“I don’t feel well,” I said.
“Purely psychosomatic,” said Frankie. “It’ll pass.”
“How do they collect on a gambled soul, if the owner’s still alive?” said Molly.
“They have their ways,” said Frankie. “Really horribly unpleasant ways . . .”
“Where are the shadow agents Patrick and Diana, right now?” I said, and something in my voice made him hurry to answer me.
“Incredibly missing,” said Frankie. “They went on the run the moment their losses became clear, so they couldn’t be obliged to make good on their souls.”
“Are they still here in Nantes?” said Molly.
“Unknown,” said Frankie. “I rather doubt it. In fact, if I were them, I wouldn’t even still be in France. I would be in another world, in another dimension, hiding out under an assumed species. The Shadow Bank has very far-reaching friends and influence. They never give up on a debt, and have been known to enforce them on succeeding generations, when the original loser escapes them. With interest.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “Screwed and blued before I even start. What else can go wrong?”
“I have made out a list, if you’re interested,” said Frankie, reaching for an inside pocket. He stopped when he saw my look.
“You’re so good to me,” I said. “Does anyone at Casino Infernale have any idea who I really am?”
“Not as far as I know. Your cover alias is still solid.” Frankie looked at Molly. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“I get that a lot,” said Molly. She didn’t sound particularly disappointed.
“As long as I’m still safely Shaman Bond, we still have some time to work with,” I said, thinking hard.
“Yes,” said Frankie. “But not a lot.”
“So, I have to win at the games, and win big, and win fast,” I said. “No pressure there. But what am I supposed to bet with, if I can’t use my own soul?”
“There is still Molly’s soul,” said Frankie, very carefully.
“What?” said Molly, extremely dangerously.
“Yes, I admit it is a somewhat compromised soul, with many claimants already attached,” said Frankie, even more carefully, “but it’s all you’ve got to work with, Shaman. You’re not blood relatives, but you are . . . attached. They’ll accept that, at the Casino. As long as Molly goes along . . .”
“I am going to turn you into a small squishy thing with your testicles floating on the surface!” said Molly. “And then stamp on you!”
“Please don’t let her turn me into a small squishy thing,” said Frankie, hiding behind me.
“Not in public!” I said to Molly.
“Never get to have any fun any more,” grumbled Molly.
“Are you sure about this?” I said to Frankie, as he reluctantly appeared again from behind me.
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Frankie. “Souls are currency at Casino Infernale. And before you ask, no you can’t bet with my soul. It’s already . . . under contract.”
“Doesn’t surprise me at all,” I said. I looked at Molly. “I can’t do this to you. I can’t risk you losing your soul.”
“You have to,” said Molly. “It’s the only way to get your soul back. I give you my permission, Shaman.”
“You’re going to hold this over my head for the rest of our lives, aren’t you?” I said.
“Bloody right I am,” said Molly.
We shared a moment.
“Warms the cockles of my heart, to witness such true love,” said Frankie. “I may cry.”
“I will stamp on your cockles if you piss me off any further,” said Molly. “Take us to the nearest first-class hotel. I want a shower and a whole bunch of drinks, not necessarily in that order. And I think Shaman could use a little lie-down. . . . Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Weren’t you told?” said Frankie. “Didn’t you get any kind of briefing before they sent you here? Maybe they were afraid to tell you, in case you wouldn’t go. . . . All players at Casino Infernale are required to stay at the Casino hotel. It’s a condition, if you want to play the games. So no one can sneak out on their debts.”
“Like Patrick and Diana just did?” I said.
“Yes!” said Frankie. “It’s supposed to be impossible to get past Casino Security! They’re still tearing their hair out trying to figure out how that happened. Anyway, you two already have a room booked at the Casino hotel. As Shaman Bond and Molly Metcalf.”
“Just how long ago did my family commit themselves to this mission?” I said.
