Casino Infernale (17 page)

“Right,” said the Sea Goat. “No one messes with us. We’ve got things in Shadows Fall that make the Inheritance look like a wet paper towel.”

“Strangely, that doesn’t reassure me,” said J.C.

“If the Crowley Project should acquire the Inheritance, you can all go to Hell,” Natasha Chang said sweetly. “By the direct route.”

“None of this deals with the main problem,” the Armourer said severely. “How to prevent the war for the Inheritance from breaking into the everyday world. That would be bad news for all of us. The Droods have discussed this, at length, and we feel we have a plan that will work.”

“Of course you do,” said Sir Parsifal. “Droods always have a plan. And, their own agenda.”

“It seems to us,” said the Armourer, pressing on determinedly, “that the best way to stop all these people from fighting and intriguing over the Inheritance, is to destroy their economic base. You can’t run a war without funds. Guns and armies cost serious money. So you can bet they’ll all be looking to the Shadow Bank for loans and support. But, if the Bank should happen to be in such a delicate position that it can’t afford to lend the money . . .”

“That would keep everyone quiet, until we could track down the Inheritance ourselves, and neutralise it,” said Sir Parsifal.

“Now, that’s what I call lateral thinking!” said J.C. “But how are we going to undermine a huge organisation like the Shadow Bank? I mean, they’re big! Really big! And very well protected.”

“Our plan is to infiltrate this year’s Casino Infernale,” said the Armourer. “Our agents will be Eddie and Molly. They will play the games, win big, and break the bank at the Casino, and thereby fatally weaken the Shadow Bank, who depend on these games for a large part of their income.”

“Oh, terrific!” I said. “When were you planning to tell Molly and me about this amazing plan that will almost certainly get both of us killed?”

“I just did,” said the Armourer.

Sir Parsifal rose suddenly to his feet, and glared coldly round the table. “If anyone is going to Casino Infernale and bring down the Shadow Bank, it must be a London Knight. Because only we are true and pure of heart enough not to be tempted. Money means nothing to us. We are Knights of the Round Table, of the Company of King Arthur Returned! We can be trusted.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But can you play cards?”

Sir Parsifal turned the full force of his glare on me. “Even the least of us is more trustworthy than a Drood who ran away from his family to serve that most despicable of creatures, the Regent of Shadows. Or a pagan witch who changes sides more often than her underwear.”

I was immediately up on my feet and facing him. I knew what he was doing, but I had no choice.

“None of you would last ten minutes at Casino Infernale, Sir Knight, because you know nothing about gambling. About when to bluff, or take a risk. And you’d be spotted the minute you walked through the door, because you don’t know how to pass. This is a job for a secret agent, not a knight in shining armour. And what’s more, keep your mind off my girlfriend’s underwear.”

“Damn right,” said Molly. “And the joke’s on you anyway, Percy. I’m not wearing any!”

Sir Parsifal put his steel helmet back on, and stood back from the table. “The matter is not open to debate. The decision has been made. The London Knights will run this operation because none of you can be trusted to do the right thing.”

I armoured up, and everyone else was quickly up out of their chairs, and backing away. Because it’s one thing to have heard about Drood armour, and quite another to see it manifest right in front of you. To feel its power and potency beating on the air; its terrible significance. Everyone watched silently from the end of the table, while the Armourer did his best to calm things down. I gestured to Molly, and she reluctantly fell back to join them. Leaving Sir Parsifal and me staring at each other, from inside our armour. He turned slowly to face me, his joints making slow sinister noises, and his hand dropped to the heavy sword at his side. I stepped forward, and my armour didn’t make a single sound.

“You can’t be allowed to screw this up, Knight, through your own arrogance,” I said. “This is too important. The whole world is at stake.”

“Business as usual for the London Knights,” said Sir Parsifal. “What’s the matter, Drood; stakes too high for you?”

“This was supposed to be a chance for discussion, not ultimatums,” I said.

“Typical Drood,” said Sir Parsifal. “This is why none of the Big Names from around the world showed up for your little get-together. Because real Powers don’t negotiate. I only came to see what you were up to. And now I know, I will take over. And do what needs to be done.”

Uncle Jack armoured up, and came forward to stand beside me. Molly was quickly there too, on my other side.

