Casino Infernale

by Simon R. Green

  “Oh, sure!” said the car.

  “Good,” I said. “Then take this gentleman for a ride. Hand him over to the family and tell them to tear every last secret he has out of him. By all necessary means. Be sure to tell them why . . . and then hurry back here. Our business isn’t over yet.”

  “You got it!” said the Scarlet Lady. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world! You two are so much fun to be around!”

  She opened her back door, and Molly and I picked up Scott and threw him into the back seat. The door slammed shut and the car drove off, with Jonathon Scott screaming soundlessly through the rear window.

  “The Big Game isn’t till eight o’clock this evening,” I said. “We have some time to kill. Fancy a lie-down?”

  “Yeah,” said Molly. “And afterwards, we can have a little nap.”

  “Wicked witch,” I said.

  She laughed. “You love it.”

  “I couldn’t kill Frankie,” I said.

  “Never thought you would,” said Molly. “But I would have. For what they would have done to you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Poker: It’s Not How You Play the Game; It’s How You Play the Players

  I hate being nervous.

  It doesn’t help, it doesn’t get you anywhere, and it just gets in the way of thinking how to do things properly. As the elevator carried Molly and me up through the hotel to the penthouse floor, I felt more nervous than at any other time on this mission. Because everything I’d done so far, everything I’d been through and endured, had all been leading up to this. The Big Game. My one and only chance to break the bank at Casino Infernale. If I won, if I pulled this off against all the odds, then I could stop a war, save any number of innocent lives, and strike a blow against an organisation I was learning to despise more and more. And, I could win my soul back.

  But if I lost, if I screwed it up in the final stretch . . . it didn’t bear thinking about. So, of course I couldn’t think about anything else.

  I looked at myself in the mirrored steel wall of the elevator. I thought I looked pretty good in my tuxedo. (Magically restored by Molly to all its former glory.) I looked ready for anything. Because that’s how my family trained me. To be a secret agent, to look just the way I needed to look for any situation. To show a mask and mirror to the world, and never let them see you’re hurting. So I was Eddie Drood, or Shaman Bond, as the situation demanded. Only Molly ever got to see the real me with all my defences down. And even then, only occasionally. Because when you wear a mask long enough, it gets really hard to take it off. The mask becomes your face. I looked at my reflection in the elevator wall and Shaman Bond looked back—shifty and cocky, always looking for an edge. Just the man I needed to be, for the Big Game. So why was I so nervous?

  Eddie, or Shaman, or me?

  Molly stood beside me, up for anything, as always. She looked magnificent in her new ball gown and she knew it. I don’t think she was nervous. I’m not sure Molly is ever nervous. I saw her scared, on Trammell Island, but then, she had reason to be. I knew how to deal with being scared—everything forward and go for your enemy’s throat. Being nervous, being unsure, is different. When you can’t plan your tactics because you don’t know what you’re getting into.

  Luckily, my family’s Sarjeant-at-Arms had a simple answer for nerves: Shut the hell up and soldier.

  I breathed deeply a few times, and made myself concentrate on the matter at hand. I had a lot to think about. All the souls I’d won, that I never really wanted, just so I could take a seat at the table at the Big Game. I had to win, because if I didn’t, everything I’d been through so far had all been for nothing. I glared at my reflection. I could do this. I could. I’d been through worse. But that was when there were just lives on the line, rather than souls. I had no armour this time, no backup, just me and Molly against the world. And I had to smile, despite myself. I’d bet on Molly and me, any time. She squeezed my arm reassuringly, and I smiled at her. I might not have my armour, but I still had her.

  “Do you think anyone knows what’s happened down in the car park?” said Molly.

  “I don’t see how,” I said. “No one in the Big Game should have heard anything. You disappeared all the bodies.”

  “And cleaned up all the bloodstains and stuff.”

  I grinned. “Always said you’d make a good housewife.”

