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Silence.

“Jade...” She hesitates. “The bed’s made. He’s not here, love.”

Something scrapes as a chair is pushed in. “His cup’s washed and turned over on the rack.”

“Where’s his machine?”

She doesn’t answer.

The sob escapes before I can stop it. “Mrs. Varga. Where’s his machine?”

“It’s... It’s not here, love. The tube’s gone off the wall. There’s only the bracket.” Her breath catches over the line. “Jade, the machine’s gone, the bag with his tablets is gone off the shelf, and his coat isn’t on the hook. His good one.”

I round the corner at a run, boots hammering the road as the slate stays clamped against my ear.

“Ferro!” Mrs. Varga steps away from the phone, hammering on another door. “Ferro, get up. It’s Onyx⁠—”

Another voice comes in behind hers. Widow Okafor, who never sleeps either, must have been on the landing the whole time.

“Give it here.” A shuffle, the slate changing hands. “Jade?”

“Did you see him?”

“There were cars.”

“Cars?”

Vasco. It has to be Vasco.

Ash took everything from him, and now he’s come for my brother.

“Yes. Two of them. Big black cars. They arrived at half past nine. Ferro saw them from his window.”

“Did they take him?”

“Take him...” She goes quiet for a second. “No, love. He walked out on his own feet, down the steps, with a man on each side holding the doors. One carried his medical bag, and the other had a travel bag. Ferro thought he was going on vacation.”

“Vacation?” The word comes out wrong.

Mrs. Varga is already on the steps when I get home, her coat thrown over her nightdress and her keys still clenched in one fist. The second she sees me, she comes down the last two steps faster than she should and wraps both arms around me before I can get past her.

I don’t hug her back. My arms won’t do it.

“There now.” She holds on tighter. “There now, Jade.”

“Where is he?”

“He’ll be somewhere with a bed, a doctor, and better air than this. That’s where he is.” She pulls back and takes my face in her hands, her palms dry and warm enough that I have to look at the wall over her shoulder. “I know it’s strange, Jade. Of course it is. He wouldn’t just leave without telling you. But men in good coats don’t come at half nine at night to drag a sick man away in the dark. They come with paperwork. You listen to me. He walked out of here on his own two feet, coat on, and he’ll text you in the morning. You’ll feel foolish, and I’ll say I told you.”

“Ferro said a travel bag?”

“Ferro’s eighty-four and watches the street the way other men watch the races.” Patting my cheek, she keeps one hand against my face. “He’ll text you, love.”

Behind me, doors have opened all the way down the landing, people leaning into the corridor in nightclothes after hearing the commotion. They’re all looking at me. I swear, half of them are looking at the shirt.

Turning me toward the stairs, Mrs. Varga squeezes my arm. “Go on in. I’ll bring soup over in the morning.”

“Don’t.” It comes out wrong. She takes it anyway, the way she takes everything. I want to apologize, but I suddenly feel too tired.