Blackout (5 page)

Obi let out a breath. ‘I’ll try.’

Jack walked behind Obi’s chair and watched the CCTV monitors as several more went dark. ‘Is it the virus?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Obi said. ‘No one’s been able to destroy it yet.’

Jack felt responsible for what was going on because it was his idea to remove the virus from a government quantum computer in the first place. Only problem was, the virus then escaped into the inter­­­net and was now wiping out electricity supplies at all the major power stations. And, to make things even worse, it wasn’t a typical virus – it didn’t copy itself, it moved through systems, hunting for processing power like a vampire looking for its next victim.

Jack frowned at the screens. ‘What’s it doing?’

‘I’ve had trouble keeping up with it.’ Obi opened another window that showed a mass of code. ‘It’s damaged two power stations’ computer systems in the last four hours and now it’s moved on again.’

Three more screens went dark as more CCTV and traffic cameras lost power.

Jack clenched his fists.

‘Got it,’ Obi said. ‘It’s just moved into another power station.’

‘Which one?’

‘North Royal.’ Obi brought up a screen and typed a few commands. ‘It’s here.’

Jack leant into the screen. He recognised the virus’s unique fingerprint. Its code was built out of several different programming languages all layered and interlaced together.

Jack was glad that no one else had managed to deal with the virus yet – he didn’t want the government or any criminals getting hold of it. It would be like Proteus all over again – a power that could change the world, and not for the better. What could it be used for? Infecting banks? Crippling the economy? Perhaps someone could use it to blackmail governments.

But that wasn’t all that bothered him – Jack’s biggest fear was that someone would use the virus to track down the location of the Urban Outlaws’ bunker.

They had to destroy it. And quickly.

He stared at the virus’s code. ‘We need to get it before anyone else does.’ Jack reached for the keyboard, but the main screen went blank.

‘Oh, no.’ Obi clicked a trackerball.

‘What’s happened?’ Charlie said to him.

‘The virus – it’s gone again.’

Everyone stared.

‘What do you mean it’s gone?’ Charlie said.

Jack pulled the keyboard towards him and checked. Obi was right – the virus had crippled the power station’s computers, moved back to the internet and vanished.

He sighed. It was so frustrating. Every time he thought they’d caught up with it, the virus escaped again.

‘Does that mean we can’t do anything?’ Slink said.

‘Not at the moment,’ Jack said. ‘We’ll have to wait for it to show up again.’

‘Good.’ Slink yawned. ‘I’m knackered.’

‘Me too,’ Wren said.

Jack looked at the clock on the main display. It was 12.30 a.m. ‘I’ll write a program to look out for signs of the virus.’

If they could catch it, Jack thought, perhaps they could use it on a future mission. Its power was almost limitless.

He shook himself. His priority was capturing the virus and making sure the bunker stayed hidden.

Jack flexed his fingers and set to work.

‘I’m off to bed,’ Slink said. ‘Come and wake me if anything changes.’ He ruffled Wren’s hair and disappeared down the corridor.

‘I need some sleep too,’ Wren said, and she left.

‘I’ve got something I need to do.’ Without explan­ation, Charlie hurried after Wren.

Now it was Jack who was yawning. He felt exhausted, but he had to complete the program. With a determined effort, he set to work and twenty minutes later, he’d finished. He rechecked the code, then slid the keyboard back to Obi. ‘That should do it.’

‘Do I need to sit here?’ Obi asked.

‘No. You can go to bed too. The program will let off an alarm if it detects the virus.’

Obi climbed out of his chair and walked through the door to his bedroom.

Jack strode off down the corridor, noticed a light at the end and walked towards it.

Charlie’s workshop was narrow with benches down each side that held all manner of electronic equipment – soldering irons, welding machines, oscilloscopes, a desktop lathe and milling machine, various tools, everything she needed to build her gadgets.

He found Charlie at the end of the room, sat at a desk, scribbling in a notebook.

Jack leant over her shoulder. She was drawing some sort of contraption. ‘Watcha doin’?’

Charlie jumped, then turned and punched him. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

Jack rubbed his arm. ‘Bit young for one of those, don’t ya think?’ He nodded at the notebook. ‘Going to explain?’

Charlie stared at him as if she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t able to work out the drawing. ‘I call it a rapid winch,’ she said finally, as if this clarified the matter for him.

‘A what now?’

Charlie held up the notepad. ‘I needed to design this while I still have it in my head.’ The drawing was some kind of motor connected to a spool of cable. ‘When we had to use a zip line to get off that building, I realised there’s an even better way to do it.’

‘Better way to do what?’ Jack said. ‘Almost kill ourselves?’

‘Not exactly.’ Charlie laid the notepad down. ‘With this, we can drop off the side of a building in a controlled way.’

‘
Drop?
’ Jack didn’t like the sound of that.

Charlie ignored him. ‘The best bit is, if we need to, the winch can haul us back up really quickly.’

Jack pursed his lips as he thought of uses for Charlie’s rapid winch. They could lower themselves through a skylight, take some priceless artefact from a criminal’s private collection and zoom back up before any guards spotted them.

Or was that from a film he’d once watched?

Charlie turned in her chair and pointed at a motor on one of the workbenches. ‘Noble gave that to me. He said the SAS and US Navy SEALs use them for hauling equipment. It’s supposed to be top secret.’

Trust Noble to have got his hands on something like that. He was one of the very few adults they trusted, and from time to time he found high-tech gadgets they could play with.

Jack looked at Charlie’s drawing again. ‘It’s clever,’ he said. ‘If it works.’

Charlie looked affronted. ‘It’ll work.’

‘Hey,’ Jack held up his hands. ‘You’re a genius. I know that. No arguments from me.’

