The device in his hand was similar to a cell phone, but it was an inch thick and slightly longer than most phones. The only thing on the touchscreen was a numeric keypad. A small red light glowed at the top of the device. I entered the ten-digit number Skye had me memorize, and the little red light flashed green as the device let out a soft chime.
“Very good, monsieur,” Durant said as he pocketed the device, and then reached out to unhook the front rope of the barrier. He lowered the rope, stepped aside and gestured to the still-open elevator. “Please, come with me.”
Gail and I boarded the elevator, and I looked curiously at the control panel to the left of the doors. All the expected buttons were there for thirty-two floors, with a star next to the 1 and an S button that I guessed stood for sous-sol, basement. Below them were the standard door open, door close, and emergency call buttons. But there were additional rows of buttons at the top and bottom of the panel, all of them unlabeled.
When Durant joined us, he produced a ring of keys, inserted one into the slot below the control panel and gave it a half-turn, then pressed the unlabeled button in the center of the bottom row. The gleaming bronze doors slid closed, and the elevator started smoothly down.
“Please note that no weapons of any kind are permitted in the Perrault Room,” Durant said in a monotone as he stared straight ahead at the doors, which was kind of creepy. “If you are discovered carrying weapons, you will be removed from the tournament and the premises, banned from any and all future tournaments, and your entry fee will not be refunded. You may check anything you’d like with the attendant before you enter the Perrault Room, and your items will be returned to you at the conclusion of the event. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Um, okay. Thanks for the heads-up, Durant,” I said as I wondered why they even had rules like that. Some of these secret tournaments must’ve gotten dangerous in the past. Technically I hadn’t brought any weapons, just a polymer backpack full of nanites that could transform into a weapon. And I’d left that in our suite, so nothing should raise any red flags.
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open.
“The Perrault Room,” Durant announced, sweeping a gesture at the doors. “Best of luck to you in tonight’s event, monsieur.”
I thanked him, took Gail’s hand and stepped through the open doors. The elevator closed behind us almost as soon as we were clear, and we found ourselves in a midsized room with stone walls, cement floor, and two side-by-side steel doors, each equipped with security panels. There was a man seated behind a desk between the doors who looked up as we approached and fixed on a smile.
“Bienvenue, monsieur quarante-neuf. Welcome,” he said as he stood and gave me a nod, and then bowed to Gail. “If you would please present your entry fee?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said as I handed him the briefcase. It was a little weird having everyone call me Mister Forty-Nine, and I kind of hoped I’d get to use a secret code name or something when we got inside the room.
The attendant opened the briefcase, picked up one of the bundles of cash and thumbed through it, then replaced it and shut the case.
“Excellent, tres bon,” he said. “We will, of course, have it properly counted, but we trust that your fee is complete. Is there anything you wish to check and secure before you enter the game?”
Gail and I exchanged a glance, and I shrugged. “Nope. We left everything else upstairs.”
“Very well, monsieur.” The attendant went to the door on the left and punched in a security code. The steel door slid open to reveal a steel-walled room with a bunch of briefcases on one side, which I guessed were the other players’ entry fees, and an assortment of suitcases, coats, and various items on the other side, including about a dozen umbrellas, lots of shopping bags, and a huge pink stuffed bear.
I had to wonder who brought the giant teddy bear to an underground poker game.
The attendant placed my briefcase on the appropriate side, stepped from the vault, and tapped something on the control panel to close the door.
“And now, if you would please step over this way?” he said as he moved past the second door and pointed to a taped red X on the floor. “Please stand there, one at a time. Madam, if you please?”
Gail raised an eyebrow and stepped onto the red X. “What’s this for?”
“This is our scanning device, madam,” the attendant said as he pulled a small remote from his pocket and pushed a button on it.
A bright green spotlight shone down from the ceiling and covered Gail completely, turning her into a shadowy figure in shades of green and black. She gasped in surprise and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Wow, that’s really bright!” she said. “It doesn’t let you see through my clothes, does it?”
