Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb

  29

  Anton looks at him real surprised. Anton’s inexperienced with a gun, JT can tell that from the way he’s holding it, and the exaggerated stance he’s adopted, but that doesn’t make the man any less dangerous. He might be a fool, but a fool with a gun is a dangerous fool.

  ‘This isn’t a good play,’ says JT, real firm. ‘You need to lower the Glock. Get it out of the lady’s face.’

  Anton keeps the gun pointed at Carmella. ‘Looks a good-enough play from where I’m standing.’

  Carmella starts to cry. JT starts to stand.

  Anton swings the gun towards JT. ‘Stay sitting where you are, cowboy.’ He points the gun back at Carmella. ‘You shut it.’

  Carmella is shaking her head. Her eyes are pleading with Anton. ‘Please, I didn’t…’

  ‘I told you to shut your mouth,’ Anton yells.

  This is bad. JT can see the sweat on Anton’s flushed face. The man’s hands are shaking around the gun. JT knows if he can’t defuse this situation it’ll go bad real fast. But it’s a tricky balance. Anton’s got the gun and is acting all powerful, but he’s stressed too; power and stress – the worst kind of cocktail.

  JT puts his hands up, palms out. Tries to look non-threatening. ‘Why don’t you lower the gun and we talk about this?’

  ‘No. She’s not going to let me have the money, and I need it, I need it all. I deserve it. All the people I’ve brought to her games, all the money they’ve put on her tables, and she wants to screw me, fuck me over.’ Anton’s voice is rising. Beads of sweat are dripping down the side of his face. ‘I can’t let her stop me.’

  Goddamn. The man’s a mess. JT decides to take a different tack. ‘You need her.’

  Anton frowns. ‘Why?’

  ‘She puts the poker games together, right?’

  Anton keeps his eyes on Carmella. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  ‘And before you get to join the game you go through a vetting process, am I right?’

  Anton gestures at Carmella with the gun.

  ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘I do background checks on all new players.’

  ‘That’s why you need her,’ says JT.

  Anton still looks confused.

  ‘Because she knows the most about all of us. Think about it: you know some of the players because you’ve played with them a long time or whatever, but none of you know everyone equally well.’ JT gestures to Carmella. ‘None of you except her.’

  Cabressa nods thoughtfully. Mikey leans over and whispers something to Carl. Otis and Johnny stare at what’s happening like they’ve been hypnotised.

  Beside him JT can feel that Lori’s tense as a bucking horse in a rodeo trap. He doesn’t want her exploding out the gate. Doesn’t want her drawing Anton’s attention to her and putting herself in more danger. She needs to focus on getting the job done with Cabressa. JT needs to take this load. He meets her gaze. Give a slight shake of his head. Hopes she interprets it as intended: Let me handle this.

  He looks back at Anton. ‘There’s no sense you getting the money if you can’t get out of here, right?’

  Anton stares at him a long moment, looking like he thinks JT’s trying to trick him with the question. Eventually he answers. ‘True.’

  ‘So put the gun down and let’s talk. Figure this out.’ JT forces a smile and tries to appeal to Anton’s better nature. ‘You’re not a killer. You’re a businessman.’

  Anton looks thoughtful. He moves his gaze from Carmella to JT. Shakes his head. ‘Right now I’m the man who’s got the gun. I’m going to work out who Herron is and I’m going to have that money.’

  JT senses the situation is about to escalate. ‘Why don’t you lower the gun and we talk about this like gentlemen.’

  ‘No, that’s not going to happen.’ Anton turns his gaze back to Carmella. He’s taking deep breaths, getting himself set to do something. He raises the gun so it’s pointing at Carmella’s head and runs his finger along the trigger. ‘The bitch brought us all here, got us into this situation, didn’t warn us that she’d lost her phone and the game had been compromised. None of that makes me feel like acting gentlemanly towards her. No, it makes me mad. She let this happen, us getting locked in here.’ He takes a step closer to Carmella.