“I didn’t ask, and they wouldn’t tell me if I did,” said Frankie. “I find it best not to ask the family questions because the answers are always going to upset you. I got you a really nice room! At a really good rate.”
“For a really nice kickback,” I said.
“Well, naturally,” said Frankie. “I have a reputation to live down to.”
“Have you at least arranged for a car to take us there?” I said.
Frankie winced. “I want it clearly understood that none of what is to follow is in any way my idea. The Regent left a car for you. He had it imported, specially, just for you. Did you by any chance do something to make him really mad at you?”
“It’s always possible,” I said. “What’s wrong with the car?”
“Oh, see for yourself,” said Frankie.
He gathered up as many of our bags as he could, and I took the rest, because Molly doesn’t do things like that. Says it’s bad for her image. Frankie led us off the bridge. He shot a look back at Molly.
“Did you really . . . ?”
“Almost certainly,” said Molly.
“I was afraid of that,” said Frankie.
Off the bridge and around the corner, parked in a space all by itself because nothing else wanted to be anywhere near it . . . was a 1958 scarlet and white Plymouth Fury.
“Oh, no . . .” I said.
“Told you,” said Frankie.
“Yes!” said the car. “It’s me! Back again, by popular demand! The Scarlet Lady, her own sweet self. I knew you wouldn’t be able to cope without me, so I volunteered to come over and help you out! Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“Words fail me,” I said.
“I heard that!” said the car.
“Oh, I am so glad you can hear that thing talking,” said Frankie. “I thought it was just me. . . . Is it an Artificial Intelligence?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” said Molly.
“I am wise and wonderful and know many things!” said the car happily. “What am I? I’ll never tell!”
“So,” said Frankie, “you three have a history?”
“We’ve worked together,” said Molly. “And my nerves may never recover.”
“You’re just saying that,” said the car.
“She’s very impressive,” I said. “In her own loud and vulgar and utterly appalling way. She helped us bring down Crow Lee.”
“The Most Evil Man In The World?” said Frankie. “Well, colour me officially impressed.”
“Knew you would be!” said the car.
Frankie and I loaded the baggage into the trunk, and then he hurried forward to pull open the driver’s door. But when he tried to get behind the wheel, the Scarlet Lady flexed the front seat and threw him right back out again.
“You get in the back, underling, where you belong,” said the car. “I know all about you Grey Bastards.”
Frankie picked himself up off the curb, recovered as much dignity as he could, and got in the back seat. I settled in behind the wheel, and the car started her engine while Molly was still taking her place beside me as shotgun. We both fastened our seat belts immediately. We’d never been able to forget what it was like, riding with the Scarlet Lady. Much as we’d tried. The car lurched forward and out into the traffic, driving herself, slamming through the gears in swift succession, her engine roaring like a predator let loose among unsuspecting livestock.
“Ju
st sit back and leave the driving to me,” the Scarlet Lady said cheerfully. “It’s all right, I know the way. I have SPS. Supernatural Positioning Systems. Satellites? We laugh at Satellites!”
We roared through the narrow city streets, the Scarlet Lady’s engine revving for all it was worth, while the rest of the traffic hurried to get out of our way. But we hadn’t been driving for long before we realised we were driving down an empty street. All the other vehicles had disappeared down side streets, thrown themselves into back alleys, or hid themselves in cul-de-sacs. Leaving the road entirely to us.
“Slow down,” I said, and the car reluctantly did so. I looked around me.
“Where has everyone gone?” said Molly. “Do they know something we don’t?”
“Almost certainly,” said Frankie. “Word gets around fast when the Casino’s in town.”
“Incoming!” shouted the car.
I leaned forward, peering up through the top part of the windscreen, and discovered that the sky overhead was full of prehistoric flying reptiles. Massive creatures with twenty-foot wingspans, grey-green scales, and long, toothless beaks ending in sharp points. Their narrow, vicious heads were balanced by long backwards-pointing bony crests. Their huge wings cupped the air as they glided back and forth above us.
