Blackout & Burn: A Complete EMP Thriller Series

by Rebecca Fernfield

  Jessie smiles at the woman. “Of course. Give me a minute and I’ll pop it round.”

  “Thank you. I’ll wait on your knock,” she finishes and turns to step down.

  ANDY KNEADS CLARISSA’S shoulder as they stand in front of the fireplace. The muscles are knotted as he massages her neck. He can understand why; he’s had a tension headache since her phone call too.

  “And what did you do with the laptop and memory stick then?” he asks, noticing how rich and glossy her dark hair is in the candlelight as she recounts the story of the attack in the office.

  “The laptop was already here. It’s upstairs. I’d dropped the memory stick on the office floor.” She tuts, smiles and shakes her head. “Clumsy!”

  Stupid! “Yeah,” he laughs in agreement.

  “When he pushed me to the floor I managed to grab it. I dropped it into my pocket just before I sprayed him with the Mace.”

  “Hah! I bet that made him wince!”

  “I think it saved my life, Andy,” she says trembling a little at the memory.

  “So where is it now?”

  “Oh, I’ve made sure it’s safe this time! Do you really think Melody is involved? I know she’s power-hungry but-”

  “Well, Bill said she was chatting to the Russian in your office before you came. I guess that’s good evidence.”

  “I know but ... I never realised how ruthless she really was!”

  “You don’t get to be Director without being ruthless!” he says with a wry grin.

  “No! True, but risking it all for a deal with the Russians?”

  “Perhaps she was forced into it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Whatever reason she had though she’s going to do time for her mistake ... if she is involved”

  “I can’t see the Russians letting her live if she’s caught. They’d be too afraid of what she might say.”

  “Oh! ... What a mess! I wish I’d never found out! I wish I’d listened to you and closed the case instead of digging just that bit deeper.”

  Yes, yes you should.

  “Today has been hell and I feel ... so guilty!”

  “Guilty? Why on earth should you feel guilty for doing your job?”

  “Well, it’s put us all in danger. If-”

  “Now, now, Clarissa,” he says gently and turns her to face him. “You’re just doing your job, and you’re damned good at it too!”

  “Yes,” she sighs. “But-”

  Her words stop as he bends to kiss her, the best way he can think of shutting her up.

  “I’ll look after the evidence if it makes you feel any better?”

  “No. No, I’ll keep it. It’s safe.”

  “Safe?”

  “Yes, upstairs, in my bedroom. As soon as this is over I’ll be uploading it straight to Clarvis.”

  Not a chance! “Agreed.”

  “And as soon as we get back online, I’m following the other leads. That’s where the fun starts!”

  “Fun?” he laughs with a sinking feeling in his gut.

  “Yes, fun. That’s where I start looking under the stones and finding out exactly who’s involved—see how far up the ladder the laundering goes.”

  “Right to the top?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Nausea waves over him. There’s no choice. He’d have to succeed where Bolstovsky’s man had failed. If he didn’t then he’d be next on their list of loose ends—of that he was sure.

  He cups her chin in his hand then leans in to kiss her again - Judas! - and she responds with the softest of kisses. His heart races as adrenaline begins to surge. Fight or flight, Andy? Your choice ... Fight! Since when was murdering a woman a fight? Shut up!

  “It’s late,” he says. “Why don’t you go up and get some sleep. We’ll set off for Bramwell in the morning.”

  She smiles at his suggestion. “You know, I’m kind of looking forward to being holed up in a cosy cottage with you.”

  “Me too,” he lies and watches as she leaves the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The moonlight shines down on Alex’s face as they walk back across the garden to the house. Jessie takes a moment to sit on the low wall and inhales the sweet fragrance of the honeysuckle that curls around the archway that leads to the lawn. It doesn’t disguise the lingering and acrid smell of the smoke that hangs in the air. The aroma is intoxicating and relaxes a little of her tension. After today, she’s as tightly wound as a spring. Above, bright clusters of white light fill the dark sky.

