Casino Infernale sh-6

by Simon R. Green

  “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 would 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.

  “Mr. Shaman Bond, allow me to present to you . . . Leopold, the famous gambling priest. Jacqueline Hyde, famous for all sorts of unpleasant things. Earnest Schmidt, head of the reformed Brotherhood of the Vril, who wants very much to be famous one day. And a gentleman who prefers to be known by his old sobriquet, the Card Shark. Once, the most famous card player of them all.”

  We all nodded to each other, more or less politely. The only one I didn’t already know was the fat old man called the Card Shark. His name meant something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. . . . He sat half slumped in his chair, bulging out of his suit as though he’d outgrown it, his stomach pushing out the bulging, food-spattered waistcoat. He had large fleshy hands, not quite as steady as they should have been, and a broad sweaty face with unhealthy grey skin. His eyes were flat and dark and suspicious. He didn’t look at all well. He looked old and tired, as though he should have been in some retirement home, and that, at last, helped me to place him.

  The Card Shark dismissed me with a glance, which was as it should be. He had no reason to know Shaman Bond. Wouldn’t have lowered himself to move in such circles. But he’d have known my cousin, Matthew Drood, back when Matthew was the family’s main field agent in London. He’d amassed quite a file on the infamous Card Shark—a man already well past his prime, but still a fearless and much feared card player in all the sleazier gambling houses in London. The Card Shark got his reputation from driving other card players to their deaths. The Shark liked to goad inexperienced young players into games and bets they weren’t ready for, and then demand every penny he was owed, immediately. Many suicided when they couldn’t pay.

  I thought the nasty old
scrote had retired. Was he back here for one last big game? And if so, how did he get this far? Last I heard, he was broke and vegetating in some nursing home. Could Casino Infernale have funded the Card Shark’s return, so Parris could be sure of at least one celebrity name at his first Big Game?

  I made a point of looking away from the table and the players, and gestured at the great steel-shuttered windows.

  “What’s out there?” I said to Parris. “Where are we, exactly? Why aren’t we allowed to see?”

  “Because you wouldn’t like it,” said Parris. “It would only distract you from the game. All you need to know is that this is home ground to the Shadow Bank. And we take our privacy very seriously.”

  I looked across at the bar, where Molly was perched on a high stool opposite Eiko. They were talking quietly to each other, not even bothering to hide their mutual hostility.

  “Only the players are allowed to sit at table,” said Eiko. “You are allowed to observe, Miss Metcalf, as long as you don’t try to interfere.”

  “Well, whoopee,” said Molly. She shot me a quick reassuring glance, and then glared at the bartender. “Give me a bottle of brandy and one glass. I would offer you a drink, Miss Eiko, but I’ve only got the one bottle.”

  Eiko ordered a single glass of saki.

  “Am I the only guest here?” said Molly.

  “No one else took advantage of their plus one,” said Eiko. “Unless you count Jacqueline. But then, in my experience, I have found most gamblers to be solitary types.”

  “Are you sitting here to keep me company, or to keep an eye on me?” Molly said bluntly.

  “Yes,” said Eiko.

  “If we could have your full attention, Mr. Bond?” said Parris.

  I pulled out a chair, sat down at the table, and stared openly round at my fellow players. They looked me over just as openly. I supposed they weren’t used to playing with people they didn’t already know at this level of Casino Infernale. I smiled easily about me.

  “So!” I said brightly. “Let’s all get acquainted. Why are we all here? You first . . .”

  “One last big game,” said the Card Shark. His voice was harsh and breathy, as though he had trouble getting enough air. “To prove I’ve still got it. That I’m still the best.”

  It had to be said, no one else at the table looked particularly convinced. Most of them were looking at the Card Shark with barely disguised contempt.

  “Go on, Shark,” said Jacqueline. “Make yourself at home. Ruin someone’s life and drive them to suicide.”

  “Why are you here?” Schmidt said to Jacqueline. He sounded politely interested.

  “It’s no secret,” said Jacqueline. “I need to find a way to separate myself from Hyde, so we can exist separately. So we can be properly together, at last.”

  “But you’re from the Nightside,” said Leopold. “If you couldn’t find an answer there . . .”

  “Who says I didn’t?” Jacqueline said harshly. “But miracles cost money, lots of money, even in the Nightside. Perhaps especially in the Nightside.”

  “I am here to fund the Vril,” Earnest Schmidt said flatly. “The world is waiting for us, waiting for a Fourth Reich to bring Order out of Chaos. The world is waiting for the reformed Brotherhood of the Vril to return from the shadows and force the world to make sense again. Movements cost money. So here I am. Look on my cards, ye mighty, and despair.”

  “Molly and I were attacked on our way here,” I said, “by big blonde Nazi girls, riding flying lizards. Pan’s Panzerpeople.”

  “I know nothing of this,” said Schmidt, not even looking at me.

  A brandy bottle flew past his head, barely missing him, followed by raucous laughter from the bar. Schmidt went pale, and developed a twitch.

  “I know,” I said quickly to Parris. “She’s my responsibility.” I looked back at the bar. “Behave, Molly. Or they’ll throw both of us out of here.”

  “Spoil-sports,” said Molly. “You, bartender. Give me another bottle. And if you say I’m cut off, I’ll start cutting bits off your anatomy.”

  “Girls just want to have fun,” I said to Parris. I looked at Schmidt. “The Pan’s Panzerpeople are all dead now. So are their Pteranodons. Hope you kept the receipt. Maybe you can get your money back.”

