Casino Infernale sh-6

by Simon R. Green

  “Come here,” said the big man, the bloody man. “Come here, and I’ll kill you. I’ve killed so many to win this Game, one more won’t matter. Come here and let me kill you and I’ll make it quick. Make me work for it, and I will make you scream and beg and bleed before I finish you.” He smiled suddenly. “That is why I come to the Game, after all. Where else can you get to kill so many people, in the name of sport? I always have the best time here, every year!”

  I reached into the pocket dimension at my hip, brought out my Colt Repeater, and shot him neatly between the eyes. His head snapped back, and he was dead before he hit the bodies piled up around him. The pocket dimension isn’t actually in the pocket of my trousers, or I’d never be able to wear another pair. It just hovers at my hip, and goes everywhere with me. Most useful thing the Armourer ever made for me. I slipped the Colt back into the pocket dimension, and it disappeared again. I clambered carefully over the fallen competitors, heading for the man I’d killed. Some of them made feeble sounds of protest, which meant some of them were still alive. I was glad about that. I didn’t want to think so many people had actually died for a stupid stick. I prised the sacred staff out of the dead man’s hand, wiped some of the mess away on his body, and then turned and headed for the nearest open doorway.

  * * *

  It felt wonderfully cool, out in the open air again. The crowd went wild, laughing and cheering and applauding. They did love a good surprise ending. Some of them came rushing forward, wanting to shake my hand or clap me on the shoulder. I let them do it, though I drew the line at being embraced. At least until I was dressed again. Apparently a lot of people had won a lot of souls, betting on me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Molly pushed her way through the crowd, holding my clothes, and a towel she’d acquired from somewhere. She glared at everyone else until they fell back enough to give us room. And then she towelled me down carefully, removing as much of the caked-on blood as she could. I hadn’t realised how much had ended up on me from other people. Molly bit her lip, as she saw the bruises under the blood, but said nothing. She helped me get dressed again.

  A generic flunky approached me, and I looked him in the eye.

  “Nothing in the rules against it,” I said.

  “You are allowed whatever you carry in with you, sir,” said the flunky. “Though you did push it, a bit.”

  I looked around, as Frankie came rushing up. “Tell me I won big,” I said. “Because I have had enough of these Games.”

  “Of course we won big!” said Frankie, beaming all over his flushed face. “You wouldn’t believe how many souls we won!”

  “We won?” I said.

  “Oh, all right, you won,” said Frankie. “The point is, you now possess more than enough souls to get yourself a place in the Big Game!”

  “About time,” said Molly. “Really don’t like this place.”

  “Then let’s get out of here,” I said.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said the flunky, politely but firmly. “You have to hand back the sacred staff.”

  I looked at the soiled object I was still hanging on to. I honestly hadn’t realised I still had the thing.

  “I don’t get to keep it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then what did I win? What’s the point of the Game?”

  “The honour of playing, sir.”

  I handed him the sacred staff. “So, I don’t get anything?”

  “Of course you do, sir. You get your obol.”

  He pressed the small coin into my hand.

  “And this represents . . . ?” I said.

  “The soul of everyone who fell, living or dead, in the Game, sir. Please follow me now, and I will lead you back to your dimensional door.”

  “I will come back,” I said to him. “I will come back here, to help you.”

  The generic flunky looked at me for a long moment. “Then I will look forward to seeing you again, sir.”

  He led us back across the purple-tinged grass, back to the door, and our world. Molly slipped her arm through mine.

  “First you want to free all the faces in the corridor, now you want to free all the flunkies in this world. You just can’t look away, can you?”

  “The word over-ambitious does come to mind,” said Frankie, behind us.

  “That’s my Shaman,” said Molly. “Can’t see a wrong without wanting to put it right.” She smiled at me fondly. “Just remember, we still have a war to stop. And you promised me you’d help track down the Regent so I can get the truth out of him.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten,” I said.

  “I’m actually beginning to believe it,” said Frankie. “Maybe you really can break the bank at Casino Infernale, after all.”

  Molly looked at him. “If you didn’t believe it before, why have you been helping us all this time?”

  Frankie looked at her as though she was crazy. “For the money, of course!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Decisions Are Made, With Far-Reaching Consequences

  I was bracing myself for another trip through the corridor of screaming faces, all those trapped souls I couldn’t help, but when the generic flunky finally opened the dimensional door it opened directly onto our hotel suite. I stepped through automatically, with Molly and Frankie almost stepping on my heels, but when I turned back to question the flunky . . . the dimensional door had already closed, and disappeared. It did feel good to be back. The world of the Medium Games had just felt wrong, in too many small, telling ways. Mars had actually been easier to deal with, because it was so different. I sighed heavily, and sank down onto the bed. I hadn’t realised how tired I was until I didn’t have to be strong any more.

  “It would seem the hotel’s doors can drop us off wherever they want to,” said Molly.

  “Then why did they make us walk through the corridor of trapped souls in the first place?” I said.

  “To make a point?” said Frankie. “Remind us where the true power lies, at Casino Infernale? To put us in the right frame of mind for the Games? The Casino has been doing this for a long time, and it never misses a trick.”

