Casino Infernale

by Simon R. Green

  “I always meant to talk to you about this, Molly. But somehow it never seemed to be the right time. And you were so pleased to find your missing grandfather, Eddie; I didn’t want to spoil it for you. But yes, I know. I’ve always known. I was still part of the family Council, back then, deciding policy, and enforcement . . .” He looked steadily at Molly. “You mustn’t think too harshly of the Regent. He only ever did what the family asked of him. He still thought there was a chance he might be allowed to come home.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” said Molly. “Nothing matters, except getting to the truth. Right to the bottom of it.”

  “Hadrian Coll claimed my grandfather had a reputation for killing work,” I said. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “We’re not responsible for the way the world is,” said the Armourer. “But we are responsible for doing whatever’s necessary to preserve it from those who would corrupt and destroy it.”

  “Stop,” said Molly. “No excuses, no distractions. I don’t care what the Droods’ current emergency is . . .”

  “Don’t care was made to care,” the Armourer said mildly. “Especially since the current emergency is mostly of your making.”

  “Oh, hell,” I said. “What have I done now?”

  “No!” Molly said fiercely. “I am not going to be reasonable, I am not going to listen to you, I am not going to be guilt-tripped by you! To hell with this. Keep your Merlin Glass; I’ll teleport myself out of here.” She looked at me. “Well?”

  “You know I want to come with you,” I said. “I don’t want you facing the Regent alone. But, I think I ought to at least find out what this new emergency is.”

  “This is why you’ll never be free of your family,” said Molly. “Even after everything they’ve done to you, they still have a hold on you. The Droods just use people, Eddie; I thought I’d taught you that. Don’t look at me that way . . . you stay if you want. I’m going.”

  She concentrated . . . and then looked shocked when nothing happened. The Armourer cleared his throat, in an almost apologetic way.

  “The Armoury has very powerful shields, my dear. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. It’s safer for everyone, that way. . . .”

  “Then lower your shields.” Molly’s voice had never sounded colder.

  I slowly realised that it had grown unusually quiet in the Armoury. I looked carefully around me, and found that all the lab assistants had stopped what they were doing to watch the infamous and much feared Molly Metcalf go head-to-head with the Armourer. Some of them were quietly turning strange weapons and unusual devices in her direction. And, in mine. The assistants put their lives on the line every day, not just in service to the family, but in service to the Armourer. They admired and adored him, to a man and a woman. And they were more than ready to kill anyone who threatened him.

  Sometimes, I forget that Molly had spent years at war with the Droods over the death of her parents. I had forgiven Molly her many sins, but my family hadn’t. Still, if the family was determined to make me choose between them and my Molly . . . the family would regret it. I smiled easily around me, and was pleased to see several of the lab assistants flinch. I moved forward, to stand beside Molly. Her whole body was painfully tense, her face dangerously cold.

  “Lower your shields,” Molly said to the Armourer. “Or else.”

  It’s always hard when you’re forced to choose between people you love. Especially when there’s a whole bunch of heavily armed people watching you with narrowed eyes, fully prepared to blow you into small meaty chunks if they don’t like your decision. So I braced myself and stepped very firmly between Molly and the Armourer.

  “Everybody calm the fuck down,” I said. “Or there will be tears before bedtime.”

  “You just can’t bring yourself to do it, can you, Eddie?” said Molly. “No matter how many times you leave the family, they always drag you back in, to do their dirty work.”

  “I’m trying really hard not to choose a side,” I said. “I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

  “Well, tough,” said Molly. “That’s not an option. You’re either with me, or against me. Don’t try to argue! I’m not interested! I’ve waited too long for the truth about my parents’ death to be stopped by anyone.”

  “It’s been ten years,” I said. “Can’t it wait just a few minutes more . . . ?”

  “You got your parents back!” said Molly loudly. There were tears in her eyes. “Mine are still dead! All I’ve got left is the truth.”

  I nodded, slowly, and turned to face the Armourer. “Let her go, Uncle Jack. Whatever this is, you don’t need her. You need me. So let her go. I’ll stay, if you let her leave.”

  “Honourable as ever, Eddie,” said the Armourer. “You know I’ve always been so proud of you . . . but unfortunately being reasonable won’t do it, this time. You both have to stay, because you’re both needed. The family requires your assistance in this emergency.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Stuff the family.”

  I armoured up, and the golden strange matter flowed around me in a moment. Molly and I moved quickly to stand back to back, ready to stand off anything the lab assistants might throw at us. I showed them a golden fist, with heavy spikes rising from the knuckles. Molly raised one hand, and dark and vicious magics flared around it. Most of the lab assistants did the sensible thing, and ran for cover. The rest turned their guns and devices on us, with steady hands and wide scared eyes. And then the Armourer cleared his throat loudly, and everyone turned to look. He was holding up a small green plastic clicker, in the shape of a cartoon frog.

  “I designed this for emergencies,” he said calmly. “It shuts down armour and magic, temporarily. I can strip you both of what makes you strong; but I can’t guarantee to give it back to you.”

