Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb

  Monroe’s silent.

  ‘You still there?’ I ask.

  Monroe exhales hard. ‘Your plan was good. Makes sense. Just wish you’d told me earlier.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I don’t say I’m sorry. I’m not sure that I am.

  ‘I’ll go get the knight for you. Where is it?’

  ‘It’s in the central air vent in my hotel room. Unscrew the grill and you’ll see it lying on its side.’

  ‘Okay, it’ll take me thirty minutes, maybe a touch more.’ Monroe sounds anxious again. ‘It looked tense at the table. You think you can keep things calm until I’m back?’

  I glance back inside. The guys are still talking, and there’s no yelling, so I’m hoping that’s a good sign. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Just hang in there,’ Monroe says.

  His voice is so sincere that if I didn’t know better I’d think he was a good person. But whatever he’s done before, I trust that he’ll do this: he’ll fetch the knight – and do it because it’s in his best interest. ‘It’s all I can do.’

  ‘I’ll be as fast as I can,’ says Monroe.

  ‘Good.’ With the cellphone still to my ear, I turn away from the penthouse and step over to the edge of the terrace. It feels strange to be this high; the view is like something from an airplane window. Sixty-three floors below the city streets stretch out under me, lit up by thousands of buildings and streetlights. It looks kind of beautiful. But I don’t have time for beauty. ‘Because it’s getting kind of hostile.’

  ‘It’s nearly done.’

  I tell myself he’s right – I only have to stay with these people a little while longer. Soon this will be done, finished. JT and me can go home and be back with Dakota. And no matter how gorgeous the Chicago cityscape looks all twinkling below me, I sure can’t wait for that moment.

  I take a breath. Get ready to hang up with Monroe and head back inside.

  ‘Lori?’ Monroe’s voice sounds stranglehold tight.

  ‘Jeez,’ I say, clutching my free hand to my chest. ‘Oh shit. Monroe, are you seeing this?’

  I watch in horror as one by one, building by building and street by street, the lights on every block in the city go out.

  Within seconds the whole of Chicago is engulfed in darkness.

  24

  ‘Monroe, can you hear me?’

  His words are distorted, metallic sounding. ‘Lori, what’s…?’

  There are three beeps and the call disconnects. The backlit screen of my cell seems overly bright in the eerie gloom of the blacked-out city. Nothing’s twinkling anymore. I press Monroe’s number and wait for the call to connect, but it doesn’t. Nothing happens.

  I check the screen. Hot damn. There’s no cell service, no 4G, and no wi-fi, zip – just like the city’s power, they’ve all been switched off. I wonder what the hell this means and how the hell a thing like this happens. Wonder if it’s some kind of terrorist attack.

  There’s a loud click behind me, and I whip round. The penthouse is in darkness aside from several cellphone screens illuminating small patches of the poker table. I take a step towards the building. There’s another click, as loud as before, followed by another. Then a whirring sound starts up, like a small motor. I realise the noise is coming from above the balcony windows.

  At first I feel relief – if something’s working surely that means the penthouse still has some power. Then I realise the terrace doors are moving, closing. I think back to the blueprints of the building – the whole suite of the penthouse is designed as a panic room. The blackout must have caused it to automatically activate.

  The penthouse is going into lockdown. The doors are sliding closer. JT’s inside, I’m out. And if I don’t move my ass I’m going to get stuck out here on the terrace.

  Sprinting across the tiled floor, I squeeze between the final door and the wall – just making it inside before the door closes and the lock clicks shut. The motor pauses a moment, then metal shutters lower over the windows.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Johnny slurs from over by the poker table, his face made ghostly in the light of his cell. ‘What’s happening to the windows?’

  ‘They’re armoured shutters.’ Carmella’s voice is clear and calm. ‘It’s part of the panic-room protocol. If there’s a power problem in the building, or any other perceived threat to the inhabitants of this suite, the protocol is activated. The blackout will have triggered it.’

