Alexandre could hardly believe his ears! He felt taken aback and a little embarrassed at such a blunt dismissal. What the hell, he thought to himself after a moment. At this point, what do I have to lose!?
"Well," he said at last, "Can you at least tell me why the AI thinks there's something fishy going on? I just spoke with someone higher up about the match, and he recommended I bet on this one. Seems very strange that it'd get flagged right afterward."
The man hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'm sorry, sir, but I only have limited information. However, I think that the AI may suspect a rigged match. This often happens due to too many bets on one participant. Hold on… I might be able to unblock the operation if it wasn't a high-level flag… There you go! It's unblocked!"
Then the man sat back in his chair, giving a low whistle of surprise. "Well, I can see why our AI suspected fraud! Someone put an $80,000 bet on that newbie crusher Chetan Ambani!"
Alexandre was astonished. "$80,000!? What odds do you get with that kind of money? Is it something like 10,001?"
The bookmaker laughed. "If only it were that easy! Unfortunately, the academy imposes minimum odds of 1.1. That is, a minimum winnings of 10% in the event of victory. If the odds are too disadvantageous for us, then the system freezes betting, but the minimum odds are 1.1 no matter what."
At first, Alexandre was annoyed to hear about this manipulation, but he had to admit that this was a perfectly logical thing to do.
Fraud and abuse were extremely common in sports circles, especially when it came to money. It stood to reason that the academy was no exception to the rule—on the contrary, in such an environment, fraudsters were practically encouraged! If the arena had no means of controlling them, it would quickly fail as a business. The academy needed their cut too, so it made sense that they'd impose the 1.1 minimum odds.
Alexandre asked, "So what are the odds on William Walton?"
The bookmaker was initially hesitant, but then said, "I can offer you odds of 2 on William Walton. Double your money if you're lucky!"
Alexandre laughed scornfully, knowing this was a ridiculously low offer. "Come on! 10% of $80,000 is a lot, isn't it? Imagine for a second that I decide not to bet and leave you to your problems! I'm looking to put a pretty decent amount down, you know."
The bookmaker looked embarrassed. It seemed that he finally realized that this was his chance to balance the bet. "Okay, fine! 2.5! But I can't do any better!"
Alexandre thought about it for a moment. "I want odds of 3, unless you feel like explaining to your boss how you lost $8,000 on a single bet!"
The bookmaker sighed and ran his hands through his hair. It clearly pained him on a deep level to offer such a good deal to anyone. Nonetheless… What choice did he have? Surely his job would be at risk if he allowed a chance to offset Chetan's bet slip through his fingers! So finally, he said, "Oh my God! You are absolutely ruthless. Fine, we'll do the 3 odds. Triple your winnings if you can! But please, will you at least have enough grace to bet at least $1,000?"
Alexandre replied, "Works for me. I was planning on more than that anyway."
The bookmaker gestured back to the automated betting kiosks. "Well, go ahead, it's unblocked. There are people waiting to ask for my help here."
Alexandre replied, "Thank you!" and then went back to the betting kiosks.
The bookmaker murmured, "Bastard!" and then took a swig from a flask he kept in his hip pocket. "Damn students are always trying to squeeze the blood out of us. I'll be glad when this shift is over."