Dead if You Don’t

59

Sunday 13 August

03.00–04.00

Ting!

Kipp Brown sat alone, early morning, playing a one-armed bandit in the deserted high-rollers’ room of the Waterfront Casino in Brighton Marina, aware the staff were waiting patiently for him to leave so they could close up for the night. He raised a hand in acknowledgement as someone brought him a fresh Hendricks and tonic with a slice of cucumber.

The stake on this machine was a £25 token, and the jackpot — four bars lined up — would pay out £50,000. He was close. Close!

The reels were spinning now and he could feel that jackpot coming closer. With each spin for the last hour, in between the cherries, lemons and apples, a jackpot bar would appear and stop on the winning line.

Ting!

Now two had lined up.

He inserted another token and pressed the button.

The reels span again.

Ting!

One bar stopped.

Ting!

Another!

Ting!

Another!

Ting!

The fourth! Yes, he felt a burst of happiness. Yes, yes, yes!

But no tokens poured out. He waited. Come on, come on!

Ting.

Suddenly, the light changed. Darkened. Slowly, a sense of dread enveloped him. He wasn’t in the casino at all, he realized, he was in bed, at home. He had been dreaming. It wasn’t the slot machine, after all, it was his phone. He lay still, not wanting to disturb Stacey. Until he remembered they were in different rooms. He was alone, in a spare room where he had been sleeping for several months.

He’d lain awake for hours tonight, lapsing into intermittent dozes. Waiting. Waiting for a further text. Instructions on where to pay the ransom. Anything.

Ping.

He grabbed the handset and peered at the screen.