  ‘Can’t we un-trigger it?’ Otis sounds out-of-breath, all sorts of anxious. ‘I hate the dark, and I don’t like enclosed spaces.’

  ‘The penthouses all have back-up generators,’ says Carmella. ‘We should have power again really soon, you don’t need to worry.’

  ‘My cell’s got no service,’ says Carl, stabbing at the screen. ‘911 isn’t connecting.’

  ‘Why are you calling 911?’ says Carmella.

  ‘Because this is an emergency,’ Carl says, his tone patronising. ‘There are no lights.’

  Mikey looks at his cell. Shakes his head. ‘I’ve got nothing.’

  ‘There’s no service, or 4G or wi-fi,’ I say. ‘I checked already.’

  ‘That’s not normal, is it?’ Otis is speaking fast, his words coming out in a tumble. ‘I get that wi-fi would be affected, but the 4G, the cell service? How’s—?’

  ‘It could have taken out the cell towers,’ says JT. His voice is gravel deep and steady. Hearing him makes me feel calmer.

  ‘I just don’t like it that we’re locked in here. What if there’s a fire? What if we want to—?’

  ‘It’s okay,’ says Carmella. In the glow of the screens I see her move over to Otis and put her hand on his arm. ‘There’s a landline in the study, I’ll call the concierge and ask them to override the panic-room protocol.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Otis says, still sounding breathless. ‘Really appreciate it.’

  She rubs his arm. ‘It’s no problem.’

  Thomas goes with Carmella as she leaves the living space to go make the call. The rest of us stay where we are. I switch on the torch app on my cell. Otis looks tense over at one end of the table. By the piano, Mikey, Anton and Carl are discussing the power grid and what could have caused such a huge outage.

  Sighing, Johnny sways over to the huge L-shaped couch and sprawls at one end of his, slurping his champagne.

  Only Cabressa, who’s still seated at the head of the table, seems unbothered. He turns to look at me. ‘Did you reach someone who can bring the chess piece?’

  ‘Yes.’ I think fast. Want to buy myself more time to figure out a way I can still get watertight evidence on Cabressa. I meet his cold, hard gaze. ‘But the cell service cut out before I could tell them where to find it.’

  Cabressa grips the edge of the table in both hands. The light’s too dim to see if his knuckles are going white, but I can tell for sure that he’s angry from the way he’s clenching his jaw. He glares at me. ‘We’ll just have to hope the blackout, and lack of cell service, doesn’t last for too long, won’t we.’ It was not a question.

  I nod. Act meek. Know that I won’t be done with this job until Cabressa is behind bars. There’s a calm kind of menace, a cold evil, about this rather nondescript man that gives me the heebie-jeebies. I’ve heard the stories of what he’s done, how he’s ruled the streets of Chicago for over twenty years, and anyone who’s gotten in his way – criminal or honest citizen – has been threatened, exploited or killed. I also know, just from looking into his eyes, that once this deal is done and he has the full set of chess pieces, this mobster intends to kill me. I glance at JT, see the concern on his face, and I know he’s guessed Cabressa’s intentions too.

  If Cabressa gets his way, neither me or JT will ever leave this city. We’ll be set into the concrete foundations of one of his mob-money-financed skyscrapers, or weighted down and cast into Lake Michigan from an isolated spot out near the purification plant.

  Our baby girl, Dakota, will become an orphan at just ten years old.

  I clench my fis
ts. Give JT a meaningful look.

  Because there is no goddamn way I’m going to let that happen.

  25

  ‘How long does the generator take?’ Carl’s sounding more anxious than a few minutes ago. The silence and the darkness are getting to all of us. And it’s getting hotter and more humid inside this sealed penthouse with the central air shut off.

  ‘Give it a minute,’ Mikey says. ‘It’s probably never been used before, the building’s so new.’

  ‘Never been used?’ There’s a tremble to Otis’s voice. ‘You mean it’s not tested, it might fail?’

