Fuck.
My name is Doyle.
Lord Doyle.
I'm a high roller on a slippery slope.
A gambler with a pair of lucky gloves.
Washed up on the shores of Macau.
The gambling capital of the universe.
City of miracles
in a land saved from the sea.
But I no longer believe in miracles.
And in a few days, my life as I know it will be over.
Bollocks.
Reception center.
Not playing house tonight, Lord Doyle?
Not tonight, Kai. No, I practically bled this place dry.
If I win any more money from the Royale, they'll be paying you in arrears.
Order me a car, would you?
My sincere apologies, Lord Doyle,
but I'm told the hotel limousines are all tied up tonight.
All of them?
Shall I call you a taxi?
Never mind. It's a pleasant evening.
I think I'll walk.
Do you mind?
All I need is one big win, Kai, and they'll be throwing limousines at me.
Try the Rainbow Casino, sir.
You might get credit there.
Lord Doyle!
Oh. Mounts up, doesn't it?
A prompt settlement would be best for everyone, Lord Doyle.
Of course. Of course.
I shall call my banker in London
and have him wire you the outstanding amount immediately.
- Lord Doyle! - It is a Saturday.
Banks are closed in the UK. Sunday tomorrow, bank holiday Monday.
My account manager will be back at work first thing Tuesday morning.
Tuesday afternoon, our time. Will that suit?
The full balance of HK$352,000.64
must be paid by noon on Tuesday, Lord Doyle,
or I'll be forced to notify the police.
Noon on Tuesday.
You have three days.
In Macau, I am a gwai lo,
a foreign ghost...
cloaked in invisibility.
Here, I barely exist.
Here, I can be whoever I want to be.
Punto banco baccarat is the fastest card game on the planet.
Millions can be won or lost in a single bet.
And with a mere .9 advantage to the casino,
the prince of card games can change your life in an instant.
The rules are simple.
Two cards are dealt face down to the player with the highest wager.
Highest hand wins.
Cards two to nine score face value.
Tens and picture cards score nothing.
Highest score is nine.
Nine wins!
Player takes all.
Welcome to the Rainbow. May I interest you in a glass of champagne, sir?
I don't want any cheap champagne.
- Just give me Cristal. - Okay.
You speak good Chinese.
I smoke Chinese cigarettes too. The kind that kill.
My name is Dao Ming.
Really? Lord Doyle.
An honor to meet you, Lord Doyle.
Have you played baccarat before?
Once or twice. Mostly in Monte Carlo.
Who's the old biddy?
- That's Grandma. - Grandma?
We don't speak her name. She's a killer.
Her husband fools around while she spends his money.
- It's a good arrangement for us. - Killer, is she?
They say she sees spirits.
Well, let's hope they don't tell her what's on the cards.
Nine wins.
Death by guillotine. That's why I love it.
Nothing like it in the universe.
- The gwai lo is screwing up badly. - He has the look of bad luck.
My Cantonese is rusty. What did she say?
Grandma welcomes you.
I can burst his balls with one hand.
Surely a lord has deep pockets.
Only millionaires play in gloves.
You'll need billions to beat Grandma. Billions of dollars and no sense.
- Her luck will run out. - Not if the spirit world is with her.
Spirit world, my arse.
The only thing on Grandma's side is her husband's wallet. Twenty thousand.
- Thirty. - Thirty-five.
Fifty.
- Hey. Do you want credit? - Credit?
Twenty thousand US at 15% plus commission.
Fifty thousand at ten.
Twenty-five at 12.
Done.
What the fuck? You gonna lend him money?
Just look at his dick face. His luck has run out.
- What did she say? - She says you're a bad gambler.
Well, then, all the more reason to open me that line of credit.
Fuck credit! You're a loan shark.
- This transaction will fucking kill you! - Let me worry about that.
- Is there a problem? - No.
Your bar bill. Settle up first, and we'll take care of your credit line.
Of... course.
He's gonna make an escape.
Actually, why don't you order another bottle of bubbly,
and I'll come back from the men's room and skin her alive?
Wait here?
Of course.
Thank you.
Don't fucking do it.
The bastard won't come back.
You stupid cunt.
