‘I want the virus.’
‘You’re being stupid,’ Connor said. ‘Don’t let some program affect your judgment. Your father made –’
‘My father wanted the same thing as I do,’ Hector shouted. ‘He started all this and I’m going to see it through for him.’ Hector’s eyes blazed. ‘I told you I want the virus. Haven’t you been listening to me? Do you have any concept of what I could do with it?’ Hector turned slowly to Jack. ‘If I let your pathetic friends go, where are my guarantees?’
‘You don’t have any,’ Jack said. ‘You just have my word. Release the others and I’ll go with you and unlock the virus. Then you can do what you want with me.’
‘Jack,’ Charlie said. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘I do.’ Jack looked at Hector again. ‘It’s your call.’
‘Don’t do it,’ Connor warned him.
‘Shut up,’ Hector snapped. ‘I pay you to do what I say. Don’t you forget that for one second. When my dad wakes up . . .’ He looked at Monday. ‘Escort these four out.’
Monday stepped forward. ‘Go,’ he said in a deep voice, and started shoving Charlie, Obi, Wren and Raze towards the stairs.
Hector stepped up, his face an inch from Jack’s. ‘If you betray me, I will kill you.’
Jack stared back at him. He didn’t doubt Hector’s words for a second.
Fifteen minutes later, Jack, Hector, Cloud and Monday were in the black SUV as Connor drove across Waterloo Bridge.
Jack stared out of the window. The sun was starting to peer above the horizon, bathing the buildings in golden hues.
They turned left after the bridge and then a sharp right. Connor pulled into the alleyway next to a five-star hotel: a popular haunt for film stars and billionaires.
As they climbed out of the SUV, Monday kept a firm grip on Jack’s shoulder and they marched to the front of the building.
A doorman, dressed in a top hat and tails, bowed and held the door open.
The hotel foyer had a pale marble floor, red velvet chairs and silk wallpaper, and everything was trimmed in gold. It reminded Jack of a palace.
The concierge behind the reception desk smiled at Hector. ‘Good morning, sir.’
Hector strode past him and stood in front of the lift.
After a few seconds, the doors pinged and opened. The bellboy didn’t ask Hector for a floor number, he just pressed the button for the eighth floor and the doors slid shut.
They stood in silence as the lift rose. Classical music played quietly.
Connor’s eyes burned into Jack.
For the first time, Jack wasn’t sure he was going to get out of this mess alive.
The doors opened and Hector marched up the hallway, swiped a card in a lock and walked into a vast hotel suite.
The enormous lounge was furnished with plush sofas, and there were antiques and fragile-looking ornaments all around.
They escorted Jack through a door to the right and into an office. On the wall, under a brass picture light, hung a dark oil painting. It was of a small wooden boat, crammed with thirteen men, in a storm-tossed sea. The sail was up as the boat crashed over a huge wave.
Jack edged closer.
One of the men actually looked as though he was being sick over the side of the boat.
Monday grabbed Jack’s shoulder and spun him around.
Hector opened a cupboard on the far wall, revealing two computer servers. He looked at Cloud and pointed at the right-hand one.
Cloud sat behind the desk and fired up the screen. She typed and clicked for a few seconds, then looked up. ‘Ready.’
Monday shoved Jack forward.
Hector stepped in front of him. ‘Any more tricks and . . .’ He drew a finger across his throat.
Jack had the distinct feeling that tricks or not, Hector’s plan was to have him killed anyway.
Cloud stood up and moved out of the way as Jack walked around the desk and sat down.
He looked at the screen. There was a pop-up box, asking for the first, fourth and sixth letter of his biggest phobia, along with the first and third letters of the place he was born.
Jack glanced up at Hector.
‘Do it,’ Hector said.
Connor pulled back his jacket and gripped his gun.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Jack asked Hector. ‘You can walk away. This is your last chance.’
‘No,’ Connor said. ‘This is your last chance.’
Jack didn’t take his eyes off Hector.
