Page 120 of Hard Luck (Blackstone House)

I squinted along the walkway. There was a whole control panel, and I estimated three levers were in the “down” position. Cole’s cell, the makeshift crypt with the stinking body, and one more?

I was trapped, but Six wasn’t free either. I’d passed the stairs at the end of the block on my way in, and it was unlikely there was another set at the rear. It would be a waste of space, and stairs in a prison were hardly a high-traffic area.

I took a quick inventory of the cell I was in: metal-framed bed, metal desk, metal chair, dead body in the corner huddled under an old grey blanket. While the corpse in the other cell had putrefied, judging from the stink of it, this one was desiccated like a mummy. Guess they must have died at different times of year or something. I positioned myself at the front of the cell by the door, ready to dart out if Six decided to slide his gun through the railing and spray bullets into the tiny space. If he did that, I’d run forward and shoot him while his attention—and rifle muzzle—were elsewhere.

I could feel him watching. Watching, waiting for me to move. Above, the lights glared, blinding to look at. These motherfuckers had probably been using the prison for a while, if they’d kept a generator working. The place was too old for solar power.

This was kind of like a Mexican standoff. Except we couldn’t see each other, and we weren’t in Mexico. More of a San Gallician standoff, really.

Could I throw something at the levers? If I sprinted, it would take me two or three seconds to reach them, assuming I had a death wish. Even in darkness, leaving the cell would be a risk because I’d stand out like a ghost in the gloom. What was there to throw? A bucket? Too big. An empty mug? Too small. A skull would be the right size and weight if I could detach it from the body, but I had a feeling Cole wouldn’t appreciate my ingenuity.

I glanced across at him. He was watching me warily.

An object on the wall beyond the levers caught my eye, a grey box roughly twelve inches square, twenty feet off the floor. Thick wires snaked upward from the top, and I followed one up to the ceiling.

Hmm.

If I shot the box, would the lights go out? I figured there was a reasonable chance that might happen. But I’d still be at a disadvantage thanks to the colour of my skin. Unless… I studied the blanket covering the corpse.

Man, I didnotget paid enough for this.

CHAPTER 43

COLE

What a way to die.

Cole wouldn’t get a funeral, no memorial, no flowers, but at least Frankie could avoid making a decision over whether he should be buried or cremated.

He watched Bella standing in the doorway opposite, trying to keep as far as possible from the corpse behind her, the remains of a person who’d curled into the corner of the cell to die. Until now, he’d never known the real Bella, the brave, murderous woman who stood before him. She looked quite at home with a gun in her hands. But no matter how courageous she was, or how experienced with firearms, even she couldn’t escape the man firing bullets from above.

Suddenly, she smiled, and the effect was quite unsettling. Why was she smiling? There wasn’t even a tiny glimmer of light in this situation, not unless you counted those overhead bulbs that made dark seem like day.

Bella turned and walked to the back of the cell, then tugged the blanket away from the dead body. Cole saw that it had once been a young woman. She was wearing a bikini,and wisps of long blonde hair hung around her shrunken shoulders.

What was her story? How had she found herself here in this hellhole? Was she related to the other body Cole had seen? Had they been friends? Lovers?

Bella slid a knife out of her bikini top. Where had she gotten that from? Yesterday, they’d only had one knife between them, and it was still attached to the makeshift spear he’d dropped onto the jetty when he saw the boat approaching. He watched as she sliced into the middle of the blanket and pulled it over her head like a poncho.

Cole shuddered. No amount of money in the world could have convinced him to do that. Death cooties were a thing, and did she have no respect for the deceased?

Bella put a finger to her lips.

What was she doing?

She tiptoed forward and a moment later, a deafeningbangrang out, then another, and sparks showered from the ceiling. When they flickered out, the place was left in sudden darkness. Gunshots boomed, then the door of his cell clanged open. His eyes had barely adjusted to the gloom when a hand clamped around his wrist in a viselike grip, and Bella pulled him with her as she ran.

They sprinted along the central aisle, the man on the upper tier firing wildly after them. A sharp pain slashed across Cole’s left shoulder, and he yelped in shock, but then they were running out the door, down the hallway, down another hallway and another and another and finally into the sally port. Bella didn’t stop until they were outside in daylight, and as Cole collapsed on the ground, she slammed the gate and clicked the padlock into place.

“Well, that was fun,” she said.

“You think that wasfun?”

“I guess fear blunted your sarcasm detector.”

“Whoareyou?”

She held out a hand, the one that wasn’t grasping the gun. “Bella Knight. Pleased to meet you.”

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