Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb

  ‘Isn’t that enough?’ I say.

  Cabressa frowns. He glances pointedly at the gun, then at me. ‘I’m the one in charge here.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, keeping my tone conversational, non-aggressive. I don’t want to rile him. ‘But Otis has confessed to his secret so shouldn’t we move on? The clock’s ticking after all.’

  The mobster considers it for a moment before nodding. ‘True. Time is of the essence.’ He looks at me, a shark-like smile on his lips. ‘Time for you to take the hot seat, Miss Anderson.’

  ‘No problem,’ I say, holding his gaze, and trying to bluff my way through the feeling of dread gnawing away at my guts. My heart is punching against my ribs, but I can’t afford to show weakness. I can’t tell Cabressa the truth, either. I think of the options left open to me; informer, thief, killer, wife-beater, cheat, fraud, Herron.

  This is just like poker; I have to hide my tells.

  I make my decision.

  ‘Which one are you then?’ he says.

  I take a breath, and keep my voice clear and steady as I answer, ‘I would have thought it was obvious, given what you already know about me. I’m the thief.’

  Carmella raises her eyebrows.

  Johnny’s mouth hangs open. ‘You are?’

  I nod. ‘See those chess pieces over there on the poker table. They’re worth one point three five million dollars.’ I look back at Cabressa. Stay real cool. ‘I stole them from a dead man on a yacht.’

  Cabressa watches me for a long moment, then nods and looks towards JT. ‘What about your man, there?’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious too, he—’

  ‘He can answer for himself,’ says Cabressa.

  ‘Sure.’ I let JT take over.

  JT fixes Cabressa with a steely gaze. His voice is steady. ‘I’m the killer.’

  Cabressa raises his eyebrows. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘You find the police informant and you can get them to have their cop pals run my rap sheet.’ JT smiles, but there’s no warmth in the gesture – he’s playing the role of cold-blooded killer in an Oscar-worthy performance. ‘It sure ain’t pretty.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘State trooper out in Polk County, three of the Miami Mob in West Virginia, bounty-hunter in Savannah,’ he says, his tone gruff. ‘I could go on.’

  Cabressa doesn’t speak. He’s watching JT real close. Cocks his head to one side. ‘How’d you get security work with that history?’

  JT nods towards me. ‘Miss Anderson isn’t too choosy about that sort of thing, as long as you can do the job she wants.’

  I stay looking straight ahead. Don’t look at JT. He’s spinning the lie, embellishing it, making it sound real. I don’t want to risk giving away the truth.

  Cabressa nods. ‘Okay. You’re the killer.’ He looks at Carl. ‘Let’s hear from you next.’

  Over on the far side of the couch, Carl looks nervous. He loosens his tie. Runs his hand over his smooth pate.

  ‘Carl?’ Cabressa’s voice is firm. He gestures towards Carl with the Glock. ‘We don’t have time to wait around. Tell us.’

  His mouth opens and closes a few times before any words come out. Then he inhales hard, and starts to speak. ‘It just sort of happened, the first time. Things were bad at work. I’d gambled on a few investments that were, you know, shaky at best, and it looked like they were all going to go bad the same month. And she’d been spending, I mean, really spending, so much money, I just…’ He hunches his shoulders, hangs his head. ‘When she burned the dinner I saw red. It was done before I really knew what happened. I felt … hell, I felt awful, like a shit. I said I was sorry. I was sorry. And I promised I’d never do it again.’

  I’m surprised. Of all the men here, I’d have had Anton pegged as the one who took his inadequacies and frustrations out on a woman. But now I know Carl’s done it once, I doubt that was the only time. It never is. I learned that from experience. My ex-husband Tommy was that way too. I stare at Carl. ‘But you did do it again, didn’t you?’

  ‘I…’ Carl shakes his head. The sweat patches beneath the armpits of his pink shirt are getting bigger, and beads of sweat are forming above his upper lip. ‘Yeah. I did.’

  ‘Tell us what you are,’ says Cabressa. There’s a slight smile tweaking up the corners of his lips. He’s enjoying this. ‘Be clear about which of the secrets is yours.’