“No,” I said. “Thanks for the thought, but we can’t have a London Knight thinking it takes more than one Drood to bring him down. We can’t have these sanctimonious little pricks getting above themselves.”

The Armourer leaned in close beside me, his voice murmuring inside my mask. “Nice words, Eddie. Excellent sentiments. Couldn’t agree more. But, this is Sir Parsifal. A legendary warrior, undefeated fighter, and one of the most dangerous Knights in Arthur’s Company. His strength is as the strength of ten, because he’s too pure and single-minded to even entertain the concept of defeat. That sword he’s carrying isn’t Excalibur, but it is really old and horribly powerful, and soaked in martial magics. It might actually be able to cut through strange matter.”

“Then I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t have the chance to cut me with it,” I said. “Thanks for the pep talk though, Uncle Jack.”

“Any time, nephew.”

He moved back, taking Molly with him. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want me to look weak in front of the others.

I grew a long golden sword out of my armoured hand, and extended it out before me. Light as air, and sharper than a cutting word. Sir Parsifal drew his sword and the long blue-hued steel gleamed viciously. I could feel its presence, like a new arrival in the room. The two of us stepped forward, good men in armoured suits, fighting for what we each believed to be right. I was sure Sir Parsifal would honestly regret killing me, afterwards, but it wouldn’t stop him. He thought he had to win, for the sake of the world. Trouble was, I thought that too.

We both lunged forward, and our blades slammed together and then jumped apart again. I could see surprise in Sir Parsifal’s eyes; he’d expected his magic blade to shear right through mine. He knew nothing of strange matter. We cut at each other, again and again, stamping and thrusting, parrying and retreating. Circling each other, feinting and withdrawing, searching out weaknesses in the other’s position and style. The two great swords hammered together, and neither of us would give an inch.

Sir Parsifal was fast and furious, incredibly strong and practised, coming at me from every direction; but he’d never met a Drood before. He didn’t know how to fight dirty. So when I was sure I had his style down pat, I deliberately let my sword drop, just a little. He thought he saw an opening, and lunged forward, his sword leaping forward in full extension, to run me through the chest. I stood my ground, and the sword point hit my chest and bounced away, unable to penetrate. And while Sir Parsifal was shocked and caught off guard, I swung my sword with both hands, and hit him so hard on the wrist that his fingers leapt open, and his sword fell from his hand. I set the point of my golden sword at Sir Parsifal’s throat, unprotected under his steel helm.

“Had enough?” I said.

“Well played, Drood,” said Sir Parsifal, standing very still. “You took a hell of a chance, though. You couldn’t have known your armour would withstand my sword.”

“I gambled,” I said. “And I won. And that’s why I’m going to Casino Infernale.”

“It isn’t over yet,” said Sir Parsifal. “Are you really ready to kill me, over this?”

“Yes,” I said. “This matters.”

“Then you are the right man for the job,” said the Knight. “I yield. And I salute you, Sir Drood.”

I stepped back, and he leant down and picked up his sword from the floor. He saluted me with his blade, and then put it away.

“You didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, did you, darlings?” said Natasha Chang.

We all looked round, to see her standing away from the rest of us, covering us all with a nasty-looking piece of high tech in her hand. Energy weapon of some kind, presumably. She smiled happily.

“You should never have invited me here. I learned far more than I gave away; but just to be sure, I think I’ll kill you all now. And then eat all your ghosts, and digest all your secrets. And then my people will come here, and make the Martian Tombs our own. And we’ll find the Crow Lee Inheritance, and make that our own. It was always meant for us, anyway. Little people like you wouldn’t appreciate it. I’m going to have it all, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

While she was still shouting and threatening us with her tech gun, the Sea Goat appeared suddenly behind her and hit her over the head with his vodka bottle. The glass shattered, and she slumped unconscious to the floor. J.C. moved quickly in to snatch up the weapon as it fell from her hand. The Sea Goat grinned broadly.

“No one ever notices me. Or takes me seriously.”

“Did you have to break a bottle over her head?” said Bruin Bear. “You’ve got very coarse since you got real.”

The Goat shrugged. “Stick with what works, that’s what I always say.”

