So I crouch down and start collecting up the chess pieces. My body aches. My vision is a little fuzzy. And each time I bend down nausea strikes and I taste sour bile in my throat. But I keep going. Keep playing this mobster’s game. Just for a little while longer.
Cabressa moves across the stairs to the outer wall and leans against it. I’m a good five steps down from where Cabressa is now. I figure I could outrun him if I raced down the stairs from here. He’s not doing so well, but he’s still got the gun. Given his behaviour so far I doubt he’d hesitate to shoot me. He probably wouldn’t kill me, not right now, but he’d injure me enough to stop me getting away. Frustrating the hell out of me as it is, I decide not to try to escape. Once Cabressa’s out of bullets his advantage will be lost. That’s the time I’ll need to act.
I move down the steps, searching for the last remaining chess pieces.
‘How many more?’ Cabressa asks.
‘Two.’
‘Hurry it up, we need to get moving.’
‘Why the rush?’
He doesn’t answer the question. ‘You know I knew Otis virtually his whole life. My family own the boxing gym he started out in all those years back as a scrawny, nine-year-old kid. I saw he had something right off the bat.’ He glances towards the banister. Shakes his head. ‘Waste of a talent.’
Cabressa’s change of tone takes me by surprise. I straighten up. ‘This could stop right now. You could just let me go.’
He meets my gaze, and for a moment I think he’s going to agree. Then his expression darkens. ‘That’s never going to happen, Miss Anderson. I’ve worked it out. I know who you really are.’
I frown. Don’t know what he’s getting at. ‘Who I really am?’
‘That’s right,’ says Cabressa. ‘I know you’re Herron.’
53
Johnny takes the lead and goes first down the staircase. JT’s glad for it; in front is exactly where he wants the man to be. He doesn’t want him behind them, that’s for sure. He doesn’t want to give him another opportunity to take them out of the game.
He’s said nothing to Carmella of his suspicions, but the more he thinks on it, and replays the events that have happened since he picked the locks of the external door from the penthouse, JT is convinced Johnny wants the pair of them dead.
The reason is simple enough. They’re witnesses. Carmella and him saw Johnny kill Carl. It might have been in self-defence, but it still seems Johnny wants to clean house. If JT had to guess, he’d say his plan is to make JT and Carmella have an ‘accident’ and then pin the murder of Carl on him.
JT grimaces. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to frame him for murder. He keeps moving down the stairs. Checks the next emergency-exit door they pass – the number painted on the door is thirty-seven. They’re getting closer to ground level, and he’s glad of it. His breathing is getting laboured, and it feels like there’s a vice around his lungs. His legs are like iron from the effort of the steps. He’s starting to feel lightheaded.
Carmella is doing better. She’s ahead of him, pretty much a whole storey lower, and gaining on Johnny even though there’s at least a storey between the two of them still. JT pushes himself harder, tries to speed up his progress – can’t let Carmella catch up with Johnny alone.
Black spots dance in front of his eyes. He blinks them away. Feels nausea rising and tastes bile in his throat. Swallows hard. Looks down.
That’s when he sees the cut on his forearm is bleeding again; blood is flowing down his arm, dripping off the ends of his fingers. It must have reopened when Johnny crashed into him on the steps. After everything that’s already happened, JT knows the blood loss isn’t going to do him any favours.
He grips his arm around the cut in his other hand and squeezes to try and stem the flow. Trips on the stairs and only just manages to shoot a hand out to grab the rail before falling.
His head’s spinning. He needs to stop.
Sinking down on the step, he sits and raises his injured arm. Grips the flesh around the wound again and adds pressure. He has to stop the bleeding. Needs a moment to get his shit together.
Johnny and Carmella are getting further away. JT hears her calling to Johnny, but Johnny doesn’t respond. She speeds up. Within a minute it looks like she’s closing in on him.
‘I said wait,’ Carmella shouts. ‘JT needs a breather, we should stop.’