  “I am here to raise funds for Mother Church,” said Leopold. Intervening graciously.

  “What’s the matter, priest?” said Jacqueline. “The Church doesn’t own enough land, or cathedrals, or works of art?”

  “I raise money for charity,” said Leopold. “For orphanages and missionaries. Feed the hungry, and pass out Bibles to the lost.”

  “Ever think maybe you’re part of the problem?” said Jacqueline.

  “No,” said Leopold.

  I studied him thoughtfully. “How do you justify owning souls, priest? Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “I have been given a special dispensation by the Church,” Leopold said calmly.

  “And what happens?” I said. “To the souls you own?”

  “Souls are currency, or ammunition, in the Great Game between Heaven and Hell,” said Leopold. “You might say . . . the souls I win have been conscripted, to my side.”

  “Slavery is still slavery, however you justify it,” I said.

  “Then how do you justify owning souls, Mr. Bond?” said Leopold. He seemed genuinely interested in my answer.

  “I don’t,” I said. “But then, I don’t have to. I’m a bastard, not a priest.”

  “I work for the greater good,” said Leopold. “The sacrifice of the few is sometimes necessary, if the many are to be saved.”

  “Even conscripts should have some say in what happens to them,” I said.

  “You are a far more thoughtful man than I expected,” said Leopold. “We should talk, afterwards. I’m sure we’d find a lot in common. Why are you here, Mr. Bond?”

  “I’m here to break the bank,” I said, and everyone managed some kind of smile at that.

  “Really,” said Schmidt, smiling avuncularly, if a little coldly, “I think all of us would admit, if pressed, that we are all here for the thrill of the game. Even you, priest.”

  “Perhaps especially me,” said Leopold, calmly.

  “Before we start,” said Jacqueline, “I want a bigger chair. Because this one will just break when I change into Hyde.”

  I think it was the way she said when rather than if that put the wind up everybody. Including the armed guards around the room, who immediately snapped to attention and aimed their guns at Jacqueline. Parris gestured to Eiko, who hopped down from her bar-stool and left the room through the dimensional door.

  “I’m assuming there is a null zone generator in this room, somewhere,” Molly said loudly. “To keep everyone honest. And to keep Jacqueline . . . Jacqueline. Can she really become Hyde, under these conditions?”

  “I’m afraid she can,” said Parris. “Hers is a pre-existing condition, a result of taking the Hyde potion long ago. So we must all therefore rely on Jacqueline’s self-control.”

  I shot a look at Molly, who nodded briefly to me. We were both thinking of the potion the Armourer gave us, before we left Drood Hall. And then we all looked round sharply as the door banged open and Eiko strode in, leading two security guards carrying a really big chair between them. They set it down at the table, and backed quickly away. Jacqueline looked the chair over, and then tried it out for size. She looked small and lost in it. She nodded, briefly. Eiko went back to the bar, hopped up onto her bar-stool, and went back to glaring at Molly. The two security men left the room, at speed, closing the door firmly behind them. There then followed a certain amount of changing chairs and jockeying for position, because no one wanted to sit next to Jacqueline Hyde any more. In the end, Leopold sat down on one side of her, and not to be outdone, I sat down on her other side. Schmidt and the Card Shark immediately sat down on the other side of the table, facing us. Franklyn Parris sat at the head of the table, and produced a pack of playing cards.
He smiled easily about him, shuffling the pack with calm, practised movements.

  “I shall be dealer,” he announced. “As the only truly impartial figure here. The game is, of course, poker. The traditional game, with no cards showing. None of the . . . amusing variations. Poker is the only game to have a real, almost mystical significance to all Major Players. A matter of chance and skill, and a test of character, poker has always been the Big Game, to decide the future of all souls won at Casino Infernale.”

  He set the pack of cards down carefully on the polished tabletop, and then produced, apparently from nowhere, a large red-lacquered box, to set down beside the cards. He waved his hand over the box, and the lid slowly opened. Parris then consulted a list, and counted out piles of obols for all of us. To serve as our gambling chips. I wasn’t entirely surprised to find that everyone else had a much bigger pile than mine. The next largest pile belonged to the Card Shark, presumably courtesy of the Casino. I examined the obols I’d been given. Each small coin had been stamped with a stylised death’s head, on both sides.

  “Cool,” I said. “Cool touch.”

  “We thought so,” said Parris. And then he dealt five cards to each of us, round and round, while we all watched with avid eyes.

  I picked up my cards, and took a look. A pair of eights, and three assorted hearts. Didn’t mean a thing to me.

  I hadn’t played cards in general, and poker in particular, since I was a kid. And only then because all forms of gambling were strictly forbidden at Drood Hall. If it was against the rules, I was up for it, back then. But . . . it didn’t take me long to discover that I had no gift, no skill, and no luck at all when it came to cards. So I gave it up, very quickly. Never once felt the urge to go back.

  I looked at my cards again, with what I hoped was my best poker face, and hadn’t a clue what to do for the best. I could discard as many cards as I wanted, and take more from the dealer, in the hope of improving my hand . . . but I had no idea what the relevant odds were. So I sat back, and allowed the others to make up their minds behind their various poker faces, and waited for the Armourer’s potion to kick in. Only to quickly realise that the potion only helped with card counting and pattern recognition. Neither of which would be any use until a few hands of cards had been played. By which time . . . I could have lost all my carefully gathered souls.