  “You wouldn’t,” said Molly.

  “Only in self-defence,” said the Armourer.

  Molly shot me a quick glance, and I shrugged quickly at her. “We haven’t got this far by being sensible. I’m game, if you are.”

  “You’re really ready to go to war with your family, over me?” said Molly.

  “Looks like it.”

  “What about your old motto: anything, for the family?”

  “I got a new one: anything, for you.”

  “My lovely hero. All right, let’s do it. No magic, no armour; but . . . they still never met anyone like us. I’ve got a spare knife in my boot, if you need it.”

  “No!” said the Armourer. He lowered the clicker, though I noticed he didn’t put it away. He looked quickly from me to Molly, and back again. “Please, just listen to what I have to say. Let me explain why your help is so necessary. If you don’t agree, then you’re both free to go.”

  It was my turn to look at Molly. “I would like to hear what all this is about. But if you really need to do this . . .”

  Molly considered the matter for a worryingly long moment, and then shrugged, and relaxed, just a little. “You’ve fought your family over me before, Eddie. I know where you stand. I’ve no right to ask you to do it again. The Regent . . . can wait. Talk, Armourer.”

  I armoured down, and Molly let her magics dissipate into the air. The lab assistants lowered their various weapons, and wandered off for a quiet sit-down and a nice cup of tea, until the shakes wore off. The Armourer shook his head slowly, and put away his clicker.

  “I swear to God, you two put years on me. Come with me now, and all will be made clear to you.”

  He led the way out of the Armoury, and I hurried after him, with Molly bringing up the rear. I moved in close beside the Armourer.

  “You were bluffing with that clicker, weren’t you, Uncle Jack?”

  “I’ll never tell,” he said easily. “Good to have you back, nephew.”

  • • •

  We passed quickly through the wide corridors and packed passage
ways of Drood Hall, past paintings and sculptures of incredible value and antiquity, by names you’d know; the loot of generations of Droods, presented to us by a presumably grateful Humanity. Luxuries and comforts everywhere, wood-panelled walls and thick carpeting, along with objets d’art and objets trouvés that went back centuries. It was good to see the old place again; my bad memories were mostly of the family, rather than the Hall itself. And it was all made much easier by the knowledge that whatever the family said or did, I wasn’t staying.

  People rushed back and forth, on missions of their own, and I spotted familiar faces here and there. Most of them seemed surprisingly pleased to see me. I hadn’t been this popular when I was running the family. Perhaps especially then. I was beginning to feel distinctly uneasy. The only time my family is ever pleased to see me is when they need me to do something for them. Usually something really unpleasant and spectacularly dangerous.

  “I had no idea I was this popular,” I said dryly to the Armourer.

  “You’re not,” he said, not even slowing his pace enough to glance around. “It’s just that something really bad is coming, headed straight for us, and you’re all we’ve got to put in its way.”

  “Situation entirely bloody normal, then,” I said.

  “Actually, no,” said the Armourer. “This particular situation shows every sign of being so bad it’s beyond the family’s abilities to deal with it. We’ve had to call a Summit Meeting.”

  I just blinked at him for a while, utterly astonished. “But . . . that hasn’t been necessary for . . . what? Decades?”

  “Oh, at least,” said the Armourer. “That’s how important and scarily dangerous this situation is. Major threat, red alert, atomic batteries to power and turbines to speed. So bad, in fact, that we’re already looking to you to pull one of your last-minute miracle saves out of the hat, one more time. Especially since this is all your fault anyway. You and Molly.”

  “I just knew this whole mess would turn out to be our fault,” I said solemnly to Molly. “Didn’t you just know it would all turn out to be our fault?”

  “Might be your fault,” Molly said briskly. “Not mine. Nothing is ever my fault. What’s a Summit Meeting?”

  “Panic stations,” I said. “Whenever something comes along that’s too big for any single organisation to deal with, they ring the alarm bell and circle the wagons, and send out a call to all the major secret organisations, to talk things over. And see if there’s anything they can do together. And given how much these organisations distrust each other, and hate each other’s guts, you can see how serious things would have to get before they’d agree to talk to each other.”

  “Should I be getting worried, about now?” said Molly.

  “I passed worried long ago,” I said. “I have already reached deeply disturbed, and am heading into pant-wetting territory.”

  “And you’re the one who persuaded me to stay,” said Molly. “I should have gone riding on the Horse.”

  • • •

  We came at last to the Sanctity, the huge open chamber at the heart of Drood Hall. I relaxed a little, despite myself, as I strode through the open double doors and into the massive room. The whole chamber was suffused with a marvellous rose red light that sank into my bones and into my soul, like a blessing. Molly and the Armourer smiled too, because it’s impossible to feel angry or scared or worried for long, in the presence of the Droods’ other-dimensional entity, Ethel. She has no physical presence in our world, or at least none she’ll admit to, but the rosy light is a sign of her presence. She manifests in the Sanctity as a feeling of contentment, love, and protection made real in the world. Ethel gives us our strange-matter armour, and is our very own guardian and protector. Probably. It’s hard to be sure, with an entity that’s downloaded itself into our world from a higher reality. She does seem honestly fond of us.

