Ciphers, Matt Rogers [a court of thorns and roses ebook free TXT] 📗

nobody’s business.

Everyone shut up in unison.

Like tape had been wrenched across all their mouths at once.

Slater yelled, ‘I’m a cop! Everyone relax. No one panic.’

There was still a smattering of drunken murmurs and whispers, but apart from that everyone seemed to be obeying. Nothing like the loss of one of your senses to shock you into submission. They would do what he said. Hopefully he could prevent a stampede.

‘Everyone get your phones out and turn your flashlights on.’

It was obvious in hindsight, but there were only a handful of beams illuminated when he made the command. Then, in the space of ten seconds, Palantir lit up with dozens of bright white lights skewering toward the ceiling, casting sweeping shadows over the decor. It added an eerie vibe to the club, but it was better than pitch darkness.

Slater shouted, ‘Everyone make your way slowly toward the exit. No faster than a shuffle. Do not run or panic.’

The crowd obliged.

He could hear the slightest indicators of movement amidst the sea of white light — like an interconnected body of water flowing in one direction. Clothes rustling against each other. Hands probing for shoulders. But no one ran. And no one panicked. Serena’s fingers touched Slater’s hips and he led her along with the tide, aiming for the exit. By now, he was calm. There wouldn’t be a stampede. That was the most important thing. Most people underestimate how destructive a panicked crowd in a tight space could be. He gave the patrons of Palantir silent credit for their calmness. No one was shouting and screaming. Everyone seemed to collectively understand the need for cooperation — at least until they were out on the street.

Slater found the exit and followed the masses down a tighter corridor, illuminated brighter than the cavernous main space by the abundance of flashlights. Then they were in the entranceway, where unnerved bouncers were standing around looking dumb. They didn’t know what to do. Slater found it a little disconcerting. Surely they should be trying to restore calm and make sure that all the patrons were safe—

Then Slater stepped outside, and realised it wasn’t just their building that had been hit.

Every skyscraper he could see, every streetlight in the laneway…

All dark.

‘Oh, shit,’ he said.

Serena gazed around in wonderment. ‘Wow. You ever seen anything like this before?’

‘It happened in 2003,’ Slater said. ‘But I wasn’t in-country back then.’

‘Where were you?’

Slater didn’t respond.

She said, ‘Are you really a cop?’

‘No.’

‘That was quick thinking, then.’

‘I guess I’m half a cop.’

‘And the other half?’

He didn’t answer.

He peered all around, drinking in the night, ignoring the masses and crowds all around him.

Then he looked at her.

‘Serena, I have to go.’

She furrowed her brow. ‘It’s just a power outage. Surely we can still—’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I had fun tonight. Take care of yourself.’

He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Then pulled out his smartphone and stared at the screen.

And froze.

The networks were down.

That wasn’t normal. Almost all the major cell towers relied on backup generators in case of outages exactly like this. For the networks to go down, those generators would have to be deliberately targeted…

His blood ran cold.

Is this an attack?

Thankfully, his own phone had been modified by Violetta’s tech team to provide satellite capabilities in the event he was ever out of range.

He breathed silent thanks for her hindsight, and called Jason King.

13

King didn’t answer.

He was already on the phone to Violetta LaFleur, making use of the same satellite technology.

She picked up immediately and said, ‘Where are you?’

‘Yorkville. How bad is it?’

‘Where in Yorkville?’

‘The beer garden we’ve visited before. Just off 85th and Second.’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Are you with Will?’

‘No.’

‘Have you heard from him?’

‘No. I assume he’s close to a blackout himself.’

She didn’t laugh.

That’s when he knew it was serious.

He said, ‘Where do you need me?’

‘Go back home right now. I’ll meet you there.’

‘At the penthouse?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’ll be eighty flights of stairs. Is that really necessary?’

‘Your building has an emergency generator system installed, so you’ll be okay to use the elevators. Give thanks that you live in one of the most exclusive residences on the Upper East Side.’

He said, ‘How did you know that and I didn’t?’

‘Because ever since the attack on your penthouses last year, we’ve been monitoring the building for you. You and Will know how valuable you are to us. Those extra security measures we discussed also included knowing every feature the place has.’

‘How long’s the emergency generator going to last? Especially for a building of that size.’

‘Long enough.’

He paused. ‘Do you know what’s happening?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And we need you both.’

‘For what?’

‘Get back home,’ she said. ‘I need to go. It’s chaos over here.’

‘Understood.’

‘And Jason?’

‘Yes.’

‘Please don’t get yourself killed on the way back.’

‘Why on earth would that happen?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just… I don’t like this. Don’t drop your guard.’

‘I never do.’

‘See you soon.’

She ended the call.

He lowered the phone and loitered in the alleyway. He hadn’t moved since Rory had walked away. Most of the beer garden’s patrons had filtered past him on their way out of the dark bar, illuminating the way forward with the flashlights on their phones. But by now all the beacons of light were gone, flowing through into the city streets where urgent energy was flowing like a river. All King could think was, That’s going to kill their batteries real quick.

And then what?

Two days, he figured.

That’s how long it would take until real problems would arise.

And those problems…

…well, he couldn’t even fathom how severe they’d be.

He twirled the phone in his hand, then opened the settings and killed anything running in the background that wasn’t absolutely necessary. He needed the battery to last as long as possible.

Then the screen changed, replaced by an incoming call notification.

The contact name was one word.

Slater.

King answered and said, ‘How many drinks have you had?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

‘I said I’m fine.’

‘You sound lucid enough.’

‘I’m not the drunk you think I am.’

‘You’re still skirting around the question. That tells me everything I need to know.’

‘I’ve