Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  It was the classic ‘it can never happen to me’ syndrome!

  The emergency services were crippled. They were in exactly the same situation as everyone else. People involved in accidents died where they fell, since no help was ever coming because ambulances, fire tenders and police cars were stuck in traffic. 999 emergency calls soon went unanswered. Fires went unquenched, and spread unchecked because there were no fire fighters available. Snow doesn’t put out a raging house blaze.

  Hospitals and care homes for the elderly were cut off. As power failed, the patients froze. The elderly living ‘home-alone’ stood no chance.

  Supplies to commercial premises were non-existent. Delivery trucks were stuck in snow - the drivers freezing. Access to shopping centres was all but impossible as drifts soon blocked entrances – and exits!

  The workplace was virtually empty and mostly unproductive. Only a small percentage of determined but foolhardy folk had reached work, and they were now struggling to survive or attempting to return home. Industry had ground to a standstill. Loyalty to employers had quickly taken second place to personal survival. Schools were closed and children who had managed to trudge in throwing snowballs were now cut off with beleaguered teaching staff.

  The government was bewildered. As luck would have it Parliament was dissolved pending a new administration. The PM was confined to Downing Street with no way to initiate help or relief. His advisors were spread throughout the country facing their own personal crises. Help from abroad was impossible, as communications were just about non-existent.

  Communications were indeed quickly breaking down. Across the country, power cables were breaking under the strain of wind and snow. Drifting snow was blocking ventilation outlets on masts around the countryside. As a consequence, communication masts – for TV, radio and mobile phones were ceasing to function. Moreover, of course, there was no one willing or able to repair them.

  Power stations were under pressure as well. Understaffed – routine maintenance was not being carried out - and slowly but surely, the power output was being interrupted. Similar circumstances applied at gas outlets. A few lucky people possessed LPG, but that would soon run out – or cease to function if it wasn’t Propane, in sub-zero conditions. Temperatures had already dropped to minus ten degrees centigrade. The primary problem was manpower – or rather lack of it. If employees couldn’t travel to and from work, then essential maintenance and standard daily operations could not take place. Mechanical and electrical failures were bound to occur – and they did!

  Even if people could travel – and largely many couldn’t care less about going to work – their priority was to ensure the safety of their own person and their own families.

  Who could blame them?

  What would you do?

  Consequently, this was the situation just a day and a half into a violent and sustained snowstorm in the UK. What would the next few days bring? It was already a life and death scenario. Many had died already.

  No power, no heat, no light, no water, no communications and no food.

  And if the snow didn’t stop – perhaps no hope?

  Day 30

  Monday 13th January - Noon

  Hotel Metropole – Brussels

  Andrew Brady was sitting in the bar of the five-star hotel provided free of charge by the ‘divine and charming’ Ann Fletcher. He had re-lived the devastating events of the past evening time and time again, but could not reconcile the apparent facts.

  Ann Fletcher’s dreadful words flooded back:

  ‘You poor, gullible fool! Your daughter! She’s not your daughter, Andy. Perhaps you should have checked her real date of birth? She was actually born in November of that year – not May. You’re not her father – in fact I’m not really sure who is – but you are certainly not!

  You just happened to come along at a convenient time and place. I needed you to provide the smokescreen for the unauthorised rescue attempt. It’s all well documented, I can assure you – including your pulling rank and using my name to acquire equipment and weapons, and hi-jacking the helicopter to sneak into England! All quite advantageous really. Wrongly assuming you were Chloe’s father and going off half-cocked. It’s all in the file – and can be released at any time I choose. So, back off Group Captain. Chloe is mine – and mine alone - and that’s how she’s going to stay!’

  Brady had been at a loss for words as the truth began to dawn on him. He’d been duped and cruelly used. Annie had conned him from the first minute they had met in that gymnasium in Holland. He had been a complete and utter pawn in her sick game of manipulation.

  Was Chloe really his daughter? Was Annie bluffing? Had he really been so stupid and gullible?

  These questions spun around and around in his head as he tried desperately to make sense of the situation. Chloe had overheard the conversation in the restaurant and had stormed out before Ann could prevent it. There had followed a brief exchange of ‘pleasantries’ before the newly appointed Deputy Prime Minister flounced off, leaving Brady to lick his wounds. He had returned to his hotel in an emotional turmoil, and had downed several very large Scotch Whiskies in a futile attempt to calm his temper.

  If what Ann said was at all possibly true and Chloe was not his daughter, then it would be his first priority to confirm the matter – one way or the other. He had grown very fond of Chloe in the short time he'd known her, and he owed it to the girl to clarify the position.

  Only then could they both go forwards.

  He returned to his suite, a little the worse for wear and relaxed on the sofa watching Belgian TV, which was summarising the day’s developments in the UK. Snowbound Britain was the main news story on every channel, as the repercussions of the storm began to spread into every facet of European life.