  “I’ve never seen them like that before,” Alex says as he tilts his head back and looks to the stars. “Not in England anyway.”

  “It’s the light pollution,” Jessie replies. “There isn’t any now. The difference is incredible isn’t it—makes you realise just how much we’re missing with all the lights.”

  “It’s beautiful ... Jessie.”

  “Yes?” she asks turning to him.

  The moonlight sits across his cheek and even in this light she can see the brightness in his eyes. He leans into her and she closes her eyes. A shock runs through her as their lips touch. She slips her arm across his back and returns his kiss, losing herself to the softness there. All the tension and worry of the past two days disappears.

  THE GLOW CATCHES URI’S attention and he steps across the road to take a better look. The window is bright with fire as it eats into the curtains. Mesmerised, he watches from the kerb as the flames dance among the silk flowers. The fire twists, turns, and fills the room with smoke. As the glass becomes blackened with soot, he turns and walks back down the road, flinching as the glass shatters with heat. He looks back to the tall Georgian house as the flames lick through the cracks in the window and make the red of the geraniums brighter.

  ALEX PULLS BACK, BREAKING their kiss with a jolt.

  “What is it?” Jessie asks in confusion. Has she done something wrong?

  “Do you smell smoke?”

  She sniffs at the air. “Yes. It’s acrid, like a settee or something, but it will do, after all the fires.”

  “No. It smells close,” he says sniffing at the air. “Jessie! There’s smoke coming from your chimney!”

  Looking up, smoke curls into the sky, grey against the black of night. For a moment she wonders who made up the fire in the living room. No one! “No!” she shouts and runs to the house.

  Walking into the kitchen, the smell is stronger and there’s a haze in the hallway. Smoke seeps from beneath the closed door of the living room and as she reaches the stairs she can feel the heat behind it.

  “Alex! It’s in the living room!” she gasps.

  “Don’t’ open it!”

  “The paint on the door is bubbling! In the cellar—there’s a fire extinguisher.”

  “Jessie—if the door’s that hot, then the fire behind it is raging. Don’t touch the door,” he commands and runs up the stairs.

  “Mum and Stella!” she gasps. “Get them out!”

  “Which rooms?” he asks as they race up the stairs.

  “To the left—Mum’s is above the living room!”

  “I’ll get her. You get Stella.”

  As Alex opens the door of her mother’s bedroom, she runs to the opposite door and throws it open. “Stella! Fire. Get up, there’s a fire!” she shouts and runs across to the bed, shaking Stella’s arm violently.

  “What?” she says sitting bolt upright in bed.

  “A fire—in the living room. We’ve got to get out.”

  “Mum! What about Mum?”

  “Alex has gone for her. Just get downstairs and onto the lawn at the back,” she commands as Stella grabs her jeans and pulls them on. “Don’t worry about getting dressed,” she says in consternation.

  “I have to. If the house burns down I’ve got nothing and where am I supposed to get new stuff from when we can’t get money from the bank?”

  Cold runs over Jessie. Stella was right. They’d lose everything! Everything she’s stored in the cellar, everything that will help
them survive!

  “OK. Get dressed, but just grab your clothes and get down to the lawn.”

  “Andy and Bill?”

  She was supposed to wake them for their turn on the watch! “I’ll go for them. Just get downstairs please!” As she runs from Stella’s room, heart hammering hard in her chest, Alex reappears from her mother’s room.

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s packing a bag!”

  “What! Mum!” she says leaning into the room. She looks on in horror. Smoke has begun to fill the room. “Mum!”

  “I’m coming! I can’t leave naked!” her mother calls back from behind the open wardrobe door.

  “Get her, Jessie,” Alex shouts. “I’ll get Bill and Andy.”

  “Mum! Please! Come out,” Jessie says. The heat rising up from the room below is intense. “The fire is directly below you.”

  “I’ve got to find it!”

  “Find what?”