  Carl swallows hard. Avoids eye contact with everyone. ‘I’m a wife-beater.’

  ‘That’s low, man.’ Otis is frowning. ‘Real men don’t beat on women.’

  ‘You’re a fucking addict, don’t judge me,’ snaps Carl.

  ‘We can judge you,’ says JT, looking at Carl with disgust. ‘And we are.’

  Cabressa is nodding. ‘Very interesting, let’s—’

  Two loud beeps over the speakers interrupt him. We all go quiet, listening. My heart’s pounding. Beside me, JT leans a little closer. The warmth of him against me gives me a little comfort.

  Then the electronic voice begins to speak.

  32

  ‘You have fifteen minutes until the lights go out. Use this time wisely. Find Herron,’ says the electronic voice.

  ‘We need to do this faster, man,’ says Otis, his leg jigging frantically. ‘I can’t go back in the dark. I just can’t.’

  ‘That’s why we’re doing this,’ says Cabressa. The note of irritation is clear in his voice. ‘To solve the challenge and get out of here.’

  Everyone is tense. Otis looks sceptical. I am too.

  I still think there’s more to this than we’re being told. If the person setting this challenge already knows Herron’s identity, why do they need us to uncover it too? It makes no sense. And what the hell is their motive for doing this? In an hour and fifteen minutes the air in the penthouse will run out.

  Right from the get-go Cabressa – a stoic mob boss – has thrown himself into completing the challenge. This is a man who takes orders from no one, yet he’s willing, even happy, to do this challenge without question. Again, it makes me wonder if he’s got something to do with it. Has he manufactured the blackout and the challenge in order to confront Herron in a sealed environment of his own making? Cabressa owns this city; he’d have the power to organise a blackout and the challenge. Is he behind this? Has he created a messed-up game of human poker with the stakes raised to life or death? I think there’s a strong chance he has. But I can’t share any of this with JT, not with Cabressa and Anton tooled up and watching us. We can’t afford to let them know me and JT are a couple; if they learn that, it’s real likely they’ll find a way to use it against us.

  ‘I need a goddamn drink,’ says Johnny, getting up. He takes a few steps from the couch, then Anton steps into his path.

  ‘Sit back down,’ says Anton, brandishing the knives towards Johnny.

  ‘What?’ Johnny looks from Anton to Cabressa. ‘A man can’t get a drink? It’s getting awful hot in here.’

  He’s right. With the central air switched off, the heat and humidity are building by the minute.

  ‘I said sit, the fuck, down,’ Anton says, his voice booming. He runs the two blades of the kitchen knives together. Holds them as if they’re swords.

  Johnny steps back. Puts his hands up in surrender. ‘Woah, dude, really?’

  ‘Sit down,’ says Cabressa. ‘Let’s look at your dirty secret next.’

  While attention is on Johnny, I lean closer to JT and whisper, ‘We need to figure a way out of here before anyone else dies.’

  JT nods. Keeps his voice soft, quiet. ‘For sure.’

  Johnny plonks himself back down onto the couch. ‘This is all wrong.’ He looks at Cabressa. ‘You sure this is what you want?’

  Cabressa nods. Anton takes a step closer to Johnny, and clenches his fists tighter around the knives.

  Worry flashes across Johnny’s face. ‘Fine. You really want me to say, then I’ll say.’ He looks at Cabressa. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

 
Cabressa gestures with the Glock for him to continue. ‘Go right ahead.

  Johnny shrugs. ‘Suit yourself.’ He looks at the rest of us. ‘I’m a cheat. The cheat. A ringer, if you like. Sometimes I’m paid to win a game, sometimes to lose.’ He looks at Cabressa. ‘Tonight, I was told to strike out when it got to the last three. Like always, I did as I was told.’

  I raise my eyebrows. Cabressa rigged the game. It doesn’t surprise me. I was right about not being the only one put in the game for a reason; Johnny was too.

  ‘Why?’ asks Mikey, rubbing his forehead.

