“They’d better not all be expecting a tip.”
“I’ve got a tip for them,” I said. “But they probably wouldn’t want to hear it.”
Molly looked at me thoughtfully. “How much money have you got on you, sweetie? I mean, actual cash? We’re in France . . . they have Euros. I haven’t got any Euros. Have you?”
“Now that you mention it, no. A field agent usually receives a wodge of local cash along with his legend, but this all happened in a bit of a hurry. Can’t you just conjure some up?”
“Not the kind of bank-notes that will fool Casino Security, no!”
I looked around for Frankie, who was still lurking by the newsstand, and he hurried over to join us, smiling shamefacedly.
“Get us some cash,” I said, before he could say anything. “All denominations. And no, you can’t put it on my credit card. Use your intuition. Go wild. And don’t get caught.”
He nodded quickly, and hurried away. I headed for the elevators, Molly at my side.
“You do know your Colt Repeater wouldn’t have worked under a null zone?” Molly murmured in my ear.
“I did rather suspect that, yes,” I said, just as quietly. “But the concierge didn’t know that. And I could always have clubbed him over the head with the specially weighted butt. That’s a design feature.”
“You’re a class act, Shaman,” said Molly.
“Bet your arse,” I said.
* * *
We were both pleased to discover we’d been assigned a whole suite to ourselves on one of the higher floors. Molly and I investigated happily, while the baggage boys dumped all our suitcases in one place, and then gathered together by the door to stare at us meaningfully. I was just considering whether Mr. Colt needed to reappear, when Frankie returned and stuffed folding money into every outstretched hand. The baggage boys disappeared quickly, smiling broadly, and Frankie slammed the door shut in their faces. He then produced large bundles of bank-notes from every pocket, and pressed them into my waiting hands. I riffled quickly through them, but they all looked much the same to me. Foreign currency usually does. I handed half to Molly, stuffed the rest into various pockets, and nodded briskly to Frankie, who all but wriggled like a dog who’s just had his head patted.
“That should last you!” he said grandly. “Try to be generous with the staff; it makes a good impression if you don’t seem to care about money. I do get to put this all on expenses, don’t I?”
“Write it all down,” I said. “And keep receipts.”
Frankie sighed, heavily. “I don’t know why I bother.”
I looked at him thoughtfully. “Why do you bother? The family can’t be paying you enough for all the danger involved.”
“Why does any Bastard like me work for the Droods?” said Frankie. “We all want to earn the right to join the family. We all want to come home.”
“It rarely works out well,” I said, not unkindly.
He just shrugged, so I turned away and joined Molly in looking over the many wonders of our new suite. Wide open with lots of room everywhere, the suite had even more rooms, leading off, and Molly and I spent a happy time running in and out of the side rooms, and sharing reports with each other. There was a double bed big enough to invite several friends in, and what looked like genuine antique furnishings. Bright golden sunshine streamed in through huge bay windows, with a fantastic view out over the city. Every luxury you could think of, including a mini-bar bigger than the fridge freezer in my old flat. Molly ended up running round and round the main room like an over-excited puppy, touching things in passing with trailing fingertips, while whooping at the top of her voice. She finally threw herself onto the double bed, rolled back and forth, and then clambered to her feet and jumped up and down, laughing happily.
“Quick, Shaman! Find things to steal! I’m not leaving this hotel empty-handed!”
She must have realised I wasn’t paying attention, because she broke off abruptly, and came over to stand beside me. I was staring out the massive bay window, not looking at anything in particular. Her hand stole into mine, and squeezed it comfortingly.
“What is it, sweetie?” she said. “What’s wrong?”
“My own father and mother sold my soul, to gamble with,” I said. “How could they do that to me?”
“I’m sure they had a good reason,” said Molly.
“Strangely, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I said. “I’d only just got my parents back . . . and they do this to me.”
“Don’t be too quick to judge them,” said Molly. “Not until we’ve got all the facts. We don’t know what happened here. Everyone knows things can happen in a Casino that would never happen anywhere else. The stakes are so high here—and it’s not like they were gambling for themselves. . . .”
I turned away from the window to look at her. “Will you forgive the Regent, my grandfather, if he turns out to have a good reason for murdering your parents?”
Molly sighed, and cuddled up against me. I put an arm across her shoulders. And we just stood together for a while. As we often did. Us, against the world.
“We don’t have easy lives, do we?” Molly said eventually.
“Wouldn’t know what to do with them, if we did,” I said.
“Come lie with me on the bed, sweetie,” said Molly.
“Don’t mind me!” Frankie said quickly. “I can always nip out for a bit, make contact with the wrong sort of people, make myself useful. . . .”
“I meant lie down and rest, you horrible little man,” said Molly.
“Damn,” I said, solemnly.
Molly laughed, pushed me away from her, and went to lie down on the bed. She crossed her long legs, and looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. I opened the mini-bar and took out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Domestic, but it would do. I opened the bottle and poured two glasses. I gave the bottle to Frankie, laid myself out on the bed beside Molly, and handed her a glass. We braced our heads against the padded headboard, and sipped our champagne. I’d been on worse missions. I looked at Frankie, and he snapped to attention.
