Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  The transfer of gold continued briskly, and it appeared that Bryant and Brady were actually doing a surprisingly good job. The Swiss were primed for the third of March, by which time she'd be well out of their reach – and so should the Pretoria Queen.

  It had rained heavily all week and conditions in the UK were nothing short of awful. No one had been rescued for five days, and broken bodies swilled about in the slime, decomposing and attracting swarms of giant, biting flies. Domestic cats also roamed the countryside in huge swirling packs, viciously attacking anyone from the S & R teams foolish enough to approach. Swarms of rooks were also prevalent and attacked anything alive on the surface.

  The armed forces had ceased flights over the UK due to these very issues. In addition, the unexplained disappearance of yet more troops had caused the senior military board to insist that no more soldiers, airmen or civilians be put at further unnecessary risk.

  Consequently, the UK transformed into a deserted swamp of decaying matter.

  Nobody wanted to be there.

  Even the burial details had pulled out and trawling for bodies around the coastline had temporarily stalled.

  Ann Fletcher had been spot on.

  By Friday the fifth of February, Day 55 of the crisis, the UK finally appeared to be forsaken.

  Day 56

  Saturday 8th February – 2359

  Bournemouth – Dorset - England

  Of course, whenever disaster strikes the opportunists and vultures soon begin to circle, and start the search for easy pickings. The looters, the rapists and the morally corrupt.

  The motor yacht ‘Pink Lady III’ approached the coast off Dorset at around midnight. Its skipper, one Henri Le Chatte had recruited half a dozen ne’er do wells from the French port of Caen, and had set sail for the English coast.

  He had frequently monitored the current situation in England and Brussels, and having made a couple of recces during the previous week, had decided to make his move. The first trip was made in daylight and as he reached the three-mile limit, a Royal Navy Frigate had intercepted his forty-foot cruiser and turned him back. They had noted his details and photographed the vessel. They knew exactly what he was up to and although they could prove nothing, they warned Le Chatte to steer clear of British waters. Any further infringements would be met with deadly force.

  He had been warned.

  Le Chatte made his second exploratory voyage on the Thursday evening, approaching the British coast well after midnight. All of his running lights were off and he encountered no shipping of any kind. The weather was foul and he assumed that his smallish craft didn’t appear on radar or he was just lucky to be avoiding the Royal Navy.

  He sailed into about half a mile and turned back in horror when he encountered the first of the bodies in the water.

  There was also a lot of dangerous flotsam, which potentially could damage the boat, so he returned to Caen and considered his options.

  Greed overcame his caution and fear, and so he recruited his six men, who were local small-time villains and would do anything for a few Euros. Le Chatte had explained the plan and demanded fifty percent of anything they recovered.

  The idea was to breach the 3-mile limit and to sit ten metres off the sands at Bournemouth, specifically near the affluent Sandbanks area, which he knew was the location of many large houses potentially containing many rich pickings.

  They sailed at 10pm and reached their destination at 1:30am without encountering any Royal Naval vessels to turn them back – or at worst sink them!

  Le Chatte anchored the ‘Pink Lady III’ just offshore, and the seven men waded up the beach in clothing supplied by the captain. They split into pairs and followed Le Chatte towards the housing area.

  They hadn’t been fully prepared for the death and destruction they encountered, and one or two were for turning back. However, Le Chatte gave them a serious motivational speech whilst waving a pistol in their general direction, indicating that a couple more dead bodies would make no difference.

  As a result the seven men continued, each armed with a strong plastic sack and a metal hammer and jemmy for rapid lock removal. Le Chatte indicated that they should RV back at the boat by 4am – and no later, as he wanted to be clear of British waters and their fucking Navy before daylight.

  They split up and began their search for valuables – to be looted from the dead and their erstwhile homes.

