Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb

  ‘Obviously, I’m not Herron,’ says Carmella, blinking in the light.

  Cabressa narrows his gaze. ‘You sure about that? I mean, you seemed awfully certain none of us were Herron, but the person about to cut our air off seems sure it’s true.’

  ‘I am certain.’ Her tone is hard. ‘But I’m not a police informer either.’

  Cabressa rubs his jaw. ‘Well now that gives us a problem. If you’re not the informer or Herron, who are you?’

  ‘I’m the fraud.’

  Johnny glances towards Mikey – the guy who’s already owned up as being the fraud. Mikey stays hunched over by the piano. His good hand keeps pressing his injured one. He grimaces from the pain.

  I glance at JT. This is going to be a problem.

  Cabressa gestures at Carmella with the barrel of the gun. ‘I’m listening.’

  Carmella clears her throat. ‘I’m not from New Jersey originally, like I’ve always told you. I grew up poor in a very different city. When I was fourteen I ran away. I lived on the street and dabbled in a bunch of things, few of them legal, before I got into poker. Then, a good few years ago, I ended up in New York and started working the tables, learned a lot, began to run my own games. But I got too good and it attracted the wrong kind of attention.’ She takes a breath. Keeps her eyes locked on Cabressa. ‘When the mob in New York moved me on, I came here. You know the rest.’

  Cabressa makes a steeple with his hands and rests his chin on them. He looks thoughtful, and glances from Carmella to Mikey. ‘You can’t both be the fraud.’

  Mikey clutches his injured hand to his body. Looks real anxious.

  ‘Someone’s Herron, and someone’s the police informer,’ says Anton, looking at each of us in turn. ‘You need to own up, or we’re all going to die.’

  ‘What about him?’ says Mikey, his breath coming in gasps as he raises his good arm and points at Thomas’s body. ‘He’s included in our number, so one of the secrets must have been his.’

  ‘Yeah, for sure, but I’m more interested in who these two are,’ says Cabressa, looking from Carmella to Mikey. ‘Could be that they’re both frauds, but as far as our captor is concerned, there are ten secrets, and there was ten of us – so Carmella and Mikey aren’t both the fraud.’

  ‘No, we’re not,’ says Carmella. Meeting his stare with her own. ‘Question is, who do you believe?’

  Cabressa rubs his finger along the trigger of the gun. ‘Who indeed.’

  Carl looks twitchy. Otis’s leg is jigging faster. Even Johnny’s stopped drinking the champagne and is looking worried.

  I check my watch. Another five minutes gone.

  Anton turns to face Cabressa. ‘So which of them is Herron?’

  Cabressa gives a small shake of his head. ‘Neither.’ He points at Carl. ‘He is.’

  ‘What the…?’ Carl’s face flushes red. ‘That’s a goddamn lie. I’m not him. It’s bullshit, you’ve got to believe me.’

  ‘I don’t believe I do. See, I’ve always known Carmella isn’t the Jersey girl she’s always made herself out to be; she is a fraud. And although Mikey’s a fraud too, he’s something else as well, something that our captor knows about.’ Cabressa looks at Mikey, shakes his head with disgust. ‘He’s a dirty rat.’

  Anton’s mouth drops open. He points one of the knives at Mikey. ‘Wait, what, you inform for the police?’

  Mikey avoids Anton’s gaze. Grimaces. And gives a single nod.

  Johnny’s shaking his head. ‘I don’t believe it, dude. You tell stuff to the cops? I thought you were one of us. I thought you—’

  ‘Shut the hell up.’ Carl’s voice cuts over Johnny. He turns towards Cabressa. ‘So how does this make me Herron?’

  Everyone looks at Cabressa. We all want to know.

  He smiles. In the beam of the flashlight it makes him look ghoulish. ‘Because I know all about your side hustle – the drugs and the girls. We’ve been watching you for a while, my family and I. You thought you could take a part of this city for yourself, didn’t you? A part of my city. But you didn’t stay in your plush offices and take the cream off the top like Mikey here. No, you decided to get some skin in the game.’ He points the gun at Carl. ‘What you need to understand, Carl, is that the game isn’t for people like you. You should stick to massaging figures and doing backhanded deals. You don’t have the stomach for my world. You should have stayed in yours.’

