“Let’s go,” I said.
Frankie dithered impatiently, while I made sure I had all the Armourer’s special weapons and devices stored away somewhere about my person. I wanted to be sure I was ready for anything. Molly stuck close to me, comforting me with her presence, making it clear that she was ready to back me up, in whatever I chose to do. Finally, I nodded to Frankie, and he led the way out of the room.
As we hurried down the deserted corridor towards the elevators, I rehearsed in my head all the things I intended to say to my parents when I finally caught up with them. To Patrick and Diana—or Charles and Emily. I hadn’t spoken to them since my family home returned from the alien world it had been exiled to. We’d meant to sit down and talk, and catch up. But we’d all been so busy, and then Casino Infernale got in the way. There was so much I wanted to say to them, so many questions I needed answered. . . . I was still angry with them for abandoning me to the Droods to bring up. For not letting me know they were still alive. And, for betting my soul and losing it, without even asking my permission. But I was a field agent, just like they had been for so many years. I knew that sometimes you have to think on your feet in dangerous situations, and make sudden decisions for the good of the mission. I wasn’t ready to judge or forgive them, just yet. I was ready to listen, and try to understand.
There just might be a lot of shouting involved, first.
We waited impatiently before the closed elevator doors, as the damned thing seemed to take forever to arrive. I kept looking up and down the empty corridor, but there was still no sign anywhere of any kind of Security. If I was Scott, I’d give them a real earful for their poor reaction times. But it was just as well, for the Security goons. I wasn’t in the mood to be messed with. The elevator doors finally opened, and we all hurried inside. Frankie hit the button for the sub-basement, the doors closed, and the elevator started its descent.
It took a long time to pass all the way down through the dozens of floors, to the very bottom. I kept checking my pockets to make sure everything was where it should be. I was still dangerously tense; Molly was poised and ready for anything; and Frankie seemed to grow more and more nervous. I didn’t blame him. He wasn’t the fighting sort and he was about to see a Drood enraged. It was not going to be pretty. The elevator finally slowed to a halt, and we all braced ourselves as we waited for the doors to open. When they did, I was first out.
And then I stopped, and glared at Frankie.
“Wait a minute! I know this place! This isn’t the sub-basement; it’s the underground car park!”
“Same thing!” Frankie said quickly. “They don’t have a call button marked for the car park, or anybody could get in! Now will you please keep your voice down! We’re not supposed to be here, remember? There are still some staff around. . . .”
“I have to wonder,” said Molly, looking carefully between the rows upon rows of parked cars, “when we were here before, did we perhaps pass right by the holding cell, and not even know it?”
“This hotel is full of secure locations,” said Frankie, hurrying on ahead and glancing quickly about him. “They’ve got stuff holed away here you wouldn’t believe. There are whole sections of Casino Infernale that don’t even talk to each other. Now will you please hurry up and follow me!”
He quickly threaded his way through one particular set of parked cars, and I was right there behind him, with Molly bringing up the rear and shooting dangerous glances in all directions. The underground car park was exactly as I’d remembered it. A great stone cavern full of very old and very new cars, sitting silent and still in their orderly rows, and no sign of any staff anywhere. And then Molly stopped, abruptly. I sighed, and looked back.
“What is it, Molly?”
“Something’s wrong,” said Molly. “As in, something doesn’t feel right.”
And that was when the Casino Security people dropped their concealing illusion, and a whole army of very well-armed guards appeared all around us. We’d walked right into their midst, completely unaware. What looked like all of the remaining Jackson Fifty-five were in position around us, cutting off all the exits, pointing all kinds of guns at us. I stood very still and after I glared at her, so did Molly. From out among the parked cars, sauntering along, came the hotel manager himself, Jonathon Scott. Frankie looked at me, shrugged and smirked, and then moved over to stand with Scott. The Jacksons let him pass, unchallenged. Molly made a deep growling noise.
“So,” said Scott, stopping a respectful distance away from me and Molly. He looked me up and down with more than common interest. “You aren’t the shady and shifty Shaman Bond, after all. Instead, you’re a Drood in disguise. And not just any Drood, but the almost legendary Eddie Drood. Your reputation very definitely precedes you. Though I always thought you’d be taller.”
“I get that a lot,” I said. And then I looked at Frankie, who flinched under my gaze, but quickly recovered.
“Sorry, boss. I really was with you all the way; right until you started that nonsense about bringing down the Shadow Bank. I was listening outside the door. Old habits. I am too old and too experienced to work with crazy people. So I went straight to Mr. Scott, explained my position, and struck a deal. He was most understanding. And it must be said, the Shadow Bank pays a hell of a lot better than the Droods.”
“You really are a bastard,” said Molly.
“One of the Grey Bastards,” Frankie said proudly. “The clue is in the name.”
“Don’t try anything, witch,” said Scott. “We have a full-strength portable null zone generator working down here.” He indicated a large machine, standing to one side, guarded by half a dozen Jacksons. “Your infamous magics are being very thoroughly suppressed.”
“I don’t believe it,” Molly said to me. “You’re legendary, but I’m just infamous?”
“How about the machine?” I said.
“Oh, that. Yeah, scumbag here is right. I’ve got nothing. Getting really tired of that, I have to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, witch,” said Scott. “So shut up. Let the people who matter talk, or I’ll have you gagged.” He waited a moment, to make his point, and then gave me his full attention. “So, a Drood without his torc. No sign we can detect that you ever had one . . . I never thought to see such a thing.”
“Giving it up wasn’t easy,” I said. “But bringing you down will make it all worthwhile.”
“Typical Drood arrogance,” said Scott, entirely unmoved. If anything, he seemed amused. “You have no idea how much money I’m going to make out of you. From auctioning you to the Major Players here. The secrets waiting to be dug out of your mind, and after that’s gone, your body . . . What your new master will tear out of you will change the order of the world. . . . Drood secrets, for sale to the highest bidders.” He stopped, and thought for a moment. “I suppose . . . I could always ransom you, back to your family. . . . They’d pay really big money to keep your secrets from getting out. But no. Too risky. Your family has a reputation for dealing harshly with anyone who wants a more equitable playing field. No, I think it best they don’t know anything about this until it’s all safely over, and it’s too late for them to interfere.”
He broke off to smile on the increasingly fuming Molly. “I’m sure we’ll get a decent sum for you too, witch. And oh the things we’ll do to you, before we let you go. I’m sure your new owner won’t mind if we have some fun with you first. As long as your mind’s intact, they won’t care what we’ve done to your body.”