  Johnny nods towards Cabressa. ‘Ask him.’

  ‘We don’t need to get into that now,’ says Cabressa.

  ‘I think we do,’ says Mikey. ‘I’ve put a lot of money through this game over the months. I win and I lose, and that’s all good unless it’s fixed. If that’s the case I’m mad as hell, and I want a damn answer.’

  ‘Tonight was special,’ Cabressa says. ‘I needed to guarantee an outcome.’

  Carl looks towards the speakers. Gestures towards the metal shutters over the concertina doors onto the terrace. ‘Yeah, special – we got that.’

  ‘Nothing to do with all this,’ says Cabressa. He points at me. ‘To do with her.’

  ‘Why?’ Mikey asks. ‘Why’d she need to go heads up with you?’

  Cabressa doesn’t answer.

  ‘It’s those chess pieces, am I right?’ Mikey says. ‘It struck me as odd before, you know. The way you got all riled up when one of the pieces was missing – that just isn’t normal. This is a poker game; you accept the bet collateral, or you don’t. But you had her make a call.’

  Johnny’s looking thoughtful. He puts his hand up. ‘You know, she went outside to the terrace and made that call, then a couple of minutes later the blackout started.’

  ‘You caused this?’ Carl glares at me, his mouth contorts into a snarl. ‘Who the fuck are you really?’

  I hold my ground. Don’t let the asshole shake me. ‘I’m just a thief, like I said. The blackout was nothing to do with—’

  ‘They’re working together,’ says Carl. ‘That has to be it. She caused the blackout, and this challenge bullshit is some sick game of yours, Cabressa.’

  Otis looks at me, eyes pleading. ‘Make it stop, please make it stop.’

  Mikey ignores Otis. He looks across at Carmella. ‘Did you know about this?’

  She opens her mouth to speak.

  ‘Enough,’ shouts Cabressa. He doesn’t look so cool anymore. His face is flushed, and there’s sweat beading on his forehead – a combination of the rising heat in the suite and the increasing pressure from the group. He’s trying to sound in control, though. ‘So I rigged a couple of games, it’s no big deal.’

  ‘There’s a lot of people in this room who’d say different,’ says Mikey.

  ‘It’s no worse than what you’ve been doing,’ Cabressa spits, pointing at Mikey. ‘All your side deals, and creaming thousands off the top of the city’s budgets. You’re as crooked as I am, so don’t get all holier than thou.’

  Mikey leaps to his feet. Fists clenched. ‘Take that back. I’m an official of this city. I’ve never done—’

  ‘I’m speaking the truth and you know it,’ says Cabressa, leaning back in his chair, seemingly relieved to have moved the spotlight from himself to Mikey. ‘You’re just as much of a criminal as me, you just lie about it.’

  ‘You bastard,’ yells Mikey, lunging towards Cabressa.

  Anton steps into his path. Both knives are raised.

  Cabressa swings the gun up.

  Two electronic beeps blast out of the speakers.

  The lights go out. We’re plunged into darkness.

  The gunshot sounds louder in the dark.

  33

  ‘Get down,’ whispers JT, pulling me off the couch and onto the ground.

  Carmella screams. Otis whimpers. Someone, a man, bellows in pain.

  Two beeps sound again. Then the electronic voice says, ‘Thirty minutes has been reached. The lights are now off. In thirty minutes all power will cease. You must identify Herron before that time.’ There’s a pause, then the voice continues. ‘In sixty minutes the decontamination process will reach eighty percent. At that time the oxygen level will be critical and you will be unable to breathe. Your only option is to find Herron.’

  The bellow has turned to groaning. It’s coming from somewhere to my left. I resist the urge to ask if the person’s okay. Any more sounds they make will alert Cabressa and Anton to where they are, and that could result in more violence. And whatever happens next, one thing is clear – we must be out of this penthouse before the next hour is up.

  ‘We need to turn our flashlights on.’ JT’s voice is clear, strong, from the darkness beside me.

  ‘Go right ahead,’ says Cabressa. ‘No law against it.’

