“‘Not if we slow ourselves down,’ I said.
“I jumped off the edge, not allowing myself time to think about it, and dug the fingers of both golden hands into the side of the building. They sank in deep, even as I plummeted down through all those hundreds of feet. James was right behind me. We fell, faster and faster, no matter how deep we dug our hands in, tearing two great jagged runnels down the side of the hotel. . . . But it did the trick. It slowed us just enough. We both hit the ground hard enough to blast out a great crater, but we walked away. Trembling like a stripper on opening night, but still alive. As soon as we got our strength and breath and wits back, we ran. And never once looked back.
“And that is what happened when James and I tried to break the bank at Casino Infernale. Two great legends like us, and we never even got near.”
I applauded loudly, and Molly joined in. The Armourer shrugged, and made himself another large gin and Red Bull.
“How did you get out of France?” I said.
“By train, under forged tickets and fake identities we’d tucked away on one side, just in case.” The Armourer smiled slowly. “I heard later that the Casino Security people came looking for us with cars and planes and boats, sniffer dogs and telepaths. Searching for teleport signs or secret entrances to hidden underground ways . . . but it never even occurred to them to stop and search the trains. Far too ordinary . . . James and I played portable Scrabble all the way to the coast, and then the invisible network smuggled us home. I have to tell you, Eddie—your uncle James knew more rude words, and the correct way to spell them, than any civilised person should. I was shocked, I tell you. Shocked.
“And that . . . was the only time I ever worked a mission with my brother. The whole affair was considered such a cock-up that the then Matriarch split us up, and sent us off to work in completely separate areas of the world. Such was the spying game, then.
“Now, Eddie, Molly . . . Casino Infernale is being held at Nantes again, this year. Right now. All the greatest games of chance, attracting all the most famous faces and successful gamblers from all over the world. Fortunes to be made and lost, every day and every night, while the Casino takes its cut, and funds the Shadow Bank. Reputations made and souls lost, on the turn of a card. And that’s why we’re sending you two.
“The Shadow Bank likes to move Casino Infernale around, from city to city and from country to country. For security reasons. They like some places better than others, because they’re easier to defend, or control. That’s why they’re back in Nantes, for the third time in fifty years. You can expect the nastiest, most up to date, and fiendishly subtle security measures you’ve ever encountered. And then some. They will kill you if they find out who you really are. Just to be able to boast they’ve killed a Drood.” He looked at Molly. “If Eddie dies, and you’re taken, my dear, make them kill you. We wouldn’t be able to get to them in time, and what they would do to you . . .”
“They wouldn’t dare,” said Molly. “My sisters would . . .”
“The Shadow Bank wouldn’t care!” said the Armourer. “Even your sisters couldn’t touch them. They do anything, because they can. Casino Infernale exists to help fund the Shadow Bank, but it’s also about power and prestige. That’s what pulls in the biggest and richest gamblers in the world every year, to play for the highest stakes. The Shadow Bank provides loans to all the secret people and hidden organisations. They provide utterly discreet banking services and launder money in every currency you can think of. Everyone owes them . . . favours. They regard themselves as untouchable . . . because they are.”
“Why don’t we just smuggle a really big bomb into the middle of Casino Infernale, and blow the hell out of everything and everyone?” said Molly, practical as always.
“Because we don’t want to upset the Shadow Bank,” the Armourer said patiently. “Not when we might need to go cap in hand to them, some day.”
I looked at him steadily. “Are we by any chance already in bed with the Shadow Bank? Do we do business with them?”
“No,” said the Armourer. “And we never have. But you can never tell what the future might bring. We just want to stop them supporting an inconvenient war, not destroy them.”
“Such is the spying life,” I said.
“Exactly,” said the Armourer.
“I have done business with the Shadow Bank myself,” said Molly. “Back before I met you, Eddie, of course . . . But they’ve always been something of a mystery. Who are they, really? Who owns the Shadow Bank? Who profits?”
“I don’t know,” said the Armourer. “Don’t know anyone that does. They have the best security in the world.”
“Better than ours?” I said.
He raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Neither side wants to press the point.”
“How old is the Shadow Bank?” I asked. “Old as us?”
“Older,” said the Armourer. “In fact, I have heard stories. . . .”
Molly and I waited, but he just stopped talking, staring at nothing in particular. After a while, he pulled himself together again and carried on, in a calm and considered tone of voice.
“Shaman Bond and Molly Metcalf are to go to Casino Infernale, and gamble at every game they can get into. Don’t be afraid to lie and bluff, that’s what everyone else will be doing. With the help of certain useful items, courtesy of these labs, you will play the games of chance, win, and win big. Big enough to break the bank. And hopefully drive a financial stake through the heart of whoever’s running Casino Infernale this year. And, of course, stop the Inheritance war before it gets started. Yes. Any questions? Eddie, you’re not in school any more, you don’t need to raise your hand.”
“How much money will we be given to work with?” I said. “On the grounds that I am sure as hell not funding this myself.”
