“This is Summit business,” said the Armourer. “My father, and your parents, are working with us on this case.”
“Because . . . no one ever really leaves the family?” I said.
“You’re learning, Eddie,” said the Armourer.
Molly made a rude noise. “How is it you know so much about the Regent’s business?”
“He’s my dad,” said the Armourer. “We keep in touch; always have. Even though we couldn’t tell you, Eddie.”
“Yes . . .” I said. “We are going to have words about that, Uncle Jack.”
“It was for your own good, Eddie. Your protection.”
“That whole We know what’s best for you attitude is one of the main reasons I ran away from this family, first chance I got,” I said.
“I feel the same way myself, sometimes,” said the Armourer. “We will talk later, Eddie. About many things. I promise.”
* * *
Back in the Armoury, everything looked much the same. Except for the bits that had exploded or caught fire in our absence. Sometimes I don’t think of the Armoury as a scientific laboratory, more as evolution in action. It was raining very heavily in one corner of the Armoury, complete with thunder and lightning. A bit much just to test a new kind of umbrella. The Armourer seemed pleased to be back on his own territory again; stumbling along, not hurrying, smiling amiably about him at lab assistants who were usually much more preoccupied with whatever it was that was going horribly wrong right in front of them.
The Armourer finally sank down into his favourite old chair, complete with extra cushions and safety straps, in front of his personal workstation. He let out a long slow sigh of relief.
“Good to be back!” he said. “But then, the best part of a holiday is always coming home again.”
“Didn’t you enjoy being on Mars?” said Molly.
“I don’t enjoy leaving the Hall much at all, these days, truth be told,” said the Armourer. “It takes so much out of me. Don’t even like leaving the Armoury, some days.”
He started rummaging through his desk drawers, looking for food and drink and his private little bottle of pick-me-ups that he likes to think no one else knows about. I took a careful look around at the lab assistants, making sure none of them were getting too close. One young man was holding his melting arm over a sink, and swearing bitterly. A young woman was chasing frantically after a giant eyeball with its own heavily flapping bat wings, flailing about her with a really big butterfly net. The eyeball bobbed happily along ahead of her, always just out of reach. And two lab assistants stood quietly and thoughtfully at the edge of a combat circle, making notes on clipboards as their two shadows fought it out inside the circle.
Someone else was emptying the water from a fire bucket over a burning bush. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.
I’d expected my uncle Jack to put the kettle on, and make us all a nice refreshing cup of tea. My family runs on hot sweet tea and Jaffa Cakes. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of Bombay gin and a glass, and poured himself a more than healthy measure. He didn’t offer Molly or me one. He added a good measure of Red Bull to his gin, and then dunked a Jaffa Cake in it. Neither the drink nor the cake seemed to restore him much. It worried me to see him like this. Watching the Armourer host the Summit on Mars, standing tall and sharp and authoritative, had been like seeing the Uncle Jack I’d known as a child. The man who was, once upon a time, one of the best field agents the Droods ever had. Now, that much older man’s fires seemed to have burned out. He looked up suddenly, and caught the expression on my face. He smiled, briefly.
“Don’t get old, Eddie. It’s hard work.”
Embarrassed, I looked away. Molly stole two chairs from nearby workstations, and we pulled them up opposite the Armourer, and sat down. He finished his drink, and looked thoughtfully at the various bits of high tech and partially disassembled weapons scattered across his work surface. He reached out to pat his computer fondly, like a favourite pet. The machine was wrapped in mistletoe, and long strings of garlic. Which may or may not have added to its processing power.
“That’s new,” I said, pointing vaguely at something green and brown, in a pot. “What is that?”
“A bonsai wicker man,” the Armourer said proudly. “Only one in captivity.” His voice was firmer now, his eyes clearer.
Molly leaned in close, fascinated. “What do you burn in it?”
“Chestnuts, mostly,” said the Armourer.
“Uncle Jack,” I said, and he looked at me sharply. He knew I used his name only to put pressure on him. “I think it’s time you told me what’s going on, Uncle Jack.”
“Yes, I suppose it is time, Eddie.” He sat back in his chair, and considered me thoughtfully. “Very well. Down to business, eh? Good, good . . . Casino Infernale is being held in the city of Nantes, in France, this year.”
“Hold it,” I said. “With something this important, shouldn’t I be getting the full briefing from the Council?”
“Thought you were in a hurry, boy? Still . . . caution; always a good thing. I’m telling you what you need to know, because I know more about this than anyone else. I was involved in one of the earliest attempts to break the bank at Casino Infernale, back in the mid-sixties. Don’t ask me the exact date. I’ve never been good with dates. . . . Anyway, this particular mission was the first and only time I ever worked in the field with my brother James. We were both building a reputation, back then, and they’d already started calling James the Grey Fox. This was a carefully planned mission, with two very experienced field agents, and it still all went to shit in a hurry and we had to run for our lives. Hopefully, you two will do better.” He stopped then, for a long moment, his gaze far away, lost in yesterday. He looked old again. Even frail. He roused himself, and continued. “It’s been a long time since I was out in the field. Walking up and down in the world, changing history from behind the scenes. Now just hosting a Summit takes it out of me . . . which is why you get to go to Nantes, and not me.”