  Carmella shrinks away from him. The rest of the players are silent, watching. Everyone tense, aside from Cabressa. Lori shifts in her seat next to JT. JT hopes she’s not going to try something.

  Anton takes another step closer to Carmella. Gives her a sickly smile. ‘You know you deserve this.’

  That’s the moment JT realises for sure that he’s wrong.

  Anton is ready to kill.

  30

  Keeping the gun pointed at Carmella, Anton takes a few steps closer to her and presses the gun against the side of her head. ‘Keep still, bitch.’ He looks at the rest of us. ‘We’re locked in this place because of her. She brought us here and she compromised our security. This is all her fault.’

  Carmella is trying to stay still but she’s crying and her whole body’s shaking.

  JT gets up from his seat. ‘Put the gun down. This isn’t the answer.’

  Anton swings the gun from Carmella to JT. ‘Stay the fuck where you are.’

  My stomach flips. Memories of the horrific bloodbath I witnessed at the Miami Mob compound flash across my mind’s eye. I feel lightheaded, like I might throw up. Can’t let that happen here. ‘Anton, please. Let’s talk about this.’

  Anton ignores me. Keeps staring down the barrel of the gun at JT.

  ‘This isn’t the way, dude,’ Johnny slurs. He wobbles towards Anton. ‘You need to just—’

  Anton swings the gun towards Johnny. ‘Stay back. Don’t make me shoot you.’

  Johnny puts his hands up. ‘I’m not making you do a thing. I’m just saying—’

  ‘Well, don’t. Stop talking.’ Anton waves the gun around. His eyes are wild. It looks like he’s losing his shit. ‘All of you stay still.’

  ‘Like Anton says, it’s best if everyone stays where they are until we’ve got this situation resolved,’ says Cabressa. He sounds calm, looks unbothered. He glances around the group, scrutinising each of us, then repeats his original question. ‘So which of you is Herron?’

  No one speaks.

  Our silence hangs awkwardly in the air. The only noise is the whir of the central air. No one moves. No one makes eye contact.

  Seconds tick by. Still nothing happens, no one speaks. I glance at JT, and he gives a small shake of his head – Say nothing. I sit, and I wait, and I hope to hell I can think of a way to get us out of this. I think of our baby girl, Dakota, waiting back in Florida for us, and I know I can’t sit passively any longer. I grip the base of my chair, and get ready to spring across the table at Anton.

  I’m beaten to it.

  There’s a roar, and Thomas, the security guy, leaps up from the floor and launches himself at Anton. I don’t know how long it’s been since he came round from getting knocked out, but he’s wide awake now and punching Anton with all he’s got. Anton tries to fight back, but he’s tubby rather than muscular, and without the element of surprise on his side, as it was before, he’s struggling to defend himself.

  Thomas rains blows down on Anton. Anton tries a grab and misses, but manages to hook his leg around Thomas’s and destabilises him. As he falls, Thomas pulls Anton with him. They land hard. Anton drops the gun and it goes skittering across the floor. I drop to my knees, looking for it. When I see it, my breath catches in my throat. It’s smack up against Cabressa’s foot.

  Cabressa’s long, thin fingers close around the grip of the gun. ‘Enough!’ he yells, straightening up and firing the gun once into the floor. The force of the shot in this contained space vibrates in my chest. The noise makes my ears ring. The noise around me is muffled, like I’m underwater.

  Anton and Thomas spring apart.

  ‘Asshole,’ says Anton, glaring at Thomas. ‘Know your fucking place.’

  Thomas lunges for Anton agai
n.

  I jump as Cabressa fires the gun a second time.

  Carmella screams.

  The bullet hits Thomas between the eyes. Red mist plumes like a stained halo from his head, and he staggers backwards, his body propelled by the force of the shot, but already dead.

  ‘What the…?’ Anton looks on in horror as Thomas’s body slumps to the floor at his feet.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Carmella’s crying again. Thrusting her chair away from the table she rushes to Thomas’s body and kneels beside him. Puts her hand on his arm then glares up at Cabressa, anger chasing away her tears. ‘You killed him. Why the hell would you do that? He was a good man. He had a family.’