“What the hell are those ugly-looking things?” said Molly.
“Hush,” said Frankie, from the back seat. “They might hear you.”
“They’re Pteranodons!” I said, grinning despite myself. “I used to love dinosaurs when I was a kid. Though strictly speaking, Pteranodons are reptiles, not dinosaurs. . . .”
I broke off, as I realised there were people riding on the backs of the winged reptiles. Sitting bolt upright in silver saddles, controlling their Pteranodons with glowing silver bridles and reins, were large blonde warrior women in SS Nazi uniforms. All of them perfect Aryan types, with harsh, laughing faces. Even as I watched, they dug silver spurs into the scaly sides of their mounts, and drove them down out of the sky, heading straight for us.
The warrior women all had heavy-duty machine guns mounted securely at the front of their saddles, and every single one of them opened fire on the Scarlet Lady as they swept past us, hitting us from every side at once. The car threw herself back and forth, while all around us sustained gunfire chewed up the road, blew up lengths of pavement, and blasted great holes in storefronts on either side of the street. Fires blazed up, and black smoke billowed out of gutted buildings. Some of the bullets must have been incendiaries. The flying reptiles punched right through the black smoke, and went banking up and around in a great turn, to come round at us again. Their riders reloaded from bulging panniers, while the Pteranodons screeched back and forth in the air above us, riding the thermals, sweeping round and round in great arcs. The flying reptiles screamed rage and fury as their riders forced them into long machine-gunning power dives again.
There were more of them than I could count, coming at us from every direction at once, guns blazing.
“Who are these crazy women?” shouted Molly.
“Pan’s Panzerpeople!” Frankie shouted back, from where he was lying prone on the back seat. “Fourth Reich Femmes, the Bitches From Hell!”
“You know them?” said Molly.
“Everyone knows them!” said Frankie. “Mayhem for hire, all proceeds going to fund the return of the glorious Fourth Reich!”
“Mercenaries . . .” I said. “Who sent them?”
“How should I know?” said Frankie. “I only just met you and I wish I hadn’t. It could be anybody. . . . And no, I am not going to sit up and talk to you. I am staying down here where it is relatively safe. If there was a glove box back here, I’d be hiding inside it.”
“Control yourself!” said the Scarlet Lady. “I don’t care how frightened you are, you make a mess on my upholstery and I will make you clean it up yourself!”
“Could be worse,” said Molly, peering out the windows. “Could be dragons.”
“How could dragons be worse?” said Frankie.
“Dragons breathe fire,” said Molly.
“Everything they say about you is true,” said Frankie.
“If someone’s paying mercenaries to kill us, even before we get to the Casino,” I said, “does that mean someone knows who I really am?”
“Why do you keep asking me questions, when you must have figured out by now that the best you’re going to get is an educated guess?” said Frankie, just a bit shrilly. “Somebody might know, or they might not. It’s a Casino! Place your bets! Choose whichever answer will make you feel better. I’m going to keep my head well down and sob for my life.”
“When I find out who wished you on us as our local contact,” said Molly, “I will riverdance on their head.”
“Fine by me,” said Frankie.
“Death from above!” howled the car, throwing all of us over to one side as she charged down a side street, and then plunged back out onto a main street again. The Pteranodons stuck with us, chewing up our surroundings with long strafing runs. The odd bullet ricocheted from the Scarlet Lady’s reinforced exterior, but didn’t even slow her down. The car radio started playing “Ride of the Valkyries,” while the car hummed happily along. Molly and I braced ourselves and hung on to our seat belts with both hands, as the car rocked this way and that. From somewhere deep in the back seat came plaintive noises of distress.