‘I told you to do it,’ Hector said.
Jack pulled the keyboard towards him and typed the letters. After a few seconds, the pop-up box disappeared and a new window opened.
Cloud stepped forward, her eyes wide. She pushed Jack out of the way and leant into the screen.
‘Is it done?’ Hector said. ‘Do we have the virus?’
‘No.’
‘What?’
‘Wait.’ Cloud typed and clicked.
Hector paced the room, fists balled, his face burning red.
Cloud finally stopped and looked up at him, her eyes full of fear.
‘What’s he done?’ Hector said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘That shell program that was stopping the virus from running.’
‘What about it?’
Cloud swallowed. ‘The password wasn’t to free the virus. It did something else.’
Hector’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did it do?’
‘Opened a port on your network, connected to the internet and sent the program and virus back out.’
‘Out?’ Hector said. ‘Out where?’
Cloud shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Hector looked at Jack. ‘Where did you send it?’
Jack leant back in the chair and remained tight-lipped.
The computer let out a beep and the screen froze.
Cloud tried a few keys but the keyboard was locked. She shook the mouse and still nothing happened. Slowly, she turned to Jack.
They heard police sirens in the distance.
Jack smiled to himself. The plan was working – the tracker in his shoe had relayed his location, and Charlie and the others had called the cops.
Connor stepped to the window and pulled back the curtain, as the sirens grew louder. He roared and spun to Jack. ‘He’s set us up.’
Hector ran around the desk and grabbed Jack by the throat. ‘I’m going to keep my promise and kill you.’
‘That’s not a good idea,’ Cloud said.
Hector glanced at her. ‘Give me one good reason.’
‘Because this is your suite. You live here. If the police find the body of a dead fifteen-year-old kid in this room, they’ll arrest all of us.’
Hector’s grip tightened. ‘I don’t care.’
Sirens blared, tyres screeched and car doors slammed.
Connor peered out of the window. ‘We’re out of time. They’re here.’
Cloud turned and strode from the room.
‘Where are you going?’ Hector called.
‘We’re getting out of here.’
Hector swore and let go of Jack’s throat. As he marched from the room, he said, ‘Bring him with us.’
Monday yanked Jack from the chair and they hurried through the suite to the main door.
Cloud was already in the hallway, waiting for them. She pointed at the lift. ‘They’re on their way up.’ She marched to the exit sign at the end of the corridor and burst through into the stairwell.
They hurried down the stairs, with Cloud in the lead, followed by Hector, Connor, Jack and Monday.
At the bottom were two doors. One led to the foyer and the other had a sign on it which read, PERSONNEL ONLY. KEEP OUT.
Connor opened the door to the foyer a crack and peered through. He glanced around and pulled back again. ‘Five police officers,’ he whispered. ‘Two by the main door, two by the lifts and the other one is right near us. We go through there and we’re –’
‘Toast.’ He
ctor looked at Jack and his lip curled. ‘If we go down, you’re coming with us.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Go on then.’
Connor walked over to the door with the sign and peered inside. ‘It’s a corridor,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
As they marched along the hallway, Jack glanced up. There was a CCTV camera in the corner. The red LED blinked on and off three times.
Jack smiled to himself and relaxed a little. Obi was back at the Outlaws’ bunker and watching what was going on.
At the end of the corridor was another door with a round window.
Connor peered through it. ‘Kitchen,’ he said. ‘There’s a door at the other end. That probably leads to the alley where I parked the car.’ He glanced back.
Hector gave him the nod. ‘Let’s go.’
Connor pushed the door open and they strode into the kitchen.
As they walked between stainless-steel kitchen tops, the air was hot and filled with steam. Chefs barked orders at each other and the clatter of cutlery, pans and plates was deafening.
‘Hey,’ one of the chefs called to the group as they passed. ‘Who are you?’
‘Never you mind,’ Connor said.
Another chef stepped into Connor’s path. ‘We do mind.’ He pointed at the door to the stairwell. ‘Go back.’
