Vladimir carefully appraised the cards in his hand; nine of clubs, nine of hearts, four of spades, three of hearts, and six of clubs.  He studied his opponents' eyes across the dimly lit table, waiting.  Mikhail always tipped off a bluff by leaning ever so slightly to his right.

Vladimir unfolded an American one thousand dollar bill, placing it on the table.  Mikhail rolled up the cuffs on his Italian shirt, monogrammed with his initials, M.S.  He veered up at Vladimir, gave him a sly smile, and then followed with a thousand-dollar bill of his own.  Vladimir calmly slid the six of clubs to the middle of the table, facing down.  He took back a card and bent it upwards slightly, revealing only the corner to himself.  It was a nine of diamonds.  He had three of a kind.  Vladimir kept his eyes focused on his cards, trying not to give away his good fortune.

"I call," Mikhail said.

"What, you don't want any cards?" asked Vladimir. Suddenly, he was beginning to reconsider his strategy.

Mikhail picked up his cards and looked them over quickly as he leaned over to his right.  "I'd like to raise the stakes if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all, my old friend," replied Vladimir, now certain that a bluff was in play.

Mikhail's eyes wandered across the room.  Sixteen foot floor to ceiling windows overlooked a moonlit lake behind which stood the majestic Ural Mountains that served as the natural boundary between Europe and Asia. 

An ultra-modern stainless steel cabinet with glass doors juxtaposed the natural mahogany walls.  Mikhail studied the Second Dynasty Ming vase and the 19th-century pistol said to have been used by none other than Wyatt Earp.  He then turned his sight to the grand piano that once stood in the middle of the Royal Opera House in London where most of the 19th century grand masters had performed such as Stravinsky.  Vladimir had purchased the piano at a Sotheby's London auction for two million, six hundred thousand British pounds, a gift for his daughter's sixth birthday.  She was now nine and had still never played it. What Mikhail could never understand was why Vladimir kept these beautiful items hidden away at his country retreat as opposed to his home in Moscow. Items such as these needed to be admired daily, not kept isolated until the odd weekend getaway.

Mikhail affixed his vision on Elena, a thirty-year-old slender blonde, former Miss Russia. She was scantily dressed, leaning up provocatively against a Japanese screen made from elegant rice paper with a fire-breathing dragon woven through it in red and gold silk.

"Take her!" Vladimir told Mikhail, laughing as he caught Mikhail leering at Elena.

"I already have." Mikhail downed a shot of vodka as he and Elena shared a sultry gaze.

"The screen's a knockoff," Mikhail told Vladimir.  "You should kill whoever sold it to you."

"I know, but my girlfriend liked it," replied Vladimir as he stared annoyingly at Elena who responded by pressing her body gently against the screen.  Mikhail grinned.

"It's not the screen I want to play for," he said, "it's what's behind it."

Vladimir felt a lump in his throat as he thought about the precious jewel that he had only recently acquired.  How did Mikhail know about it?

"The diamond in your safe," Mikhail told him.

In the wall safe was a flawless, nine-carat, pear-shaped pink diamond.  Vladimir indeed intended to boast about it later in the evening.  His instinct told him not to wager the jewel, maybe his opponent wasn't bluffing, but his pride would never allow him to back down, especially from Mikhail.

"And what do I get if I win?" asked Vladimir, trying to hide his nervousness.

"My William Shakespeare collection, published in 1623, valued at over two and a half million pounds," replied Mikhail, "equal value."

"Who cares about Shakespeare?" asked Vladimir.  "I want something more interesting.  It's not just the value that matters but the time and effort it took to acquire it."

"The Shakespeare collection is culture. You do know about that, don't you?" he asked sarcastically. Isn't that so much more valuable than money?" Mikhail told him, "Anyways, you know what I posses,"   "Pick something you like."

Vladimir remembered the painting of St. Petersburg that hung in Mikhail's Moscow apartment. He would always admire it when he went there. If this was a bluff happening the painting would snuff it out. "The Vereshchagin I believe is of equal value.  Is it not?" asked Vladimir.

"I will absolutely not wager the painting," replied Mikhail.  "Some things are beyond petty gambling."

"Like the pink diamond!" Vladimir got a rush of adrenaline as he felt Mikhail squirm.

"I thought your balls were bigger than that?" Elena remarked to Mikhail as she stood by feigning disappointment.

"Be quiet!" proclaimed Vladamir, annoyingly.

Mikhail acknowledged the dejected look on Elena's face and decided to appease her.  "Fine, the painting it shall be.  I call... I'd hate to be known as the man who disappointed such a beautiful woman."

Vladimir slowly lifted the cards off the table. His lip curled nervously, as he showed his hand. Three nines. 

Mikhail grinned.  "Not bad friend. Well played. All I have is a pair of sixes and a pair of eights. You did well."

"So I win," proclaimed Vladimir as he stared at a blank space on his wall where he would proudly display the Vereshchagin.  "But tell me, how did you know about the diamond?"

"You didn't win yet," said Mikhail as he put a fifth card on the table, an eight of diamonds. 

Vladimir got up from his oversized chair, all three hundred and twenty pounds of him and pulled a gun from his pants.

"You cheated me!" he yelled ferociously as he waved his Second World War era Makarov pistol in Mikhail's face.

Mikhail laughed. "That's an antique."

"An antique that killed how many Germans?" he asked proudly.

"Now Vlad, you don't need to do this.  I won fair and square.  Check the deck if you'd like.  I believe it's yours." Mikhail walked over calmly to the wall safe and rhythmically tapped his fingers along it.  "If you will just open this baby up, I believe that will conclude our business."

Vladimir reluctantly opened the safe. He reached in for a small red velour box. He opened it. The large pink diamond sparkled brilliantly. He reluctantly handed the diamond over.

Mikhail raised the diamond to his eyes and stared intensely into its light pink hue.  "Flawless," Mikhail proclaimed as he placed it in his jacket pocket.  "Next month at my place, right?"

Vladimir grabbed Mikhail by his jacket and effortlessly lifted him in the air. "Next month, your place." Vladimir put him down and brushed off the top of his jacket with his hands.  "Now leave!  I don't want any witnesses when I kill Elena for making you place that bet."

"Don't worry, Mikhail," Elena told him, "he'd never lay a finger on me.  He just talks like that to impress his friends."

"I know," replied Mikhail.