  Damage in this area was relatively light. It was generally flat, and water flooding down to the sea had not struck the area too violently. As a consequence, most top floors of the elegant houses were reasonably intact. There was a little snow still lying, about five or six feet, and water had invaded almost everything. Bodies lay indiscriminately all over the place and the thieves stripped bodies of rings, wallets, necklaces, bangles and watches. If a ring wouldn't come off, generally the finger did and the prize was added to the booty bags.

  The smell was not good, so each man wore a scented face mask which helped to alleviate their discomfort…poor souls!

  They entered housing in any way they could. Bodies found inside were similarly plundered and searches were instigated in bedrooms and offices for jewellery boxes, silver objects, passports and other valuable items.

  Naturally, most contents were severely waterlogged and china and pottery smashed. They confiscated the odd small, undamaged piece and anything else they could find. It was indeed a valuable haul.

  The search went on until about 3:30am, when the three groups of two men decided to make their way back to the boat.

  It was raining and pitch black, so the strong torches they had brought with them were invaluable. As the picked their way back to the shoreline, the six were startled by a blood-curdling scream.

  They all stopped in their tracks and listened.

  ‘Eteindre les lumieres!’ one cried out in fear. (switch off the torches).

  Darkness instantly covered the men.

  They remained silent, and still, listening.

  Not daring to move.

  There were no more screams, and they prepared to move on after about sixty seconds.

  ‘Allons, mais doucement,’ one whispered.

  ‘Oui,’ they all replied.

  They stepped off again and continued to the beach in silence and in almost total darkness. The man at the front shone his torch at the ground to light the way across the sands, and if it had been brighter they would have seen their boat and its captain just fifty metres away.

  Suddenly, they were enveloped by such a repugnant odour, that three of the men instantly vomited.

  The other three were gagging in distress, when all hell let loose.

  The group were set upon with such violence and surprise that they had no time to defend themselves.

  Axes, sharp sticks, knives and rocks were used by the assailants to bring the looters to the floor and to their cruel, yet wholly justified deaths.

  It took a mere thirty seconds.

  Captain Le Chatte had been the source of the blood-curdling scream and he lay, prostrate, on the deck of his cruiser, his throat ripped out, the ship’s cat mewing pathetically by his side.

  There would no more midnight raids for this evil bastard!

  Day 58

  Monday 10th February - 1000

  HQUKRA – Brussels

  Chloe Fletcher had continued to work with her mother since she had joined the Brady/Bryant/Silver alliance. She spent a fair amount of time wandering about the building, nosing into various departments, attempting to glean any useful information concerning her mother’s plans.

  All she really found was an increasingly depressing story of death and misery.

  Morale in the UKRA was exceedingly low. The administrators, civil servants and new recruits from displaced holidaymakers in transit camps had been working long hours for very little reward. Many had lost their entire families, their homes and their futures.

  She didn’t see many smiling faces.

  She learned about the
relocation plans, the burial sites, the suicides and the despair which oozed from everyone she met.

  Ann allowed Chloe to attend Cabinet meetings, strictly as a non-speaking observer, and what she learned further chilled her bones.

  Ann Fletcher insidious campaign to seduce Chloe was slowly having an effect.

  She knew that haranguing Chloe day after day about the hopelessness of the situation would not work. Chloe had to find out for herself – and she had – big style!

  She had taken to joining her mother for lunch every day, and sharing very large G & Ts each evening before Suzi got home. Her demeanour and attitude slowly altered with every passing day, and it was clear to Ann that she was now ripe for the plucking.

  However, first she needed to deal with Chris Townsend, her boyfriend.

  The previous night, Ann had produced a concocted and utterly fake e-mail, purportedly from his family in San Diego, which stated that his mother was unwell, and that his presence was required at her bedside. Apparently, it was a matter of life and death and all attempts at phoning their boy had failed. Chris read the e-mail and was on the first flight out of Brussels on the Tuesday morning. He would be mysteriously held up in Washington and Los Angeles by ‘friends’ of Ann, and would not reach San Diego until the Saturday. Ann had ensured that contact between the two parties was impossible, and so Chris flew out knowing very little about his mother’s health. Of course, when he arrived in San Diego, he would discover the ploy – but by then it would be far too late.

