‘A party? Do you know which casino?’
‘No, but it’s connected with his racing team, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. Maybe you could hire a boat and follow us back to his ship. It’s called the Solar Barque - oh, crap, someone’s coming. Bye!’
‘Bye,’ said Eddie, but again not quickly enough to beat the click of disconnection.
‘Is she okay?’ Macy asked.
‘Yeah, but she’s on his bloody yacht, and somehow I don’t think there’ll be much chance of us finding a boat for hire the night before the biggest event of the year.’
‘What was that about a party?’
Eddie chuckled sarcastically. ‘You sound a bit keen. Why, you wanting to go?’
‘No. Well, I don’t know. What sort of party?’
‘For his grand prix team.’
Her face brightened. ‘Oh! Racing drivers? We should definitely go.’
‘It’s not going to be a social visit,’ he reminded her. ‘Besides, we’re hardly dressed for a flash do at some fancy casino.’ He nodded at his jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, and her travel-crumpled shirt and khaki combat trousers.
She smiled and took out her credit card. ‘Dressing for a night in Monte Carlo? Priceless.’
15
For all the resort’s glamorous reputation, the majority of Monaco’s casinos are surprisingly mundane. While the image from many a movie - and the one the Tourist Office wants to present - is of tuxedos, diamonds and fortunes won on the turn of a card or the spin of a wheel, for the most part the reality is rank after rank of computerised slot machines. Like Las Vegas, Monaco has found that while high-rollers look attractive on the big screen, much more profit can be made from a steady flow of ordinary tourists with no clue about the intricacies of gambling and a hunger and thirst ready to be sated in the casinos’ own pricey restaurants and bars.
The principality’s newest establishment, however, had opted to hearken back to the idealised fantasy of the Riviera. The Casino d’Azur was a deliberate throwback to the days when being a member of the jet set was an exotic aspiration and not an everyday drudge of tiny meals and confiscated nail clippers. The slot machines were still present, but relatively discreetly, putting the more traditional gambling pursuits front and centre.
Nina looked round as she and Osir entered one of the casino’s main lounges. Though she had little interest in gambling beyond the occasional lotto ticket, she couldn’t help but be impressed by the architects’ efforts. The d’Azur was a rococo homage to the era when Monaco first became a draw for the rich and risk-inclined, and no expense had been spared in making it as authentic as possible, from the low-hanging crystal chandeliers to the darkly lacquered hardwood of the gaming tables. ‘Wow. This place looks amazing.’
‘As do you, Nina,’ said Osir. Despite herself, she felt her cheeks flush. On the one hand she felt silly and self-conscious, dressed in a blue silk evening gown with her hair styled in an elegant twist. On the other, she was being taken for a night out in Monaco, which was undeniably exciting . . . even if the company wasn’t to her taste. As well as several burly bodyguards, Osir’s entourage included Shaban and Diamondback, the latter having reluctantly donned a tie with his snakeskin jacket to meet the evening’s dress code.
‘Thank you,’ she said. Osir himself made a striking figure in a white tuxedo, the confident way he carried himself ensuring there would be absolutely no chance of his being mistaken for a waiter. He led her through the games to a side exit, a member of the casino staff recognising him and waving them through.
The doors led to a courtyard, one roped-off end opening on to Casino Square and the racing circuit. With qualifying over, the track had been re-opened to the public; part of the crash barrier had been removed to allow access to the casino. Nina glanced at the passing people in the hope of seeing Eddie, but there was no sign of him or Macy.
An earsplitting noise caught everyone’s attention. A sleek racing car in the green and gold livery of Team Osiris had just had its engine started, the chiselled young blond man in the cockpit grinning up at Osir as he blipped the throttle.
‘Ladies and gentlemen! It seems one of the drivers is impatient to get to the race!’ boomed Osir, to laughter from the partygoers. Cameras flashed as he went to the car and shook the driver’s hand. ‘Mikko Virtanen, everyone - who I am sure will be not only the winner of tomorrow’s grand prix, but soon the world champion!’
The guests cheered; the engine note fell to an idling crackle as Osir began a speech in his role as the team’s major sponsor. Nina looked back towards Casino Square. Still no Eddie. She turned to Osir again - and found that Diamondback had materialised in front of her, leering. ‘Lookin’ for someone, li’l lady?’ he asked.
‘Anyone but you.’
‘Aw, now that’s unfortunate. ’Cause you’re gonna keep on seeing me, since Mr Shaban asked me to stay close to Mr Osir’s special guest and make sure she don’t get into any . . . mischief.’
‘I assure you, I have no intention of getting into any mischief,’ she said, voice acidic. ‘Certainly not with Mr Osir.’
‘He’ll be real disappointed to hear that.’ Diamondback laughed, then re-joined Shaban, who was watching Nina with evident suspicion.
Osir concluded his speech, and after exchanging pleasantries with some of the guests returned to Nina. ‘It’s a little loud out here,’ he said, gesturing at another door. ‘The ballroom will be quieter, I think.’ She was slightly surprised when he took her hand to escort her across the courtyard, but didn’t object. Shaban, Diamondback and the bodyguards followed as they walked away, the car revving behind them.
Even through the noise of a busy evening in Casino Square, Eddie heard the distinctive V8 roar from the Casino d’Azur. ‘Sounds like the right place.’
Macy regarded the building nervously as they crossed the road. ‘I hope she’s still okay.’
‘She should be - for now. Osir wouldn’t have brought her if she hadn’t convinced him she can figure out the zodiac. Problem’s going to be getting her out once she does it.’
‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Find her. Then after that . . . I’ll tell you as I make it up.’
‘That doesn’t fill me with confidence.’
Eddie grinned. ‘Trust me. I’ve done this sort of thing before.’
‘And how did it turn out?’
‘Usually with exploding helicopters.’
Macy giggled, then tailed off. ‘That wasn’t a joke, was it?’
‘Just remember to dive if I tell you.’ They reached the casino entrance. ‘Okay, got your passport?’
Admission to casinos in Monaco is closely governed; legally, the native Monegasques are forbidden to enter the institutions from which their government derives a large part of its revenue. There was also the dress code to consider, but Eddie and Macy now looked the part. He wore a black tux; she a low-cut minidress in a clinging, colour-shifting metallic fabric. Eddie had wanted her to pick something less conspicuous, but her argument had simply been that she was paying for it and wasn’t going to be seen in anything ‘sucky’.
She handed him her passport. ‘Here. Can you keep hold of it? It barely fits in my purse.’
‘Never understood that about women,’ Eddie said. ‘You cart all this crap around with you, but only have a bag the size of a hamster’s scrotum to put it all in.’ He idly flipped open the passport to look at her picture - then noticed something else on the page and burst out laughing.
‘No, no, don’t read that!’ Macy shrieked, but too late to stop him seeing her full name.