Blackout Read online

  Dedicated to my mother

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  URBAN OUTLAWS' BUNKER

  THE URBAN OUTLAWS

  PRAISE FOR URBAN OUTLAWS

  Competition

  Peter Jay Black

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jack Fenton sat on the pavement next to Charlie. He shivered and pulled a dirty blanket up to his neck.

  They were opposite an apartment block near Hyde Park, London. On the ground floor, through a set of glass doors, they could make out a concierge sitting behind a desk, reading a magazine.

  There was a clock on the wall above his head and its second hand seemed to be moving way too fast.

  ‘They’re an hour late,’ Jack whispered into the microphone on his headset. ‘If they’re any later, we’ll have to –’

  ‘Relax,’ a voice said in his ear. ‘It’ll be fine.’ Obi was back at their headquarters, surrounded by sophisticated computers that could tap into CCTV systems around London.

  ‘What if they don’t deliver it?’

  ‘They will.’

  Jack sighed. This was a special mission they were doing for Obi and they couldn’t let him down. Obi used to live in the apartment building, so he was the right person to guide them through the next half an hour or so, but Jack felt uneasy about it. He was used to being in control. ‘What if they deliver it to the wrong place?’ he said.

  ‘They won’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Jack glanced at Charlie. ‘Wait, you do realise we have no way to –’

  Charlie’s bright green eyes widened and she pointed at a delivery van as it turned into the road.

  Jack let out a breath. ‘Thank God.’

  ‘Told you so,’ Obi said. ‘Get ready.’

  The van stopped in front of the apartment block’s entrance and the driver hopped out. He walked to the back of the van, whistling as he went, and threw open the doors.

  Charlie unzipped her backpack and took out a device shaped like a satellite dish, only this was a lot smaller. It was one of her homemade gadgets – a directional microphone, able to pick up the faintest whisper from a hundred metres away. She connected it to her headset so they could all hear.

  Jack pressed a pair of mini binoculars to his eyes.

  With a lot of grunts and moans, the delivery guy loaded a box on to a set of sack trucks and wheeled it to the glass doors.

  He pressed the buzzer.

  The concierge lowered his magazine.

  The delivery driver nodded at the box.

  After a few more seconds’ hesitation, the concierge typed a code into a keypad on his desk.

  Jack closed his eyes and listened to the tones the keypad made in his headset. When he opened them again, the delivery driver was wheeling the box across the foyer.

  ‘Did you get it?’ Obi said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jack whispered, keeping his attention on the building opposite.

  The concierge stepped around the desk, scratching his head.

  Charlie adjusted the directional microphone and his voice came through their earpieces.

  ‘Bit late for a delivery, isn’t it?’

  ‘Last one of the day,’ the delivery driver said.

  ‘Who’s it for?’ the concierge asked.

  The delivery driver set the box down and checked the details on his mobile computer. ‘Paul McCartney.’ He held it out for the concierge to sign.

  The concierge’s eyebrows rose. ‘The Paul Mc­Cartney?’ he said. ‘The guy from the Beatles?’

  The delivery driver shrugged. ‘I dunno.’

  Jack looked at Charlie and rolled his eyes, while Obi sniggered in their ears.

  The concierge crossed his arms. ‘There’s no one here with that name. You’ll have to take it back.’

  ‘Not likely,’ the delivery driver said. ‘The address is right. See for yourself.’

  The concierge didn’t move.

  ‘Look, mate. Just sign it, please? If no one claims it in the next few days, you can call the number at the bottom of the form and we’ll pick it up again. It’s Friday night, I gotta get home to the missus. She’ll throw a fit if I’m not back before eight. Last time she –’

  ‘All right, all right,’ the concierge snapped. ‘Give it here.’

  The delivery driver thrust the mobile computer at him.

  The concierge signed the screen and handed it back.

  The delivery driver winked. ‘Cheers,’ he said, and marched to the door.

  The concierge walked behind the desk and entered the security code into the keypad. To Jack’s ears, it sounded like musical notes. The door lock clicked open and the delivery driver left the building.

  Jack watched him drive off, then he refocused on the concierge – he was back to reading his magazine.

  So far, so good.

  ‘OK,’ Obi said. ‘It’s time.’

  There was a scratching sound.

  The concierge glanced up for a moment, then continued reading.

  There was another scratching sound.

  The concierge put his magazine down and listened.

  There it was again.

  He stood up and walked around his desk, following the sound, turning his head left and right, trying to locate where the noise was coming from. He paused for a moment, then bent down with his ear to the box.

  The scratching sound was coming from inside.

  The concierge continued to listen, unaware a tube had now slid out of a hole in the side of the box and was pointed directly at him.

  A small blast of gas hit him square in the face and he straightened up with a look of surprise. He staggered sideways and gripped the edge of the desk for support. He swayed there for a moment, then stepped behind it and picked up the phone’s receiver.

  He began to dial.

  Jack’s stomach tightened. ‘No, no, no.’

  But the concierge stopped dialling and his eyes lost their focus. He rocked backwards and collapsed in the chair. The phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

  The concierge gave a final jerk and fell unconscious.