  JT doesn’t switch on the flashlight app on his cell straight off the bat. I can guess what he’s thinking – the darkness gives a level of protection from Cabressa taking any more shots, but once we turn on the flashlights we’ll be illuminated, and become easy targets.

  Cabressa seems to sense it too. ‘You more comfortable if I do it first?’

  ‘Yup,’ says JT.

  The back-lit screen of Cabressa’s phone appears from a way over to my left. From the height of it, he’s standing now. There’s the shadow of another figure beside him, Anton I assume. Moments later the backlight changes into the bright-white light beam of the flashlight app.

  JT switches on his cell’s flashlight. Carl is next, followed by Carmella. Otis switches his cell on but keeps on the back-lit screen, not the flashlight app. Johnny doesn’t switch his on, but I can see him beside Otis. Mikey isn’t standing where he was before the lights went out.

  I peer into the gloom. ‘Mikey?’

  ‘He fucking shot me.’ Mikey’s words are laboured.

  Switching on my cell’s flashlight, I scan the area Mikey’s voice came from.

  ‘Get the light out my eyes,’ he says, shielding his face with his arm. ‘Don’t blind me too.’

  He’s lying on the floor near the piano. From the blood trail on the wooden floor it looks like he dragged himself there in the dark after Cabressa shot at him.

  ‘Quit moaning, Mikey,’ says Cabressa. There’s a smirk in his voice. ‘Whining isn’t becoming of an official from the mayor’s office.’

  I’m not going to stand by and do nothing. He’s hurt, and from the blood trail it looks bad. I scoot over to Mikey. ‘Where’d you get hit?’

  He nods towards his right arm. I follow his gaze and see that his hand is a real mess. It’s hard to see the damage with all the blood, but if I had to bet on it I’d say it’s a through-and-through in the palm.

  ‘Bad, isn’t it?’ says Mikey through gritted teeth.

  ‘We need to stop the bleeding.’ I turn back to the group and make eye contact with Carmella. ‘Is there a towel we can use to stem this bleeding?’

  She starts to get up. ‘Yes, sure I can—’

  ‘Don’t move.’ Cabressa points the gun at her. ‘Everyone stay exactly where you are. No leaving this room.’

  ‘He’s bleeding bad,’ I say to Cabressa. ‘I need something to—’

  ‘I said no.’

  ‘Here, use this.’ Carmella unthreads the leopard print scarf from her neck and throws it across to me.

  ‘Get back over here,’ says Cabressa, gesturing to my spot on the couch with the gun.

  I ignore him and take the scarf from Carmella. I can tell from the feel that it’s pure silk, real expensive, but something this lightweight isn’t going to be able to absorb much of the blood. Still, given Cabressa is being an asshole, it’s the best we can do. I look at Mikey. ‘Take a breath, this is going to hurt.’

  I don’t wait for him to respond before I start. I bind his injured hand tightly with the scarf using a figure-eight pattern to keep it secure and put maximum pressure on the palm to try and stop the bleeding. Ripping the end of the
scarf, I tie it in a hard knot over the wound. Hope to hell it works.

  ‘Try to keep it raised a little,’ I say to Mikey. ‘That’ll slow the blood to it. Help it stop bleeding.’

  He nods. In the beam of the flashlight I see there’s a sheen of sweat across his face, but his body is shaking as if he’s cold. Shit. He’s going into shock. This is bad. I turn to JT. ‘He needs medical attention.’

  ‘We need a way out of here,’ says JT. ‘There has to be a—’

  ‘No. We need to uncover Herron,’ Cabressa growls, brandishing the gun. ‘We’ve less than thirty minutes.’

  No one speaks for a moment. All we can hear is the sound of Mikey’s laboured breathing and the whispered mutterings of Otis praying for help.

  ‘Like Mr Cabressa says, we need to get this done,’ says Anton.

  ‘There are two secrets left and two people.’ Cabressa flicks the beam of his flashlight towards Thomas’s body. ‘Although only one of them is alive.’ He switches the beam to focus on Carmella’s face. ‘So which secret is yours; are you a police informer or Herron?’