  Cabressa stares back at her, unmoved. ‘A security guard needs to be able to follow directions. I told him to stop. He disobeyed.’

  She shakes her head. Tears run down her face, and she wipes them angrily away. ‘You’re an animal. You disgust me.’

  Cabressa shrugs. He gestures to Carmella’s empty chair. ‘Sit back down, so we can get this done.’

  I watch as Carmella presses Thomas’s eyes closed and then removes her fitted jacket and places it over Thomas’s face and chest. Getting to her feet, she steps around the puddle of blood that’s spreading out from his head and across the hardwood floor, and returns to her chair. She looks pale, deeply shaken, but there’s rigidness to her movements, and her jaw is clenched. I recognise her expression and what it means. I’ve felt that way too. Carmella is a woman whose anger is turning into a need for revenge.

  Cabressa, gun in hand, seems unaware. He looks around the group. Nine of us remaining of the ten that we were. ‘Let’s try that again, shall we? Who is Herron?’

  ‘Don’t you realise that none of us are Herron?’ Carmella says, her tone frosty, her anger seeping into every word.

  ‘Aren’t you?’ Cabressa says.

  ‘It’s just some twisted game,’ says Carmella. ‘Someone is messing with us. Probably someone who wanted to join the poker game and didn’t make the cut.’

  ‘You sure about that?’ Cabressa says. ‘All this seems overly dramatic for a disgruntled poker player to instigate.’

  ‘I am sure,’ she says. But even though she’s nodding, she doesn’t look completely certain.

  ‘Look,’ says Mikey, ‘like you said earlier, Mr Cabressa: if each of us owns up to our secret shit then we’ll be able to see who’s Herron by a process of elimination.’ He lights another cigar and takes a long drag, trying to seem unconcerned. It almost works, but as he takes a second drag I see that his fingers are trembling.

  I’m feeling real concerned myself. I can’t admit that I’m a police, or at least an FBI, informant – if I do Cabressa will kill me for sure. But if I don’t own up to something then he’ll think I’m Herron, and then he’ll kill me anyways. I glance at JT. His expression is grim. Of the secrets on the list there’s one both of us could admit to being. It’s not something either of us are proud about.

  ‘Okay,’ says Cabressa, a sneering smile on his lips. ‘Let’s try this again, people. It’s time to share your secrets.’

  JT, Carmella and me stay silent. Mikey and Carl glance at each other, then Johnny. Anton stands like a sentry beside Cabressa, rubbing his jaw. He doesn’t look worried, I guess because he’s already shared his secret and made his alliance with Cabressa.

  Otis clears his throat. Looks at Anton and then Cabressa. ‘I’m not who you want, man. I’m not Herron, I swear.’ He takes a breath. Puts his hand on his chest. ‘On that list they read out, I’m the addict.’

  Cabressa’s smile widens. He cocks his head to one side. ‘Tell me about your addiction.’

  Otis swallows hard and glances at Carmella, and then me.

  ‘Don’t look at anyone else,’ Cabressa says, his finger tracing the trigger of the Glock. ‘It’s me who needs to believe you.’

  Otis’s hands start to shake. He clasps them together. Nods. ‘It started when I was—’

  Two loud beeps sound over the penthouse’s speaker system. Otis falls silent. No one else speaks. We’re all waiting for the electronic-voiced message we expect will follow. But the message doesn’t come immediately. Instead there’s a pause, then another set of two beeps.

  I look at JT. And mouth, ‘What’s happening?’

  He frowns. Shakes his head: I don’t know.

  That’s the moment the central air cuts out and a strange whistling sound starts up from behind the vents.

  31

  ‘Why’s the air conditioning switched off?’ Johnny slurs.

  ‘You think the generator’s failing?’ says Anton, looking towards Cabressa.

  Otis – wide-eyed and afraid – rocks back and forth on his chair. ‘No, no, this is just … I can’t do the dark again.’

  Two beeps sound again. Everyone goes quiet. Otis stops rocking.