  Carl looks nervous. His eyes dart left to right. ‘Sure, I did that – I set up some stuff – but I’ve never used the name Herron. It was Mikey there that told me about him, before that I hadn’t—’

  ‘Enough,’ says Cabressa. ‘I’ve made the decision.’

  I glance at JT. He meets my gaze. Gives a slight nod. From the tightness in his jaw and the tension in his body I can tell that he’s thinking real similar to me – that whether Carl is Herron or not this isn’t going to end well. Cabressa’s calm has disappeared. Anger is virtually vibrating out from him. If he’s right about Carl then our best move is to get out of here as soon as the panic-room protocol is deactivated. If we don’t, we’ll end up in the middle of a mobster taking his revenge on a friend who has disrespected him, and I really don’t want to get taken out in the crossfire.

  ‘So Herron is Carl,’ says Anton. He walks over to the nearest speaker. Looks up at it as if it’s a camera. ‘Carl Reynolds is Herron. That’s our answer.’

  We wait.

  Two electronic beeps pierce the silence.

  34

  ‘You have fifteen minutes until full power shutdown.’

  ‘Oh Jeez,’ says Otis, wide-eyed in the glow of his cell-phone screen.

  ‘Don’t worry, dude,’ Johnny says, his words are less slurred now. ‘We’ve got the answer. We’ll be out of here in no time.’

  In the beam of the flashlight, I see Cabressa frown.

  No one speaks for a long minute. Instead we wait, thinking there’ll be something more – a verdict on Cabressa’s decision that Herron is Carl. But there’s nothing – no beeps, no electronic voice. The whistling from behind the air vents seems to grow louder.

  I wipe the sweat from my upper lip. Lift my hair off the nape of my neck to let it cool. Breathing feels harder now. I look across at Mikey – his breaths are rapid, shallow. Carmella has moved alongside him. It looks as if she’s struggling to breathe deeply too – her mouth is open, her eyes fearful, as she helps put pressure on the makeshift bandage wrapped around Mikey’s hand.

  If we’ve only got fifteen minutes more power, we’ve got forty-five minutes before the decontamination process takes the oxygen in the suite down to a level that will kill us all. We have to get out of here.

  Anton glances round at Cabressa, then turns back to the speaker. ‘We answered you. Herron is Carl. Let us go.’

  Again we wait.

  Again nothing happens.

  ‘Maybe they unlocked the elevator,’ says Johnny. ‘I’ll go check.’

  ‘But the shutters, man,’ Otis says, the tremor still in his voice. ‘They’re still down. And the lights are off. We’re still prisoners.’

  ‘I’m checking anyways,’ says Johnny, getting up. ‘We’ll feel really stupid if the elevator door’s been unlocked the whole time.’

  ‘It didn’t work when I tried it.’ Otis sounds doubtful, but there’s a hint of hope in his voice. ‘Suppose looking won’t cause any harm.’

  ‘Do it,’ says Cabressa. ‘Leave the door to the hallway open.’

  Johnny heads out to the hallway. None of us speak. Then we hear him cuss.

  When he returns he’s shaking his head. ‘Thing’s still locked. Buttons don’t respond.’

  ‘So what does that mean?’ asks Carmella.

  ‘It means we’re screwed,’ Anton says, spittle flying from his lips. Cussing, he stabs one of the kitchen knives into the far end of the coffee table. The table shudders from the impact. The knife remains standing upright, part embedded in the wood.

  I stare at it. Trying to work out, if I la
unched myself towards it, whether I could grab the knife before Anton. I glance at JT. He grimaces. Doesn’t think it’s worth the risk. And it could be that he’s right.

  ‘It means that I’m not Herron,’ says Carl.

  ‘But if that’s true, who is?’ Carmella says, panic in her voice. ‘The air feels weird, kind of thin. We’ve got to get out of here.’

  ‘Agreed,’ says Cabressa. ‘So that leaves us with the question, again. Who is Herron?’

  ‘Maybe it’s just a sick joke,’ says Carl. ‘And none of us are, just like Carmella said before.’