  ‘No,’ says Mikey. ‘I meant it might take a few minutes to get started.’

  Anton picks up one of the bottles of champagne. Looks at Mikey and Carl. ‘We may as well have another drink while we wait.’

  ‘True,’ says Mikey, holding out his glass.

  Otis shakes his head and starts to pace up and down in the gloom. His path is illuminated by the torch app on his cell, and in its glow I can see that his lips are moving as he mutters to himself.

  Johnny watches him a moment, then sticks his leg out as Otis gets close to where he’s sprawled on the couch, blocking the boxer’s path. ‘Chill. We’re in a penthouse with champagne. It’s all good.’

  ‘It is not all good,’ Otis says between gritted teeth. ‘It’s far from all good.’

  I look at JT. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yup.’ But I can tell from the way he says it that he isn’t. He’s under par, still supposed to be convalescing from the stab wounds and heart attack he had a couple of months back. The wounds are healed, but the muscle damage remains. The physical therapy’s been helping, but I know he’ll be worrying about his ability to keep us safe, keep me safe. He worries like that, even though I looked after myself and Dakota just fine on my own for the best part of ten years before JT and me got back together.

  I give a small nod, conscious that Cabressa is studying me. ‘It’ll be fine. We just need to wait for the back-up generator.’

  He opens his mouth to reply, then stops as Carmella re-enters the open-plan area. From the look on her face, I can tell that the news isn’t good.

  Otis hurries towards her. ‘Did you tell them to unlock all these things?’ he says, waving towards the shutters. ‘How long will it be until the generator’s working?’

  Carmella shakes her head. ‘I couldn’t call anyone. The phone system is Internet-based; even the internal calls aren’t connecting.’

  ‘It’s not surprising,’ Carl says, running a hand over his smooth pate. ‘Everything needs power. We’ve just got to wait it out.’

  ‘That’s my plan,’ says Anton, filling up Carl and Mikey’s glasses again. He looks at Carmella. ‘I just hope we’ve got enough fizz to keep us going?’

  ‘There’s plenty,’ says Carmella. ‘And the fridges are stocked. We can survive here for days, not that that’ll be necessary, of course,’ she adds, glancing at Otis.

  Otis is shaking. He stops by the table. Grips the back of one of the chairs. ‘We. Need. To. Get. Out.’

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ Carmella says. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fast.’

  ‘But it’s not, is it?’ Otis snaps back. His voice is getting faster, louder. ‘It’s been forever, and there’s still nothing. We’re locked in here. The phones are out. And we’re trapped. Prisoners. I can’t…’ Turning, Otis sprints towards the door. He’s real fast for a man of his size and muscle mass.

  Leaving JT at the table, I chase after Otis.

  Carmella follows close on my heels. ‘Otis, wait,’ she shouts. ‘This isn’t helping.’

  He doesn’t listen. Keeps sprinting.

  Thomas looks ready to step into Otis’s way and stop him, but Carmella waves him away. Thomas steps aside as Otis reaches the door.

  Otis yanks it open, and hurtles into the lobby towards the elevator. Sliding to a halt beside it, he stabs at the call button. Switches his weight foot to foot. Mutters, ‘Come on, come on.’

  Carmella and me stop next to him. We glance at each other.

  ‘Please, come on,’ Otis pleads. He’s near to tears. His whole body is shaking.

  ‘It’s not working,’ I say, as gently as I can. ‘It needs electricity to function.’

  ‘But it has to.’ Turning to face me, Otis’s face crumples and he seems to deflate in front of me. This tall, muscular boxer is defeated by fear. Shaking his head, he sinks slowly to the floor, his back against the wall, and pulls his knees into his chest, hugging his arms around them. ‘I can’t stay locked in here. I can’t.’

  ‘You can and you will,’ I say, my voice calm but firm, as if to a child. I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re with friends. However long it takes, you will be fine.’