“Can’t take you anywhere,” said Bruin Bear.

The Armourer and I armoured down, and then moved to one side to talk quietly together.

“This marvellous plan of yours,” I said. “The one where we break the bank at Casino Infernale, to damage the Shadow Bank . . . correct me if I’m wrong, but hasn’t this already been tried before? Many times, by many brave and experienced agents? And hasn’t it always gone horribly wrong, never worked, and got everyone involved killed?”

“Well, yes,” said the Armourer. “And, since they’ll be looking for Drood field agents at Casino Infernale, you’ll have to go in as Shaman Bond. But you and Molly do have this marvellous knack for winning against appalling odds. So, we’re counting on that.”

“But you’re betting with our lives!” I said.

“Oh, no,” said my uncle Jack. “Not just your lives, Eddie. They don’t play for money at Casino Infernale. They play for souls.”

Take a Chance on Me

W
e came home from Mars to find the old chapel waiting for us like a familiar pair of arms. It felt disturbing, but delightful, to go so quickly from an alien world to a place of such pleasant familiarity. The Armourer and I armoured down, and Molly sent her bark sideways again. She looked fine, but my uncle Jack looked . . . tired. Older. The three of us just stood together for a while, getting our mental breath back. Because even people like us need to take time out, now and again, to recover our bearings and recharge our batteries.

“Will everyone else get home okay?” I said, finally.

“Oh, sure,” said the Armourer. “And the Tombs will shut themselves down.”

“What if someone decides they want to hang around?” said Molly. “Dig out a few secrets?”

“The Tombs can look after themselves,” said the Armourer. “You really don’t want to outstay your welcome there.”

“Louise did,” said Molly. “She said she liked it there.”

“Yes, but she’s weird,” the Armourer said kindly.

“What about Natasha Chang?” I said.

“I’m sure someone will give her a lift home, if she needs one,” said the Armourer.

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” said Molly. “Take a lot more than a bottle over the head to slow that one down.”

“Why would anyone want to help her, when she was ready to kill us all?” I said.

“Now, that was always on the cards,” said the Armourer. “She is Crowley Project, after all. Bad Deeds R Us, where betrayal comes as standard. But . . . no one ever bears grudges over what happens at Summit Meetings. Not when you might need to work with them some day.”

“What happens on Mars, stays on Mars,” I said solemnly.

“Well, quite,” said the Armourer.

And then he insisted we all beat our clothing, and stamp our feet hard, to shake off any Martian dust we might have picked up. He crouched down, his knees creaking loudly, and carefully brushed up what few grains he could find, before dropping it all into a small specimen jar, and sealing it very carefully. He straightened up, slowly. I went to offer a helping hand, and he stopped me with a hard look. I should have known better. He tucked the jar away, somewhere about his person.

“I’ll study that later, then store it somewhere safe,” he said happily. The Armourer does love his work.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but what’s so dangerous about Martian dust?”

“I don’t know,” the Armourer said darkly. “That’s why I’m going to study it, and store it somewhere safe.”

“You said . . . all the Martians are dead and gone,” I said. “Long gone . . . so who else could there have been in the Tombs, watching us?”

“Beats me,” said the Armourer.

“I could always ask Louise,” said Molly, just a bit threateningly.

“Nothing lives in the Martian Tombs,” said the Armourer, firmly.

“So what the hell did J. C. Chance See, with his horrible eyes?” I said. “Martian ghosts?”

“God, I hope not,” said the Armourer. “Help me with this Door, Eddie. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Together, we pushed Merlin’s Door into place against the chapel wall, and the moment we stepped back the Door just faded into the wall and disappeared, leaving nothing behind but an expanse of unbroken stonework. The Armourer sniffed loudly, turned away, and led us out of the old chapel. I was the last out, and I hesitated in the doorway, looking back. It would have been good to see the ghost of old Jacob, one last time. But there was no trace of him anywhere. There are miracles in my world, but rarely the ones you want.

I was just starting to turn away when the old television set suddenly turned itself on, and there on the screen was a ghostly image, grinning out at me.

“Jacob?” I said.

The television shut itself down. The screen was blank, the image gone—if it had ever really been there. It might have been him, or it might have been one last practical joke, arranged before he left. Jacob always did like to have the last laugh.