  She punched me lightly in the arm. “I also performed a full mystic sweep, to keep any of the hotel psychics from picking up on what happened. You didn’t even notice, did you? You don’t appreciate me; you really don’t.”

  “Unless the hotel’s got a major league telepath stowed away somewhere,” I said. “This is Casino Infernale, after all.”

  “Second-guessing never gets you anywhere,” Molly said briskly. “Just makes you nervous.”

  “You were the one who was worried whether they were laying a trap for us at the Big Game.”

  “You see? Nerves, worrying, second-guessing. And stop frowning like that; you’ll get lines.”

  “It just bothers me,” I said, “that our standing at the most important Game depends on whether Jonathon Scott was telling the truth when he said he hadn’t told Franklyn Parris who I really am.”

  “He wasn’t lying,” said Molly. “I would have known.”

  “You ready to bet your life on that?”

  “We are, aren’t we?” said Molly, brightly.

  “I will never bet on anything else, ever again, after this,” I said.

  • • •

  The elevator finally slowed to a halt at the penthouse floor. Hopefully, we’d have more luck than the last time we were here, to burgle Parris’ office. The elevator doors slid smoothly open, revealing a corridor packed with heavily armed guards. Molly tensed, and I quickly put a hand on her arm to hold her still. I looked quickly around, but there were no Jackson Fifty-five anywhere. I very slowly and very carefully put my hand inside my jacket, brought out my invitation card, and held it up. Immediately all the guards lowered their guns, just a little. I stepped out of the elevator, doing my best to radiate confidence, and Molly was right there with me, glaring down her nose at everyone else. A small and svelte Japanese lady strode quickly down the corridor towards us, the guards falling swiftly back to get out of her way. She had long black hair, a calm and heavily made-up face, and wore a tight strapless little black dress. It was so still and quiet in the corridor, I could hear the soft tap-tapping of her shoes on the polished floor. She stopped right before us, and bowed to both of us, very politely.

  “Hello and welcome to you both, Shaman Bond and Molly Metcalf,” she said, in a soft breathy voice. “I am Eiko. Head of hotel Security. I am here to escort you to the Big Game.”

  “You know who we are?” I said carefully. “I don’t think we’ve bumped into you before.”

  “I have studied both your files at length, Mr. Bond, Miss Metcalf,” said Eiko. “To make sure I know everything I need to know about you, to protect you more efficiently.”

  “Of course,” I said. “How very reassuring.”

  “Bet my file is bigger than his,” said Molly.

  “Bet mine was more interesting,” I said.

  “I think it best that all bets are saved for the Big Game,” said Eiko, diplomatically.

  She turned and strode quickly back down the corridor, leaving Molly and me to hurry after her. The guards stood well back to let us pass, lining both walls.

  “How long do these affairs usually last?” I said, to the stylised dragon embroidered on the back of Eiko’s dress.

  “They take as long as they take,” said Eiko, not looking round. “Hours . . . days . . . it all depends on the players.”

  “Why all the armed guards?” Molly said pointedly.

  “All for your protection, of course,” said Eiko. “We have had to tighten security recently.”

 
“Why?” I said, because it would have seemed off if I hadn’t.

  “It would appear that we have lost contact with the Jackson Fifty-five,” said Eiko, just a bit reluctantly.

  “What? All of them?” said Molly, innocently.

  “So it would appear,” said Eiko, still stubbornly refusing to even look back at us. “Given that they are all clones, it is hard to be sure. Since they are gone, we cannot count them, and therefore we cannot be sure they are all missing. Still, for all of them to be out of contact for so long is . . . disturbing. But you must not worry, I have called in all of my own people to guard all of the players for the duration of the Big Game. And the hotel staff are searching the entire hotel, very thoroughly, from the top down.”

  “Best way,” Molly said solemnly.

  “We are now approaching the designated setting for the Big Game,” said Eiko. “You will pardon me, but before you pass through the door and join your fellow players, you must be scanned.”