  He looks back towards the door into the living space. ‘They’re not my friends.’

  I try not to act surprised. He’d seemed buddy enough with them earlier, but then there was the hierarchy I’d noticed. For the first time, I wonder if I’m not the only one who was invited to the game for a reason. Otis had been playing well and then he virtually threw the game. I’d put it down to bad luck, or tiredness setting in, but maybe it was intentional. It could be he was given a seat at the game in order to repay a debt to Cabressa or one of these other men. For all I know the whole thing’s been rigged from the get-go. I squeeze his shoulder. ‘Well, you’re with us, anyways.’

  He frowns at me, and then looks at Carmella.

  She nods. ‘You can’t stay here, Otis. We need to get back to the others.’

  He does nothing for a moment. Then takes a ragged breath. ‘Okay.’

  I put out my hand. ‘Come on.’

  He takes my hand and I help him up. Carmella and me guide him as he takes wobbly steps out of the lobby. I can feel him shaking, but at least he’s not in flight mode anymore.

  ‘The wanderer returns,’ laughs Anton, raising his glass in Otis’s direction as we move into the open-plan living space. ‘Come get some fizz, might help your nerves.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Carmella says, shooting him an angry look. ‘Give him a break.’

  Johnny waves. ‘Glad you’re back with us, dude.’

  Carmella and me help Otis over to the poker table and into one of the chairs. He sits, slumped, head resting in his hands. Looking like a broken man.

  JT meets my gaze. ‘It’s getting all kinds of hot in here.’

  He’s right, with the central air off the heat’s rising, and the humidity too. I can feel sweat running down my back between my shoulder blades. But I don’t think JT’s just talking about the room temperature.

  JT keeps his voice low. Nods across the room. ‘Some people are making matters worse.’

  In the light from my cell I follow his gaze. Across the room, Johnny is lying back on the couch with his eyes closed. Over by the piano Mikey looks flushed, and Anton’s face is almost puce.

  Carl’s removed his jacket, revealing huge sweat marks under the arms of his pink shirt. He’s talking fast, voice rising in volume and pitch. ‘We need to stop him. It can’t carry on, you know. This Herron is going to sink our—’

  ‘We will. But not right now,’ Anton says, cutting him off. He points at Carl’s chest. ‘Right now, you need to cool it.’

  I wipe the sweat from my forehead. This heat isn’t helping the situation. Everyone’s getting restless, and that’s when things get more unpredictable. In hot, humid, stressful situations like this irritations can have a real nasty habit of turning violent.

  Carl’s shaking his head. Squaring up to Anton.

  I glance at JT.

  He raises his eyebrows.

  Next moment Anton grabs Carl by his shirt and shoves him hard against the piano. Carl bellows, striking out at Anton, and they both crash to the floor, fighting.

  That’s when the back-up generator kicks in.

  26

  First there’s a loud buzz, then the lights switch on. A few seconds later, the central air kicks in and chilled jets blast through the vents. An
ton and Carl stop fighting. Everyone cheers. I feel all kinds of relieved and grin at JT. He gives me a half-smile, but I can see he’s still worried.

  ‘The back-ups kicked in, that’s a good sign,’ I say.

  ‘It’s not finished yet.’ JT glances towards the terrace. ‘We’re still in lockdown.’

  He’s right. The metal shutters are shrouding the consortia doors and the windows. We’re still locked inside. I think back to the blueprints and the building notes we’d studied for Skyland Tower. In a power outage, once the back-up generators kick in, if no threat is perceived, the panic room protocol reverses itself.

  I bite my lip. Cabressa and Carmella are sitting real close, so I can’t talk about this to JT because I’d have to reveal that I’ve looked at the design of the building and its security systems, and as far as they’d know I’d have no cause to do that. As I look across the table at JT, I see the concern in his eyes and the tension in his body – like he’s ready as a momma bobcat to jump into action – and know he’s thinking it too. If the security system is still active, what threat has it detected?