  Chloe was saddened to see him go, but remained at her mother’s side to continue her now less than enthusiastic spy work.

  It was on the Monday evening, after a particularly harrowing Cabinet that Ann broached the subject of escape and decided to come clean with her daughter.

  They got moderately drunk together, although Ann was always in control. Chloe wept for the dead, and the destruction and the hopelessness. She felt that she couldn’t bear the horror of it all any more.

  ‘What are we going to do, mother? We can't endure this hell forever. Surely there is some way out?’

  ‘There is Chloe. We are getting out. And I'm going to tell you how. However, can I trust you? Will you go running to your friends – Ross Bryant and his co-conspirators?’

  Chloe was stunned.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I know almost everything that goes on in this town, Chloe. I run the fucking town! Now, it's decision time – are you with me or not?

  Chloe was tipsy, but not ‘non compos mentis’. She clearly understood what she was being asked, and had, in fact, already almost made her decision.

  ‘Two weeks ago I would have told you to take a running jump, mother. However, after spending time in that damned building, I've come to a completely different conclusion. I can't bear what I've seen. It's hell on earth and I want to be away from it. I’ll do anything to get away. Can't I go and join Chris?’

  Ann had to manoeuvre her daughter carefully.

  ‘Well of course you can darling. You can fly out to be with him tomorrow, but truthfully – is that the kind of life you really want? You’d be no more than a refugee in a foreign land. Once the Americans are bored with you, you’ll be just another alien grubbing around for a living. I can offer you much, much more. Wealth and luxury beyond your wildest dreams.’

  Chloe was fascinated and enthralled.

  ‘Okay, mother, what can you offer?’

  Ann had nearly won the argument. Chloe was almost sold.

  ‘Just sit back, have another drink and I’ll explain everything.’

  It was a huge gamble, but it was now or never.

  Ann told Chloe the whole story; gold, flights out of town, a new life on a tropical paradise, homes around the world and limitless funds. When she had finished Chloe sat open mouthed as Ann mentioned the exact sums involved.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘You heard, darling. Make your decision. The three of us could live the life of Riley. I know some people might think it mildly immoral – but for God’s sake – let's be bloody immoral and live. We could have ended up like any of those poor souls back home. We've escaped once – let's do it again – permanently!’

  Chloe sat quietly for a few seconds.

  ‘How much did you say?’

  ‘You heard darling.’

  ‘Really, that much – just for you me and Suzi?’

  ‘Yup – just us three. Are you in……or out?’

  ‘How much?’ repeated Chloe in abject disbelief, a huge grin forming on her lips.

  Ann smiled broadly and hugged her daughter.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes!’

  ***

  Richard Castle was becoming troublesome.

  Almost daily, he pestered Ann for details of the Chinook, which should be delivering the eight crates of gold to an as yet undisclosed airfield for pick up, and for eventual sharing out amongst the collaborators.

  Time was running out, so Ann decided to give Castle a hint of the plan.

  ‘Richard, I've decided to detail a Chinook to transport the gold to an airfield in Belgium, where after being locked in a hangar overnight, you will be able to transfer six crates to a three-ton truck and leave it ready for my agent to drive away. I’ll give you the final destination for my share on Thursday – which is the day for the Chinook flight.

  You will need to pre-position a vehicle capable of carrying your two half-ton boxes, and then leave mine in the three tonner for my driver to collect. You will need to pass on the destination info to him personally, as he is an innocent party.

  Get yourself a Hummer or other such heavy vehicle, and drive it out there by close of play tomorrow, Tuesday. Then I will give you instructions for driving the truck with my gold out on Thursday for the delivery to my store. You merely take your share and disappear for ever. Come and see me on Thursday morning for the permits for the truck.