  “Eddie! Molly!” her voice rose happily on the air. “Yes! It’s so good to have you both back again! How was Scotland? Did you bring me back a present?”

  “Not as such,” I said. “You’re so hard to buy for, Ethel. What do you give the other-dimensional entity who is everything?”

  “It’s the thought that counts,” Ethel said sulkily. “I never get any presents.”

  “There might be a nice horsey in your future,” said Molly. “If you’re good.”

  “Ooh! Ooh! I love ponies!” said Ethel, immediately cheerful again.

  “Let us talk about the Summit Meeting,” I said determinedly. “To start with, where’s the rest of the Drood Council?”

  “They won’t be joining us,” the Armourer said immediately. “They don’t need to be here. The debating is over. All future decisions will be made at the Summit.”

  “I’m still not clear on why this Summit is so necessary,” said Molly. “I thought you Droods decided everything that mattered, and all the other groups just . . . specialised?”

  “We do like to give that impression,” said the Armourer. “And a lot of the time, it’s true. But not always.”

  “The Summit invites representatives from all the major secret organisations across the world,” I said. “Including the ones we don’t normally admit exist. Which goes a long way to explaining how rare these Summits are. Most of these groups would rather see the whole planet go up in flames than cooperate with a hated rival. We’ll be lucky if a dozen groups answer the call.”

  “This Summit is necessary,” said the Armourer. “The invitations have gone out, and some representatives are already on their way. The current situation is quite possibly the biggest and the worst problem we’ve faced in a long time. . . .”

  “Oh, bloody hell,” I said. “It’s not the Loathly Ones again, is it? I thought we’d finished off the Hungry Gods?”

  “Nothing so straight forward, I’m afraid,” said the Armourer. He paused then, and his mouth twisted, as though bothered by a bitter taste. “This . . . is all about the Crow Lee Inheritance.”

  “What?” I said.

  “What kind of inheritance?” said Molly. “Is there any money involved? Only I have been running a bit short lately . . .”

  “How can you be running short?” I said. “What about all the gold bullion . . .”

  “Hush,” Molly said immediately. “He doesn’t need to know about that.”

  “When you two killed The Most Evil Man In The World,” the Armourer said patiently, “all his many followers, enemies, and rivals started fighting among themselves over who would gain control of what Crow Lee left behind. His hidden hoard of secrets, unimaginable wealth, objects of power, blackmail material . . . etc., etc. We’ve had to send field agents rushing back and forth all over the world, stopping warring forces and stamping out supernatural bush-fires before they can spread. In secret bases and subterranean galleries, in every major city you can think of, the word is spreading . . . that there is one hell of a prize to be won. We’re being run ragged just trying to keep a lid on things, and the real war hasn’t even started yet. The Major Players and Individuals of Note are holding back, for the moment, letting the lesser forces exhaust themselves on each other, but that won’t last. Things are already bad, but they’re going to get much worse.”

  “Hold everything,” I said. “We have been through this before. The Independent Agent was supposed to have left a hoard behind. Treasure beyond belief, secrets that would shock the world, magical and super-science weapons powerful enough to make anyone master of the world. And none of that ever amounted to anything. All bluff and bullshit. Just part of the myth such people create. Are we sure this Crow Lee Inheritance really exists?”

  “Were we mentioned in the will?” said Molly. “I have bills to pay.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said. “You’re famous for not paying your bills. I have bills to pay—on your behalf.”

  “What’s yours is mine,” Molly said comfortably. “Though not necessarily v
ice versa, if you know what’s good for you.” She looked at the Armourer. “Was Eddie mentioned in the will?”

  “There was no will!” said the Armourer. “Oh, God, I can feel one of my heads coming on. . . .”

  “Me too!” said Ethel.

  “You don’t have a head!” said the Armourer.

  “Might have,” said Ethel. “You don’t know.”

  “Anyway . . .” said the Armourer. “None of that matters. The point is, a great many important, significant, and horribly powerful people and organisations believe the Inheritance does exist, and they’re prepared to go to open war over it. Either to gain it for themselves, or to make sure their enemies don’t get it. We are looking down the barrel of a war so potentially far-reaching it’s bound to spill over into the everyday world. And we can’t allow that to happen. We’re only able to operate so freely because the world doesn’t know we exist. If Humanity ever finds out who and what they really share this world with, they will go batshit mental. Fighting in the streets, blood in the gutters, churches and governments burning in the night, for having kept so much secret for so long . . . all the world’s arsenals finally unleashed: nuclear, bacterial, chemical . . . and God alone knows where it would go from there. No. We have to stop this dead, before it gets out of hand.”

  “And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” said Molly. “Eddie, he’s smiling. Why is the Armourer smiling?”