  “My laptop and ... oh, here it is,” she says rising from the floor. She stands, grabs a handful of clothes from the wardrobe and stuffs them into her bag along with whatever she’s found under the bed.

  “Mum!” Jessies shouts. “Get out of there!” Jessie’s heart races as she stands at the doorway.

  The floor judders and Jessie screams as it shunts downwards. Her mother stares at her from across the bed. “Run!” Jessie screams as flames shoot from below and catch at the curtains. The corner of the room is aflame within seconds as the centuries old beams holding the floor in place begin to break. Her mother seems unable to move as a tearing shriek sounds from the floor. The bed shifts. If she doesn’t move she’ll die! Jessie steps into the room, her arms outstretched. “Mum! Come to me,” she shouts. Another screech sounds as Jessie reaches the bed. The smoke is thick now and she coughs as she reaches the bed and her mother. The floor beneath is hot. Grabbing her mother’s arm, she pulls, yanking her forward. As they run for the door the floor creaks again and then the bed shunts towards the wall. With all the strength she can muster she throws her mother forward. She lands with a thud across the door’s threshold. As Jessie jumps to the other side the floor judders. She turns and drags her mother as fire runs across the carpet and licks at her bare feet. She screams as Jessie pulls her to safety and the fire consumes the bed then dances on the door’s frame.

  Pulling her mother up she runs to the stairs. Alex appears with Bill.

  “Where’s Andy?” he asks.

  “I’m here!” he calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Where’s Clarissa! Is she alright?”

  “Yes,” Clarissa calls back.

  “Stop talking and just move!” Jessie commands and urges her down the stairs.

  Smoke hangs thick under the hallway’s ceiling as they reach the ground floor and she runs her mother into the kitchen then looks back to the cellar. She has to get the essentials! Small blackened ovals have appeared on the wooden panels of the living room door and the paint is blistered—she’ll have time to get them if she’s quick.

  “Jessie!”

  “Go to the garden, Mum.”

  “You too!”

  “I’ve got to get our stuff from the cellar.”

  “Jessie, no!”

  “I’ll be one minute.”

  “No!” her mother repeats.

  Ignoring her mother’s plea, she runs to the cellar, grabs the torch hanging on the back of the door, and shines it down the steps. Her rucksack, the one she’d meant to fill as her bugout bag, sits empty on the bench. Stupid! She’d meant to get it filled, had thought of everything she needed to put in it, but had put it off and then run out of time. Lesson learned!

  Grabbing the plastic boxes from beneath the table and throwing their lids to the floor, she grabs packets of dried food, a medical kit, her survival bow, two tightly wrapped sleeping bags and a tarpaulin. As she reaches for another box, a crash sounds from above and a waft of hot air pulses down into the cold cellar. An orange glow lights up the steps. Sweat beads on her forehead. ‘Stay calm, Lockhart. Keep it together.’ Fire extinguisher. Where is it? She swings the torch round and shines it at the bank of shelves at the back of the room. A small, kitchen fire extinguisher sits alongside a fire blanket. She slips the rucksack over her shoulders and grabs the blanket, unrolling it and throwing it over her head then grabs the extinguisher. Holding the blanket low over her head, she climbs the stairs and grabs her crossbow from the hook on the wall where it hangs in her bag.

  The heat is intense as she reaches the top and fire licks at the cellar door. To her horror, fire has spread across the floorboards of the hallway and surrounds the kitchen doorway. Holding out the fire extinguisher she sprays it in front of her and runs through to the kitchen. The fire crackles and spreads along the ceiling as she runs. As she reaches the back door an enormous crash sounds and the house judders.

  “Jessie!” her mother screams as she steps out of the house.

  The heat is immense and even the cool of the night doesn’t damp the warmth about her legs.

  “Fire, Jessie! You’re on fire!” Stella screams.

  “Stop, drop and roll!” Alex demands.

  Without a second thought she throws the extinguisher forward then drops to the grass and rolls over and over. Within the next seconds hissing sounds and she’s enveloped in a white mist. She coughs as someone pats at her legs.