  She stopped abruptly, so we had to stop too, to avoid bumping into her. She turned and faced us, and summoned two of her people forward with a sharp wave of her hand. The guards were carrying hand scanners instead of guns, and came just a little closer to Molly and me than I was comfortable with. They didn’t bother frisking us, which was just as well, but they did run their hand scanners over us with great thoroughness, from top to bottom and back again. I studied the scanners carefully, and then raised an inner eyebrow. Given their sheer complexity, and complete unfamiliarity, there was no way they were Earth tech. The scanner covering me made a series of low beeping noises, as though disappointed in me. Eiko smiled coldly.

  “All weapons, and devices of any nature, must be handed over at this point, Mr. Bond. No matter how innocent they may be. We will start with the handgun you were seen using earlier at the hotel restaurant. Everything confiscated here will of course be returned to you, after the Big Game.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  I carefully removed my Colt Repeater from its pocket dimension, and handed it over to the guard standing by with an outstretched hand. The man with the scanner ran it over my hip again, and looked at Eiko again as the scanner beeped reprovingly.

  “Pocket dimension,” I said to Eiko. “It sort of floats around my hip. Afraid I can’t remove it; don’t know how.”

  “The room’s mystical null will close it off, for the duration of the Game,” said Eiko.

  I had to empty out all my pockets, one by one. Eiko hesitated over the pack of cards the Armourer had given me. They did look very ordinary. The scanner didn’t react to them at all. Eiko studied the cards carefully, and then raised a painted eyebrow at me.

  “Sentimental value,” I said smoothly. “Had my first big win with those cards. I carry them everywhere with me, for luck. I was told that such lucky charms are permitted. . . .”

  “All gamblers have their superstitions,” said Eiko. “If it was up to me . . . but apparently it isn’t worth the fuss. So yes, Mr. Bond, you may keep your pack of cards. Though of course you will not be permitted to actually play with them.”

  “Oh, of course,” I said, slipping the pack away in an inside jacket pocket.

  The other guard was running his scanner all over Molly, and getting nothing. Eiko gave him a hard look. “Change settings, fool. She is a witch.”

  The guard hastily made corrections to his hand scanner, while I raised another inner eyebrow. It was very rare tech that could detect magical energies. Molly made a point of glaring down her nose at Eiko.

  “I had to leave the tall pointy hat behind. It clashed with the gown. There are no toads in my pockets, no mandrake or mushrooms, and I never was one for the whole broomstick and cat business.”

  “I used to love Bewitched,” I said. “Especially when she used her magic to change her husband into an entirely different actor.”

  “Well?” said Eiko, glaring at the guard with the scanner.

  He was down on his hands and knees now, having struck out everywhere else, and was banging the scanner on the floor, trying to make it work. It finally gave off a single beep.

  “Oh, that!” said Molly. “Sorry, Shaman, I’d quite forgotten I was still wearing it.”

  She lifted up her gown to reveal a simple silver charm bracelet around her left ankle. She leaned over and undid the clasp, straightened up, and then dropped the bracelet onto Eiko’s outstretched palm.

  “It’s safe enough,” said Molly. “As long as you don’t meddle with it. And whatever you do, don’t drop it. Unless you’re really good at running very quickly from a standing start.”

  “We will guard it most carefully,” said Eiko.

  “Do I get a receipt?” said Molly.

  “Don’t push it, witch,” said Eiko. “It’s all about trust.”

  “I’m really not the trusting type,” said Molly.

  “Me either,” I said.

  “Then you’ll fit right in, Mr. Bond, at the Big Game,” said Eiko.

  She led the way down the corridor again, and the ranks of armed guards fell back to let us pass, forming two rows of something very like an honour guard. If they hadn’t all still been covering us with their guns. Beyond the last few guards lay a single door, blocking off the end of the corridor. Molly’s hand tightened on mine as we approached the door.

  “That is another dimensional door,” she murmured in my ear. “Just like the one that transported us to the world of the Medium Games. Which would suggest . . . the Big Game isn’t actually being held on the hotel’s penthouse floor.”

