Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb

  He can see it in their eyes, behind the faked posturing and macho bullshit.

  These men are afraid.

  20

  Anton storms towards us.

  ‘You two are heads-up?’ Anton yells, his flushed complexion getting redder by the second. He stabs his finger towards Cabressa. ‘You did this – fixed the game – didn’t you? Tonight’s been a goddamn set-up right from the get-go.’

  Carmella freezes. For a moment her eyes widen and I see fear on her face, then a moment later it’s gone, replaced with the neutral mask she’s had the whole game. The rest of the players inch closer to us. Johnny’s swaying, clinging on to Otis for support.

  Cabressa calmly finishes counting his stacks, and then looks up at Anton. ‘And why would you think that?’

  ‘Because you brought her here.’ Anton points at me as he spits out his words. ‘You vouched for her. But she’s not a whale, is she? She’s a goddamn ringer.’

  I know what Anton means, but I stay silent. A whale is a rich person who’s a weak poker player – someone the other players can easily beat.

  ‘You’re talking horseshit,’ says Cabressa. ‘She’s a distinctly average player who you’ve allowed to get the better of you, most likely because she’s showing a bit of cleavage.’

  Anton cusses under his breath. Balls his fists.

  Carmella stands up and moves over to Anton. She puts her hand on his arm. Her voice is a purr as she says, ‘Anton, honey, you need to stop making a scene, okay?’

  ‘No. No, it’s not okay.’ Anton shakes her off. Takes another step towards Cabressa. ‘You said you were bringing a whale.’

  Over by the door I see the security guy, Thomas, put his hand on his gun.

  I stay in my seat. I wish I had my Taser, but figure that if Anton gets all up in my face, I should be able to take him down with a hard one-two and a roundhouse to finish.

  Carmella steps between Anton and Cabressa. ‘I don’t allow that kind of game play at my tables, you know that.’ The purr is gone, now Carmella’s voice is firm, and real business-like. ‘Everything in this game is fair and squared away. What you’re saying right now puts my reputation at risk; is that what you want, Anton? You want to ruin me and stop the games?’

  Anton opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. Takes a step back. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. This isn’t about you, Carmella, it’s about—’

  ‘You need to think very carefully about what you’re saying.’ Carmella holds his gaze. Her voice is tough as steel. ‘If you’re at my table and you’re badmouthing my game, then believe me when I say that what you’re saying is absolutely about me, and that makes it personal. Trust me, you do not want to do that.’

  Anton hangs his head like a naughty school kid. ‘I just … I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t want the game to stop.’

  Carmella eyes him for a moment. ‘If that’s the case, are we good here?’

  Anton glances towards Cabressa, then back to Carmella. Nods. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Well, that’s okay then,’ Carmella says. Picking up one of the remaining bottles of champagne in the ice buckets, she refreshes his glass. ‘I’d hate to lose you – you’re one of my most valued players.’

  ‘Of course not, I would hate that too.’ Anton drifts away towards the others. He looks bewildered, like he can’t quite grasp what just happened.

  Respect to Carmella; she’s a real smooth operator.

  Along the table, Cabressa looks untroubled by what’s just gone down, and I’m left wondering how, as such a distinctly average player, I’m going to manage to pull off a convincing win. Anton and the other guys are going to be watching us real close. Cabressa won’t be able to just throw me the game. It’s a problem, but that’s not the only thing I have to worry about.

  As Carmella reshuffles the cards, Cabressa leans towards me. ‘I don’t know if you were told this before the game, but when we get to heads-up I like to make things more interesting. So, enough of these chips, let’s bet something more valuable than cash.’ Cabressa pats his jacket pockets until he feels something, then pulls out a set of keys. ‘I’ll bet you my new Rolls Royce. Custom made, two weeks old. Cost eight hundred thousand dollars.’

  ‘Jeez!’ says Johnny, swaying towards the table. ‘That’s one hell of a sweet ride.’