  “It’s out!”

  She lies completely still waiting for the pain. It doesn’t come. Relieved she sags back against the rucksack. A hand reaches down and gives her a gentle tug.

  “What do you think you were doing?” Alex asks angrily.

  “I had to get our stuff.”

  “Was it worth risking your life?”

  “No,” she admits, “but it could save a life.”

  “Jessie!” he says with exasperation. “Don’t pull a stunt like that again,” he reprimands and pulls her to him. “You could have died,” he continues and strokes his hand through her hair.

  She leans into his chest. His heart is beating hard and her own hammers as adrenaline floods her body. She could have died! Stupid, stupid girl! Fingers trembling, she takes a step back. “I’m sorry,” she says looking to her mother and Stella. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have gone down there, but we needed what was in the cellar,” she turns back to the house, flames leap from the open back door, “now more than ever.”

  “We can always get more stuff, Jessie.”

  “No time for heroics,” Bill says looking at her with a tight smile. “Your mother nearly had heart failure,” he adds with a disapproving nod.

  “Sorry,” she repeats.

  “Did you bring another pair of jeans with you?” Alex asks.

  “Huh?” she replies, bemused by the strange question. “No, I-”

  “Well, it looks as though you might need some,” he says gesturing to her legs.

  She looks down. Her jeans are scorched and holes are burned through in places.

  “That could have been nasty,” Bill says stepping forward. “Are you sure it didn’t get to your skin.”

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  Standing on the lawn, Jessie watches as flames leap at the windows of her childhood home and smoke seeps out through the tiles in the roof. Without the fire service to help, there was no chance it could be saved. As she stands holding back the tears, she looks around to the others gathered there. Stella holds onto Clare, staring at the house as tears stream down her face, whilst her mother’s pain is hidden as she leans into Andy. Bill stands apart, his countenance grim as he looks from the house to her mother and then to Jessie.

  A boom sounds in the distance as yet another terrorist atrocity is activated.

  Bill nods darkly, his lips pursed as he catches her eye and, as Jessie returns the nod in mutual understanding, she realises with absolute certainty that she will do whatever it takes to make them all safe.

  NIGHTS OF FIRE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Uri stops at the edge of the pavement as the dark of
night disappears and ribbons of iridescent greens, yellows and blues dance against a backdrop of the darkest violet sprayed with shimmering stars. He marvels at its beauty then shakes his head. Again? You’re doing this to us again? Unlike yesterday, there is no darkness to be plunged into, no electrical circuits to be cut short, but there is Viktoria! She would be beside herself by now. He had to get back home—after the disastrous day he’s had, home is the only place he wants to be.

  With a determined stride he crosses the road and heads in the direction of their apartment. To his right a plume of smoke rises from yet another tower block. He frowns. He can understand the fires that started yesterday – to a point – there were cars that crashed and set alight, and perhaps some fires had started in people’s homes, and without the fire service they couldn’t be put out, but for another tower block to be ablaze? He ponders the probability for a moment then his thoughts return to Viktoria and Anna, and a sinking feeling fills his belly. Viktoria would be furious by now and pushing him again to find a different job even though she knew, in her heart, that was impossible. He sighs and pulls his jacket about him and clenches his jaw. The holster is empty. How could he have let that happen? Was he losing his touch? The first job he’s bodged! He shoves his hands into his pockets and clenches his fists around his knife as anger boils within him. He’d failed. He was a failure! How would he explain this to Bolstovsky and keep face?

  Deep in thought and recriminations, he crosses yet another road. Ahead voices catch his attention. A woman shouts then runs. A man follows and grabs her by the arm. Alert, Uri watches. If there’s one thing he can’t tolerate, it’s violence towards women. Sure, he killed them, but it was his job, and he wasn’t violent—not that kind of violent anyway. He quickens his pace as the couple continue to argue, a bag tugged between them. Stronger than the woman, the man pulls the bag from her grip, raises his hands as though in frustration then turns and walks away.