“Oh, no, madam,” the attendant said, sounding totally horrified. “The scan simply reveals whether there are any solid objects on your … er, person.”
Gail giggled as she blinked her eyes open and squinted down at her green-tone body. “No objects on my person,” she said.
“Apparently not, madam.” The attendant had averted his gaze and turned slightly red. He pressed the remote again, and the spotlight turned off.
“And now you, monsieur?” he said as he gestured toward the X.
I switched places with Gail, and the spotlight switched back on and flooded me with green. I squinted against the ultra-bright glow and waited, thinking I should really get one of these scanners for my base. This thing was pretty cool.
The light snapped off, and the attendant bent an elbow and pointed at his own forearm. “You ’ave something here, monsieur?”
“Oh, right. That’s my lucky pen,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t ask to see it.
The attendant held a hand out. “May I, please?”
Damn, this kind of sucked. I sighed and flicked my hand to produce the pen, and reluctantly held it out toward him. Now I knew how the midget felt when he’d handed me the pen, something I could tell he absolutely didn’t want to do, though I had no idea why at the time.
“I’m not giving it to you,” I said aloud, in case that counted enough to keep him from taking possession of the pen.
The attendant gave me an odd look as he plucked the pen from my fingers, turned it around a few times, and peered into the barrel.
“Forgive me for saying so, monsieur, but I would not wish for you to give me this … pen,” he said carefully, handing it back like it had a disease. The pen definitely looked old, beat-up, and worthless, which was the best kind of camouflage. “I do hope that it brings you luck.”
“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lucky,” I said with a grin as I slipped the pen back up my sleeve with an inward sigh of relief. “So, did we pass your scan?”
“Indeed, you are quite acceptable.” The attendant went to the second door and entered a code. Instead of sliding back, this one swung inward with a low, hollow groan. “Welcome to the Perrault Room. Please, enjoy your stay.”
I held an arm out to Gail, and we walked through together.
28
The Perrault Room was massive, even bigger than the main lobby of the Monte Carlo. The walls were stone like the outer room, but the floor was plush burgundy carpet. Three enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, which was painted with what looked like a replica of the Sistine Chapel. There was an actual fountain in the center of the room, all black and white marble with gold accents, topped with a trio of angels blowing arched streams of water from their upturned trumpets. Five massive, elegantly carved poker tables were placed in a rough circle around the fountain, and several sections of comfortable chairs were arranged for viewing by each of the tables.
There were easily more than a hundred people milling around the room, probably closer to two hundred, so some of the players must’ve brought multiple guests. A handful of the occupants wore blue uniforms and circulated through the room with trays of champagne glasses. The rest, for the most part, were dressed in high-class style and tal
ked in low, pleasant tones while the soft murmur of classical music drifted around from unseen speakers.
“Well. I don’t know about you, but this is the biggest cocktail party I’ve ever been to,” Gail said softly, laughing under her breath as one of the blue uniforms headed toward us with her tray extended.
“Would you each care for a glass of champagne?” The waitress flashed a starlet smile at me.
“Thanks,” I said as we each took a glass of champagne, and Gail moaned in pleasure as she sipped hers.
“Oh, this is good. And still cold,” she said, doing a little shimmy of delight.
“Do you like it?” I asked, taking a sip of mine. I had to agree, this was pretty damned amazing, even better than the Dom Perignon had been, and I said that even though I wasn’t exactly used to drinking champagne and wasn’t quite sure what it was supposed to taste like.
“I really do.” Gail nodded to me. “The bubbles just tickle my tongue.” She stuck said tongue out at me.
“Well, I agree.” I turned to look up at the waitress. “Excuse me, but this is delicious. Could you tell me what it is? I’d love to buy a case.”
The waitress smiled and nodded. “Of course, sir. This is thirty-year-old, cask-aged Boërl & Kroff Brut champagne. We recently purchased the 1996 vintage you are currently enjoying at auction for sixty-thousand dollars per case. Shall I have one sent up to your room now?”
