The Darkness of God: Book Three of the Shadow Warrior Trilogy by Chris Bunch Read Free Book Online Page A

loud voices.
    Passing from grandeur to grandeur to final illusion,
Wolfe thought hopefully. He and Max avoided looking at each other.
    Kristin and Lucian came back out and sat down.
    “As long as we’re all getting along so well,” Wolfe said. “What’s the possibility of my being permitted one lousy little gun? There’s no — ” He broke off. Both Kristin and Lucian were shaking their heads.
    “Oh well,” he said. “I’m glad to get you two to agree on something. So I’m going in naked, then. But if anybody even twitches, I want somebody to put a bolt through him. We still aren’t even in sight of the target.”
    • • •
    “You’ve done quite well for yourself this evening,” Igraine said. His voice was as smooth and oily as his hair.
    “Compared to last night,” Wolfe agreed. “You would think I’d have learned to stay away from dice by now.”
    “So roulette is your game,” Igraine said. “Mine, too.”
    Wolfe had carefully noted the attention the casino’s owner paid the wheel in his inspection tour the night before.
    “I like it,” Wolfe said. “Especially when it’s straight, with only a single zero.”
    “I have no need to be greedy,” Igraine said.
    “Faites vos jeux, m’sieurs,”
the
tourneur
intoned. There were eight others around the wheel.
    Wolfe put on the cloth a stack of chips from the considerable pile he’d already won.
    “Manque,”
he said.
    Igraine reached out, tapped the enameled letters of
passe.
The
tourneur
nodded, and other bets were made.
    “Rien ne va plus,”
he announced, spun the cross-handles with his fingers, and flipped the ivory ball against the wheel’s rotation.
    The wheel slowed, and the ball bounced, bounced again, stopped in a compartment.
    “Quatre,”
the
tourneur
said.
    “Congratulations,” Igraine said. “Again?”
    Wolfe nodded.
    • • •
    It was either very late or very early.
    But no one appeared sleepy.
    There were about forty people around the table now, and the only sound was the
tourneur
’s
v
oice, the whisper of the spinning wheel, the clatter of the ivory ball, and the low murmur after the clatter stopped.
    The wheel had only two bettors, Igraine and Wolfe. Chips were stacked high beside Wolfe, and credits piled next to his untouched drink. Igraine had nothing in front of him.
    Lucian stood across from Wolfe, Max was next to him, and Kristin on Joshua’s other side.
    Igraine’s shirt was sweat-soaked, and his hair hung in disarray over his forehead.
    The
tourneur
had closed the table twice, and guards had brought first chips, later credits.
    “Rouge,”
he announced.
    “Non,”
Wolfe said, stepping back, and the
tourneur
spun once again.
    The ball dropped into the zero compartment.
    “You have a sixth sense about things,” Igraine complained.
    “It felt like about time for zero to hit,” Joshua said. He pushed chips forward.
    “Rouge.”
    “Noir,”
Igraine said.
    He glanced at the
tourneur,
nodded imperceptibly.
    Wolfe
felt
out,
felt
the man’s foot shift to the right,
reached
out. The
tourneur
’s body twitched a little, again. The man looked worried.
    “M’sieur?”
Wolfe inquired.
    The
tourneur
licked his lips, spun the wheel.
    “Deux. Rouge.”
    Wolfe collected his winnings.
    “All right,” Igraine said. “That’s enough.”
    “For you,” Wolfe said. “But I’m still playing.”
    “By yourself, then.”
    “You can’t afford the game?”
    Igraine started to say something then clamped his mouth shut.
    “You still have something to bet,” Wolfe said. He looked around at the club. “One roll. All of this,” he indicated the money in front of him, “against the club. You play black, I’ll stay with red.”
    Someone behind Wolfe said something, and a woman gasped. He didn’t turn.
    Kristin’s hand slid closer to the gun in her tiny breakaway purse.
    Igraine gnawed at his lip, suddenly smiled.
    “Very well. Spin the wheel!”
    The
tourneur
’s foot moved, tapped the hidden switch under the