  My mouth goes dry. I hadn’t expected Cabressa to put something big on the table, but now I see I should have anticipated this, it’s the only way for me to put the chess set in play without it seeming odd or like I’ve gotten special privileges.

  ‘You got anything like that you can bet, girly?’ says Anton.

  The men gather closer around the table. All eyes are on me.

  I look towards Carmella. ‘There’s something in my bag for this purpose; can Thomas go grab it?’

  Carmella nods at Thomas and he disappears into the bedroom, returning a few minutes later with the wooden box that contains the chess pieces. He sets it down on the table in front of me and then returns to his post by the door.

  ‘This is a unique set of chess pieces,’ I say as I unfasten the lid of the box. ‘It was made for a famous match in Las Vegas back in the eighties, and is valued at one point three five million dollars. But, as one of the pawns is missing, I think it should be a close enough match for the Rolls Royce.’

  Cabressa watches my fingers undoing the clasps. His focus is as intense as a turkey buzzard on a blue jay.

  I fold back the lid, and remove one of the pieces – a queen – to show the players. ‘They really are one of a kind.’

  Carmella looks at Cabressa. ‘Are they acceptable?’

  He takes the queen from me. Holding her up to the light, he runs his index finger over her in a way that looks kind of sexual. He closes his eyes a moment and sighs deeply, then looks at Carmella. Nods. ‘They’re satisfactory.’

  I say nothing even though it seems this is one mobster whose chess fascination takes things to a whole new level of fetish. I take the queen back from Cabressa, place her in the box and fold down the lid entirely so all the pieces can be seen. Cabressa stares into the box, seemingly fixated by the pieces. I’m glad. I figure maybe they’ll distract him enough to let me win the next hand.

  The other players gather round. Carmella deals.

  Then Cabressa slams his palms down onto the table, cussing loudly.

  The chip stacks tumble. I flinch and look at Cabressa.

  ‘It’s not complete,’ Cabressa shouts, his voice shaking with fury. ‘One of the knights is missing.’

  21

  Cabressa glares at me, his eyes blazing. His whole body is trembling with anger.

  He points at me, his finger stabbing towards my face. ‘What the hell have you done with it? Where is the knight?’

  I consider lying, but when you’re in an unfamiliar city and the king mobster of that city has you as their guest in a high-stakes poker game, I think it’s better to tell the truth. ‘It must still be where I was storing the set.’

  Cabressa puts his hands together in his lap. His voice is unnervingly calm. ‘How?’

  This is the moment when I lie. It’s a matter of self-preservation and keeping my cover story intact. ‘I was keeping the pieces in a safe place – away from prying eyes. I must have missed the knight when I was packing them into the box to bring them here. It’s not a problem, I can—’

  ‘Get the knight here, now.’

  I frown. ‘You want me to go and—’

  ‘You aren’t going anywhere, Miss Anderson. I trust you have an associate who can fetch you the piece? I’m told you’re not without friends in this city. Get one of them to bring the piece here. Your security man can meet them in the lobby downstairs and bring the knight here to the penthouse.’

  My associate? Friends in the city? I’m struggling to think on who Cabressa means. Has he figured out I’m working with the FBI? Does he mean Monroe?

  Cabressa taps his gold watch. Glowers at me. ‘Miss Anderson, the clock is ticking.’

 
I look from Cabressa to Carmella. Carmella’s expression is blank, as if she hasn’t heard a word that’s been said. Mikey, Anton and Carl are watching us with the rapt attention of the blood-thirsty crowd at a gladiator match. Johnny’s barely conscious, slumped in the seat at the other end of the table. Otis looks concerned, but as I catch his eye, he looks away fast.

  There’s no help for me inside this room, but that’s okay, I know how to handle myself. I meet Cabressa’s gaze. Keep my voice strong and calm, and say, ‘I need to step outside and make a call.’

  22

  The call comes at a quarter after two.