“All right,” I said. “Make yourself useful. Brief us on all the things we need to know that we should have been briefed on before this.”
“Well, to start with,” Frankie said carefully, “you should both be very careful about which names you use. There are listening bugs and recording devices everywhere, magical and tech. Not everywhere, obviously, but it’s safer to assume the worst and speak wisely. Everyone knows Security is listening—all part of being “protected”—but you should choose your words carefully, Shaman and Molly. Just in case.”
“Got it,” I said. “What else do we need to know?”
“And keep it short and to the point,” said Molly. “Or I will heckle. And throw things.”
Frankie took a long drink from his bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiled brightly. “Lecture mode! This year, Casino Infernale is being run by an up-and-coming, and very ambitious, representative of the Shadow Bank: one Franklyn Parris. Word is, he got where he is today by being even more vicious and ruthless than all the other ruthless and vicious bastards he met on the way up. Coldhearted, too intelligent for his own good, with all the natural charm of a rabid rat with bleeding haemorrhoids. Look, he’s a big-time banker! What else do you need to know?”
“He’s in charge of everything here?” I said.
“He makes all the decisions,” said Frankie, “but he’s still answerable to the managers of the Shadow Bank.”
“Tell us more about the Shadow Bank,” said Molly. “All I have is gossip.”
“They have branches everywhere, underground,” said Frankie. “In the Maldives, the Cayman Islands, Switzerland; all the banking whores of the world. They provide financial practices and services for all their many and varied clientele. Including places to hide or go to ground, where absolutely no one will find you. The Shadow Bank keeps this all very private, very secret and secure, so that all the hidden
organisations and secret individuals can keep their finances under the world’s radar. The Shadow Bank makes organised supernatural crime possible.”
Molly looked at me. “Then why don’t the Droods . . .”
“If it wasn’t them,” I said, “it would only be someone else. Better the devil you know . . . and can lay hands on, if necessary.”
Molly gave Frankie a hard look. “Do you know who’s behind the Shadow Bank? Who owns it; who’s really in charge? Who profits?”
“Well,” said Frankie, “to be honest, for a long time a lot of people just assumed it was the Droods . . . but of course no one believes that any more. The truth: these days, no one knows. A lot of very powerful people have made some very determined efforts to find out, but the Bank’s internal Security really is first class. May I continue with the briefing? Thank you.
“Casino Infernale is always run by the Shadow Bank’s finest young sharks, determined to make a name for themselves. The Casino is where those most desperate to prove themselves get their chance to show what they can do, and jump several rungs up the promotions ladder. They run all the games here, make sure all the right people get invited, and make sure the Casino runs at a very generous profit.
“Franklyn Parris is here to make sure that everything goes as it should, and to stamp down hard on anyone who looks like they might be trouble. He is personally responsible for all Casino Security. Casino Infernale is a major money earner for the Shadow Bank, as well as a major source of prestige. So a blow to the eye of the Casino is a kick in the balls to the Bank. And God help the Casino manager who screws up. If anyone were to break the bank here, Franklyn Parris would be lucky to keep his life. Or his soul.”
“Let us think of that as a happy bonus,” I said.
“Yes, let’s,” said Molly.
“You are not taking this nearly serious enough!” said Frankie. “The Big Names, the Major Players, the really big-time gamblers, all come to Casino Infernale to show off . . . to wipe out the opposition and make or lose fortunes overnight. Often just on the turn of a card. If you can beat these people at their own games, you could wipe out any number of Major Players and Big Names, most of whom have very definitely got it coming to them. And if you can, by some absolutely amazing chance, break the bank here, it would be a severe blow to the Shadow Bank.
“At least, temporarily. It would cost them a lot of money, undermine their prestige and dependability, as well as putting them in a position where they wouldn’t be in any position to loan money to anyone . . . but you must realise, it wouldn’t last. Just slow them down a bit . . .”
“A win,” I said.
Molly and I toasted each other with our glasses of champagne. Frankie took a quick drink from his bottle, and then cleared his throat, meaningfully.
“I do feel I should point out that this is all purely theoretical. It’s never actually been done. Never! No one has ever broken the bank at Casino Infernale. Not even come close. Not since it began, hundreds of years ago.”
“How many hundreds?” said Molly.
“No one seems too sure,” said Frankie. “The origins of the Shadow Bank, and all its works, are cloaked in mystery. And you can be sure the Shadow Bank likes it that way.”
He and Molly both looked at me, and all I could do was shrug.
“I’m sure someone in the Drood family knows,” I said carefully. “But don’t look at me. I only know what I need to know to get the job done. And I’m only interested in the present, not the past.”
“Try to damp down the enthusiasm, sweetie,” said Molly.
“Need I remind you that I was chosen for this mission because I have a reputation for winning against the odds?”
“You never met odds like the ones at Casino Infernale,” said Molly. “Get cocky around here, without your usual protections, and you could get both of us killed.”