‘I’m not stopping,’ Johnny yells back.
‘He saved you, you ungrateful bastard, the least you could do is—’
JT hears them clattering down the steps. They start shouting again, but he can’t make out the words. Forcing himself to his feet, he starts to follow. He’s slower though, and the distance between the pair and him is increasing. He manages to make it another level down, then stops. His arm’s still bleeding, the blood flooding out of him. If it keeps going this way he’s going to be too weak to make it to the bottom. He sinks back down to the step, and leans against the outer railing. Peers down through the gloomy night and tries to make out what’s happening.
There’s a gust of wind and the sound carries better.
‘I said stop,’ Carmella shouts again.
Squinting down through the treads of the staircase, JT sees that she’s caught Johnny. He sees her reach for the ball player. Johnny pushes her away, and she hits the inside railing with a thud.
‘Back the hell off,’ Johnny yells. He turns and starts running down the stairs again.
‘No,’ Carmella shouts as she leaps after him. In the dim light of the stars their silhouettes meld together.
JT watches, trying to get a better view as the pair move across the stairs. He hears Carmella cry out, then a grunt from Johnny. But now they’re so close to each other he can’t tell the shadowy figures apart. He watches as they slam into the outer railing and the railing beside him vibrates. One of the figures stops the other and pushes them against the rails. The second figure loses balance, tries to shove the other off. The first pushes back, shoving them against the railing until they’re leaning out into the darkness. The blacked-out city of Chicago is lying in wait silently beneath them.
The second figure’s arms are flailing. They’re trying to pull themselves back to safety but they can’t. The other figure doesn’t let up. They keep pushing.
The wind whips around JT and he hears more words.
‘Get the hell off…’
‘…this is your fault … what you did … deserve what you…’
Gradually the black spots clear from JT’s eyes. The urge to vomit has gone. He stands. Knows he needs to get down to the other two. Break up the fight. Stop this craziness. Holding the handrail for support, he starts the descent again.
He makes it down another flight of stairs before he hears it.
There’s a scream. The railing vibrates hard and then is still.
Squinting through the darkness, JT can just make out the outline of a body as it topples over the railing and plummets down through the night.
He hears another scream. This time the noise fades away fast into nothing.
Goddammit.
Pushing away from the handrail, JT sprints down the steps as fast as he’s able. But no matter how fast he moves, he knows it’s not going to be enough. The damage is already done.
Only one silhouette remains standing on the steps two storeys below him.
Another person is dead.
54
In the gloom of the stairwell I stare at Cabressa. I don’t move. Don’t speak.
‘Didn’t think I’d figure it out, did you?’ he says, shaking his head. ‘But you underestimated me.’
‘I didn’t plan to—’
He holds up his free hand to silence me. ‘See, I did my due diligence on you, Miss Anderson. Couldn’t quite believe how these chess pieces resurfaced so many years after they were taken, and were in the possession of a thief I’d never heard of. To me, it just didn’t add up. But I couldn’t put my finger on why.’
Damn. I need to convince him I’m on the level. That I’m not Herron. ‘I told you why. I said—’
‘I know what you said.’ He fixes me with a hard stare. ‘And I knew right from the get-go it was a lie, a bullshit cover story, to hide your real affiliations.’
Despite the heat and airlessness of the stairwell, a shiver runs along my spine. If Cabressa knows I’m working with the FBI I’m screwed. Never mind his OCD, he’ll shoot me right here as a traitor, the last chess piece be damned. Maybe that was his plan all along – pick off the others until it’s just the two of us left, then confront me and kill me.
‘What, cat got your tongue now?’ he sneers, stroking the grip of the gun like it’s some Bond villain’s cat. ‘Not so smart mouthed when you get called out on the truth.’
I can tell there’s no way in hell he’ll believe me if I plead. Being straight is the only play I have. I fix him with a hard stare. ‘I’m not lying, because I am not Herron.’