Connor nodded towards the door to the alley. ‘We’re going through there.’
‘No,’ the chef said, drawing himself up to his full height. ‘You’re going back the way you came.’
Connor sighed. He looked at Hector, then at the chef. ‘Kitchen, you say?’ He opened his jacket, revealing the gun in the holster slung under his arm. ‘You sure it’s not a shooting range?’
The chef’s eyes widened and his gaze moved to a set of knives on the counter next to him.
‘I wouldn’t advise that,’ Connor said, his fingers sliding over the grip of his gun. ‘Now, this is your last chance, get out of our way and let us past.’
The door to the stairwell burst open behind them and two police officers stepped into the kitchen, guns drawn.
‘Hands above your heads,’ one of them shouted.
In one rapid move, Connor spun, pulled his gun out and fired.
The bullet hit the wall, missing one of the cops by a millimetre. Both of them returned fire and bullets ricocheted above Jack’s head.
Cloud and Monday drew their own guns and dived behind the counters.
Jack dropped to the floor and lay flat, with his hands over his head.
More shots rang out and people ran past him, shouting. He looked up. One of the cops spoke quickly into a radio, calling for backup.
Jack commando-crawled towards the alleyway door, keeping his head low, as the agents continued to exchange fire with Connor and Cloud.
Someone grabbed Jack’s leg.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ It was Monday. He pulled Jack around the corner and shoved him against a steel cabinet. He peered over the top of the counter, let off two rounds, then ducked as several more shots thudded around him.
Monday sat back and loaded another clip into his gun. He looked at Jack. ‘Stay here,’ he said, and stepped back around the corner, firing shots.
Suddenly, the lights went out, plunging the kitchen into complete darkness.
There were more shouts and gunshots flashed.
Someone gripped Jack’s arm and he tried to pull himself free.
‘It’s me,’ Charlie whispered into his ear. ‘I’m wearing night-glasses. I can see.’
Thank God, Jack thought.
‘Are you hurt?’ she whispered.
‘No.’ Jack got to his knees. ‘Was it you who called the police?’
‘Yeah, didn’t expect this though.’
Two more flashes started another barrage of gunshots and shouting.
Charlie led Jack around the counter. Each time a gun muzzle flashed, Jack caught a glimpse of the door to the stairwell.
‘Wrong way,’ Jack whispered.
Charlie stopped. ‘No.’
Hurried footsteps passed right in front of them, then when they’d gone, she continued forward. Charlie pushed open the door to the stairwell and slid out of the kitchen.
A red light glowed above the door to the foyer and they stood, catching their breaths. Charlie went to grab the handle when the door opened and three more cops rushed in. They shone their torches on Jack and Charlie.
‘Get out of here, kids,’ the lead one said, drawing his gun. ‘Hurry, and don’t look back.’
‘Thank you,’ Charlie said in a mock shaky voice. She took Jack’s hand and pushed through the door to the foyer.
Several more police officers and a SWAT team were getting ready to go in.
A cop saw Jack and Charlie. He ran over to them and ushered them across the foyer and out of the building.
Outside, the street was filled with flashing blue lights and the sky was a blood red.
The cop pointed past a cordoned-off area. ‘Go. That way.’
Other cops waved Jack and Charlie on as they jogged down the road. They ducked under the police tape and vanished into the crowd.
They heard the distinct sound of more gunshots.
Slink and Wren appeared by their sides.
‘Are you two OK?’ Jack asked.
‘Course,’ Slink said. ‘You all right?’
‘Yeah,’ Jack replied. ‘Thanks for getting the lights.’ Without the convenient blackout, Jack would’ve still been in there. Probably shot. Possibly dead.
‘It wasn’t me this time,’ Slink said, pointing at Wren. ‘She was the only one who could squeeze through the air vent.’
Wren puffed her chest out.
