56

There are no guns, no spotlights, no SWAT team. No sign of Monroe. The back exit of the building is deserted.

I swallow back my frustration. Try to act normal, or as normal as is possible when there’s a mobster holding a gun to your back.

‘Which way’s the hotel?’ Cabressa asks.

I scan our surroundings. We’ve come out onto a narrow concrete path that seems to follow the outside perimeter of the building. Ahead of us is a high metal fence with razor wire at the top of it. Through the slats of the fence I see more buildings – apartment blocks and hotels, I’m guessing from their design. All of them are cloaked in darkness.

I don’t recognise this area. We must have come out around back. I turn to Cabressa. ‘I need to get to the front of the building, I know my way from there.’

Cabressa cusses under his breath. Prods me with the gun. ‘Move then.’

I do as he says. Follow the narrow path around the building.

In the distance I hear the wail of a police siren, shouts and screams, and the sound of glass shattering. There’s an unmistakable smell of burning in the air. I can imagine what’s happening – there’ll be looting and riots, and worse. The power outage has brought out the crazy in the people of Chicago. Blackouts always do.

We reach the front of the building. Earlier, when me and JT arrived, the place was lit up with spotlights. Now the metal-and-glass frontage looks dull and uninviting. I peer into the lobby. There’s no one inside.

I turn at the entrance to the lobby and go down the steps to the street. I scan the area for a van that could have the SWAT team in, but I see nothing. There’s no one here. The unlit sidewalks are empty. The buildings all around us are shrouded in darkness. The street has a desolate feel to it, like we’ve stepped onto the set of a post-apocalyptic movie. As we walk in the direction of my hotel the burning smell grows stronger, and the screams and yells louder. I look back at Cabressa. ‘I think this is a bad idea.’

He scowls. He’s walking fast, but with a strong limp. ‘This is my city, I’ll go where I want in it.’

‘I don’t think we should—’

‘Enough talking,’ he says, pushing me in the back with the gun. ‘Take me to the hotel.’

I keep walking. Listen out for the shouting, the smashing and the cheering. Try to weave a path through the streets to avoid them.

We travel a few blocks, dodging into smaller alleys, taking short cuts between the larger buildings, avoiding the main streets. Cabressa pushes us faster. He might talk a good-enough talk, but I can tell from his expression that he’s worried. We’re alone out here and our phones are dead. He doesn’t have the protection of his security and his generals. All he has right now is me.

And I, for sure, do not have his back.

Keeping low, we hurry along the sidewalk towards the river. I look back at Cabressa. ‘We have to get across.’

He nods. Grim-faced.

I follow his gaze. See the problem.

There’s a burning mass forming a makeshift barricade across the bridge. I slow my pace and squint towards it, trying to work out what it is. The closer we get, the more the stench of petrol fills my nostrils. The fire crackles and pops, and through the flames I see the burning shells of two cars that have been flipped onto their sides and set alight. The city is in chaos, and we are in the thick of it.

Left with little choice, I hang a left at the end of the block, start down the main drag alongside the river. The skyscrapers lining the water stand in the darkness like silent sentinels witnessing the city as it loses its mind.

This isn’t where I wanted us to be. It’s too exposed. Too damn dangerous.

Up ahead I see shadows moving in the darkness. Further still, the reflections of the blue lights of police cars kaleidoscope in the mirrored glass of the building’s windows.

I break into a run. Clutch my arm around my ribs, trying to stop the worst of the pain. It doesn’t help much. But I grit my teeth. Push forward. Cabressa follows, and as I glance back over my shoulder at him, I notice his limp is more pronounced at the faster speed.

‘We need to find a way to cross,’ I tell him. ‘There’s a footbridge a little way along this street I think.’

‘Few hundred yards,’ he says. ‘We need to get onto the other side of the street.’

I nod and dart across the empty road. Cabressa stays with me. We sprint along the sidewalk, then hang a right at the sign for the footbridge and follow the narrow path between buildings to the river. We emerge from the path at the water’s edge and halt. Ahead is the footbridge. It looks deserted – no burning cars, no human-shaped shadows. I glance at Cabressa. ‘You ready?’

He nods.

‘Okay then,’ I say. Then I start running across the narrow bridge.

The wind is stronger on the bridge. The stillness of the streets replaced with persistent gusts. I pump my arms faster. Keep running. Behind me Cabressa does the same.

We make it to the middle of the bridge before our luck runs out.