He's a lost soul.
Oh fuck.
Today marks the first day
of the Festival of the Hungry Ghosts.
Residents from all over the city bring offerings to be burned for the dead,
honoring and appeasing restless spirits.
Thank you.
Why did you lend him the money?
- Dao Ming. - I am sorry.
- My husband died because of you! - Hey! Hey, hey!
Hey, hey, hey! Whoa, whoa!
- I want my husband back! - Dao Ming!
- You killed my husband! - Dao Ming!
Taxi! Taxi!
Dao Ming!
Where are you going?
You owe me 300 US for the champagne.
I don't have it on me. Sorry.
Thank you.
Wait!
I'd like to make it up to you.
How about...
How about dinner and a dance?
You know, we could come to some arrangement.
I hate gamblers.
I'm standing at a statistical crossroads.
It's possible I keep on losing,
but probability says I have to start winning.
Probability won't save you.
Well, isn't that what life is? The statistical improbability.
Life is a mysterious gift.
Look, I... I played my way into this mess.
With the right backing, I can play my way out.
Look, look, look.
I've had a run of bad luck.
I've tried all the usual creditors, but...
word gets around.
I find myself in a bit of a bind.
Thank you.
Was he a client of yours?
You know, the... fellow who jumped?
It's not your fault.
If a man wants to chuck himself off a building, that's his prerogative.
A permanent solution to a temporary problem, I say.
I thought you were very distinguished
when I first saw you in the casino with your yellow gloves.
I've never seen anyone wear gloves in a casino before.
Savile Row's finest.
They're my good luck gloves.
But you have bad luck.
I have a proposition.
- I propose a mutually beneficial-- - I'm not interested.
- Just hear me out, at least. - No.
- I'll give you half of-- - You hear me! No more credit.
Not to you or anyone else. I've given up!
On what?
Life?
Trust me, I've been close to throwing in the towel myself.
More than once.
My guess is,
he owed money, which means you owe money.
It's none of my business, but whatever predicament you're in,
there are better ways out of it than killing yourself.
By lending money to another addict?
Don't sound so high and mighty.
If you're a broker at a high-end casino, you make straight commission. You're not.
You make your money from dodgy lines of credit and illegal side bets.
If you want me to leave, I'll leave. You can top yourself.
But please don't pretend you're superior to me.
I may be a gwai lo, but I still have a soul.
As far as I can see, it's no more lost than yours.
I should have refused him credit.
I should have told him no, but I didn't.
What was his name?
I've known so many.
You're all the same.
I'm not.
What makes you any different, apart from being a lord?
My lucky gloves.
Savile Row's finest?
Yes.
It's the Festival of the Hungry Ghost.
In a week, it will be Ghost Day.
That's when people burn offerings to the dead.
I have to leave here.
So should you.
Where to?
Don't try to follow me.
I was hoping you might
stick around a while.
I'm about to win big.
And when I do, I won't just pay my debts off.
I'll pay yours too.
Seriously.
Chin up.
It never lasts.
And when my ship comes in, I...
I won't forget you.
That's a promise.
And a lord never goes back on his word.
I have run out of chances.
Keep doing that.
Best foot forward now.
A lord never goes back on his word.
Oh.
Hello.
- Hi. - Lord Doyle.
I'm sorry?
I... You can call me Freddy.
Oh. Thanks.
First time to Macau?
- I'm sorry? - I said is it your first trip to Macau?
Yes.
- You? - No, I come and go.
Oh. That sounds exciting.
I don't mean to be forward,
but I'd be grateful if you could delete that photo.
- What? - The one you just took of me in the lift.
Oh... The selfie?
Yes, with me in it.
- Oh, no... Oh, I had no idea you were-- - Well, I... I... I hate to ask.
It's just my privacy means... it means rather a lot to me.
Why?
I mean, you're not on the run, are you?
No. No, no, no. It's... There's no great mystery to it.
It's simply that every genuine high roller values discretion.
- Oh. - Yes, discretion is our code.
- Oh, it is, is it? - It is, actually.
Yeah. Yeah.
Because, actually, you look... I mean, if I were to say,
like a bit of a show-off for someone on the lam.