I left the old chapel, and heaved the door back into place. The ivy waved good-bye as I walked away.

•   •   •

The Armourer led us back through Drood Hall, heading for the Armoury. Like an old horse with the scent of the stables in his nostrils. He was clearly tired now, just plodding along with his shoulders bowed and his head down. People hurried back and forth through the corridors and hallways, and after a while I began to notice that they were looking at me. Not the usual
Oh God it’s him back again
 . . . but more . . . sad, concerned. As though they knew something I didn’t and were commiserating in advance. I would have liked to stop and question some of them, but I didn’t like the way the Armourer was looking. The trip to Mars had taken a lot out of him, and I wanted him back in the Armoury where he belonged, as soon as possible. Hopefully, the familiar surroundings would invigorate him again.

Molly didn’t give a damn how tired he was. She kept badgering him about the Regent, and demanding the Armourer return control of the Merlin Glass to me, so we could get back to the Department of the Uncanny, and she could pin the Regent to the wall till she got some answers out of him. The Armourer finally had enough, and turned his old head sharply to glare at her.

“The Regent isn’t at the Department, just now. He’s gone to France.”

“What?” said Molly. “He didn’t say anything to us . . . what the hell is he doing in France?”

“He went some time back, to prepare the way for our assault on Casino Infernale,” said the Armourer.

“Why would the head of the Department of the Uncanny intrude on our mission?” I said. “And why has he gone personally, instead of sending his own people?” I was missing something here. I could tell.

“He had to go himself,” said the Armourer, “because your parents have been at Casino Infernale for some time. Playing the games, putting pressure on the bank. Setting things up for you.”

“But why is the Department of the Uncanny getting involved with Drood business?” I insisted, honestly confused.

“This is Summit business,” said the Armourer. “My father, and your parents, are working with us on this case.”

“Because . . . no one ever really leaves the family?” I said.

“You’re learning, Eddie,” said the Armourer.

Molly made a rude noise. “How is it you know so much about the Regent’s business?”

“He’s my dad,” said the Armourer. “We keep in touch; always have. Even though we couldn’t tell you, Eddie.”

“Yes . . .” I said. “We are going to have words about that, Uncle Jack.”

“It was for your own good, Eddie. Your protection.”

“That whole
We know what’s best for you
attitude is one of the main reasons I ran away from this family, first chance I got,” I said.

“I feel the same way myself, sometimes,” said the Armourer. “We will talk later, Eddie. About many things. I promise.”

•   •   •

Back in the Armoury, everything looked much the same. Except for the bits that had exploded or caught fire in our absence. Sometimes I don’t think of the Armoury as a scientific laboratory, more as evolution in action. It was raining very heavily in one corner of the Armoury, complete with thunder and lightning. A bit much just to test a new kind of umbrella. The Armourer seemed pleased to be back on his own territory again; stumbling along, not hurrying, smiling amiably about him at lab assistants who were usually much more preoccupied with whatever it was that was going horribly wrong right in front of them.

The Armourer finally sank down into his favourite old chair, complete with extra cushions and safety straps, in front of his personal workstation. He let out a long slow sigh of relief.

“Good to be back!” he said. “But then, the best part of a holiday is always coming home again.”

“Didn’t you enjoy being on Mars?” said Molly.

“I don’t enjoy leaving the Hall much at all, these days, truth be told,” said the Armourer. “It takes so much out of me. Don’t even like leaving the Armoury, some days.”

He started rummaging through his desk drawers, looking for food and drink and his private little bottle of pick-me-ups that he likes to think no one else knows about. I took a careful look around at the lab assistants, making sure none of them were getting too close. One young man was holding his melting arm over a sink, and swearing bitterly. A young woman was chasing frantically after a giant eyeball with its own heavily flapping bat wings, flailing about her with a really big butterfly net. The eyeball bobbed happily along ahead of her, always just out of reach. And two lab assistants stood quietly and thoughtfully at the edge of a combat circle, making notes on clipboards as their two shadows fought it out inside the circle.

Someone else was emptying the water from a fire bucket over a burning bush. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.