  JT’s sitting in his chair, sandwiched between the man-mountain gum-chewer and the wrestler type in a suit. No one has spoken for the last half hour and an uneasy silence has settled over the group.

  The call changes all that.

  The identikit security guard nods as the person at the other end of the call speaks. He frowns. Looks over at JT. Then says, ‘Yeah, I’ll do it now.’

  The guard puts down his puzzle book and heaves himself up from his seat. JT feels the men on either side of him tense and shift in their seats so there’s more distance between them and him. Across the room the guy with the dreads glances at the tattooed man. The fear is stronger in his eyes. Makes JT think this can’t be part of the usual routine.

  As the security guard moves across the room JT watches him in his peripheral vision. He wishes he’d gotten his weapon. Figures from the way the other men are acting things could be about to go bad. Real slow he slides a little further forward on the chair, putting more weight onto the soles of his feet. Ready to move fast – defend or attack – if the situation demands it.

  The security guy stops a yard or so from him. ‘You’re JT right? The one with the woman?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘You’re needed upstairs.’

  JT sees the shock on the faces of tattoo and dreads opposite. The wrestler guy turns towards him and the guard, looking confused. JT looks up at the guard. ‘Why?’

  The guard shrugs. ‘Don’t know. My instructions are to escort you to the elevator. Thomas will meet you in the penthouse.’

  JT gestures towards the metal footlockers with each player’s name on – his and Lori’s weapons are inside. ‘Do I get my stuff back?’

  ‘Not until the game’s over.’

  Given what’s happening isn’t the norm, he’d prefer his gun to hand, but knows he doesn’t have the collateral to push it. He stands. ‘Lead the way.’

  As the security guard walks him out of the holding room and towards the elevator, JT wonders what the hell has happened with Lori and the game. And what it is that he’s going to be walking into.

  *

  The elevator doors slide open on the sixty-third floor, and JT’s met by the other identikit security guard – Thomas. He grimaces at JT. ‘Your player’s causing us some issues and delaying the game. You need to sit in her place as a substitute.’

  JT frowns. Doesn’t like the sound of that. ‘What kind of issues?’

  ‘She’s made an incomplete bet, and she needs to sort it.’ Thomas glances towards the door at the end of the foyer that’ll take them to the living space and the game. He looks real anxious. Takes a few steps towards the door, gesturing for JT to follow.

  JT doesn’t move. ‘An incomplete bet? I don’t understand.’

  Thomas lowers his voice. ‘Look, just between us, this is pretty unorthodox. She’s head-to-head with Mr Cabressa and put a special bet on the table – a set of gold chess pieces – she said a pawn was missing but there’s a knight missing too. Mr Cabressa is insisting that the knight is brought here to the penthouse before the game plays on.’

  JT grits his teeth. That goddamn knight. ‘Don’t you want me to go get the piece?’

  ‘No, she’s calling someone else to do that. She wants you to sit in her chair – watch her cards – while she’s out of the room.’

  Seems they want him to literally take Lori’s seat. He nods. ‘Okay. I can do that.’

  Thomas looks relieved. ‘This way,’ he says, ushering JT across the foyer and into the living space.

  As soon as they’re inside, JT takes a quick appraisal of the situation. The lighting is softer here in the penthouse, mostly coming from a few lamps dotted around the space. The brightest area is the poker table, lit by a suspended rig of spotlights all focused on the felt green of the table. But despite the low lighting and soft music playing in the background, he can tell the atmosphere is anything but relaxed.

  Over at the poker table, Lori’s back is rigid, her body tense. She’s doing a good job of trying to hide it, but JT can see her fingers are clenched into fists in her lap, and the two worry lines she gets between her brows when she’s concerned have appeared.

  Lori and Cabressa sit at right angles to each other across the poker table. Carmella, who looks to be dealing, is opposite Lori. Cabressa’s body language is closed – arms crossed, chin tucked down – and he’s glaring at the organiser, Carmella. JT follows the mobster’s gaze. Carmella’s expression – neutral, verging on vacant – makes her look outwardly calm, but JT can see that’s not the true story. She’s fiddling with a poker chip from the house’s stacks – flipping the blue chip over the knuckles of her right hand and under her palm, over and over. It’s a neat trick, but a nervous tic when done on autopilot and on repeat.