- You didn't tell me your name. - Betty.
- Betty who? - Grayson.
Right, then, Betty Grayson.
Who are you? What do you want?
- You know exactly what I want. - What, money?
- Justice. - Justice?
All right.
You lend me $500, you can have all the fucking justice you want.
Lord Doyle, you're such a card.
You want my photo? I'm just giving you terms.
- Terms? - Yeah, terms. Why not?
You fucked up in the lift. I caught you red-handed.
You tried to give me the slip. Right? Now you're sweating it out.
You're biding your time, playing the lonely English tourist
on a package tour of China.
Hoping I'll be stupid, let you have another crack at me with your camera
so you can email my photo back
to whatever tawdry little private investigator's firm sent you here
to do whatever the fuck you came here to do,
which is probably to threaten me.
But the thing is, they don't allow photography in the casinos, right?
So you won't get another photo, not unless you damn well pay me.
So come on, Betty, get off your high horse. Fork it over.
I want 500 US now.
Down to your last penny, are you,
Mr. Reilly?
Hey!
Excuse... Excuse me.
- Fuck! - Reilly!
I've beaten better men than you at this game.
Give me my handbag.
- Where the bloody hell's my phone? - I want the 500 first.
- Give me the phone. - Money first, then photo.
Thank you.
What about my phone?
We had an agreement.
My photo's worth more than 500.
Your only hope is to sit back, relax,
and marvel while I turn this into ten grand.
Watch and learn, Betty.
This is to leave me alone.
No, we made a deal.
Look, I'm offering you the equivalent of 10,000 US dollars. Just take it.
I can't.
Of course you can.
You can't afford not to. This is...
Ten thousand is the conservatory you always wanted. A Caribbean holiday.
New kitchen. Decent clothes.
You never were gonna give me back my phone, were you?
Isn't this much better?
Not everybody is like you.
Wait!
For fuck's sake.
Wait. Look, look, I've made some mistakes in the past, right?
Who hasn't? But the point is, look, I... I'm trying to make a new start. Right?
Now, whatever you might think of me, I'm not a criminal.
You stole a considerable sum of money from our client.
And the fact that you quite evidently have a gambling problem is not an excuse--
I do not have a gambling problem.
Okay? Now...
Look, how about... how about dinner and a dance?
You know? I mean, maybe we can come to some arrangement.
I beg your pardon?
I'm asking you to dance, Betty.
How dare you!
- Live a little! - Oh, bugger off!
Well, at least take the 500 I owe you.
Keep it. You'll only blow it all on the next round of baccarat.
Bloody gamblers!
Fuck.
You're running out of puff.
I may be out of puff, but... I still have my balls.
Yeah, right. Not for long.
Grandma scores another nine.
Not so lucky after all, huh?
Well, I... I should...
I should be getting home.
Dao Ming!
Where were you? Where were...
Player scores four.
Banker scores eight.
Gwai lo loses all.
Mr. Reilly?
So, as you've clearly worked out,
Strick and Garland are a wealth management firm based in the UK.
Not content to leave matters in the hands of the police,
they have hired my firm, Huntsworth Investigations,
to locate a Mr. Reilly in connection with the theft of £957,000 sterling
from a client account in the UK.
- Cynthia? - Blithe.
Preferred "Betty."
The trail went cold in Manila.
Did it? That's...
That's exciting.
No more games, Mr. Reilly.
This just came in.
- What's that? - You know perfectly well what it is.
It is the copy of a recently released death certificate.
You know that 'cause it's yours, or purports to be.
It was procured from a Filipino official in Manila a few weeks ago for cash.
I see. So I look like this... dead fella,
Mr...?
- Reilly. - Reilly.
I've been authorized to propose to you a deal.
Either the stolen money is deposited back in Strick and Garland's account
within 24 hours
or I will have you deported to the UK to face charges.
Deported?
I have my photograph.
After the background checks are complete,
London will forward your file to the police.
Unless you cooperate.
You have 24 hours, Mr. Reilly.
Do you like your job?
All that hard work and nothing to show for it
but cheap shoes and a miserable state pension.
It's not much of a life, is it?
You stole that money from a helpless old woman.
