“Along with the Jackson Fifty-five?” I said, innocently.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a stirring among the players seated at the table. They hadn’t been told that.
“Indeed,” said Parris. “Perhaps Mr. Scott has taken them all off somewhere to investigate a threat to the hotel. I am sure he, and they, will be back soon. No one should feel at all concerned. You are extremely safe and secure here, Mr. Bond. I feel I should point out that you and your companion were very nearly late. We were preparing to start without you.”
“The elevator took forever to arrive,” I said. “Do you want to see my invitation card?”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Parris. “If you hadn’t had the card with you, the door wouldn’t have brought you here. It has no further purpose. Feel free to keep it, though, as a souvenir.”
“I still can’t help noticing a large number of armed guards in this room,” I said. “Are you expecting . . . trouble?”
I looked meaningfully around the room, at the twenty or so armed guards in formal suits, scattered around the perimeter, cradling their weapons. They were all ostensibly relaxed, with their guns pointing at the floor, but it didn’t make them look any less professional, or menacing.
“A series of . . . unusual events have occurred during Casino Infernale this year,” said Parris. “I felt it best to err on the side of caution, for the good of all. These gentlemen, and the formidable Miss Eiko herself, are here for everyone’s protection.”
“Oh, I feel very protected,” I said to Molly. “Don’t you feel protected?”
“Oh, lots,” said Molly. “I feel so protected I can hardly stand. Think I’ll have a little sit-down, and a drinkie.”
“That would be best,” said Parris, as Molly headed determinedly for the bar. “Only players can sit at the table. Come with me, Mr. Bond, and I’ll introduce you to the other players.”
I went with him. The guards all followed me with their eyes, if not actually their guns. Parris stood at the head of the long table, and smiled benevolently on the people seated before him.
“Mr. Shaman Bond, allow me to present to you . . . Leopold, the famous gambling priest. Jacqueline Hyde, famous for all sorts of unpleasant things. Earnest Schmidt, head of the reformed Brotherhood of the Vril, who wants very much to be famous one day. And a gentleman who prefers to be known by his old sobriquet, the Card Shark. Once, the most famous card player of them all.”
We all nodded to each other, more or less politely. The only one I didn’t already know was the fat old man called the Card Shark. His name meant something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. . . . He sat half slumped in his chair, bulging out of his suit as though he’d outgrown it, his stomach pushing out the bulging, food-spattered waistcoat. He had large fleshy hands, not quite as steady as they should have been, and a broad sweaty face with unhealthy grey skin. His eyes were flat and dark and suspicious. He didn’t look at all well. He looked old and tired, as though he should have been in some retirement home, and that, at last, helped me to place him.
The Card Shark dismissed me with a glance, which was as it should be. He had no reason to know Shaman Bond. Wouldn’t have lowered himself to move in such circles. But he’d have known my cousin, Matthew Drood, back when Matthew was the family’s main field agent in London. He’d amassed quite a file on the infamous Card Shark—a man already well past his prime, but still a fearless and much feared card player in all the sleazier gambling houses in London. The Card Shark got his reputation from driving other card players to their deaths. The Shark liked to goad inexperienced young players into games and bets they weren’t ready for, and then demand every penny he was owed, immediately. Many suicided when they couldn’t pay.
I thought the nasty old scrote had retired. Was he back here for one last big game? And if so, how did he get this far? Last I heard, he was broke and vegetating in some nursing home. Could Casino Infernale have funded the Card Shark’s return, so Parris could be sure of at least one celebrity name at his first Big Game?
I made a point of looking away from the table and the players, and gestured at the great steel-shuttered windows.
“What’s out there?” I said to Parris. “Where are we, exactly? Why aren’t we allowed to see?”
“Because you wouldn’t like it,” said Parris. “It would only distract you from the game. All you need to know is that this is home ground to the Shadow Bank. And we take our privacy very seriously.”
I looked across at the bar, where Molly was perched on a high stool opposite Eiko. They were talking quietly to each other, not even bothering to hide their mutual hostility.
“Only the players are allowed to sit at table,” said Eiko. “You are allowed to observe, Miss Metcalf, as long as you don’t try to interfere.”
“Well, whoopee,” said Molly. She shot me a quick reassuring glance, and then glared at the bartender. “Give me a bottle of brandy and one glass. I would offer you a drink, Miss Eiko, but I’ve only got the one bottle.”
Eiko ordered a single glass of saki.
“Am I the only guest here?” said Molly.
“No one else took advantage of their plus one,” said Eiko. “Unless you count Jacqueline. But then, in my experience, I have found most gamblers to be solitary types.”
“Are you sitting here to keep me company, or to keep an eye on me?” Molly said bluntly.
“Yes,” said Eiko.
“If we could have your full attention, Mr. Bond?” said Parris.
I pulled out a chair, sat down at the table, and stared openly round at my fellow players. They looked me over just as openly. I supposed they weren’t used to playing with people they didn’t already know at this level of Casino Infernale. I smiled easily about me.
“So!” I said brightly. “Let’s all get acquainted. Why are we all here? You first . . .”
“One last big game,” said the Card Shark. His voice was harsh and breathy, as though he had trouble getting enough air. “To prove I’ve still got it. That I’m still the best.”
It had to be said, no one else at the table looked particularly convinced. Most of them were looking at the Card Shark with barely disguised contempt.
“Go on, Shark,” said Jacqueline. “Make yourself at home. Ruin someone’s life and drive them to suicide.”
“Why are you here?” Schmidt said to Jacqueline. He sounded politely interested.
“It’s no secret,” said Jacqueline. “I need to find a way to separate myself from Hyde, so we can exist separately. So we can be properly together, at last.”
“But you’re from the Nightside,” said Leopold. “If you couldn’t find an answer there . . .”
“Who says I didn’t?” Jacqueline said harshly. “But miracles cost money, lots of money, even in the Nightside. Perhaps especially in the Nightside.”
“I am here to fund the Vril,” Earnest Schmidt said flatly. “The world is waiting for us, waiting for a Fourth Reich to bring Order out of Chaos. The world is waiting for the reformed Brotherhood of the Vril to return from the shadows and force the world to make sense again. Movements cost money. So here I am. Look on my cards, ye mighty, and despair.”
“Molly and I were attacked on our way here,” I said, “by big blonde Nazi girls, riding flying lizards. Pan’s Panzerpeople.”
“I know nothing of this,” said Schmidt, not even looking at me.
A brandy bottle flew past his head, barely missing him, followed by raucous laughter from the bar. Schmidt went pale, and developed a twitch.