The Scarlet Lady roared up and down half a dozen back streets, taking lefts and rights at random, trying to shake off the Pan’s Panzerpeople. But the Pteranodons wheeled majestically overhead, tracking us easily from above, raking the streets with vicious gunfire. Buildings blew up as we shot past them, flying debris bouncing off the car. A lamp-post was cut in half by savage fire, and the top end crashed down onto the car’s roof. The metal didn’t even buckle under the weight, and the steel post fell away in a series of sparks as the car pressed on, laughing savagely.
I couldn’t help noticing that while all the cars and trucks and other vehicles had disappeared, there were still any number of pedestrians still walking up and down the pavements, who didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the end of the world going on all around them. Fire and bullets and collapsing buildings to all sides, sometimes right in front of them, but never any reaction from the poor souls caught up in it.
Even when some were shot dead, or brought down under falling rubble.
“Frankie?” I said.
“I’m not coming out!”
“Why are all the pedestrians blind to what’s happening?”
“Casino Infernale has half a dozen major league telepaths just sitting around their basement, doing nothing but broadcasting Don’t Notice Anything Out Of The Ordinary, very loudly, in eight-hour shifts. All of the day and all of the night, until Casino Infernale is over. Huge payoffs take care of everything else. The price of doing business in a tourist town.”
“But people are dying out there!” said Molly.
“No one will give a damn,” said Frankie. “No one will even notice anything, until much later. By which time Casino Security will have cleaned up the mess and hauled away the bodies, and silenced the relatives. One way or another. At best, there’ll be some vague story about terrorists, for the outside media. No one wants to scare off the tourists.”
“Could the Casino be behind the Pan’s Panzerpeople?” I said.
“Stop asking me about this! I don’t know!”
“Don’t make me come back there,” I said.
“All right! All right, let me think. . . . It’s unlikely. If Casino Security knew who you really are, they’d have blown you away the moment you arrived. Taken you out with a nuclear grenade, or a hit demon. Made a real mess of you as a warning to others. But, I mean, come on! No one with any sense would try to take down a Drood with bullets! Shaman Bond, on the other hand . . . This kind of overkill has all the hallmarks of a pre-emptive strike, by some other gambler who sees you as a threat.”
The Pteranodons slammed down out
of the sky in waves, again and again. Ugly flying reptile things with gun girls on their backs, sweeping in from left and right to try to catch us in a crossfire. The Nazi warrior women called out to each other in harsh guttural voices, laughing raucously, their bony Aryan faces full of the joy of battle and slaughter. They didn’t care how many innocent people they killed, how many pitiful corpses and broken bodies they left lying in the streets. Heavy bullets slammed into the Scarlet Lady’s chassis, over and over, rocking the car back and forth but never breaking through.
“I’ve had enough of this,” I said. “No more innocents dying, not on my watch. Car, do you have any built-in weapons systems?”
“Of course!” said the car. “Your uncle Jack gave me a good going over on his last visit. Lovely man. Lovely hands . . .”
“Hold everything,” said Molly. “What was the Drood Armourer doing, installing Drood weapons in a Department of the Uncanny car?”
“Can we please concentrate on the matter at hand?” I said. “Car, can you fire back at these Nazi bitches?”
“I have front-mounted cannon,” said the car. “But they’re all aimed at ground level. Everything else has to be controlled by the passengers. Rules.”
“Fine by me!” said Molly. “Show me something!”
“Love to,” said the car.
The dashboard suddenly rolled over, to be replaced by a complete computerised weapons system. Controls for automatic weaponry, car-to-air missiles, front – and rear-mounted flamethrowers. Molly and I both reached for the missile control systems, but she got there first. She activated the tracking systems, grabbed the joy-stick provided, and locked on to the nearest rider in the sky. Molly fired the missile, and it blasted off from the rear of the car to blow both the Pteranodon and its Nazi gun girl out of the sky in one great explosion. Blood and flesh fell through the air like hellish confetti. Molly kept working the controls, targeting one Pan’s Panzerperson after another, but she could take out only one at a time, and I just knew there weren’t going to be enough missiles in the car’s armoury to take out all the targets.
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