
Leo's jaw dropped. "Twenty percent?! You're serious?" His eyes widened, suddenly losing their weary look. The sum, even a fraction of it, was astronomical to him. He has an idea of lottery winnings. Some would even become millionaires overnight. It was truly a chance of a lifetime. Twenty percent of a few hundred thousand… that was more money than he'd ever dreamed of seeing at once.
"Absolutely serious," Rick confirmed. "Provided you follow my instructions precisely, and ensure absolute secrecy. This is a one-time opportunity, Leo. For both of us."
"But… what's to stop me from just taking the ticket and running?" Leo asked, his voice thin, though the question was more theoretical than accusatory.
Rick smiled, a faint, knowing curve of his lips. "Because you wouldn't know which numbers were the real winners until after the draw, would you? I have multiple combinations here, based on different possibilities, and I'll tell you which ones to bet on once we're inside. And even then, what if I tell you only half the numbers? What if I've told others different numbers? Or what if I have an identical list and simply claim the prize before you do? The safest bet, the only truly profitable one for you, is to cooperate. We claim it together, or I claim it myself. Think of it, Leo. Why would I approach you, a complete stranger, if I couldn't ensure my end of the bargain? I need your age, and you need my… insight."