‘Bullshit.’ His tone is getting angrier. The grip on his gun is tighter.
I’m seven stairs down from the spot where he’s standing and five more stairs before the next twist; I need to put more distance between us. Sliding my foot along the stair to the edge real slow, I take a step down to the next. ‘I’m telling the truth.’
‘Why are you running away then?’
I glance down at the stairs. ‘I’m not running, I’m searching for your chess pieces, remember?’
‘And there’s that smart mouth.’ Cabressa pushes himself away from the wall and takes a few steps down towards me. He has the Glock aimed in my direction the whole time. ‘The whole Herron thing always seemed strange. The rumours, all the things he’d supposedly done, yet no one had ever seen him. That was weird. Not usual in my business. It’s normal to claim your triumphs, to make your face known, and feared.’
‘From the conversation at the poker game tonight it sounds like Herron is feared, you just don’t know the face of the person you’re all fearing is all.’
Cabressa takes another two steps down. He narrows his eyes. ‘I know Herron – you – is funded by the Miami Mob.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Cabressa cocks his head to the side. ‘I’ve played along with your bullshit story about being a thief until now, but I know who you really are. Like I said, I did my due diligence. That bloodbath at the Miami Mob compound last month, Luciano Bonchese getting banged up, and your pal North taking over as leader while Old Man Bonchese convalesces – all that was your doing. You’re a bounty hunter who’s been turned.’
I can’t deny I was there. I won’t let him believe I work for the mob though. ‘I helped North out of a difficult situation is all. I work for myself.’
‘Come on, admit it – you work for the goddamn Miami Mob. You’re in bed with North and the Old Man, it’s obvious. Hell, your ex-husband was one of their enforcers. You’ve been connected to them your whole adult life.’ He takes a breath. ‘Stands to reason you might ask for something someday. My guess is you asked for Chicago.’
I shake my head. ‘Like I said, it’s not true.’
Cabressa steps down onto the step above mine. Presses the Glock into my temple and snarls, ‘And like I said, I don’t believe you.’
I meet his gaze. Don’t flinch away from the gun. If he were going to kill me right now he’d have done it already without these theatrics – just like he did when he killed Mikey and Otis. The fact I’m still here means that at this exact moment he wants the full set of chess pieces intact more than he wants to see me dead. I need to use that to my advantage. It’s the only ace I’ve got left. ‘So what are you waiting for?’
His mouth twists into a smile. ‘You know what I want.’
‘And you know I don’t have it here.’
He taps the gun against my head. I don’t react. Keep staring at him.
‘Then you’d better take me to it.’
He raises the gun again, ready to tap it against my skull again, but I take a step down, away from his reach.
‘I’ll take you there, and I’ll give you the knight,’ I say. I make sure my words are clear. Hope to hell that Monroe is listening, and takes action. ‘And then we’re done.’
Cabressa nods. ‘You’re right, we will be.’
I don’t reply. Instead, I bend down and pick up the final two chess pieces from the stair and hand them to Cabressa. I watch him stuffing them into the inner pockets of his jacket and buttoning the pockets shut. Then he turns and continues down the stairs. If the micro camera has been damaged, and Monroe can’t hear or see me, I’m on my own. If that’s the case, I’ve got until I hand over the knight in the hotel room to make my move. Because once I’ve done that, I know for sure that Cabressa will shoot me dead.
It takes what seems an age to reach ground level. As the floors count down, anxiety starts to gnaw at my stomach. If Monroe has sent in the SWAT team, chances are they’ll be lying in wait outside the emergency-exit door. I need to make sure Cabressa exits first. Don’t want to get caught in a firestorm.
Know that I need to act cool. Not give anything away.
Can’t help but hope that Monroe has come through for me.
‘Why are you slowing?’ Cabressa growls, poking me in the back with the Glock.
‘I’m tired,’ I snap back.