  “I need to take another shower,” I said, heaving myself back up onto my feet again. “I need to wash the Games off me.”

  “Sounds good,” said Molly. “Think I’ll join you.”

  “I think I’ll go for another walk,” said Frankie. “Maybe take a turn back into town, see if they’ve cleared up all those crashed Pteranodons yet. There’s a future in fast food to be made there, by someone with ambition and the right connections. . . .”

  “Hold it,” I said. “I have a job for you, first. I want all the souls we won deposited somewhere safe, and secure.”

  “No problem,” said Frankie. “I’ll deposit them in the hotel safe. What are you both looking at me like that for? They’ll be perfectly secure there. The Shadow Bank guarantees Casino Infernale’s security. If they didn’t, no one who mattered would gamble here. Why do you think they made such a fuss when you broke into Parris’ office? People have to believe their winnings are safe here. You’d better give me your obols to deposit, too. They’re the soul equivalent of cold cash.”

  Molly and I dug the small coins out of our pockets and handed them over to Frankie; but at the last moment I held back the first obol I’d won. I hefted the small coin in my hand. So light, it was hardly there.

  “Think I’ll hang on to this,” I said, putting it back in my pocket. “As a reminder of how cheaply they value souls around here.”

  “He’s getting sentimental,” Molly said to Frankie. “That’s always dangerous. Leave now. Quickly. Run, while you still have the chance!”

  Frankie left, grinning. I took Molly by the hand and led her to the shower. The blood came off easily enough, but the memories still stuck.

  * * *

  Afterwards, we dressed in new clothes. A smart navy blue blazer and slacks for me, and a matching blue evening gown for Molly. She paraded up and down the room in it for me to admire, and smil
ed triumphantly at me.

  “Now aren’t you glad I packed so many clothes?”

  “I trust you explicitly in such things,” I said, carefully packing the Armourer’s various secret weapons and devices about my person. “Except for when I don’t.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t stick with that shoulder holster,” said Molly, as I slipped the Colt Repeater into my pocket dimension.

  “Slowed me down too much. Stick with what works, that’s what I say.” I stood before the full-length looking glass to check out my appearance. Molly came and stood beside me, looking almost dazzlingly glamorous.

  “We do make a good team,” she said. “I’d back us against anyone, in this world or out of it.”

  I had to smile. “That is why we’re here. . . .”

  Frankie knocked loudly on the door, from outside in the corridor, but had the lock open and was inside with us before the echoes had died away.

  “Good to see you both upright, and clothed,” he said. “I have news!”

  “What is so urgent?” said Molly. In a tone that implied that it had bloody well better be.

  “We’ve been gone longer than you think,” said Frankie. “I was just down in the lobby, when it occurred to me to check my watch against the lobby’s clock. We’ve been away for half a day!”

  I looked automatically at my watch. It had never occurred to me to check. We’d been away only an hour or so, maybe less. But the hands on my watch face showed ten past ten. Molly showed me her watch: 22:09. When I looked at the hotel clock on the bedside table, it said 1:14. And it was only then I thought to look out the window. It had been a dark evening when we left, now it was a bright sunny day. Midday, apparently.

  “What was the point of that?” said Molly.

  “To make another point, about how the Casino can control Time and Space through their dimensional doors?” said Frankie. “Or, because they didn’t want us hanging around the hotel with all its hangers-on, con men, and thieves, before the Big Game starts?”

  “I hate time travel,” I said. “It plays merry hell with your tenses.”

  “Casino Infernale is very nearly over,” said Frankie. “When I was down in the lobby, it was almost empty. Most of the Players have gone, and all of the hangers-on. The few remaining Major Players are apparently sitting quietly in their rooms, behaving themselves, waiting to see if they’ve done well enough to be invited to attend the Big Game.”

  And even as he was saying that, there was a polite but firm knock on the door. Molly and I moved quickly to stand together, facing the door, while Frankie moved quickly to hide behind us. Before it even occurred to me to say Come in! the lock opened from the other side and the manager Jonathon Scott walked in. He smiled easily at me, polite and respectful, consideration itself.

  “Allow me to present my compliments,” he said, in his best professionally charming voice. “I am here to invite you to take your place in the Big Game, Mr. Bond. On the penthouse floor at precisely eight o’clock this evening.”

  Frankie punched the air. Molly beamed widely, and I nodded to Scott. He waited a moment, to see if there was to be any more exuberance, and then stepped forward and presented me with an engraved invitation. Nothing fancy, or fussy. Just a simple card with my name on it. Nice lettering. Shaman Bond had never looked better.

  “Please don’t lose the card,” said Scott. “It has all kinds of security protocols built in. You won’t be admitted without it.”

  “What if someone steals it?” said Molly, practical as ever.

  “Heaven forefend that such a thing should happen in this hotel,” said Scott. “But if you were to lose it . . . that would only prove that Mr. Bond is not worthy to attend the Big Game, after all. And we would give his place to whoever might turn up with the card. The Casino really is very blunt and practical about things like that.”