  Also, let me know as soon as your private car is in position.’

  Castle let out a huge sigh of relief.

  ‘At last, Ann. I was wondering what was going on? I almost suspected a double cross.’

  Ann looked insulted.

  ‘For God’s sake, Richard, I wouldn't do that to you…you know far too much. Now, you can issue the order today for the Chinook and the eight crates to go to this airfield. Make sure Brady supervises the loading. Handle it personally, Richard…no fuck-ups!’

  She handed him the airfield details and contacts for storing his car overnight. He read the information, and as everything seemed crystal clear, he prepared to leave the office.

  ‘Just one more thing Richard. On Wednesday evening, the twelfth I believe, I'd like to take you out to dinner, and perhaps have something later to seal our agreement. It will probably be our last chance. Suzi may well come along. Can you bring over a car and collect me from the flat at 7.30pm. We can pick Suzi up on the way. You might find that your evening ends better than you could ever imagine!’

  Richard Castle was well aware of the inference and left the building with the widest smile you are ever likely to see.

  Ann was also smirking.

  Another part of the jigsaw in place…and now the final piece….Suzi!

  ***

  Dame Ann sat in her office, clearing her in-tray, more than grateful that Sir Ian James had taken over the reins once more.

  The main advantage was that she could concentrate on the escape rather than the minutiae of government.

  ‘That was a laugh,’ she thought, ‘what fucking government?’

  At 9:30pm her phone rang.

  ‘It's Richard, Ann. All is in place at the airfield. I’ll see you tomorrow evening at 7.30. I look forward to it.’

  Ann hung up after making a terse reply.

  ‘At least he's got the sense to be brief,’ she admitted ungracefully.

  She immediately called for Patric Silver and was driven home.

  Patric was a thorny problem. She was flying off to Paris on Thursday, and this man could
not be around to witness the journey. However, she didn’t deem it necessary to kill him. He was a pleasant enough chap after all, and had been through quite enough. So she gave him the benefit of the doubt:

  ‘Patric, I want you to go to Guernsey on Thursday to give Andrew Brady a letter. I can't send it any other way, and it's a chance for you to check out his operation and report back. Eleanor has the travel details. Pick them up tomorrow. Enjoy your trip. I won't need you tomorrow evening anyway, as I'm dining with the PM, and his security detail can see me home; so you can take dear Jessie out to dinner.’

  Patric smiled his tired smile and acknowledged Dame Ann's instructions. There was no point in arguing or questioning her motives. In any event, he'd enjoy meeting Andy Brady again.

  ‘Yes, ma'am. We’re at your apartment now…I’ll see you up.’

  Ann entered the flat and Suzi was waiting. Chloe was out having reserved a table for a romantic farewell dinner with Chris, and Patric was running them into town to the CSC.

  ‘Good evening, Suzi. Open a bottle of Bolli, will you?’ said Ann when they were alone.

  Suzi was dressed in a mauve basque, stockings, no panties and a half cup bra, over which her erect nipples protruded. She was fully made up and the ensemble was complete with four-inch red high heels. She held a glass of Champagne in each hand, legs slightly apart revealing a perfectly shaved pussy.

  ‘My my,’ gasped Ann, ‘I'm going to enjoy this….’

  And she did.

  ***

  An hour later, the two women lay naked, and satiated, upon Ann's bed, Suzi’s head resting on Ann's oil-smothered breasts.

  Ann broached the almost taboo subject which must now be discussed. There was no more time for pontification.

  ‘Suzi, it's time to talk about the final action we need to take. It's scheduled for Wednesday night.’

  Suzi sat up abruptly.

  ‘I knew this was coming, Ann, and I'm ready. Tell me what to do.’

  Ann relaxed a fraction and jumped out of bed. She donned a kimono, as did Suzi, and both women showered before reassembling in the lounge.