Sixty-thousand a case? I knew the Dom Perignon couldn’t have cost nearly that much, but shockingly, this stuff still wasn’t out of my price range. I actually didn’t even have a price range anymore, since I could buy whatever I wanted.
“I can afford it,” I said, rubbing my chin. “That’s no problem.” When I said that, the waitress cocked a curious eyebrow at me. I knew I should be offended, but I just wasn’t. Instead, I wondered how she could tell. “Is something wrong?”
She glanced at Gail before leaning in close to me, whispering in a way that made me think she was trying to be discrete. “Sir, it’s just that you seem a bit out of sorts, so I’m guessing you’re not quite used to being so, well, well-off.” When I gave her a curious look, about to ask how she knew, she smiled slightly. “I know because, for starters, you’re actually talking to me.” She gave me a wink before smiling at Gail. “You have a good one here.” As Gail nodded and clung to my arm, she turned her attention back to me. “I will have the case brought to your room, Mister …?”
“Forty-nine,” I replied and took a sip of my five-thousand-dollar-a-bottle champagne.
“Excellent.” She nodded once more and turned, heading off, no doubt to put in my order, making me wonder if she got a commission.
“What was that all about?” Gail asked, watching her weave through the crowd, offering well-dressed patrons glasses while stopping to chat with them. Yep, definitely working on commission.
“She wanted to make sure I knew the champagne was five grand a bottle.” I shrugged. “It’s kind of strange being so rich it doesn’t matter.”
“I dunno,” Gail said, snuggling up to me. “I think I can get used to it.”
“Me too,” I said as I glanced at the ornate clock on the wall to the left. “Well, it looks like we have about an hour before the tournament starts. I guess we’ll just mingle, try to find out if anyone’s heard of Henry Aaron or Presley?”
Before Gail could respond, a distinctly Southern female voice behind us said, “Excuse me. Please tell me ya’ll are Americans?”
We both turned to find a couple in their thirties, the woman a blue-eyed brunette in a glittering dress the exact same shade of blue as her eyes, and the man a dark-eyed blond wearing a white tux.
The woman gave a brilliant smile, and said, “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I’m just desperate to find someone I can talk to while my husband is playing this game, and I can hardly understand what any of these people are saying. Even the ones who speak English. Y’all are American, aren’t you?”
“Yes, we are,” I said and watched the woman practically deflate with relief. “I’m Joe, and this is Marilyn.” I didn’t look at Gail as I gave the fake names, since we’d discussed it before. Presley definitely knew my name, and it was possible he knew the names of my entourage as well. Sure, he wasn’t supposed to be here or anything, and we were a long way from Las Vegas, but why take chances? “And you are?”
“Oh, thank God. I mean, my name is Bella, and this is my husband, Beau. We’re from Texas, isn’t that funny? A couple of Texans at a Texas Hold ’Em tournament in Monaco.” She laughed nervously. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m sorry, I know I’m babbling, but …”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gail said with a smile as she took my arm, which I thought was a smooth move. We were just another misplaced American couple, nothing to get suspicious about. “It’s nice to meet you too, Bella. I’d be happy to talk to you while the boys play their little game.”
Bella let out another slightly worried laugh, while Beau sized me up and then offered a hand.
“Hey there, Joe,” he said in a deep drawl. “Always glad to meet another man who can afford to lose a million bucks.”
I shrugged and shook with him. “Yeah, I can afford it, but I have no intention of losing.”
Beau laughed loud enough to startle a few other guests standing nearby. “I gotta say, I like your style. Maybe you are the man to beat.”
“You can try,” I said with a grin and decided to dig for a little information while Bella and Gail were chatting away like old friends. “So, you don’t know anyone else at this little shindig?”
“Little shindig. I like that,” Beau said with another laugh. “Truth be told, me and the little lady come out here a few times a year, and usually we run into a few familiar faces. Not this time, though. Haven’t seen a soul that I’d like to talk to, except for yourself and your … Mary, wasn’t it?”