‘Thanks.’

‘How long will it take you to make it?’

Charlie looked at her drawing. ‘A couple of hours, but I’m not doing it now. I need to sleep.’

‘I’m going to bed too.’ Jack walked to the door. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘It is the morning,’ Charlie said, concentrating on her notepad.

She had a point.

CHAPTER THREE

The next day, Jack awoke with a start and sat up in bed. He’d had one of his anxiety dreams, and it had been a bad one.

A
really
bad one.

Sweat poured from his brow and his whole body shook. He took a moment to remember what had happened.

He’d dreamt that the Outlaws’ bunker was filled with smoke and he was searching the corridors, trying to find the others. As the minutes passed, the smoke grew thicker. A shadow moved up ahead and Jack tried to shout, but no words came out. He went to step forward, but he couldn’t. In desperation, Jack reached for the shadow and, just as he was about to touch it, he’d gasped and woken up.

The dreams varied in their horrible content, but were always about the same thing: the threat of losing the only family he had – the Outlaws.

Still groggy, Jack looked at his clock with the Albert Einstein face on it. It was nine. He groaned and swung his legs out of bed.

There was a knock at the door and Charlie stuck her head round. ‘I thought I heard you. Do you want some breakfast? Slink’s on the case – he’s making pancakes.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Jack said. ‘Has the program found the virus?’

Charlie shook her head. ‘No. Obi said there’s been no sign of it.’

‘Great,’ Jack muttered as Charlie closed the door.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the opposite wall. Where was the virus now? What was it up to?

He wondered what system it was infecting and what damage it was causing.

With effort, Jack stood up, walked to the door and followed the twists and turns of the corridor to the main bunker. When he got there, Obi was in his chair. He had a plate of pancakes on his lap and was liberally coating them in maple syrup.

Slink was busy in the kitchen, preparing more, while bopping his head to a dubstep tune that was blasting his ears.

Jack rolled his eyes. Even though Slink had earphones in, he could hear every pop, squeak and grind. He walked over to the dining table and dropped into a seat opposite Charlie and Wren.

Wren had a load of pens, felt tips, highlighters and a stack of blank postcards in front of her. She was drawing some kind of animal.

Jack cocked his head. ‘Is that a cat?’

Wren glanced at him. ‘A panther.’ She held up the postcard.

Now it was up the right way, Jack could make out the drawing easily – it was a black panther silhouetted against London’s skyline.

‘That’s really good.’

‘Thanks.’ She put the postcard down and continued with the finishing touches.

Jack looked at the other completed postcards – each one was unique, with a different animal or silhouette of a person in front of various places in London. The skies were painted in bright colours and the overall effect was fascinating.

Charlie said, ‘Slink was going to help Wren with maths this morning.’

Between them, they tried to teach Wren different subjects, because she didn’t go to school any more. Though, with their unusual lifestyle, that was hard to do.

‘I didn’t feel like doing maths today,’ Wren said. ‘I wanted to do this.’ She held up several more postcards with colourful drawings on them. ‘These are Slink’s.’

Slink set down a plate of pancakes in front of Jack, pulled out his earphones and joined them at the table. He picked up one of Wren’s drawings and appraised it. ‘You’re getting really good.’

‘Thanks.’ Wren looked at Jack. ‘Can we go RAKing today?’

Jack shrugged and glanced over at the main computer screen – still no sign of the virus.

‘After you’ve done these,’ Slink said to her, ‘I’ll show you how to tag a bridge.’

‘
Slink
,’ Charlie moaned. ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to do that any more.’

In Slink’s spare time, he spray-painted walls and bridges with cartoons of the Urban Outlaws. The higher the bridge, and the more dangerous the ­location, the more fun he thought it was.

Wren beamed at him, grabbed a blank postcard and set to work on the next masterpiece.

Jack took a bite of pancake and glanced at the monitor again.

‘Do you think the virus is gone?’ Charlie said. ‘Maybe, someone’s destroyed it.’

Jack swallowed. ‘Doubt it.’

Later that morning, Jack paced back and forth in front of Obi’s chair. He glanced at the time – 10.48 a.m., and still no sign of the virus.

Charlie strode into the room, smiling.

‘What’s up with you?’ Jack said.

‘I’ve finished the rapid winch.’ She looked proud of herself.

‘At least someone’s got some good news.’ Jack glanced at the main screen for the millionth time.

‘I’ve got even better news.’ Slink was sitting in the lounge area with Wren. They were watching cartoons. He stood up and waved his phone at them.

Charlie looked puzzled. ‘What’s that?’

‘One of our other missions.’ Slink grinned. ‘The trap – it’s got something.’ He peered at the phone’s display. ‘And it looks like the right one this time.’

‘You have got to be kidding me,’ Jack said. ‘That thing actually worked?’

Slink nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘Thanks for having faith in my design,’ Charlie grumbled.

‘Yeah, right.’ Obi frowned. ‘You didn’t think my camera software would work either?’

‘It’s not that,’ Jack said. ‘I just think there’s prob­ably a thousand of them and it’s not the first time we –’

‘Let me see that.’ Wren jumped up and Slink han­ded her the phone. ‘That’s him,’ she said. ‘It’s
defin­­­­­­itely
him.’

‘Only one way to be sure.’ Slink grabbed his backpack and strode to the dining area.

‘You know,’ Charlie said to Jack, ‘we could go RAKing too. We haven’t gone in a while.’

RAKing was Random Acts of Kindness – and they all liked to do it as often as they could. But now wasn’t the best time.

‘I can’t go.’ Jack nodded at the screens. ‘If the virus comes back –’

‘I’ll let you know if it does,’ Obi said. ‘I can watch out for it while you’re RAKing.’