  Brady poured himself another Scotch and listened with interest as a German politician posed serious questions as to the ability of the United Kingdom to make a full – or even temporary – financial recovery. He was complaining that the refugee situation was creating a huge and unreasonable financial and social burden on the peoples of Europe – and this state of affairs could not continue ‘ad infinitum’.

  ‘Well, it didn’t take them very long to begin to shed any shred of sympathy or compassion,’ he thought cynically. ‘Typical!’

  Conversely, the German was absolutely correct. The rest of the world could not continue to prop-up the UK indefinitely – the pull on national resources was just too strong to bear.

  Brady was pondering the options for the future – and his own part to be played, when there came a gentle knock on the hotel room door. He anticipated that Ann had dispatched one of her heavies to convince Brady to ‘wind his neck in,’ so he prepared himself for the inevitable scene.

  However, as he opened the door, he was surprised – and delighted – to see his daughter Chloe, and Chris, standing in the corridor.

  ‘Hello, Dad. I think we've got a lot to talk about!’

  Day 30

  Monday 13th January

  HQUKRA – Brussels

  Dame Ann Fletcher was intensely irritated.

  Her confrontation with Brady the previous evening had not gone well. She had been forced to reveal her hand before she was quite ready, and to make the situation worse, Chloe had overheard the entire conversation and was now fully aware of the true story.

  She wasn’t that troubled about Brady or his feelings – she had much, much bigger fish to fry. However, she was concerned about her daughter and was puzzled by her temporary disappearance. It was important that she traced the couple as soon as possible, so that she could attempt to recover the situation. Ann wanted to explain her position to her daughter, although she imagined that Chloe might now be a tougher nut to crack. She’d heard that Ann had deceived Brady and had stormed off with her wretched boyfriend. Ann already had one of her tame security agents searching for the pair and once found, she would ensure that Chloe did not slip out of her clutches again.

  Dame Ann was embroi
led in plans that would secure both of their futures, and the last thing she needed was to have a loose cannon distracting her attention from the vitally important matters at hand.

  Her ex-husband might be a more difficult problem, but she was working on that. Ann was confident that she could control the hapless Brady, and would take the appropriate steps in due course.

  For the time being, she should concentrate her mind on the minutiae of the plans to recover the gold bullion sitting in the vaults of the Bank of England in London. Richard Castle – her partner-in-crime – was dealing with the specific arrangements, but she was determined to double-check his every move. In any case, it would be his hands that were dirtied if anything went wrong!

  There was far too much at stake for any slip-ups at this stage. A strict timetable had been planned and any miscalculation regarding specific details of the scheme could prove disastrous.

  As was her practice, she put Brady and Chloe temporarily out of her mind and decided that she should request an interview with Sir Ian James, the newly appointed Prime Minister. She had several requests to make and required approval of the plan to extract the British Gold Reserves. She also wanted to confirm that Sir Ian would indeed be out of the way in the United States whilst the plan was in progress.

  He was the one man who might see through her machinations.

  ***

  Sir Ian James sat quietly at his desk, contemplating the reaction and potential fall-out following his address to the world. He fully appreciated the impossible and virtually insoluble situation in which he found himself.

  He had bared his soul to the world, and could only wait and see if he was to be granted the breathing space that he, and the nation, required.

  The rescue operations continued, but had been temporarily stalled by the rainfall that now covered the British Isles. This unwelcome downpour was accelerating the melting process and was creating worsening conditions on the surface. Any of the snow survivors who had not reached higher ground – or preferably a high and dry building – would soon encounter severe peril. Water was beginning to flow and floods were surging across the country. He sincerely empathised with the survivors who would now be struggling against a new foe – and prayed that the rain would stop as predicted by the Met Men. It was due to pass through the UK by the next morning, and Sir Ian hoped that the promised high-pressure system would soon establish itself, so that rescue ops could continue.

  The other main and immediate priority was the liberation of Britain’s Gold Reserves from London. He was under increasing pressure from his European colleagues to show that Britain could start to make a fiscal contribution to the recovery process. Although several billion US dollars had been contributed and promised by international subscription and public donation, it would not be enough to subsidise the road to full recovery. It would barely cover current rescue operations – fuel, food and medical supplies cost money!

  Sir Ian didn’t imagine for one second that a full recovery would happen in his lifetime, so he had concluded that his immediate job was to conduct a programme of damage limitation. His aim was to convince the nations of the world that extreme forbearance was required, and that abandoning the UK was not a viable option. He must assure them that British interests were International interests, and that ‘pulling the rug’ would be a huge misjudgement. Clearly, there were elements throughout the world that couldn’t be happier that Britain found itself in mortal combat for its survival. These malevolents must be marginalised, and it must be clearly demonstrated that it was in their long-term interests to support a British recovery.

  Of course, there would be a great deal of fast-talking to be done, and Sir Ian’s persuasive skills would be sorely tested. Although he knew that Dame Ann was not perfect and possessed maverick tendencies, he fully appreciated that she was a gifted politician, diplomat and organiser. He couldn’t afford to dispose of her services at this point – because frankly, there was no one else of the necessary calibre who could remotely fill her shoes.

