“Well,” said Frankie, “to be honest, for a long time a lot of people just assumed it was the Droods . . . but of course no one believes that any more. The truth: these days, no one knows. A lot of very powerful people have made some very determined efforts to find out, but the Bank’s internal Security really is first class. May I continue with the briefing? Thank you.
“Casino Infernale is always run by the Shadow Bank’s finest young sharks, determined to make a name for themselves. The Casino is where those most desperate to prove themselves get their chance to show what they can do, and jump several rungs up the promotions ladder. They run all the games here, make sure all the right people get invited, and make sure the Casino runs at a very generous profit.
“Franklyn Parris is here to make sure that everything goes as it should, and to stamp down hard on anyone who looks like they might be trouble. He is personally responsible for all Casino Security. Casino Infernale is a major money earner for the Shadow Bank, as well as a major source of prestige. So a blow to the eye of the Casino is a kick in the balls to the Bank. And God help the Casino manager who screws up. If anyone were to break the bank here, Franklyn Parris would be lucky to keep his life. Or his soul.”
“Let us think of that as a happy bonus,” I said.
“Yes, let’s,” said Molly.
“You are not taking this nearly serious enough!” said Frankie. “The Big Names, the Major Players, the really big-time gamblers, all come to Casino Infernale to show off . . . to wipe out the opposition and make or lose fortunes overnight. Often just on the turn of a card. If you can beat these people at their own games, you could wipe out any number of Major Players and Big Names, most of whom have very definitely got it coming to them. And if you can, by some absolutely amazing chance, break the bank here, it would be a severe blow to the Shadow Bank.
“At least, temporarily. It would cost them a lot of money, undermine their prestige and dependability, as well as putting them in a position where they wouldn’t be in any position to loan money to anyone . . . but you must realise, it wouldn’t last. Just slow them down a bit . . .”
“A win,” I said.
Molly and I toasted each other with our glasses of champagne. Frankie took a quick drink from his bottle, and then cleared his throat, meaningfully.
“I do feel I should point out that this is all purely theoretical. It’s never actually been done. Never! No one has ever broken the bank at Casino Infernale. Not even come close. Not since it began, hundreds of years ago.”
“How many hundreds?” said Molly.
“No one seems too sure,” said Frankie. “The origins of the Shadow Bank, and all its works, are cloaked in mystery. And you can be sure the Shadow Bank likes it that way.”
He and Molly both looked at me, and all I could do was shrug.
“I’m sure someone in the Drood family knows,” I said carefully. “But don’t look at me. I only know what I need to know to get the job done. And I’m only interested in the present, not the past.”
“Try to damp down the enthusiasm, sweetie,” said Molly.
“Need I remind you that I was chosen for this mission because I have a reputation for winning against the odds?”
“You never met odds like the ones at Casino Infernale,” said Molly. “Get cocky around here, without your usual protections, and you could get both of us killed.”
“And me!” said Frankie. “So let us all be very careful. Word is, Franklyn Parris is determined that nothing will be allowed to go wrong on his watch, this year. His first in charge. Casino Infernale is going to run smoothly and perfectly or someone is going to pay for it. To make sure of this, he has hired some very special Security muscle: the Jackson Fifty-five.”
“Oh, wow,” said Molly. “I’ve heard of them! Fifty-five clones of the same highly experienced and very deadly mercenary, Albert Jackson. Biggest, blackest fighting man ever. So they say . . .”
“Are we talking about a group mind, operating in fifty-five bodies simultaneously?” I said. “Or fifty-five separate versions of the same fighting man?”
“The latter, I think,” said Frankie. “No one’s ever got close enough to ask, and survive.”
“Well, that’s all right, then,” I said, returning my attention to my glass of champagne. “For a moment there, I thought we might be in trouble.”
“Fifty-five!” said Frankie, loudly. “Which part of fifty-five are you having trouble with?”
“Maybe we can trick them into fighting each other,” said Molly.
“Of course, the sudden disappearance of Patrick and Diana has put Franklyn Parris on his guard,” said Frankie. “Which will only make things even more difficult for you two.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “What are the chances of two sets of people coming here determined to break the bank? They’ll never see that coming. Especially since, as you already pointed out, no one has ever done it before.”
“The point is,” Frankie said doggedly, “Parris will have already ordered his entire Security staff to be on the lookout for anyone and anything out of the ordinary!”
“In this place?” said Molly. “Good luck with that . . .”
There was a knock on the door. We all froze, and looked at each other. Frankie became extremely tense. I got up from the bed and faced the door, and Molly was quickly there beside me. We drank off the last of our champagne, tossed the glasses carelessly onto the bed, and glared at the door. None of us made any move to answer the knock.
“Are we expecting anyone?” I said.
“No,” said Frankie, very definitely.
“Assassins?” said Molly.
“They’d hardly knock, would they?” I said. “Hello, we’re the polite assassins! Would you mind awfully if we killed you now, or should we pop back later?”
“Could be complimentary room service,” said Molly. “But it doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
“I am feeling a bit peckish,” I said.
“Then you open the door,” said Molly.
“Not that peckish,” I said.
“Well, someone’s got to answer the door!” said Frankie. “Unless we’re all going to hide under the bed. And I don’t think there’s room.”
“You looked!” Molly said accusingly.
I drew my Colt Repeater, stepped towards the door, and said, “Come in!”
The electronic lock worked from the other side, the door swung open, and a very civilised gentleman strolled confidently in. Medium height and weight, middle-aged and distinguished, very well-tailored, calm, smiling, courteous. I distrusted him immediately. He raised an eyebrow at my Colt, but didn’t appear particularly impressed. He smiled at Molly, and when he spoke to her his English held only the faintest and most charming of French accents.
“Hello. I am Jonathon Scott, the hotel manager. I understand there was, regretfully, some degree of unpleasantness earlier, at reception. I am here to apologise on behalf of the hotel, and make it very clear that we will not tolerate any rudeness to our guests. The concierge is gone. You will not see him again.”
I couldn’t help noticing that he was paying nearly all of his attention to the infamous Molly Metcalf, and only glancing occasionally at the merely notorious Shaman Bond. Which was, of course, as it should be. Frankie didn’t even get a glance.
“You know who I am,” said Molly.
“Of course, Miss Metcalf. Your reputation precedes you. Welcome to the Casino hotel! Please don’t break it. It’s the only one we’ve got, and it is of great sentimental value.”
“Casino Infernale’s reputation precedes it,” I said. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t put the gun down. I wouldn’t want to be suddenly gone, like the concierge.”