  “I’m sure you are,” I said, slipping the invitation carefully into my pocket dimension.

  Scott looked at me knowingly. “A very useful hiding place, Mr. Bond. You made very good use of it at Last Man Standing.”

  “You were watching?” said Molly.

  “I watch everything,” said Scott. “That’s my job.”

  “Are there rules against using such things?” I said.

  “Not as such,” said Scott. “And the extremely powerful null zone operating at the Big Game will of course render it of no use to you. For the duration.”

  “Can’t keep anything secret here!” Molly said brightly.

  “No,” said Scott. “You can’t.” He looked at me directly. “Eight p.m. sharp, Mr. Bond. Don’t be late, or you won’t be admitted. Card or no card. And Mr. Bond, the invitation to play is extended strictly to you, and you alone. You may of course bring Miss Molly Metcalf with you, as your plus one, should you so choose, but she will not be allowed to play, or wager, or interfere in any way.” He glanced briefly at Frankie. “Leave your pet behind.”

  “Why is the invitation just for Shaman?” Molly said hotly. “I did my bit!”

  “There can be only one,” Scott said smoothly. “And Shaman won most of the souls through his efforts.”

  He then produced a heavy folder out of nowhere. Made me wonder whether he might have a pocket dimension of his own, and what else he might keep in it. The entire Jackson Fifty-five, for all I knew. Scott presented me with the folder, marked with the hotel crest in gold, and then looked at me expectantly. So I opened the folder. It contained several sheets of top-quality paper, also marked with the hotel crest, bearing row upon row of names. I leafed quickly through the pages, but it was all nothing but names. I looked at Scott.

  “This is your receipt, Mr. Bond. For all the souls you won at the Games, and entrusted to our hotel safe. Every name is there, every soul that now belongs to you. The living and the dead. Again, sir, please don’t lose this. It is your only proof of ownership. All lost souls revert to the Casino. Well, I think that’s everything. Unless you have any questions?”

  I would have liked to ask about the whereabouts of my own soul. Whose list it appeared on. But I couldn’t, because the Casino only had a claim on Eddie Drood’s soul, and I was Shaman Bond. The generic flunky at the Medium Games had seen the constraints on my soul, but he hadn’t actually asked my name. Just as well, really. Could have been awkward. I decided to change the subject.

  “Am I bringing the largest number of souls won to the Big Game?” I asked bluntly.

  Scott couldn’t hold back a small condescending smile. “Hardly, sir. But you did make a very good showing, for a first-time contender. I’m sure we’re all very interested to see how you’ll do at the Big Game, Mr. Bond.”

  He smiled again, nodded politely to one and all, and left. The door closed itself behind him. Molly made a rude gesture at the door.

  “I should have been invited! A lot of those souls should be mine!”

  “He won more than you,” Frankie said impassively. “That’s how it works here.”

  Molly sniffed loudly. I was still leafing through the pages in the hotel folder. So many names . . . I didn’t like the idea of owning other people’s souls. Too much like slavery.

  “Stop looking,” said Frankie, kindly enough. “You never know, you might recognise a name. It’s better not to know.”

  “You can always set them free later,” said Molly. “After we’ve broken the bank at Casino Infernale. In fact . . . if we break the bank really badly, and damage the Shadow Bank enough . . . then maybe their hold on their souls will be broken.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’d like that.” I looked at Frankie. “Would that apply to all those faces in the corridor?”

  “I don’t know,” Frankie said carefully. “I don’t think the subject has ever come up before. I would have to say that we’re treading in unknown and very theoretical territory here. Even if you do somehow manage to break the bank at Casino Infernale, a thing that has never ever been done before, that doesn’t mean you’d in any way break the Shadow Bank’s control over its ma
ny holdings. Economical and spiritual. The Casino’s just a fund raiser for the Bank, when all is said and done. The best you can realistically hope for is to weaken their position enough to stop this war you’re so worried about over the Crow Lee Inheritance. Whatever that might turn out to be. But that’s it! That’s enough, isn’t it?”

  “That was before I got a good look at how the Shadow Bank operates,” I said. “Before I saw the faces.”

  “Oh, God,” said Molly. “He’s gone all ambitious again. That’s rarely good.” She looked at Frankie. “I’d start running now, if I were you.”

  “That thought is never far from my mind,” said Frankie. He looked at me thoughtfully. “You know, that is a whole bunch of souls you’ve got there, in your hands. Representing more money than you could ever hope to spend in one lifetime. I know you’ve been talking about releasing them all back into the wild, but I’m sure the family wouldn’t miss a few. . . . I could get you a really good deal on the underground Soul Market. . . . No? All right, how about this? It occurs to me that the family might prefer you to hang on to certain bad guy souls. To give the Droods power and control over them.”

  “The family doesn’t work like that,” I said.

  “Since when?” said Frankie.

  I closed the folder, and put it away in my pocket dimension. Just in case.

  “The important thing is to regain control of your own soul, Eddie,” said Molly. “And those of your parents.”

  I looked at her. “What about all those claims on your soul? I’m going to have to do something about that.”