The broad, glistening black front of the Bentley swung smoothly into one of the many vacant parking spaces. Its tyres came to a gentle halt on the tarmac as the roar of its engine died away into the near silence of the evening. The only sounds were those faint whispers that drifted gently into the cold air from within the grand architecture of the casino that stood, vast and imposing, over the car park. Light from the building's tall, narrow windows was reflected in the bodies of expensive cars, artistic shadows being cast by the leaves of neatly-trimmed hedges that decorated the area. There was no outdoor lighting other than the two lamps, one on either side of the casino's entrance, and so the cold light of the stars was plainly visible in the inky black canvas of the sky.
With a soft 'click', the door of the Bentley was opened and a dark figure stepped out. He wore a formal dinner suit and his face, which remained hidden in the shadows, had a scar running down the right cheek. His black hair was neat and would have been perfectly so was it not for the small lock that formed a comma above his right eyebrow. He shut the door of his car and then remained still for a moment, feeling the chill of the air wash over his skin. His unseen gaze darted across the car park before coming to rest on the casino. He took a single deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air, and then walked with a soldier's quick pace towards the impressive building.
As he mounted the steps that led to mahogany double doors, the light from the twin lamps hit his face, illuminating his sharp features and revealing cold grey-blue eyes. Pushing the doors open and striding into the entrance hall, he was bathed in the warm orange glow that filled the casino. With a small nod to the receptionist he made his way onward, down the narrow corridor that took him to the metal detector. A stout, bald security guard dressed in a grey suit and tie was stood by the side of the rectangular metal doorway. He took the man's keys, watch and wallet as he walked through. The machine gave the dull, quiet bleep and green light that meant it was safe. With a smile and a nod, the man took his possessions back. As he slipped his wallet into his inside pocket, the back of his hand brushed against the holster of the Walther PPK firearm that the metal detector had failed to notice.
Continuing down the corridor, he emerged into the main casino. The walls were a deep ruby-red with gold furnishings on every corner, pillar and fixture. Thick carmine curtains, drawn back, marked the separations between public and private gambling areas. There was an air of romanticism to the vast room's architecture – a feeling not reflected on a single face at any of the varying tables. A bar, lit with a blue neon glow, ran along the nearest wall of the casino and was the only area not dedicated to some form of gambling. Quickly observing all these details, the man strode from the doorway to the far end, where the long poker table sat waiting. A large, stony-faced group was already gathered in the area, a croupier stood with them by the velvet rope that currently separated them from the table. He was the one the man approached.
"Good evening. I'm here for tonight's game."
"Good to see you, monsieur." said the croupier with the smallest of smiles. He picked up a leather clipboard with a list of the players' names attached to it. "I'll need to check you are on the list. Name?"
"Bond – James Bond."