I’d expected my uncle Jack to put the kettle on, and make us all a nice refreshing cup of tea. My family runs on hot sweet tea and Jaffa Cakes. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of Bombay gin and a glass, and poured himself a more than healthy measure. He didn’t offer Molly or me one. He added a good measure of Red Bull to his gin, and then dunked a Jaffa Cake in it. Neither the drink nor the cake seemed to restore him much. It worried me to see him like this. Watching the Armourer host the Summit on Mars, standing tall and sharp and authoritative, had been like seeing the Uncle Jack I’d known as a child. The man who was, once upon a time, one of the best field agents the Droods ever had. Now, that much older man’s fires seemed to have burned out. He looked up suddenly, and caught the expression on my face. He smiled, briefly.

“Don’t get old, Eddie. It’s hard work.”

Embarrassed, I looked away. Molly stole two chairs from nearby workstations, and we pulled them up opposite the Armourer, and sat down. He finished his drink, and looked thoughtfully at the various bits of high tech and partially disassembled weapons scattered across his work surface. He reached out to pat his computer fondly, like a favourite pet. The machine was wrapped in mistletoe, and long strings of garlic. Which may or may not have added to its processing power.

“That’s new,” I said, pointing vaguely at something green and brown, in a pot. “What is that?”

“A bonsai wicker man,” the Armourer said proudly. “Only one in captivity.” His voice was firmer now, his eyes clearer.

Molly leaned in close, fascinated. “What do you burn in it?”

“Chestnuts, mostly,” said the Armourer.

“Uncle Jack,” I said, and he looked at me sharply. He knew I used his name only to put pressure on him. “I think it’s time you told me what’s going on, Uncle Jack.”

“Yes, I suppose it is time, Eddie.” He sat back in his chair, and considered me thoughtfully. “Very well. Down to business, eh? Good, good . . . Casino Infernale is being held in the city of Nantes, in France, this year.”

“Hold it,” I said. “With something this important, shouldn’t I be getting the full briefing from the Council?”

“Thought you were in a hurry, boy? Still . . . caution; always a good thing. I’m telling you what you need to know, because I know more about this than anyone else. I was involved in one of the earliest attempts to break the bank at Casino Infernale, back in the mid-sixties. Don’t ask me the exact date. I’ve never been good with dates. . . . Anyway, this particular mission was the first and only time I ever worked in the field with my brother James. We were both building a reputation, back then, and they’d already started calling James the Grey Fox. This was a carefully planned mission, with two very experienced field agents, and it still all went to shit in a hurry and we had to run for our lives. Hopefully, you two will do better.” He stopped then, for a long moment, his gaze far away, lost in yesterday. He looked old again. Even frail. He roused himself, and continued. “It’s been a long time since I was out in the field. Walking up and down in the world, changing history from behind the scenes. Now just hosting a Summit takes it out of me . . . which is why you get to go to Nantes, and not me.”

“What went wrong?” I said. “On the mission, with you and James?”

“Casino Security was on to us from the start,” said the Armourer. His mouth pulled back, as though bothered by a bad taste. “We thought we were being so clever, swaggering around hidden behind our brandnew identities and immaculately crafted disguises. But hotel security spotted our torcs the moment we walked in. They were just waiting for us to start something, so they could kill us both and prove they weren’t afraid of no Droods. . . . We had no choice but to abandon the mission and take to our heels. Ended up being chased across the hotel roof by a whole army of heavily armed goons. Ah, the good old days . . . But you don’t want to hear this.”

“Of course I do!” I said. “You hardly ever talk about being a field agent, any more. When I was a kid, I used to love sneaking out of lessons to come down here and listen to all your stories.”

“Glory days,” said the Armourer. “You’ll understand when you’re older, Eddie. You can’t afford to live too much in the past, if you want to get anything done. But the past can seem so much more tempting than the present, because that’s the only place you can meet your old friends. . . . No. No; concentrate! I never told you this story before, Eddie, because we made such a mess of it. The Casino Security people threw everything they had at us: guns and magics, incendiaries and shaped curses. James and I would have liked to stand our ground and fight; show these cheap thugs what Drood armour and training could do. But we had to get away. We had to get the information home . . . that they could See our torcs. Not many could, then. So we headed for the roof, to make our escape.