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.