  The electronic voice booms over the speakers. ‘While the panic-room protocol is activated, this penthouse is a sealed unit. It is airtight. Until you have completed your challenge the penthouse support systems will shut down, one by one, every thirty minutes. The first system to shut down is central air and ventilation. The decontamination programme has been activated and is now removing the oxygen from the suite. You have approximately one and a half hours before the oxygen level reaches critical and the air becomes unbreathable.’

  Otis stops rocking. ‘Oh man, this isn’t—’

  ‘In thirty minutes time the lights will turn off,’ continues the electronic voice. ‘Thirty minutes after that all power will be lost. Thirty minutes later you will be dead by suffocation. The only way out is to solve the challenge: who is Herron?’

  ‘This is some weird goddamn shit.’ The seriousness of the message seems to have sobered Johnny up. He’s still trying to act unbothered, but the performance is falling flat. I can hear the fear underneath the light-hearted tone.

  Mikey looks serious. He stubs out his cigar. ‘It’s like Mr Cabressa here was saying – we need to find out which of us is Herron. And as it seems no one is willing to put their hand up to it, a process of elimination is our best option.’

  Carl’s been silent a long while, but now he speaks. ‘I agree. The only way out of here is to find out who’s Herron.’

  ‘But is it?’ I say. ‘If whoever set the challenge already knows Herron’s identity, why is it so important for us to discover it too? It makes no sense.’

  JT nods. ‘True. This isn’t about finding Herron’s identity, the person who’s trapped us in this suite has already done that. It’s something to do with us personally. Question is, what?’

  ‘That’s of no matter,’ Cabressa says, waving away our concerns with the barrel of his gun. ‘If we want to get out we have to complete the challenge they’ve set, and for that we have to learn which of us is Herron. That is our focus.’

  ‘I’m with you on that, Mr Cabressa,’ says Mikey. ‘I sure as hell don’t want to be in here when the oxygen runs out.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Carl agrees. ‘Let’s get it done.’

  Otis and Johnny nod. Carmella’s looking at Thomas’s body, seemingly not listening.

  ‘So we’re agreed,’ says Cabressa. ‘We have ourselves just under thirty minutes of light left. Let’s use that time to work out which secret belongs to each of us.’

  ‘Elimination time,’ says Anton.

  *

  Cabressa herds us to the far end of the room, gesturing with the Glock for us to take a seat on the L-shaped couches. Mikey and Carl sit beside each other, then Otis, Carmella, Johnny, me and JT. Cabressa sits on a dining chair, facing us across the wooden coffee table. Anton stands a few paces to his left, armed with two carving knives taken from the kitchen and a slightly manic expression.

  The set-up feels like some mock court or tribunal, only, unlike a legal trial where justice is sought, here Cabressa has appointed himself judge and executioner. It’s bizarre, I think. And it makes me wonder if he’s behind all this. But still, he has the gun, and we know from what he did to Th
omas that he’s willing to use it.

  ‘Each person will take their turn under the spotlight,’ Cabressa says, looking slowly around the group. He strokes his finger against the Glock’s trigger guard. ‘All of you will reveal your secret, or face the consequences.’

  No one speaks.

  ‘Otis, let’s start with you.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Otis, his leg jigging up and down double quick. ‘But, man, I already told you, I’m an addict.’

  Cabressa fixes him with a hard stare. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘It started in my teens. I was too skinny, not enough bulk behind my punches to be a serious contender. Old Mo who ran the gym suggested I take something to help. He was my coach; he taught me everything and I owed him some good wins.’ Otis hangs his head. Fiddles with the gold skull ring on his index finger. ‘I thought I could control it, that I’d know when to stop. So I took the pills.’

  ‘And now?’ prompts Cabressa.

  He exhales hard. ‘It’s not just those pills. I’ve got arthritis in my hands, man. The pain gets real bad. I need something to take the edge off. But those kind of drugs, they’re bad; you get used to them, need bigger doses.’ He shakes his head. ‘When I have to go cold turkey before a big fight I feel like I’m crawling out my own skin. It’s like—’