He prods the gun against my ribs, and I clench my jaw as the pain vibrates through me. Move faster around the twist and down the last flight of stairs.
We reach the bottom. Ahead is a white security door with a green Emergency Exit sign across it. I hesitate, waiting for Cabressa to take the lead.
But he shakes his head. Gestures with the Glock towards the door. ‘Ladies first,’ he smiles.
Damn.
I step towards the door. Put my hand onto the metal bar that releases it. My heart’s beating thunder loud. My breathing quickens. If the SWAT team are outside I’m about to step into their direct line of fire.
‘Move it,’ growls Cabressa.
I can’t put it off anymore. Have to get it done.
Hoping Monroe is listening and feeding information to the SWAT team, I turn to Cabressa and say, ‘Fine, I’m opening the door now, okay?’
Then I push the release. Push the door open. And step out into the night.
55
The lone figure is leaning over the railing, staring down into the blackness; it turns as JT draws closer. There are tears in her eyes, but could be that’s due to the wind.
‘Carmella?’ JT can’t hide the surprise in his voice. He’d been sure Johnny would be the one he’d find down here. Carmella’s gym fit and toned and all, but he’d have put money on Johnny, with the strength of a professional athlete, being the victor.
She peers down over the railing. Shakes her head. ‘He didn’t care.’
‘So you pushed him?’ JT stops, a few stairs above her.
Carmella turns back to JT. Her stare is hard, her voice flat, emotionless. ‘After everything he’s done, he wasn’t even sorry.’
That’s when JT sees the device in her hand. It’s much smaller than Lori’s X26, and it’s clear that the black weapon is a domestic Taser rather than weapons grade, but the voltage would still be enough to disrupt a person’s nervous system. He realises now how she managed to overcome Johnny. ‘How did you get that?’
‘You both left me alone while you looked for the emergency fire escape. You thought I was passed out, or asleep or whatever, but I wasn’t. I’d remembered the knife used to kill Carl, but couldn’t remember if Johnny still had it. I didn’t trust him, with or without the knife.’ She taps her finger against the Taser. ‘So while you weren’t watching me, I removed this. I always wear it under my clothes at a game – just in case. Although we check players for weapons on arrival you can never be sure what might happen if someone on a losing streak gets desperate. I thought it might come in handy.’ She glances out over the railing where Johnny had fallen. Looks back at JT. ‘I was right.’
JT stays where he is. He’d never had figured Carmella for the murdering kind, but now he’s witnessed it with his own eyes he’s wary, feels it’s wise to keep his distance.
‘It was self-defence, you know,’ Carmella says. She looks down at the Taser in her hand. ‘It looks bad, but he came at me. I just defended myself.’
JT says nothing. He’d believed Johnny wanted to get rid of him and Carmella because they were witnesses to him killing Carl, so it’s not a stretch to believe that Johnny was the aggressor. But the Taser bothers him.
‘You don’t believe me?’ The wind picks up. Carmella’s black hair whips around her face. ‘I told you, it was self-defence. He was a threat.’
She’s right, JT doesn’t believe her. She’s holding something back. ‘And me, am I a threat too?’
She looks towards him, but can’t meet his gaze.
That’s all he needs to know.
When she launches herself at him, he’s ready. Unlike Johnny, he knows she’s got the Taser. He feigns left, and moves right. Avoiding the firing pins, he thrusts his shoulder into her chest as she connects with him, and knocks her backwards. She loses her balance, misjudges the step and falls sideways, grabbing for the handrail with her free hand. He follows. As she clings to the rail to stop herself falling further, he grabs her. Pulls her backwards towards him. Grabbing her Taser-free hand he wrenches her arms up behind her back and holds her still with his arm around her throat. She’s cussing, trying to zap at him with the Taser. He hears the electric charge crackling, but the angle is wrong. She can’t connect it to him.
Deep Dark Night Page 21