“And me!” said Frankie. “So let us all be very careful. Word is, Franklyn Parris is determined that nothing will be allowed to go wrong on his watch, this year. His first in charge. Casino Infernale is going to run smoothly and perfectly or someone is going to pay for it. To make sure of this, he has hired some very special Security muscle: the Jackson Fifty-five.”
“Oh, wow,” said Molly. “I’ve heard of them! Fifty-five clones of the same highly experienced and very deadly mercenary, Albert Jackson. Biggest, blackest fighting man ever. So they say . . .”
“Are we talking about a group mind, operating in fifty-five bodies simultaneously?” I said. “Or fifty-five separate versions of the same fighting man?”
“The latter, I think,” said Frankie. “No one’s ever got close enough to ask, and survive.”
“Well, that’s all right, then,” I said, returning my attention to my glass of champagne. “For a moment there, I thought we might be in trouble.”
“Fifty-five!” said Frankie, loudly. “Which part of fifty-five are you having trouble with?”
“Maybe we can trick them into fighting each other,” said Molly.
“Of course, the sudden disappearance of Patrick and Diana has put Franklyn Parris on his guard,” said Frankie. “Which will only make things even more difficult for you two.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “What are the chances of two sets of people coming here determined to break the bank? They’ll never see that coming. Especially since, as you already pointed out, no one has ever done it before.”
“The point is,” Frankie said doggedly, “Parris will have already ordered his entire Security staff to be on the lookout for anyone and anything out of the ordinary!”
“In this place?” said Molly. “Good luck with that . . .”
There was a knock on the door. We all froze, and looked at each other. Frankie became extremely tense. I got up from the bed and faced the door, and Molly was quickly there beside me. We drank off the last of our champagne, tossed the glasses carelessly onto the bed, and glared at the door. None of us made any move to answer the knock.
“Are we expecting anyone?” I said.
“No,” said Frankie, very definitely.
“Assassins?” said Molly.
“They’d hardly knock, would they?” I said. “Hello, we’re the polite assassins! Would you mind awfully if we killed you now, or should we pop back later?”
“Could be complimentary room service,” said Molly. “But it doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
“I am feeling a bit peckish,” I said.
“Then you open the door,” said Molly.
“Not that peckish,” I said.
“Well, someone’s got to answer the door!” said Frankie. “Unless we’re all going to hide under the bed. And I don’t think there’s room.”
“You looked!” Molly said accusingly.
I drew my Colt Repeater, stepped towards the door, and said, “Come in!”
The electronic lock worked from the other side, the door swung open, and a very civilised gentleman strolled confidently in. Medium height and weight, middle-aged and distinguished, very well-tailored, calm, smiling, courteous. I distrusted him immediately. He raised an eyebrow at my Colt, but didn’t appear particularly impressed. He smiled at Molly, and when he spoke to her his English held only the faintest and most charming of French accents.
“Hello. I am Jonathon Scott, the hotel manager. I understand there was, regretfully, some degree of unpleasantness earlier, at reception. I am here to apologise on behalf of the hotel, and make it very clear that we will not tolerate any rudeness to our guests. The concierge is gone. You will not see him again.”
I couldn’t help noticing that he was paying nearly all of his attention to the infamous Molly Metcalf, and only glancing occasionally at the merely notorious Shaman Bond. Which was, of course, as it should be. Frankie didn’t even get a glance.
“You know who I am,” said Molly.
“Of course, Miss Metcalf. Your reputation precedes you. Welcome to the Casino hotel! Please don’t break it. It’s the only one we’ve got, and it is of gre
at sentimental value.”
“Casino Infernale’s reputation precedes it,” I said. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t put the gun down. I wouldn’t want to be suddenly gone, like the concierge.”
“Of course, Mr. Bond,” said the manager. “I have heard of you. And we will be counting all the cutlery before you leave.”
“We’re here to play the games,” I said. “And we’re here to win.”
“Of course, sir,” said the manager. He turned back to Molly. “May I ask, very politely, whether your sisters will be joining you here at any point?”
“Unlikely,” said Molly.
“Oh, good,” said the manager.
“I get that a lot,” said Molly.
“As a mark of our regret for the earlier unpleasantness, I have been instructed to inform you that all your food and drink is on the house, for the entirety of your stay,” said the manager.
“Instructed?” I said. “By Franklyn Parris, perhaps? Has the big man himself taken an interest in Molly and me?”
“We’ve all heard of Molly Metcalf,” said the manager. It wasn’t an answer, but he made it seem like one. Scott smiled graciously. “The games will begin in one hour, madam and sir. Five p.m. sharp. Please note that full Security will be in place throughout the games, for the protection of the hotel. Not the guests. We expect the guests to be able to fend for themselves.”
“Oh, we can fend,” I said. “We can fend like crazy if we have to.”
“Suddenly and violently and all over the place,” said Molly.
The manager smiled briefly at Molly, nodded to me, and left, closing and locking the door behind him. I put my gun away.
“Did you see how he completely ignored me?” said Frankie. “That’s class, that is!”
“He didn’t pay that much attention to me,” I said.
“I did notice,” said Molly.
“He couldn’t do enough for you,” I said.
“I noticed,” said Molly. “Still—free food and drink . . .”
“Best kind!” said Frankie.
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