No, a stinking rich old woman, and selfish and self-centered--
Who trusted you to manage her portfolio.
If... if you will forgive me for saying so, Mr. Reilly,
what I see is a criminal through and through.
And worse, a man whose childish pride has set him way beyond any redemption.
Really? Is that what you see?
Your Lord Doyle routine?
It's pathetic.
It's shabby, and it's amateurish.
"Doyle"? It's not even a posh name.
You couldn't even get that right.
You have till tomorrow, midday.
Dao Ming!
I need your help.
Lippett!
Hey, sir! Hey, sir!
- Let me through! Lippett! - Sir!
Let me through! Lippett! Don't touch me!
- Hey, sir! - Let me through!
Have a drink, man. You're causing a scene.
I have to get out of Macau.
There's a boat to Hong Kong in three hours.
Always time for a sharpener.
You owe me eight grand. I haven't got time to argue. Just pay up.
- What's happened? - Now!
All right, all right.
Here.
- There's only two grand here. - Well, it's all I've got.
- Well, how'd you pay for the girls? - They're on credit.
For God's sake. Now, calm down, and I'll stand you a drink.
I need all of it.
Oh, come on. How about dinner and a dance? We could come to some arrangement.
That's my line, you bastard! Don't fucking play me, Adrian!
God, man, relax. I mean, you look dreadful.
You'll feel better after a good meal and a few glasses of decent Douro.
I'll pay.
Come on.
Last hurrah.
On me.
What's wrong with you?
You're not ill, are you?
You were never tough enough for this game, Reilly.
You underestimated the savagery of the English upper classes.
Generations of murder and intrigue lie behind our stately homes.
And a really expensive public school
firms up the genes by training us to be absolute bastards.
What did you just say?
I'm sorry?
Reilly. You... you just called me Reilly.
How did you know my name?
It was you.
You told Huntsworth Investigations where to find me, didn't you?
You fucking snitched on me.
Yeah, I had to throw her a bone, I'm afraid.
Pay you?
Did she offer you money?
Amnesty.
Got my own tracks to cover, old chap.
Be grateful that I'm not blackmailing you myself.
There's a phrase in Chinese.
"Dead to shame."
I'm dead to shame, Reilly.
You should try it.
You know, I'm just not sure it's really you.
Deep down, you're just a nice, working-class Irish boy
in way over his head.
What will you do?
I don't know.
Well, for God's sake, don't do anything rash.
We've all thought about it.
Suicide.
Even me, believe it or not.
You've heard the one about the gambler who wakes up in the afterlife,
comes to in a sumptuous casino,
champagne on ice, girls everywhere,
wins every single hand, one after the other after the other.
He can't lose.
Eventually, he turns to the player next to him and says,
"I didn't think I was gonna make it to heaven."
"I thought I was destined for the other place."
The player next to him looks at him and says--
"This is the other place."
Oh, cheer up.
Winning'll kill you a damn sight quicker than losing.
Oh, you've cleared me out, old chap.
Dinner's on you, I'm afraid.
Next station Hong Kong Harbor. Final stop.
All passengers disembark.
Excuse me. Could I have another buck's fizz, please?
Of course.
Cheers.
Would you like the bill, sir?
Caviar and blinis, please.
Of course, sir.
Fuck.
Sorry, what time is it?
It's noon, sir.
Would you like to settle up, sir?
No.
Not yet. I'd like a...
a vodka martini with a twist and a dash of Angostura.
Just one dash.
Well, sir, you would need to settle up before ordering another drink.
Would I?
Yes, sir.
How about you bring me the vodka, and I'll settle up then?
- I don't think we can do that, sir. - Why not?
I'm very sorry, sir.
I see.
Are you okay, sir?
You take cards?
Yes.
Hi.
Oh.
Tell me it's you.
I thought...
I thought I'd never see you again.
Is this what a lord would do?
Well,
perhaps if he was a lord who forgot his wallet.
Or doesn't like to pay for such trivial things as bar bills.
- I must have left my money in Macau. - That's silly of you.
- Well, I... I do that sometimes. - Do you?
Yes, I'm forgetful.
It's a trait of mine.
I see.