  “Of course not,” said Eiko, in a perfectly normal tone, still not looking back at us. “The Big Game is being held somewhere far more private, and secure. For your protection.”

  “The more she says that, the more protected I feel,” I said.

  Molly nodded solemnly. “I could still kick her arse.”

  “She can hear you,” I said.

  “Good,” said Molly.

  Wisely, Eiko said nothing. She produced a special electronic key, apparently out of nowhere, opened the quite ordinary-looking door and led the way in. Molly and I braced ourselves, ready for anything, and strode through the dimensional door.

  • • •

  I didn’t feel a thing, but we were suddenly standing in a really large open room, more than twice the size of our suite. At first glance it might have been just another hotel function room, bigger than most and far more luxurious. But most of the room was just . . . empty, a great carpeted wasteland, surrounding one long table, in the middle of all the open space. A bar took up one corner, with a handful of high bar-stools, but no other furniture. And the three huge windows in the far wall were all covered with heavy steel shutters. So no one could know exactly where the room was. The lighting was clear, and just a little on the dim side, to be comfortable on the eyes.

  Several familiar faces were already seated around the long table, waiting impatiently. None of them looked at all pleased to see me, or Molly. A figure sitting at the bar slipped off his high stool and came forward to greet us. Eiko moved politely to one side to let him do it, which told me immediately who this had to be. The one person the head of hotel Security would still defer to. Franklyn Parris himself.

  At first glance, he seemed disappointingly ordinary. Just another executive type in a good suit, with an expensive tie and flashy cuff-links. Handsome enough, about my age, nattily turned out with a brightly patterned look-at-me waistcoat. He was smiling politely, but it didn’t even come close to touching his eyes. Nothing showed in his face apart from what he allowed the world to see. He shook me firmly by the hand, and let go as soon as he politely could. He nodded briefly to Molly, so he could more quickly give me his full attention.

  “Good to meet you at last, Mr. Bond,” he said, in a dry dusty voice. “I am Franklyn Parris. Here to oversee the Big Game, and keep everyone honest. Normally that woul
d be Jonathon Scott’s job, but he seems to have disappeared.”

  “Along with the Jackson Fifty-five?” I said, innocently.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a stirring among the players seated at the table. They hadn’t been told that.

  “Indeed,” said Parris. “Perhaps Mr. Scott has taken them all off somewhere to investigate a threat to the hotel. I am sure he, and they, will be back soon. No one should feel at all concerned. You are extremely safe and secure here, Mr. Bond. I feel I should point out that you and your companion were very nearly late. We were preparing to start without you.”

  “The elevator took forever to arrive,” I said. “Do you want to see my invitation card?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Parris. “If you hadn’t had the card with you, the door wouldn’t have brought you here. It has no further purpose. Feel free to keep it, though, as a souvenir.”

  “I still can’t help noticing a large number of armed guards in this room,” I said. “Are you expecting . . . trouble?”

  I looked meaningfully around the room, at the twenty or so armed guards in formal suits, scattered around the perimeter, cradling their weapons. They were all ostensibly relaxed, with their guns pointing at the floor, but it didn’t make them look any less professional, or menacing.

  “A series of . . . unusual events have occurred during Casino Infernale this year,” said Parris. “I felt it best to err on the side of caution, for the good of all. These gentlemen, and the formidable Miss Eiko herself, are here for everyone’s protection.”

  “Oh, I feel very protected,” I said to Molly. “Don’t you feel protected?”

  “Oh, lots,” said Molly. “I feel so protected I can hardly stand. Think I’ll have a little sit-down, and a drinkie.”

  “That would be best,” said Parris, as Molly headed determinedly for the bar. “Only players can sit at the table. Come with me, Mr. Bond, and I’ll introduce you to the other players.”

  I went with him. The guards all followed me with their eyes, if not actually their guns. Parris stood at the head of the long table, and smiled benevolently on the people seated before him.