“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?”