  Jack stared at Charlie. ‘What was that gas stuff?’

  She grinned. ‘Best you don’t know.’

  ‘We’ll have to use that again sometime.’ Jack focused the binoculars at the box as the tip of a penknife blade poked out and, from the inside, someone cut open the tape securing the flaps.

  The blade retracted and, after a few seconds, a head with blonde flowing curls popped out and looked around.

  Wren was only ten – five years younger than Jack and Charlie – and the smallest of the Urban Outlaws. Hence she’d been the ideal one to use for this part of the mission.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Jack said, getting to his feet.

  Charlie stood and slid the directional microphone back into her hard-shell backpack.

  Jack adjusted the camera on his shoulder. ‘Image good?’ he asked Obi.

  ‘Yep. I can see everything.’

  Jack glanced up and down the road. ‘CCTV?’

  ‘No one’s watching.’

  Jack and Charlie hurried to the front door of the apartment building.

  Wren smiled and waved at them.

  Charlie waved back.

  ‘Get a move on, guys,’ Obi said. ‘Someone might come.’

  Wren climbed out of the box and walked behind the de
sk.

  Jack closed his eyes and remembered the precise sounds the keypad had made. ‘The code is: two, seven, seven, eight . . . three, five, five.’

  Wren typed in the numbers, the door buzzed and the lock disengaged.

  Jack pushed it open and gestured Charlie through.

  ‘That was clever,’ she said.

  ‘I know.’

  Charlie cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘Captain Modest.’

  They smiled at each other as they marched across the foyer.

  ‘Good job,’ Charlie whispered to Wren.

  Wren rubbed her neck. ‘I thought I was never gonna get out.’

  Charlie ruffled her hair. ‘You were brilliant.’ She turned away and whispered into her mic, ‘Obi, you said the lift’s down this hallway, right?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Charlie looked at Jack. ‘See you there.’

  He nodded.

  Charlie and Wren jogged around the corner and disappeared from view.

  Jack opened the door behind the desk, grabbed the back of the chair and wheeled the unconscious man through.

  The room beyond was a few metres square. Against the back wall was a small table with a kettle. To the left was a door with a WC sign.

  Jack tipped the concierge’s head back and checked his breathing. Fortunately, it was steady and strong.

  Satisfied he’d be OK, Jack slipped back through the door and closed it behind him. He peered around the foyer – no one was there – so he hurried down the hallway and into the lift with Charlie and Wren.

  Charlie had the button panel open, exposing a mess of wires and circuitry. She had clipped a small black box with a digital readout to several of the wires behind the panel and numbers scrolled down the screen. Now and again Charlie would press a button on the device.

  She glanced at Jack. ‘This is taking longer than I thought.’

  The lift was locked with a keypad. If they wanted to go to a specific floor, they had to hit that floor number and type in the corresponding code.

  They didn’t know the code to the penthouse, which Obi said was changed weekly. Charlie’s code extractor would find it for them. The only problem was, it was random. She had no control over the order in which codes for each floor would come up.

  ‘What ones have you got so far?’ Jack asked her.

  ‘Seven, one, two, six and nine.’ Charlie took a breath. ‘None of them close to the top floor.’

  Jack’s stomach tightened. Without the code, they wouldn’t be going any further.

  ‘Why can’t we go up the stairs?’ Wren said.

  ‘The cameras in the stairwell are on an isolated security system,’ Obi said. ‘They’re connected to a computer on the ninth floor.’

  ‘We couldn’t have turned them off at the concierge’s desk?’

  ‘No. He only monitors the cameras. He has no control over the main system.’

  Jack and Obi had spent a long time trying to work out how to get past the cameras. There was just no way to reach the computer on the ninth floor and shut down the security system. The only other way to turn off the cameras was to use the override panels in each of the apartments. But breaking into one of them was too risky – they had no way of knowing if people were home or not.

  If Jack, Charlie and Wren went up the stairs, the software would detect movement and call the secur­ity company. They would then phone the concierge, and if he didn’t answer, the cops would be there in minutes.

  Jack couldn’t help but be impressed with the building’s internal security and had to admit that he liked the challenge it posed. It was almost as if it was daring them to defeat it.

  ‘Come on,’ Charlie said through tight lips. The code extractor in her hand beeped and a series of six numbers appeared on the glowing display. Charlie hit a button to save it.

  Jack looked at her. ‘Penthouse?’

  She shook her head. ‘That was the code for the third floor.’

  Jack had a funny feeling the Penthouse would be the last number the device cracked, but after another minute, it beeped again.

  ‘Got it.’ Charlie reached around the panel and hit the button to the top floor.

  The doors closed and the lift started its ascent.

  Jack ran through the plan. They had to get to the penthouse, bypass the alarm system and find the –

  Suddenly, the lights went out and the lift came to a jarring halt.

  Wren gasped.

  Jack unclipped a torch from his belt and flicked it on.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Obi asked.

  ‘We’re in trouble,’ Charlie said. ‘The lift’s lost power.’