  The other players are gathered around the table. They’re standing, leaning over the chairs – ready for a show. JT guesses they’re waiting for Cabressa to bawl Lori out, or maybe that’s already happened. One thing’s real clear – her plan’s backfired.

  JT recognises Johnny Keto, the wrestler’s charge, from his time playing ball. Back then he’d looked in peak fitness, real alert, but now the ballplayer looks drunk – his eyes are glassy and the movements he makes as he leans across towards the man JT recognises as Otis Valha, the boxer, are overly large and uncoordinated.

  JT takes a look at the rest of the players. Aside from Otis Valha they’re all looking well on their way to being drunk. That’s not good. Alcohol has a habit of making situations more volatile. Last thing they need is for this to escalate. The plan now is clear; they need to get the knight, get this handoff done, and then get the hell out.

  JT follows Thomas across the room to the poker table.

  Lori smiles when she sees him – a fleeting gesture, automatic, before she recomposes her features into a more neutral expression. Her voice is tougher than usual when she speaks – playing her role as boss. ‘Good, you’re finally here. Take my seat while I make a call.’

  As she stands and steps away from the table, JT moves towards her chair.

  ‘Watch my cards,’ she says to him. She looks at Cabressa. ‘This won’t take long.’

  Cabressa stares at Lori, his voice heavy with threat. ‘It had better not.’

  As he watches Lori walk out of the living space and onto the terrace, JT fights the urge to slam the heel of his hand into Cabressa’s throat. He mustn’t, he knows that. It’s not just that Lori is more than capable of fighting her own battles and she wouldn’t appreciate him stepping in, it’s also because they have to work with this mobster asshole until the exchange is sorted. Soon as it’s done they’re going to get gone. They’ll be rid of Cabressa and the Chicago mob, and free of Special Agent Alex Monroe. That’s the goal – the only reason he and Lori agreed to do this. So they could get rid of two assholes with one set of chess pieces.

  JT takes Lori’s seat. He believes violence is only ever a last resort, never the first answer in a situation, and he’s always operated on that basis. But still. Right now he stares into Cabressa’s eyes, and he smiles as he imagines punching the man’s smug face into a pulp.

  23

  I make the only play I have open to me. I call Monroe.

  He answers after a single ring. ‘What the fuck, Lori! Where’s the knight? You were tipped for the exchange and you blew it – you fucking blew it.’

  ‘I need you to
go get the piece for me.’

  ‘You’re killing me here.’

  I glance back through the drapes into the penthouse. The guys are talking around the table. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I don’t want to be away from them too long. The situation is heated. It won’t take much to turn things hostile. ‘Look, it won’t take long. Once I’ve got it I can make the exchange.’

  Monroe cusses. ‘I thought we had him. I thought we damn well had him.’

  ‘We have,’ I hiss. ‘I just need you to do this one thing for me.’

  ‘I’ll get it, obviously.’ Monroe sounds anxious, pissed. ‘I just don’t get why you didn’t take the whole set. Why leave the knight behind for God’s sakes? Why, Lori?’

  I don’t have time for this. But I need Monroe to focus fast. ‘I was worried the poker exchange wouldn’t be enough to charge and hold him. And if you did charge him he’d be able to use lack of knowledge as a defence and claim he never knew the pieces were stolen, that he accepted them in good faith. Basically, with the legal help a man like him will have on retainer, if the chess pieces are a gift or a win he’ll be able to wriggle out of the charges real quick. By removing one I was going to instigate a second hand-off. One that he’d ask for, and would happen after the game. When we’re away from the game I’d let slip that the set is stolen – that way Cabressa would be knowingly handling stolen goods, and you’d have the evidence on camera.’