What are you doing here?
What are the chances?
It's not chance.
You're burning up.
What would you say if I...
if I told you I was...
I was actually having a... heart attack?
Hi.
Hey.
How did I get here?
I brought you here from urgent care. You slept for two days.
Christ.
What day is it?
Thursday.
- Fuck. I have to go. - Go where?
Back to Macau. I... I'm two days late.
If I don't pay up, they'll... they'll arrest me.
If you go back now, you will die.
What do you mean, die?
Gambling almost killed you. I told you it would.
But you didn't listen.
Well, I'm not dead yet, am I?
If you carry on, you will be.
Any chance of a dry martini?
It's hereditary.
What is?
The little gambling habit you mentioned.
That and the drinking.
I... I inherited them from a long line of men in my family.
Did you inherit your yellow gloves from your ancestors too?
I noticed they were made in China, not Savile Row.
Ah.
What is this?
Is it your number?
It's a test.
What kind of test?
You'll see.
Come on! Jump in!
Let's play a game.
We get one question each.
And we have to tell the truth.
The truth?
What are you running away from?
I stole a lot of money from a rich old lady.
It's the truth I'm running away from.
I'm not just an addict. I'm a liar and a thief.
A fraud.
I've never admitted that before.
I want so bad, just for once...
just for once...
to be free of shame.
Okay.
My turn.
Why are you trying to help me?
Because... you and I
are the same.
In the village where I grew up...
girls were considered
bad luck.
So, as soon as I was old enough,
I stole money from my parents,
so I could run away and live a better life.
And a week later, my father died of a broken heart.
I worked and worked,
and every day,
I put aside some money.
I thought if I saved enough money
to change my mother's life forever,
she'd forgive me.
But she just sent them back.
Have you heard of the Buddhist hell?
Naraka.
The Realm of the Hungry Ghosts
is for people driven by greed.
They have huge mouths and thin necks.
And no matter how much they eat or drink,
they can never be satisfied.
Do you think that's where we're headed?
It's not too late for you.
It'd take a miracle to change a man like me.
Dao Ming?
Hey.
Nine wins.
Come on.
Oh!
Come on, come on, come on, come on!
Yeah!
- Thank you. - Bye.
Lord Doyle.
- Yes. - You missed the deadline, Lord Doyle.
- I do apologize. - By four days.
I was detained by a friend.
I regret to inform you that...
It's all there. HK$353,000. You can keep the change.
Go on, count it.
Send up a bottle of champagne as well.
I must apologize if there's been any misunder--
In that case, make it a Dom Pérignon. 1990.
Fucking hate champagne.
It's not too late for you.
Are you aware of the statistical improbability
of seven nines in a row?
I mean, the odds of tossing a head after five straight heads
is still 50-50, Alfred.
Seven nines is absolutely unheard of.
I can't help it if I'm lucky.
It's not luck.
And I regret to say
we have the evidence to prove it, Lord Doyle.
You accusing me of cheating?
One of my team was watching your surveillance videos,
and he swore he saw a figure standing behind you.
A figure?
He swore he saw it. And many of his colleagues believe him.
So what on earth are you talking about?
Head office say that you have a ghost attached to you.
A wh...?
- What? - It has been known to happen.
I'm asking you not to play again at the casino.
Well, I'd like to see that video.
I'm afraid that won't be possible.
You're telling me a ghost story, Alfred.
My associates are superstitious, and so are my staff.
I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.
My organization's position is clear.
You are no longer welcome here.
Then I shall take my custom elsewhere.
Or anywhere else in Macau.
I beg your pardon?
Every casino in Macau has been issued with your name and photograph
and instructed to alert the police.
Cross the line, you'll be arrested.
We both know what this is.
You can't handle a winner.
Feeling lucky, gwai lo?
Are you finally dead to shame, Reilly?
It's not too late for you.
Alfred,
I... I need one more hand.
Look, I'm offering you over HK$8 million on a single hand of baccarat.
Don't seriously tell me you're gonna turn that down.
If I lose, it proves there's no ghost.
If I win, I... I leave Macau forever.
Either way, you're better off.
You have to let me play!
All of it.
Reilly!