  She was due to meet with the PM later that evening, prior to Cabinet, and he decided that he might rein her in just a fraction. She would be in sole control whilst he was in New York next week, and he needed to set firm boundaries. He only hoped that Ann would be confined by those limits.

  He was not overly confident.

  ***

  Dame Ann presented herself at 5pm to Sir Ian’s office.

  ‘Have we received much feedback following the broadcast, Ann?’

  ‘Not really, Ian, although I took a phone call from the French finance minister who hinted strongly that France was struggling to cope with the numbers of British refugees remaining in the country. I persuaded him to be patient, and that we were implementing an urgent plan to provide significant funding which would go some way towards relieving the pressure.’

  Sir Ian was phlegmatic.

  ‘We’re going to come under increasing criticism during the coming days and weeks – which brings me to the arrangements for the gold extraction. How are we doing?’

  ‘It's all under control, Prime Minister, and perhaps I may be allowed to brief Cabinet at six o’clock. A full file will be on your desk by 9am tomorrow morning. There are just one or two fine details to be ironed out.’

  ‘That's very good, Ann. We do need to reassure some of our European allies that we can fund some of the rescue programme. Clearly, the long-term prognosis is not favourable, and it won't take very long for our enemies to work it out and highlight that fact. Realistically, I cannot imagine a meaningful re-habitation of the UK for many, many years, probably at least a generation. The flooding will cause far more damage than the snow, and we will be obliged to make some unpopular decisions.’

  Ann picked up Sir Ian’s tone.

  ‘May I assume that re-location will become our main priority?

  Sir Ian sighed.

  ‘I'm afraid so, Ann. We must convince our citizens that their only option for a meaningful future will be to re-locate. Sadly, they will be reluctantly obliged to acknowledge and accept that anybody remaining in the UK after today is essentially lost. We must continue the search for survivors and clearly, more will be found as the weeks pass by, but this rain is going to wash everything and everybody into the sea. Frankly, disease control and corpse recovery are going to be two of our major priorities.’

  ‘I am forced to agree, Ian. There are already reports of bodies being washed into the sea. Have you any view on how we should recover and dispose of the corpses?’

  The Prime Minister was clearly distressed. After all, his wife remained in the UK.

  ‘I really don’t know, Ann. There are complex moral and logistical issues which are all but impossible to resolve. We just don’t have the resources to recover and identify over fifty million dead bodies. It's almost unmanageable! However, we have to win the hearts and minds battle. Our citizens will demand that we treat their families with respect and honour. However, that is not always going to be possible or practicable. Consequently, at some point in the future we will be obliged to declare that unless a survivor is identified and named by an arbitrary date specified by us – then relatives will have to recognise that it is extremely unlikely that their loved ones will reappear or be accessible for a formal burial. It may be that I have to persuade the UN to sanction our disposal methods. After all, there are millions of foreign nationals amongst the dead and missing.’

  Ann listened in silence, thanking her initiative that had allowed Chloe to be rescued before it began to rain. However, she was not one to brood or lose sleep over problems she could not affect or influence. Consequently, she would now concentrate her efforts on the gold extraction strategy and leave the emotive issues to Sir Ian.

  ‘Cabinet is scheduled for 6pm, Ian. Are you ready?’ she reminded him gently.

  The PM rose wearily from his leather chair and exhaled noisily.

  ‘I suppose so, Ann. Once more unto the breach! I’d be grateful if you could chair the meeting this evening �
�� I'm completely drained.’

  Ann was delighted, as she could now grasp the opportunity to re-establish her status and power base. However, she had one favour to ask of the PM before they proceeded to Cabinet.

  ‘No problem, Ian. However, I would be appreciative of a few days off before you fly to New York. Perhaps seventy-two hours to slip away and re-charge the batteries. I’d fly out first thing tomorrow morning and return by midnight on Thursday. Literally, I'd be shutting myself away for a couple of days – no phone, no meetings, no snow’

  ‘Of course, Ann. You deserve a break. I fly to the United States on Friday morning, so we can catch up again late on Thursday.’ The PM noted that Ann must have already booked flights, assuming that he would give his permission.

  Ann acknowledged his approval and inwardly sighed with relief as they ambled towards the Cabinet room.

  Day 30

  Monday 13th January

  UK SITUATION REPORT

  The Search and Rescue mission continued unabated.

  Survivors were being picked up all over the British Isles, as hundreds of helicopters swarmed across the country, searching and re-searching every village, every island, every supermarket, every block of flats and every sign of life – however remote.

  Most of the people rescued were in an appalling state – cold, wet, malnourished and despairing. Some desperate and frantic citizens who feared that they might be left behind had overwhelmed several helicopters in their panic. In some cases, the crews of the smaller helicopters could not control the hordes trying to scramble aboard their aircraft, and nearly a dozen had crashed - and the pilots killed whilst attempting the pick-up.