50

The stairs seem to go on forever.

We spiral down, step after step. It’s hot and humid in here. Dark too, with only a narrow strip of low-level emergency lighting giving a dull glow along the curved outer wall. Our footsteps are loud against the concrete stairs. My eyes struggle to focus in the gloom.

To my right, the banister curves downwards. I keep my eyes on the stairs, don’t look over the rail into the void. It’s shrouded in darkness, but I know the drop continues to the ground floor. The thought of it makes me feel sick to my stomach.

After ten storeys our pace is slowing. Cabressa is breathing heavily and favouring his left leg. Otis is sweating; I am too.

‘Do you know where the nearest police precinct is?’ Otis asks me. His voice is hushed, but the sound echoes in the stairwell, sounding far louder.

Cabressa looks around sharply. ‘We’re not going to any cops.’

Otis widens his eyes. ‘We have to. The rest of the group could still be trapped on the roof. We have to—’

‘I said no.’ Cabressa’s voice is firm. He doesn’t turn around.

Otis looks at me. I give a shake of my head: Don’t pursue it. Not here.

Right now, we’re like fish in a very tall barrel. And Cabressa is the only one with a gun.

So we stay silent and keep going down. My dress is damp with sweat. My thighs burn from the effort, and my feet are starting to feel sore from walking barefoot on the concrete.

A few minutes later, Cabressa falters. He catches the edge of the stair with his toe, misses a step, and makes a grab for the banister. It’s not high – more level with his waist than mid-torso – and as his belly hits the rail I think he might fall. I hope he might fall. But it doesn’t happen.

Me and Otis say nothing. Cabressa continues downwards, acting like nothing’s happened. But he’s limping more heavily now, and each time he puts weight on his right leg his fingers cling claw-like to the rail to try and keep some of the weight from his leg.

We’ve travelled another storey down before Cabressa stops and raises his free hand. ‘Hold up,’ he says. His voice is weaker than before, more breathless.

As he turns back towards us I see that the box of chess pieces has slipped down and is starting to force its way out the bottom of his now half untucked shirt. He fumbles with the buttons, tries to retuck the shirt, but with the Glock in one hand he fails. He shakes his head and sticks the gun into the back of his pants waistband. Uses both hands to take a hold of the box, then tucks it under one arm while he sorts out the shirt.

He’s looking down at what he’s doing. Not focused on me or Otis anymore.

That’s when I make my move.

I take the three steps between us in a rush. One-two-three. Slam my fist into his belly, using my momentum to drive into him harder. He doubles over, but he’s not done yet. He’s hitting me with his free hand. Forcing his weight against me, his shoulder pushing into my chest, trying to get away down the stairs. I ignore the blows. Stay focused on what I’m after.

I reach for the gun.

Cabressa stops hitting me and lurches sideways, trying to shake me off. I stay with him. Focus on pulling the Glock from his waistband.

My fingers close around the handle.

I don’t see the blow coming until it’s too late. The wooden box with the chess pieces smacks into my head. I drop to my knees. Lose my balance and fall forwards, tumbling down a few steps. The concrete bites into my bare legs and arms.

I lunge for the banister to stop myself falling. Grab the bottom rung of the rails and cling on tight to stop my momentum. Halfway up the flight of stairs, Otis stands open mouthed, leg-jigging, watching.

‘Otis,’ I yell. I need him to back me up.

Cabressa’s closing in on me. ‘Goddamn bitch,’ he shouts, spittle flying from his mouth. He raises the wooden box again.

Just in time I put my arm up to protect myself, and he slams it down onto me.

I’m down, but I can’t be done. I have to get up.

‘You think you can outwit me?’ Cabressa shouts. ‘You little cunt.’

The blows keep coming. I have to move.

Using the rail to pull myself up, I propel myself up the stairs towards Cabressa. But I’m too slow and too unbalanced. My vision swims, and I feel like I might vomit. Force myself forward. I can’t give up. And Otis seems incapable of helping.

Cabressa hits me across the ribs and the wooden box splinters open. The chess pieces cascade out, showering down the stairs with a clatter. ‘What the…?’ He shoves me hard, away from the pieces, and I fall backwards.

I land hard against the wall in an awkward position. The breath leaves me. And I feel a sharp pain in my back. I recognise the feeling enough to know that I’ve busted one of my ribs for sure.

‘Look what you’ve done,’ hisses Cabressa. There’s fury on his face as he stomps down the steps towards me and reaches into his waistband for the gun.

Biting back the pain, I press my hands against the concrete and get ready to throw myself back into the fight even though I’m outmatched in firepower, and anything I do now is most likely futile.

I try to take a full breath. Grimace from the pain in my back.

Cabressa raises the gun and takes aim at my head.