What the bloody hell are you playing at?
You were supposed to transfer that stolen money four days ago.
- Look, Cynthia-- - Don't "Cynthia" me.
Your winning streak's all over bloody social media.
I've cut you all the slack I can. I'm calling the police!
I only have three-quarters of what I owe you.
And the old woman's not the only one I stole from.
Now, if you call the cops now, you... you won't get what you need.
Okay, just...
Just give me one more hand.
Then I can... I can pay you. And everyone else.
All right?
I've sworn to pay back all of my debts, and a lord never goes back on his word.
Cut the "lord" crap. Just give me all you've got right now.
Oh, Cynthia. Cynthia, listen to me.
We both grew up on gray and rainy islands.
In homes where there wasn't enough to go around.
And we've...
And we ate our fill of lumpy mashed potatoes,
and we both lived out our share of dull, suburban days.
We made wildly different choices in life, yes,
but our different choices have led us both to this exact moment.
What are you talking about?
We have the power to...
We have the power to change each other's destinies.
You're not drunk, are you?
I'm about to win more money on a single hand of baccarat
than any human being on the planet has ever won before.
Now, what you choose to do with that money, you know,
Strick and Garland's share, that's up to you.
But if I was you, I'd proceed immediately to Manila
and fake your own death for the price of a cheap hotel room.
And I'd fulfil your wildest fucking dreams.
You're a bad man, Mr. Reilly.
- I'll see you in the ballroom. - I beg your pardon?
I'm asking you to dance,
Betty.
Your Cristal, sir.
- Thank you. - Cigar, Lord Doyle?
Lord Doyle, there's a gentleman who wishes to play against you.
His name is Prince Lorenzo di Firenze.
He's flown from Monte Carlo. Will you accept it?
Lord Doyle.
Your Highness.
They say you are lucky.
Everyone's lucky once.
Well, this man has wisdom.
Are you lucky enough to stake everything on a single hand?
I expect nothing less.
Then I match your bet.
Two and a nine.
Modulo ten.
Any score over ten drops ten.
Doyle scores one,
earning him the right to another card.
Prince Lorenzo di Firenze scores seven.
Eight. Total score of nine.
Lord Doyle wins.
May I ask what you intend to do with the money?
I'm going to pay back my debts.
Do you believe in miracles?
I do now.
£957,000 sterling in Hong Kong dollars,
at 10:00 a.m. this morning's exchange rate.
What's the catch?
There isn't one.
Do not screw me, Reilly.
Do you understand me?
Whatever bullshit you're planning, whatever scam, whatever sales patter,
do not screw me.
There's an extra 50 grand on top for you. It's not a payoff.
It's a present.
Live a little.
Reilly?
Yeah?
How about that dance?
You did it, Lord Doyle.
Thanks, Kai. I told you all I needed was one big win.
I always knew you had it in you, sir. Your limousine awaits.
Thank you.
Where to, Lord Doyle?
The Rainbow, please.
I fucking hate cigars.
I've been waiting for you, milord.
I knew you couldn't resist. One final bet.
- I didn't come here to play. - Nonsense. This is a casino.
Hey, how about a side bet?
Three Card Six.
You're not serious.
Deadly.
No, but Three Card Six has odds of 100 to one.
I mean, if... if I win, you... you have to...
Well, you'd owe me...
I have very deep pockets.
Walk in with five cases, walk out with 500.
Have a seat.
Give him a cold champagne and a proper cigar.
I'm done gambling.
Rubbish.
Forever.
If you're not here to gamble, what are you doing here?
I'm here to see Dao Ming.
Dao Ming?
- She doesn't work here anymore. - Do you know where I can find her?
You can't.
She's dead.
She's what?
She drowned herself.
She drowned herself?
The first night of the Hungry Ghost. By the temple.
No, she can't have.
That's impossible. We... we were together. I sat up with her till morning.
I'm sorry. It's true.
They sent all her stuff back to China.
There wasn't even enough to pay for her cremation.
Hey.
I saw her. I was...
I was with her. You know, I was...
I was with her.
How about the side bet?
Everything on one hand?
No.
No, this money, it's... it's for her.
Dao Ming!