  Cabressa shakes his head. ‘No, we’ve been over this, our captor believes Herron is in this room. We have to find the answer they want in order for them to free us, and once the power goes they won’t have ears or eyes on this place – they won’t be able to hear our answer or set us free.’

  Otis starts to rock again.

  Johnny wipes the sweat from his face. ‘But who the hell can—’

  Two electronic beeps sound. Then the voice says, ‘Five minutes until total power down.’

  ‘Just say … our names one-by-one … to them,’ says Mikey. His eyes are closed. His body is shaking. His shirt’s drenched in sweat. ‘One’s got to stick.’

  ‘That’s not the way it works,’ says Anton.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Cabressa turns to him. ‘How would you know? You got some rule book the rest of us haven’t seen?’

  Anton puts his hands up. The second knife glints in the beam of the flashlights. His red polo shirt has dark patches under the armpits. ‘I don’t, I just…’ He points his knife towards me. ‘I reckon it’s her. She’s the new bitch in town.’

  ‘We talked about that already.’ Cabressa’s tone is hard. ‘Seems like you’re trying to deflect attention.’

  ‘Deflect from what?’ Anton says, his voice rising in volume.

  Cabressa cocks his head to one side. ‘From the fact that you’re Herron.’

  I feel my breath catch in my throat. This is bad. Real bad. Anton is a loose cannon and he’s holding a knife. I push my palms against the couch. Tense my body, getting ready to move, react, to whatever happens next. Beside me, I can feel JT doing the same.

  ‘I’m not Herron.’ Anton takes a step towards Cabressa. Points the knife at the mobster. ‘Take. That. Back.’

  Cabressa shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Tell them it’s him,’ says Otis. ‘Please. Just get us out of here.’

  ‘You fucker, you should have had my back, all of you should.’ Anton throws himself towards Otis.

  Cabressa raises the gun. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling the trigger. The shot is thunder loud. The air smells like it’s burning.

  Mikey shouts, ‘Don’t!’

  Carmella screams.

  Anton drops to the ground. One side of his head is missing. Chunks of bone and blood are splattered across the oak boards. The knife he was holding skitters across the floor and under one of the couches.

  Carmella is sobbing. Otis is whispering a prayer.

  Getting up, Cabressa steps over Anton’s body, taking care not to tread in any of the blood, and walks over to the corner speaker.

  In my head, I try to figure out how many bullets Cabressa has left in the gun. A Glock 27 holds nine. If it was fully loaded when he took it from Thomas, by my reckoning he’s gotten five left. That’s five more than I’d like. I look at JT. Mouth the words, ‘We need to get the gun.’

  JT nods. His face is flushed; the intensity of the heat and humidity in our locked and sealed prison must be getting to him. And, like me, I can see his breathing is shallower now.

  I lean closer to him, and whisper in his ear, ‘If we don’t act soon, we’ll be too weak.’

  He nods again and puts his hand over mine, for just a brief moment, and squeezes. ‘Agreed.’

  Cabressa’s voice is clear and calm as he says towards the speaker. ‘Anton Peck is Herron.’ He turns back, and pokes Anton’s body with the toe of his shoe. Shrugs. ‘Correction, he was Herron.’

  We wait. I look around the group: they’re all listening, watching, for a sign that Cabressa is right, all apart from Carmella. She’s got her head bowed, and is sobbing as she continues to keep the pressure on Mikey’s hand wound.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ says Mikey. There’s a breathless gasp to his words. ‘Anton was an asshole, but he wasn’t Herron.’

  Cabressa gazes across to where Mikey’s lying beside the piano. He points the gun at Mikey’s head. ‘Are you giving us a confession?’

  ‘No, I’m saying that it doesn’t add up right that Anton would be Herron.’ He looks at Cabressa. ‘For one thing, Anton wasn’t smart enough.’

  Cabressa gives a single laugh, a loud ‘ha’. ‘Very true, Mikey. So very true.’ He frowns. ‘But if Anton wasn’t, then who is?’

  ‘You ever think they’re not going to let us out?’ JT’s voice is calm, just a touch of breathlessness to his usual gravelly rasp.

