Casino Infernale (18 page)

“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 main 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 course . . . 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.”

“All right,” I said. “What marvellous toys do you have for me to play with, this time?”

He actually winced. “I do wish you wouldn’t call them that, Eddie.”

“Do you have something to make sure I win, every time?” I said.

“Casino Security would spot anything that obvious in a moment,” said the Armourer. “We have to be more subtle than that.”

He rummaged around in one of his desk drawers, and brought out a very familiar-looking handgun, in a worn leather shoulder holster.

“We’ll start with the Colt Repeater,” the Armourer said briskly. “You’ve used this often enough before. Standard issue. No recoil, aims itself, and never runs out of ammunition. Fires steel bullets, silver, wood, and incendiaries. As required. The ammo teleports in from outside, so Casino Security shouldn’t be able to detect the gun’s extra-curricular capabilities. . . .”

“They’ll know it’s there, though,” I said. “Won’t they just confiscate it?”

“Everyone at Casino Infernale goes armed,” said the Armourer. “Or no one would dare turn up. Gamblers like to play rough, and they’re always ready to defend themselves, and their winnings. As long as your gun is clearly for personal use, and apparently small and limited, Security won’t bother you. All their staff will be much better armed, of course.”

“Such as?” said Molly.

“Just assume the worst, and you’ll be right more often than you’re wrong,” said the Armourer.

“Terrific . . .” said Molly. “I notice you’re not offering me any weapons.”

“Wouldn’t dream of insulting you, my dear,” the Armourer said gallantly, and Molly actually giggled.

“Why the shoulder holster?” I said, hefting the weight of the gun and holster in my hand, dubiously. “Why can’t I just keep it in my pocket dimension, until I need it?”

“Because we don’t want the Security staff even suspecting you might have such a thing,” the Armourer said sternly. “Keep the gun in plain sight, where they can see it.”

I shrugged out of my jacket, and struggled into the shoulder-holster straps. I’ve never liked the bloody things. It’s like trying to put on a bra, in the dark, backwards. In the end, Molly had to help me. She does have more experience in these matters, after all. Bras and shoulder holsters. By the time we were finished, and I had my jacket on again, feeling very self-conscious about the bulge over my left chest, the Armourer was waiting to present Molly and me with two thin glass phials, each containing a deep purple liquid that seethed and heaved as though trying to break through the glass. I couldn’t help noticing that the vials were not just stoppered, but wired shut. This did not fill me with confidence.

“A simple memory enhancer,” said the Armourer, beaming. “So you can count cards, calculate the odds, detect patterns in the run of play, and more . . . should give you just the edge you need, against even the most proficient and practised players.”

I looked suspiciously at the bubbling liquid. “How long will the effect last?”

“Good question,” said the Armourer. “No idea. Make a note of when the stuff stops working, and be sure to let me know.”

“Has anyone actually tested this before?” said Molly.

“Oh, yes,” said the Armourer. “Lots of people.”

“Where are they!” demanded Molly. “Show them to me!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” said the Armourer. “Get it down you. Yes, right now! So it will have a chance to sink into your system, and Security won’t be able to detect it.”

Molly and I took one glass phial each. My phial felt unpleasantly warm to the touch. We looked at each other, for mutual comfort and support, and then carefully peeled away the heavy wire holding the stoppers in place. The purple liquid jumped wildly in the phial, as though sensing a chance to escape. I popped off the stopper, put the phial to my lips and knocked it back in one. My lips thinned back from the bitter over-taste, and then I swear to God my eyes squeezed shut so tightly, it forced tears down my cheeks. My throat tried to turn inside out. I have never tasted anything so foul in my life. Including that chalky white kaolin morphine muck they used to force on me when I was poorly as a kid. And too weak to fight them off.