“What went wrong?” I said. “On the mission, with you and James?”
“Casino Security was on to us from the start,” said the Armourer. His mouth pulled back, as though bothered by a bad taste. “We thought we were being so clever, swaggering around hidden behind our brandnew identities and immaculately crafted disguises. But hotel security spotted our torcs the moment we walked in. They were just waiting for us to start something, so they could kill us both and prove they weren’t afraid of no Droods. . . . We had no choice but to abandon the mission and take to our heels. Ended up being chased across the hotel roof by a whole army of heavily armed goons. Ah, the good old days . . . But you don’t want to hear this.”
“Of course I do!” I said. “You hardly ever talk about being a field agent, any more. When I was a kid, I used to love sneaking out of lessons to come down here and listen to all your stories.”
“Glory days,” said the Armourer. “You’ll understand when you’re older, Eddie. You can’t afford to live too much in the past, if you want to get anything done. But the past can seem so much more tempting than the present, because that’s the only place you can meet your old friends. . . . No. No; concentrate! I never told you this story before, Eddie, because we made such a mess of it. The Casino Security people threw everything they had at us: guns and magics, incendiaries and shaped curses. James and I would have liked to stand our ground and fight; show these cheap thugs what Drood armour and training could do. But we had to get away. We had to get the information home . . . that they could See our torcs. Not many could, then. So we headed for the roof, to make our escape.
“We were on the penthouse floor, you see. Casino Security couldn’t touch us until we actually broke a rule. For fear of upsetting the other gamblers. If they thought Security thugs could just jump them any time, for no reason, they wouldn’t come. Gambling, serious gambling, only works if it’s protected by the rules. Anyway, word got to us that there was a hidden safe somewhere in the penthouse mai
n office, with all kinds of useful information in it about Casino Infernale and the Shadow Bank that funded it. So James and I sneaked up there and broke in, trusting to our armour to hide and protect us. But the moment we opened the office door, every alarm in the world went off at once. And dozens of over-muscled, heavily armed, Security goons appeared out of nowhere. To drag us down, and haul us away for . . . questioning.
“James and I fought our way out, easily enough. Weapons and numbers were never going to be enough against Drood armour. We stove in chests and broke in heads with our golden fists, and threw huge men against the walls with such force that we broke the walls as well as the men. And laughed while we did it. Glorying in death and destruction. We were younger men then, and thought being the Good Guys justified anything. . . .
“We took the elevator to the roof. We couldn’t go down, because it sounded like all the Security people in the hotel were coming up, with God alone knew how much heavy-duty weaponry. So we went up, to the maintenance level directly below the roof. The elevator slid smoothly to a halt, and James and I looked at each other. We knew there was bound to be massed nastiness waiting on the other side of the elevator doors. So, we smashed the door controls so the bad guys couldn’t get in, and then bashed holes in the elevator roof. In films there are always inspection panels you can use to get out, but there aren’t any in real life. Hollywood lies to you all the time. So, we burst up through into the elevator shaft, and then clambered up the cables to the roof exit.
“Once outside, we went to the edge and looked down. We were a very long way up. Tallest building in Nantes, by far. We could see right out across the city. The wind blew across the roof with savage force, enough to rock us back and forth on our feet even in our armour. I could hear feet hurrying up the stairs to the roof—lots of feet. James and I looked frantically about us, but there was no obvious way down . . . so we ran for the far edge of the roof, to buy us some time. Hoping we’d find something there we could use. A door burst open behind us, and armed men spilled out onto the roof, opening fire on us with every kind of weapon you could think of.
“James and I kept our heads down, and ran for all we were worth. When you’re in the armour, Molly, you feel like you can run like the wind. We sprinted, faster than a racing car, golden arms pumping at our sides, and the roof just flew past. Bullets, and other things, ricocheted harmlessly off our armour. A few hit us hard enough to make us stagger, but we just kept going. We both knew surrender wasn’t an option. They’d vivisect us alive, right down to the genetic level, to learn the secret of Drood armour. So we ran. I don’t think either of us was laughing, any more.
“And, just like that, we ran out of roof. We skidded to a halt at the edge, our golden heels digging furrows in the concrete surface . . . and when we looked down it was the same dizzying drop, hundreds and hundreds of feet. No way down, and no way back. Bullets were still ricocheting from our armour, and blowing chunks out of the roof around us. We were trapped. Just standing there on the edge, looking down, made my head swim. Drood armour has many fine qualities, but flying has never been one of them. I looked at James.
“‘We’re going to have to jump,’ I said.
“‘Are you crazy? The fall will almost certainly kill us,’ he said.
“‘Let’s cling to the word almost,’ I said.
“‘The armour will probably survive the drop,’ said James. ‘But I hate to think what the impact of the sudden halt will do to what’s inside the armour. If they ever find a way to open it up, they’ll be able to remove what’s left of us with spoons.’
“‘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 cou
rse . . . 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.”
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