“Marilyn,” I said, glad to know this guy wasn’t the least bit interested in Gail. Not that I was worried about anyone stealing her, but I’d have to hurt him if he tried, and he seemed like a nice enough guy. “So, when you were here before, did you ever meet a guy named Henry?”
“Henry, huh? Well, I’ll tell ya, there’s a whole lot of Henrys in the world. And probably a bunch named Henri here,” he said, putting a horrible French accent on the name. “Does your Henry have a last name?”
“Yeah, it’s Aaron,” I told him.
Beau frowned slightly and tapped his chin with a finger. “Henry Aaron,” he mused. “You know, I guess the name does ring a bell. Never met any Henry Aaron, but it seems I did hear somethin’ about him ‘round here, a time or two. Can’t quite recall what.” He gave me a curiously tense look. “What’s this guy to you? He important?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty important,” I said with a laugh. “He owes me money.”
“Well, shit. I’d want to find the son of a bitch too,” Beau laughed as he relaxed again. “I’ll tell you what. I don’t recall what I heard about him, but it’ll come to me eventually. And I’ll regale you with the details when it does. Deal?”
“Absolutely. Thanks, man, I appreciate it,” I said as I glanced aside to check on Gail. She caught my eye and gave me a little wave around Bella, who was talking a mile a minute about the dreadful weather in Texas and how awful it was on her hair. “Looks like our ladies are getting along pretty well.”
Beau flashed a wide grin. “My Bella’s quite the talker,” he said with pride in his voice. “Drives her nutty when she ain’t got nobody to aim her mouth at. It’s real nice of your girl to keep her company like this.”
Bella turned suddenly and smiled at both of us. “Oh, I can’t tell you how glad I am that we met y’all,” she said. “I mean, can you believe it? All these high rollers, and hardly any of ’em speak plain English. Three or four, maybe, but not a single one’s as nice as you.”
Just then, I heard a female voice cut through the crowd in a high-pitched hiss. “Get your hands off me, you disgusting ape.” I followed the sou
nd and saw a gorgeous young woman in a siren-red split cocktail dress, struggling to pull her arm from the grip of a leering, obviously drunk, much older man.
Anger shot through me. I hated to see any woman treated like that, and I wasn’t about to stand for it. “Excuse me a minute,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
Gail looked at me, and then toward the struggling woman. Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded, telling me she understood what I was going to do.
As I headed for the lady in the red dress, she stopped pulling and glared at the man who still held her arm. “Maybe you’re not getting the picture, but I am not part of the merchandise,” she said in a low, angry tone. “If you don’t let go of me, right now—”
“Then you’re going to have to deal with me,” I said as I reached them.
Both of them looked at me, along with several other people in the immediate vicinity. The woman gave a startled blink as her mouth fell open, and the drunk glowered angrily.
“Who the hell are you?” he said without a trace of an accent. He must’ve been one of the not-so-nice Americans that Bella had already met.
“That’s not important. What matters is that I’m her friend, and you’re obviously not,” I said as I took a menacing step closer to the guy. “So, if you don’t let go of her, I’m going to make you.”
“Oh yeah?” the drunk sneered. “And how are you gonna do that?”
I gave him a very unfriendly smile. “By breaking one of your ribs.”
His expression faltered when he realized I meant it, and as he tried to decide what to do, the woman said, “That won’t be necessary, because Mr. Granger has something else to do right now. Isn’t that right?”
The drunk huffed a breath, released her arm and took a stumbling step back. “Whatever. Just make sure my package is waiting for me like I said,” he muttered, giving me a final glare before he turned and wandered off into the crowds.
With the spectacle over, everyone who’d been watching went back to their business, and the lady turned to me with a hundred-watt smile lighting her face. Up close she was even more beautiful, with light green eyes, full red lips, and delicate features that softened with relief.
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