  Cabressa swings round to face him. The gun is still raised. ‘You calling me stupid?’

  ‘No, I’m calling whoever’s doing this to us a liar.’ JT meets Cabressa’s stare with one of his own. ‘Seems to me they just wanted to occupy us until the oxygen runs out. They never had any intention of letting us go, even if we figured out who Herron is. They were always going to leave us here to die.’

  ‘Man’s got a point,’ says Johnny.

  Carl and Mikey are nodding. Otis prays louder.

  Carmella is staring at JT with an intense expression on her face. When she sees me watching her, she says, ‘But why would they target my game? I don’t get it.’

  ‘We can work that out later,’ I say. ‘Right now we need to figure a way to get free of here before the oxygen runs out.’

  As if on cue two electronic beeps blast through the speakers. The electronic voice says, ‘One minute until full power shutdown. Thirty-one minutes until oxygen levels reach critical.’

  ‘We could do that,’ says Cabressa, walking around Anton’s body and back to the space between the two L-shaped couches. He stands a couple of yards in front of us. The gun is in his hand, and his finger is against the trigger. ‘Or I could keep shooting until I get the right person. That way I’m free, and Herron is dead.’

  ‘Jesus, no,’ Otis says. ‘Have some humanity.’

  Carmella shakes her head. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

  Johnny’s eyes widen. Carl looks frozen in fear. Mikey closes his eyes as he struggles to breathe.

  ‘That’s not the answer,’ JT says. His eyes fixed on Cabressa. ‘Let’s find a way out of this place, together.’

  Cabressa cocks his head to one side, as if considering it. Then he smiles like a messed-up Cheshire cat as he raises the gun and aims.

  My breath catches in my throat. My stomach flips.

  The gun is pointing at JT’s head.

  ‘Right now,’ says Cabressa, still smiling as he looks down the barrel of the Glock at JT. ‘I’m thinking I’ll start with you.’

  35

  What happens next goes down real fast.

  Leaping from the couch, I lunge for Cabressa. I don’t think, don’t hesitate; just move. Slam my shoulder into his chest and my elbow into his gut as he fires.

  We fall – he goes down backwards, I’m on top. We hit something on our way down – a chair, the coffee table, I’m not sure which, but it’s hard and resists our weight for a fraction of a second before breaking under the impact. Then we hit the floor.

  Cabressa takes the worst of it. I use him as a shield. Jab my elbow into his face as we roll. Tighten my knees around his legs to keep him still. It’s not easy – this dress seemed stretchy before, but under this amount of strain it’s limiting my movements. I can’t get my legs wrapped around Cabressa far enough. I’m losing my grip.

  He’s a fighter, that’s for damn sure. He bucks beneath me, twisting out of my grasp and catching me with a left hook to the side of my head that almost has me seeing stars. No
w he’s trying to grab my arms; wants to take away my power. I can’t have that.

  I fight back harder. Fight dirty. Bite down on the soft flesh of his inner arm. Straddle him and slam the heel of my hand down into his face. Feel his nose crack, and a warm dampness on my hand as I pull it away. A split second later he sucker-punches me in the chest. I kick at him, thrust him away, but I can’t breathe.

  I’m wheezing. Tears stream down my face as I struggle to breathe. I don’t know where Cabressa is now. In the darkness I hear footsteps thundering away across the wooden floor and panicked voices. See dark shadows moving in the gloom. Everyone’s fleeing. They’re leaving me.

  Oh Jeez. I can’t breathe and they’re leaving me. Panic crashes through me.

  I try to move, but I’m too weak. Need to breathe.

  A shadow crouches beside me. It’s JT’s. He grips my shoulders, and looks into my eyes in that intense way he does. ‘Slow. Steady. You’re okay. I’ve got you.’

  I believe him.

  I try to breathe.

  Slow. Steady.

  It works, and I feel the panic leaving me. I look into his eyes. ‘I had to do something.’

  ‘I know,’ he says. A smile flashes across his lips before he frowns. ‘We need to get out of here. I told the others to go to the roof garden stairwell. I think I’ve figured out a way to make it through the security door back there.’