  ‘It’s not just the lift,’ Obi said. ‘There’s random blackouts all over London.’

  Charlie looked at Jack, her eyes wide. ‘The virus?’

  He nodded and a feeling of dread washed over him.

  The virus was a sophisticated piece of software with the potential to cripple any computer. It was their fault it had escaped to the internet, and now it was taking down power stations around London. If they didn’t get to it soon – Jack shuddered at the thought of how much damage the virus could do.

  They had to get this mission over with as quickly as possible, get back to the bunker and work out a way to stop the virus. But first . . .

  He shone his torch at the ceiling.

  For a few seconds, Jack imagined crawling on to the roof of the lift.

  The building was twelve storeys high and they had no climbing gear. Besides, as far as Jack knew, the shaft didn’t have a ladder, and even if it did, that was one risky climb.

  His stomach knotted. He hated heights.

  ‘We’re between floors,’ Charlie said, reading his mind.

  Jack let out a slow breath and shone the torch back up at the ceiling again.

  Nothing else for it.

  There were nine panels and the middle one had a latch. He looked at Wren. ‘Think you could unlock that for us?’

  She looked up. ‘Yeah.’ She seemed relieved at the prospect of getting out of the confined space, even if it was going to be dangerous.

  Jack cupped his hands into a stirrup for Wren to put her foot in and he lifted her up. ‘Mind the shoulder cam.’ He grabbed her legs, keeping Wren steady while she fumbled for the latch.

  After a moment, there was a click and the centre panel swung down. Jack lifted Wren higher. She grabbed the edge of the hatch and crawled on to the roof of the lift.

  Charlie was next through the hatch and once her feet had disappeared, Jack climbed up on to the handrail and sprang up, his fingers gripping the frame.

  Slink would’ve been proud of that move.

  With effort, Jack managed to haul himself on to the roof of the lift with the others.

  He got to his feet and shone his torch upwards. The lift shaft stretched above them, reminding him of the tunnels beneath the city. Except this went straight up.

  Jack considered waiting to see if the power would come back on, but that could be minutes or hours.

  The torch beam moved to a set of doors just above their heads.

  Jack slipped off his backpack and pulled out a stubby metal bar. He reached up, jammed the bar into the crack and tried to lever the doors apart.

  The bar slipped free and he staggered back.

  He tried again, but he still couldn’t get good leverage on the doors.

  When Jack failed for the third time, he swore loudly and turned to Charlie. ‘Any ideas?’

  She looked up and, after a moment she said, ‘Do you think you could give me a boost to that?’ She pointed at a flat box on the wall halfway up the fourth-floor doors.

  ‘I think so,’ Jack said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s the control mechanism. When the lift reaches that level, both sets of doors open. It’s directly connected to the door motors and I think I might be able to do something with it.’ She glanced at him. ‘With a bit of luck.’

  ‘You know what you’re doing though, right?’

  Cha
rlie shrugged. ‘Not so much.’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘Of course I do, idiot.’ Charlie smiled, slipped off her backpack, took out the code extractor and opened the back of it. She removed the battery and tore out a couple of wires. She placed them between her teeth and nodded at Jack.

  Jack leant against the wall of the lift shaft and made a stirrup again with his hands.

  Charlie put her foot in and he lifted her up.

  ‘Guys?’ Obi said in their ears. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Trying to solve a problem,’ Jack said, doing his best to hold Charlie steady.

  She pulled a screwdriver from her hip bag, undid the cover to the door controls and looked inside. After a moment, she reached in and connected the battery. There was a small spark and the doors to the lift shaft opened a few millimetres. She did it again and they opened another five millimetres or so.

  ‘All right,’ Charlie whispered. ‘That’s the best I can do without mains power.’

  Jack lowered her back down. He reached up again and jammed the bar into the gap in the doors. This time he got a better grip – he managed, with effort, to open them wide enough to get through.

  Jack clawed at the bottom edge of the door and hauled himself up. He shone his torch left and right, checking no one was around, then hoisted himself over the lip and slid on his belly into the corridor.

  Next, Jack spun around and held out his hands. Charlie lifted Wren up to him and he pulled her through.

  Wren leapt to her feet and pressed her back against the wall, her eyes scanning left and right, straining into the darkness as she kept a lookout.

  Jack turned back to help Charlie, but she was already sliding out next to him.

  She stood up and dusted herself off. ‘Stairs?’

  Jack shone his torch to the left. ‘This way,’ he whispered.

  They silently crept along the corridor, listening for even the faintest sound.

  At the end of the hallway, Jack opened the door to the stairwell. ‘We need to move fast,’ he whispered.

  If the cameras came back on, they’d be in trouble.

  How long would it take for the security computer to boot back up?

  Jack ushered Charlie and Wren through and the three of them raced up the stairs as fast as they could, only stopping when they reached the door to the penthouse.

  Catching his breath, Jack wondered how much time they had to make up. Speaking of which – ‘Obi,’ he said into his microphone. ‘How long do we have before the night shift starts and the next concierge gets here?’