Ciphers by Matt Rogers (ereader with dictionary .txt) 📕

we did this.’

‘Did what?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘The blackout?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Like — we’re responsible for it?’

‘He was a junkie,’ Slater said, trying to reassure himself more than King.

King said, ‘A junkie who knew where you were. Who shot at you.’

Slater shivered involuntarily.

King paused, ‘You okay?’

Slater looked up. ‘You’d think I’d be numb to it by now, but I’m not.’

‘Numb to what?’

‘He got close to hitting me.’

‘How close?’

‘Inches.’

‘Christ.’

‘That rattles you. No matter how much experience you have.’

‘I know.’

‘You think he’s going to be the only one to shoot at me tonight?’

‘We don’t know what this is yet. We don’t know how long it’s going to last.’

‘What’s your estimation?’ Slater said.

King raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’

‘How long until this gets really bad?’

‘Two days.’

‘You think? That soon?’

‘I don’t know enough about it.’

‘When are we going to find out more?’

King held up the phone in his palm.

‘When this phone rings,’ he said.

It rang.

Started shrilling in his hand like he’d planned it all along, and with an ominous scowl on his face he lifted it to his ear and swiped across the touchscreen.

Slater sat perfectly still and watched King’s face. The man stared ahead, listening hard. He muttered a few agreements. Slater spent the time assessing his condition. His vision wasn’t wobbling anymore. He wasn’t detached. He could feel the dried beads of sweat on his forehead, the clamminess of his hands, the chill of the penthouse. When the space was brightly lit and filled with guests, it provided a level of comfort few apartments could match. It inspired awe. But here and now, drenched in shadow with its high ceiling and polished floor and the two of them alone in the cavernous space, it felt far too big.

Far too vulnerable.

King finished up the conversation and hung up.

He said, ‘We can’t stay here.’

‘Why not?’

‘She didn’t go into detail.’

‘Are we really going to get into this again?’

‘What?’

‘We had problems with that in Nepal. And before that, too. She’s consistently sparse on the details and it drives me—’

‘She’s downstairs.’

Slater paused. ‘Oh.’

‘In the lobby.’

‘Right.’

‘She’s going to give us all the details she has in person. She doesn’t trust this line.’

‘It’s encrypted.’

‘So was the power grid. It didn’t stop them losing it.’

Slater didn’t immediately respond. He processed it. Then he said, ‘Are you serious?’

‘Completely.’

‘That’s bad.’

‘That’s why we’re needed.’

‘You don’t seem like you’re losing your mind over it.’

‘I’m trying to compartmentalise. You should too.’

Slater wiped his brow. Gnashed his teeth together, then reached out and gripped the edges of the armchair. Used them to haul himself to his feet, and then he started pacing back and forth in front of the windows, head bowed, mind racing.

King said, ‘There’s nothing we can change by worrying over this. All we can do is act.’

‘I’m not a fucking robot,’ Slater said. ‘You tell me some rogue entity has seized control of the power grid and you expect me to just nod and ask what’s expected of us next?’

‘Yes,’ King said. ‘That’s exactly what I expect you to do. I expect the same from myself. We’re government operatives. This isn’t play school.’

Slater knew the reason for his stress. It was the fading of the alcohol, the return of clarity, the sudden realisation that shit was about to hit the fan. Deep in his inebriation the whole blackout had seemed like a sick joke. Now it was real, and the consequences were prevalent.

He turned to King and said, ‘Are you sure it’s a cyberattack?’

‘That’s what she said. I expect we’ll get more details when we’re downstairs. We’re wasting time.’

‘Let’s go then.’

They set off toward the door in unison, but halfway there the phone shrilled again.

King answered.

Slater watched his face fall.

18

As the phone rang, King read the contact name: Violetta LaFleur.

She’d been straight to the point before, but that was nothing out of the ordinary when work was the subject of conversation. This was an ominous situation, but it was nothing that couldn’t be resolved by level-headed thinking. His entire career had been a series of impossible tasks resolved time after time through concentrated effort. So he wasn’t panicking yet.

Not until he picked up the phone and heard her rasping for breath.

Before he could speak, she panted, ‘Get downstairs. And arm yourselves.’

His face fell.

He saw Slater notice.

He said, ‘Are you in the building?’

‘Yes. The lobby’s been breached. The staff are dead. I’m taking cover, but there’s—’

No time, King thought.

He said, ‘Stairs?’

‘Elevator.’

King turned to Slater and said, ‘Elevator. Now.’

Slater didn’t hesitate for a moment. He lurched forward, threw the front door open, raced out into the corridor and disappeared from sight.

Just before he vanished, King saw him reaching back for the Colt in his waistband.

King doubled back into the kitchen, yanked one of the drawers open in the kitchen island and came out with a Sig-Sauer P320. It was a weapon he’d become intimately familiar with during his time in Nepal, and after surviving against a horde of Maoist insurgents from the foothills using the very same handgun, he’d kept one in his kitchen as a backup plan in case his home was ever breached. Now he pivoted and raced to offer Slater backup, keeping the phone pressed to his ear the whole time.

‘How many?’ he said as he sprinted out the front door.

Violetta started to answer, but she was cut off by gunshots from her end of the line.

The call went dead.

Then more gunshots blared outside the apartment.

King tucked the phone away, lurched to a halt outside his penthouse and surveyed the scene.

He needn’t have bothered with the backup.

Sometimes he forgot who Will Slater was.

There were four bodies against the far wall of the elevator, its metal walls now drenched in blood. They were all men, their faces masked by balaclavas and their torsos clad with body armour. They were dressed in casual-wear underneath the Kevlar vests — denim jeans, and button-up shirts rolled past their forearms. That way they could blend in as they approached the building on foot. More importantly, there were Heckler & Koch G36C compact assault rifles in their hands. None