Shift Read Free Page B

a cracked whisper.
    “Aubrey,” she said. “Aubrey Jones.” She stretched out her hand.
    I rubbed my damp palm on my jean leg and shook her hand. “Scott. Scott Tyler.”
    “Yeah, I know. Your friends were chanting your name, right till you fell on your arse.”
    “About that… did you see me climb to the top of the pylon? Cause I’m pretty sure I fell from the top.”
    “Nope. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t.”
    “I think maybe I hit my head.”
    “Listen, Scott Tyler. There’s so much you need to know. But we can’t talk here.” She glanced back up the alley. The crew had gathered at the opening, watching us. “Do you know anywhere safe?”
    “What, we’re not safe here?” I asked.
    “The Regulators will have registered the Shift and I give it…” She let go of my hand to check her watch. The absence of it made me realise how warm her hand had been. “Oh, about thirty minutes before they pinpoint the exact location. Less if someone who actually knows what they’re doing is on duty.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek seemingly trying to weigh up her options.
    “Come on. I know a place,” she said.
    Hugo’s mum is from Peru. Or Paraguay. Some South American country. Anyway, she once said: “If you see a ship on the top of a mountain, a woman’s fanny got it there.” Not only was I horrified I’d just heard Hugo’s rather attractive mother say “fanny” I also didn’t have any idea what she’d been on about. But I do now. It means that men will do anything for a beautiful woman. Or rather for the chance to get near one. So if you’re wondering why I followed Aubrey Jones farther down that dark, stinking alleyway, that’s my excuse. I couldn’t put a ship on top of a mountain, but I could trudge after her like an idiot. It wasn’t as if I had a choice. Not really.
    “The place” Aubrey knew turned out to be Copenhagen’s Casino. Only it didn’t look like any casino I’d ever seen. In fairness, I’d only ever seen one casino, in Bognor Regis, and that had been a temple to tat. But this place was more like a posh gentleman’s club than a flashy gaming joint.
    “Are we going in there?” I asked, pointing at the polished brass plaque on the white-bricked wall, which said the place had been Est. 1828.
    Aubrey rolled her eyes at me, then knocked on the black door. Knock, knock, knockknocknock, knock. And waited. I heard an electronic whirring from overhead and saw a security camera jerking to focus on us. An electronic voice crackled from a speaker embedded in the wall. “Password?”
    Aubrey leant close into the speaker. I could have sworn I heard her say “Swordfish”: I heard the sibilant echo of the word in my mind. But the word that actually came out of her mouth was “Sturgeon.” The two words rang in my head, making me feel dizzy and confused, like a weird kind of déjà vu. I shook my head to try and clear it of the eerie feeling.
    Three heavy clunks and the door opened. I waved at the camera in a lame greeting, wondering what the fascination with fish was all about, and followed Aubrey over the threshold.
    The hallway smelt of leather and cigar smoke. Large, faded playing cards lined the walls and the Victorian kings and queens seemed to watch me as I passed. They didn’t look impressed. Aubrey pushed open the greenleather doors at the end, and the sounds of laughter and rattling dice filled the hallway.
    Beyond was a domed room, filled with green card tables and spinning roulette wheels. Men dressed in suits and women in cocktail dresses were huddled over the games, their eyes glinting with greed. Aubrey’s face lit too.
    I took a step forward, but my way was barred by a man so big he blocked out the light.
    “Ms Jones. I wasn’t expecting anyone from ARES tonight.” He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, which barely contained his muscles. His square jaw tightened, as Aubrey glanced away to watch a screaming woman scoop her winnings into a very low-cut