“I told you,” the Armourer said firmly. “At Casino Infernale, it’s never about the money. In the big games, you play for souls. There are lesser, introductory games, where you can play for money, or objects of power, or years of service. But those games are strictly for the small fry, and you won’t be bothering much with them.”
“I still see one major stumbling block to our getting in,” I said. “Casino Security were able to See your torc, and Uncle James’. Our armour has changed since then, but certain people are always going to be able to See my torc. Hadrian Coll did, on Trammell Island.”
“Never liked the man,” said the Armourer. “You did say he was dead, didn’t you? Good, good . . . Don’t worry about the torc. We think we have an answer.”
“All right,” I said. “What marvellous toys do you have for me to play with, this time?”
He actually winced. “I do wish you wouldn’t call them that, Eddie.”
“Do you have something to make sure I win, every time?” I said.
“Casino Security would spot anything that obvious in a moment,” said the Armourer. “We have to be more subtle than that.”
He rummaged around in one of his desk drawers, and brought out a very familiar-looking handgun, in a worn leather shoulder holster.
“We’ll start with the Colt Repeater,” the Armourer said briskly. “You’ve used this often enough before. Standard issue. No recoil, aims itself, and never runs out of ammunition. Fires steel bullets, silver, wood, and incendiaries. As required. The ammo teleports in from outside, so Casino Security shouldn’t be able to detect the gun’s extra-curricular capabilities. . . .”
“They’ll know it’s there, though,” I said. “Won’t they just confiscate it?”
“Everyone at Casino Infernale goes armed,” said the Armourer. “Or no one would dare turn up. Gamblers like to play rough, and they’re always ready to defend themselves, and their winnings. As long as your gun is clearly for personal use, and apparently small and limited, Security won’t bother you. All their staff will be much better armed, of course.”
/> “Such as?” said Molly.
“Just assume the worst, and you’ll be right more often than you’re wrong,” said the Armourer.
“Terrific . . .” said Molly. “I notice you’re not offering me any weapons.”
“Wouldn’t dream of insulting you, my dear,” the Armourer said gallantly, and Molly actually giggled.
“Why the shoulder holster?” I said, hefting the weight of the gun and holster in my hand, dubiously. “Why can’t I just keep it in my pocket dimension, until I need it?”
“Because we don’t want the Security staff even suspecting you might have such a thing,” the Armourer said sternly. “Keep the gun in plain sight, where they can see it.”
I shrugged out of my jacket, and struggled into the shoulder-holster straps. I’ve never liked the bloody things. It’s like trying to put on a bra, in the dark, backwards. In the end, Molly had to help me. She does have more experience in these matters, after all. Bras and shoulder holsters. By the time we were finished, and I had my jacket on again, feeling very self-conscious about the bulge over my left chest, the Armourer was waiting to present Molly and me with two thin glass phials, each containing a deep purple liquid that seethed and heaved as though trying to break through the glass. I couldn’t help noticing that the vials were not just stoppered, but wired shut. This did not fill me with confidence.
“A simple memory enhancer,” said the Armourer, beaming. “So you can count cards, calculate the odds, detect patterns in the run of play, and more . . . should give you just the edge you need, against even the most proficient and practised players.”
I looked suspiciously at the bubbling liquid. “How long will the effect last?”
“Good question,” said the Armourer. “No idea. Make a note of when the stuff stops working, and be sure to let me know.”
“Has anyone actually tested this before?” said Molly.
“Oh, yes,” said the Armourer. “Lots of people.”
“Where are they!” demanded Molly. “Show them to me!”
“Don’t be such a baby,” said the Armourer. “Get it down you. Yes, right now! So it will have a chance to sink into your system, and Security won’t be able to detect it.”
Molly and I took one glass phial each. My phial felt unpleasantly warm to the touch. We looked at each other, for mutual comfort and support, and then carefully peeled away the heavy wire holding the stoppers in place. The purple liquid jumped wildly in the phial, as though sensing a chance to escape. I popped off the stopper, put the phial to my lips and knocked it back in one. My lips thinned back from the bitter over-taste, and then I swear to God my eyes squeezed shut so tightly, it forced tears down my cheeks. My throat tried to turn inside out. I have never tasted anything so foul in my life. Including that chalky white kaolin morphine muck they used to force on me when I was poorly as a kid. And too weak to fight them off.
God, it was bad! I wanted to rip my tongue right out of my mouth and throw it on the floor and stamp on it, in the hope that would stop the taste. I grabbed the Armourer’s large gin and Red Bull and gulped it down, trying to cauterise my taste buds.
Molly waved her hands wildly, tears of pure horror jumping from her wide-stretched eyes. “Somebody bring me a dog’s arse, right now! So I can chew on it, to get this taste out of my mouth!”
I handed her the Armourer’s gin bottle, and she sucked it down hard.
“Big babies,” said the Armourer.
The nuclear fallout in my mouth began to recede, and I was able to breathe properly again. Molly was still sucking at her gin bottle. I looked reproachfully at the Armourer.
“I am still working on the taste,” he admitted. “But it could save your life, at Casino Infernale! I think . . . it works on the old principle of if it tastes bad, it must be doing you good. The effects should start kicking in after two, three hours. Don’t worry about side effects.”