‘Thanks,’ Jack said. ‘You guys saved my life.’ He looked at the alleyway next to the hotel. ‘Their car,’ he said in sudden realisation. ‘We should disable it. Stop them from escaping.’ He took a step forward, but Charlie grabbed his arm.
She put a finger to her ear. ‘Obi says Hector, Connor and Cloud have already made it to the car.’ She paused. ‘They’re driving off. We’re too late.’
Jack swore.
Several police radios squawked and cops ran to their cars, jumped in and gave chase, sirens blaring.
‘Come on,’ Jack said, pulling up his hood. ‘Time to get out of here.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A week later, Jack and Charlie were sitting on a bench in Covent Garden. It was a bright, cloud-free day and people bustled past, without a second glance. On the bench between them, partly obscured by her bag, Charlie held the directional microphone. They slipped earphones in and she pointed it at a café opposite.
Obi was sitting at a metal table outside and he had just ordered a huge chocolate brownie. He’d insisted that Jack and Charlie come with him and listen to the conversation.
A woman in her early-to-mid twenties walked up. She had a slim figure, light brown hair and wore a fast-food restaurant uniform.
Jack knew this had to be Jessica – Obi’s sister.
Obi swallowed and wiped chocolate from his mouth. ‘Hi. How are you?’ he said.
Jessica dropped into the chair opposite. ‘I’m all right.’ She glanced at the remains of the brownie. ‘You’ve got to stop eating rubbish.’
‘Yeah.’ Obi half smiled. ‘You know I’m sorry, right?’
Jessica frowned. ‘Sorry for what?’
Obi picked up a napkin and twisted it in his hands. ‘It’s my fault you had an argument with our uncle.’
‘Where did that come from?’ Jessica said. ‘We’ve been through this before – it was not your fault. You can’t blame yourself.’
Obi continued to twist the napkin around his fingers.
Jessica leant over the table and took it from him. ‘Why do you even think that?’
Obi took a deep breath and looked at her. ‘You were arguing about me. You had a go at him.’
‘He was treating you badly,’ Jessica said.
‘Yeah,’ Obi said. ‘But –’ He
shrugged.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Finally, Jessica said, ‘Look, I never blamed you for him chucking me out of the house. I was old enough to look after myself.’ She traced her fingers along the pattern in the table. ‘When I realised he’d sent you to that home, I tried to get him to take you back, you know that, but he wouldn’t. I just wish I’d had the money to look after you myself.’
‘I’m doing OK,’ Obi said.
‘Are you ever going to tell me where you live?’
‘You wouldn’t believe me.’
Jessica looked away, seeming to wrestle with her own conscience.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,’ Obi said. ‘I just – I don’t – I didn’t want to –’
Jessica looked back at him. ‘Are you in trouble?’
Obi shook his head.
‘Are you safe?’
Obi nodded.
‘Please tell me where you’re staying.’
‘I live with my friends.’
‘Who are they?’ Jessica’s eyes hardened. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Nothing bad,’ Obi said. ‘We help people.’
Jessica frowned at this.
‘Trust me, Jess. I will tell you one day, I promise.’
Jessica sighed and said, ‘So, what’s new with you?’
‘I have something.’ Obi reached into the backpack by his chair and pulled out the Manila envelope. He looked at it, then slid it across the table.
Jessica stared. ‘What’s this?’
‘Your future,’ Obi said. He took a breath. ‘Our future.’
Jessica folded her arms again.
‘Take a look,’ Obi said. ‘Please?’
She picked up the envelope. Jessica frowned at the handwriting on the front, then slid out the paper, unfolded it and started to read.
Obi stared intently at her.
As the seconds turned into minutes, Jessica’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock. Finally, when she had finished reading, she held the paper in her shaking hands and looked at Obi again. ‘This –’ Her voice cracked and she swallowed. ‘This is real?’ she said in a whisper.
Obi nodded. ‘Yep.’
She leant forward. ‘How – how did you get this?’
‘From the mansion in France.’
Jessica’s eyebrows lifted. ‘You went to France?’
Blackout Page 19
