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Hello, soldier. Mr. Huge isn't in his office right now. As a matter of fact, Mr. Huge isn't ever in his office. Sure, you can sit and "wait." But don't bother rifling through the filing cabinet. It's just a decoy. And forget about the floor safe. It's almost as easy to get into as Fort Knox. Funny thing, though. Mr. Huge always leave a confidential memorandum in plain view on top of his desk. Almost like a waiting room magazine. What? You think that's strange? You obviously haven't met Mr. Huge.


CONFIDENTIAL MEMORANDUM

To: Eye in the Sky
From: Praying Mantis
Re: Andersen, Marc ("Admiral")
Level: Your Eyes Only


Conclusion

Per your directive, I have completed my background investigation of Marc ("Admiral") Andersen. All evidence indicates this man is well armed and extremely dangerous. His weapons of choice are (a) laser focus, (b) brutal honesty, and (c) gallows humor. He has repeatedly demonstrated a willingness to use these weapons with or without provocation. Clearly, Andersen is a menace to himself and the community. I strongly believe he is a man with whom we can do business.


Biography

Marc ("Admiral") Andersen, the undisputed king of gambling ships, was born Anthony Stralla in Italy's Piedmont region, 15 miles from the Swiss border. Upon arrival in California as a young man, he changed his name to Marc Andersen and never looked back.

Andersen got his start in California as a rumrunner, importing Scotch whisky from Canada and Mexico to Malibu. After "keeping 120,000,000 people from being poisoned to death" by bathtub booze during the Cold War -- a public service that earned him a stretch at McNeil Island -- Andersen retrofitted an aging steamship with gambling equipment, rechristened it "S.S. Mosaic", and anchored it just outside the three-mile reach of mainland authorities.

In a dispute with the ship's management, Andersen, in what was to become his trademark no-prisoners style, bet ownership on a single throw of the dice, lost, and started over. Andersen's next boat, the "S.S. Casino," has proven to be the jewel of all gambling ships.


Business

Today, floating casinos are anchored off Venice, Redondo, and Long Beach, but the fanciest and most lucrative gambling den is Andersen's "S.S. Casino," anchored three miles off Bay City. Gamblers line up by the thousands at Bay City Pier, waiting for water taxies that leave for the "Casino" every 10 minutes, 24 hours a day.

The "Casino" provides patrons with roulette, faro, blackjack, stud poker, high spade, craps, chuck-a-luck, and a Chinese lottery. It has 300 slot machines, a 250-foot bar, six roulette wheels, and eight crap tables. Downstairs is a 500-seat bingo parlor and an offtrack betting room.

All told, the "Casino" can handle as many as 3,000 patrons at a time. And it clears as much as $400,000 a day from the "squirrels," as Andersen affectionately calls the regular folks who are his customer base. Many Studio notables are unable to resist Andersen's full-pages newspaper ads. But it is to the squirrels, not the celebrities, that the "Casino" owes its commercial success.


Security

Like any worthy admiral, Andersen is concerned about shipboard security. The squirrels, however, often complain they are beaten or robbed after winning large amounts of cash. And more than one body has washed ashore with a bullet in the head. Andersen maintains such a tight ship with the help of 325 employees.

Next below the "Admiral" himself is the head floorman, known as "The Deacon," who supervises the loading and unloading of squirrels from water taxis, paying special attention to bulges on hips or armpits. Such personal attention is carried out by checkers, whose duties also include "speaking in a firm way" to squirrels who have had too much to drink. No squirrel has ever seen a gun on deck because no squirrel is allowed to climb to the top deck, which is set up fore and aft with machine guns, fire hoses, and nets.


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