6
'Excellent. God help Jack Fox and the Colosseum this evening. I think I'll go and watch.'
'You have to be a member,' Hannah Bernstein said.
'Which, thanks to my computer, I am. In fact, you all are.' The waiter appeared with his breakfast. 'My God, this looks good.' He picked up a knife and fork and got to work. 'I assume it had occurred to you that if Dillon and Blake wanted to create mayhem in the Colosseum tonight, they also needed to be members?'
'Of course it did.' Ferguson smiled. 'And I knew you'd take care of it. It'll be an interesting night ahead of us, I think.' 'You can sure as hell say that,' Blake agreed.
Roper's expertise produced plastic membership cards for all of them, plus photos of Rossi and Cameci, the restaurant's minders, to add to those of Falcone and Russo, and that evening, at eight o'clock, they were passed through the door at the Colosseum by Henry, Roper in a light collapsible wheelchair pushed by Dillon.
The main room was already busy, waitresses in minuscule skirts moving through the crowd offering champagne. Dillon took a glass and looked up.
'Any good?' Blake asked.
'If you like sparkling wine, but champagne it's not.'
'Ah, well, Fox will be into profit margins,' Ferguson observed.
They stood in a small group by the bar, and Hannah said,
'There are a couple of villains you're interested in, sir. The Jago brothers, Harold and Tony, at the end of the bar.'
The others took a look.
Ferguson said, 'Very unsavoury.'
'Yes, well, we can sort them out later,' Dillon said. 'The thing is, who's going to start the ball rolling?'
'Well, actually, I've had another of my ideas,' Ferguson said. 'We have six dice, so why not two each?'
'Brigadier, I can see why you achieved high command,' Blake told him. 'Agreed, Sean?'
'Why not?' Dillon turned to Roper. 'Here we go. Show-time.'
Roper passed the dice across and Dillon gave the others theirs. 'There you go.'
'Into action, then,' Ferguson said. 'Let's get on with it,' and turned for the dice table. 'Oh, and palm your dice smoothly, gentlemen.'
In the restaurant, Fox enjoyed his scrambled eggs and smoked salmon again and tried a little Krug champagne.
'Great stuff, this,' he said to Falcone. 'But not the vintage. It's the non-vintage that's really special. Different grapes.'
Russo appeared. 'There's a problem, Signore. You remember those two from the Four Seasons in New York, Dillon and Johnson?'
'Yes?'
'They're here now, in the main room.'
'Really?' Fox emptied his glass. 'Well, let's take a look.'
Falcone pulled back the chair, and Fox stood up and walked out into the most active part of the casino.
Russo said, 'Over there, Signore. Next to some woman and another man. In the striped suit, see?'
Fox snorted. 'That 'some woman', Russo, is Detective Superintendent Hannah Bernstein of Scotland Yard's Special Branch. And that 'another man' is Brigadier General Ferguson, head of a special intelligence unit for the Prime Minister. An absolutely devious old bastard. I guarantee you they're not here for a friendly game of cards.'
'So what do we do, Signore?' Falcone asked. 'Move them out?'
'Don't be stupid,' Fox said. 'This is one of the most prestigious gambling clubs in London. Scandal is the last thing we want. You expect me to expel a brigadier general and his friends? No, we wait and see what they're up to.'
The dice table was a popular one, every inch taken up by the crowd standing around. Ferguson said to Hannah, 'Would you like to have a go, Superintendent?'
'No, sir. I don't know craps. It's not one of my vices.'
'Well, it's one of mine,' Blake said. 'Let's do it.'
He had to wait ten minutes for his chance, then took the offered dice and started. Strangely enough, he did quite well for the first three throws, actually won money. Then he palmed the dice and tossed two of Roper's.
'Snake eyes.'
There was a groan from the crowd.
The dealer passed the dice to Dillon, who palmed them for the real article, and made two successful throws. Then, just when he had everything riding on the toss — 'snake eyes!' 'Hey,' he said ruefully, 'bad luck I understand, but this is diabolical.'
Ferguson moved in. 'Let me try, old boy. Mind you, these dice do seem to have lost their edge.' He turned to the croupier. 'Let me have a new pair.'
The croupier complied. Ferguson rolled and immediately came up with snake eyes. He turned to a military- looking man with a stiff moustache next to him. 'How strange.' He laughed. 'We all keep getting the same thing.'
'Yes,' the military-looking man said slowly. The croupier's rake reached out, but the military-looking man said, 'Not so fast,' and grabbed the dice.
The croupier said, 'I hope monsieur isn't suggesting there could be something wrong?'
'Let's see.'
The man rolled the dice and threw them the length of the table: again, snake eyes. The croupier's rake reached out and the military gentleman beat him to it.
'Oh, no, you don't. That's snake eyes too many times. These dice are loaded.' There was a sudden murmur from the crowd and he turned to an ageing gentleman. 'See for yourself. Pair of ones guaranteed.'
The man threw and the result was clear. The outrage in the
crowd was plain to see, and Mori hurried down the steps. 'Ladies and gentlemen, please. A misunderstanding.' Are you the manager?' Ferguson demanded.
'Yes,' Mori replied.
'Then oblige us by throwing those dice.'
Mori hesitated. People in the crowd shouted, 'Get on with it.'
Mori threw. The dice rolled.
The crowd roared in anger. The military-looking man said, 'That settles it. Loaded dice, and I've lost a bundle here in the last few weeks. We need the police.'
'Ladies and gentlemen, please,' Mori called.
Fox, Falcone and Russo stayed well to the rear.
Hannah Bernstein moved forward and said to Mori, 'The dice, sir, I'll have them.'
'And who the devil are you?' He was so upset he asked her in Italian.
Hannah replied with fluency in the same language. 'Detective Superintendent Bernstein, Special Branch.' She looked at the dice she picked up. 'I notice that, in accordance with the Gaming Act, these carry the club's registered mark. Do you agree?'
'Well, yes,' Mori said lamely, then added, 'Someone must have substituted false ones.'
The military-looking man said, 'Don't be stupid. What on earth would be the point of a player substituting for the real dice a pair that would make him lose?'
There was a roar from the crowd, Mori sagged across the table, and Hannah said, 'In accordance with the statutory provisions of the Gaming Act, sir, I must issue an order closing you down until such time as Westminster Magistrate's Court can consider the matter. I believe you also own twelve betting shops in the City of London. Is