“You mean there aren’t any?” I said.
“No, I mean there’s no point in worrying about them, because there’s nothing you can do to ameliorate them. They don’t last long. Just grit your teeth and hang on to something solid, until it’s all over. Or, more likely, all over someone else.”
“Let me kill him,” said Molly, still hanging on to the gin bottle.
“Get in the queue,” I said.
“You’ll like this,” said the Armourer, temptingly. He offered Molly and me two small objects: flat black plastic, like key fobs without the fobs.
“Look pretty damned ordinary and innocent, don’t they?” the Armourer said proudly. “You each keep one, and make sure you keep them separate. Security won’t even know you’ve got them. If anyone should challenge you, just say they’re lucky charms. That always goes down well. They’re completely innocuous, until you fit them together. Once joined and activated, this clever little device operates as a sort of top rank can-opener. Able to open any box or container.”
“Such as a safe?” I said.
“You’re learning!” said the Armourer. “Can I please have my gin bottle back, Molly? It may not be worth much, but it is of great sentimental value. Thank you. Oh, come on, the two of you; it wasn’t that bad. . . .”
“Yes, it was,” I said firmly.
“It was even worse than that,” said Molly.
“Puts a nice shine on your fillings,” said the Armourer. “Now, finally: a pack of playing cards. Look pretty damned normal, don’t they?”
He thrust the pack into my hands, and I shuffled them a few times, and fanned out a few cards, to look them over.
“Marked?” I said. “Infrared, ultraviolet?”
The Armourer sniffed. “Nothing so obvious. This . . . is a chameleon deck. You can substitute it for any other pack of cards, and this pack will immediately take on all the characteristics of the pack it’s replacing. Identical, down to the smallest detail. Except that this deck is preprogrammed to ensure you win, every time. Any game, any variation; the pack will provide you and you alone with the winning cards, every time. No matter who deals, or how many times the pack gets shuffled. But, you have to get really close to the deck you’re replacing, for the chameleon aspect to kick in.”
I put the cards in my jacket pocket. Molly glared at the Armourer. “I don’t get any toys?”
“You don’t need my help,” said the Armourer. “You have your magic. But do be careful, Molly; Casino Security will go to great lengths to prevent you from using all your usual tricks and practices.”
“Really like to see them stop me,” said Molly.
“They will,” said the Armourer. “Unless you’re very subtle.” And then he stopped, and looked at me, and something in his face changed. He looked . . . sad, and concerned, like all the people I’d passed in the corridors before. Who looked like they knew what was coming, and were sorry for me. The Armourer, my uncle Jack, was looking at me with something particular in mind, and he looked . . . guilty. “And now, Eddie,” he said slowly, “we come to the unfortunate part. The necessary, unpleasant part.”
“The memory drug doesn’t count?” said Molly.
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” said the Armourer, his gaze fixed on me, so sad, so sad. “I really am very sorry, but there’s no other way to do this.”
“What?” I said. “What are you talking about, Uncle Jack?”
I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. My stomach muscles tensed painfully. There was a sense of something really bad in the air, a foreboding of something awful just waiting to happen. I felt like I should be running. Molly glared quickly about her, looking for a threat. She could feel it too.
“Ethel!” said the Armourer. “Show yourself, please.”
And just like that, the familiar comforting red glow appeared in the Armoury, confining itself to the Armourer’s workstation. Warm rosy red light fell over me like a spotlight, picking me out; a spiritual pres
sure I could feel holding me in place, even as it embraced me. Ethel manifested in the Armoury, and immediately all the lab assistants stopped what they were doing and hurried forward from all sides. Many of them were carrying surveillance tech and recording gear, along with some other stuff I didn’t even recognise. All of them eager for a chance to study our mysterious other-dimensional benefactor.
“Well done, boys and girls,” said the Armourer. “Nice reaction times. Watch all you like, but don’t get too close.”
“And whoever’s doing that, stop it immediately,” said Ethel.
One particular piece of tech suddenly went up in smoke, and the assistant carrying it retired, coughing heavily.
“I like it here,” Ethel said comfortably. “So many interesting things . . . and look at all the toys! I want to play with all of them!”
“What are you doing here, Ethel?” I said. “You never leave the Sanctity!”
“She’s here because I need her to be here,” said the Armourer.
And then he stopped. There was something more he wanted to say, but somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“Let me, Jack,” said Ethel. “It’s all right. He’ll understand.”
“Understand what?” I said. “What’s going on here!”
“I have to remove your torc, Eddie,” said Ethel. “It’s the only way we can get a Drood into Casino Infernale.”
“Oh, come on!” I said. “Can’t you just disguise it, or alter it?”
“No,” said Ethel.
“The kind of Security people you’ll be dealing with would see through any disguise we might try,” said the Armourer. He made himself look at me, and the naked sorrow and suffering in his gaze clutched at my heart with a cold, hard hand.
“Strange matter weighs heavily on the world,” said Ethel. “All I can do is remove it completely.”
Molly moved in close beside me. I don’t know what was in my face, but she didn’t like looking at it.
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