Wipeout: Wipeout Book 1 Read online

  He hoped his parents would understand what he was doing. He had left in sort of a whirlwind, not fully explaining the rationale behind what he was doing. In truth, he wasn’t really sure what it was that had come over him. But Samuel was loyal without a fault and to see the company he had worked tirelessly for over many years being torn apart on national television had awoken something inside him. If there were people at Trident, then he felt like he needed to be one of them and he needed to be involved. If only someone would answer the phone.

  Being back at his parents’ had reminded Samuel of the many life lessons they’d taught him growing up. Both his mother and father came from a long line of family money, never wanting for anything in their lives and being brought together by their social groups and standings. His father was a highly sought-after lawyer, dealing in only the most high-profile cases often with celebrities who had more money than sense. His mother meanwhile owned the majority share in a confectionary company that her great grandfather had founded in his youth. Nowadays she had very little to do with it, having hired enough people to make the decisions for her that she only visited the company perhaps once or twice a year at most.

  It was a management system not that dissimilar to the one currently in place at Trident. The CEO was Claire Manning, earning her place at the top by having it handed down through her family over generations. Samuel had met her once or twice, but both times had remarked about how flippantly she treated her employees. She wasn’t very well liked within the company, no matter how hard she’d worked to get there. In fact, it had been rumoured in previous months that her younger brother was due to take over from her, though whether that was something she’d known or not was another question. Either way, neither of the Manning siblings would have a company to control shortly, unless something changed with Trident very, very soon.

  With this thought on his mind, Samuel hit the redial button on the screen in front of him again and willed someone to pick up the phone. Words hung on the tip of his tongue, ready to pour out if someone answered his call, but the moment never came. Irritated, he huffed as the call went to voicemail again, his calls being well and truly ignored by everyone inside.

  “Alright then,” Samuel muttered to himself, revving the engine of his father’s Mercedes. “Let’s just get this done.”

  Picking up speed, he found a clear bit of road and took advantage of it. The speedometer in front of him climbed through the fifties and into the sixties, well above the limit for the stretch of road he was driving down. Brooklyn Bridge came into sight ahead of him and Samuel tried to remember how passable it’d been; he veered onto it just below sixty-five and was forced to slam on the brakes when he took in the carnage ahead of him.

  The bridge was a mess. The sound of horns blared through the air as countless cars tried to cross it, navigating the abandoned ones or those crashed up against the barriers. The closer that Samuel got to the city, the more chaotic things seemed. He could only imagine what it would be like at Trident now, the building right at the center of this disaster. Biting his lip, Samuel tried to figure out what to do and just in time, he switched the Mercedes into reverse and backed away from the bridge, narrowly avoiding hitting another car that was also trying to make it back into the city. There was no way anyone could drive across – abandoned cars sat within the mess of traffic and obstructed any clear way through. Cursing his poor luck under his breath, Samuel drove a little distance away from the bridge, found a relatively quiet place to park his father’s car and started to walk into the city. He hoped that the Mercedes would be untouched when he returned to it, but knew his father would eventually get over the loss of his car. It wasn’t like he didn’t have another two inside his garage waiting for him.

  It didn’t take long for Samuel to notice that emergency services seemed to have been finally encouraged into the city to try and put a stop to the madness. But their numbers had been considerably depleted and they struggled to make a difference against the reluctant and unruly citizens of New York City.

  As Samuel stepped down from Brooklyn Bridge, knowing he was just ten minutes at most from the Trident building again, he noticed plumes of smoke billowing into the sky from various points around the city. Small fires burned in corner stores or in houses, the vandals who had let themselves loose during the chaos terrorizing the city. People screamed and ran in the streets, while others huddled on corners, trying to avoid being caught up in it. Beyond that, Samuel couldn’t ignore the bodies lying lifeless in the street, one of them surrounded by a particularly large red puddle. It wasn’t only money and wealth that the city had lost, but all its laws and regulations, too. With no one to maintain law and order, society had very quickly turned on itself.

  Turning the corner that took him away from the river, Samuel stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a police officer on the ground, straddling a young man and struggling to remove the crowbar from his hands without getting hit. The man on the ground looked early twenties and ready to strike, barely being kept still by the officer who was clearly one of the few that had stuck with their job rather than abandoning all hope and reason. A convenience store window was smashed just a few feet behind the pair of them, clearly the reason behind the attempted arrest.

  “Get off me you pig! Let me go!”

  The cries of the criminal carried down the street to Samuel, who remained frozen in place on the corner. On any normal day, there would be any number of additional police officers to back him up. But this was just one cop and one kid who had no respect for the law or the city. Samuel knew he should intervene and help the officer, stop the young man from getting away with what he had done. But he also heard his mother’s voice in his head telling him to stay out of it, and his own voice telling him to get to Trident. Using them both as an excuse, he looked away and continued walking.

  The disaster that was plaguing New York City was very quickly giving him an insight into what sort of man he was, and while Samuel had spent his entire life thinking he was a gentleman, he was now thinking quite the opposite. He was ashamed of his behavior and he knew he should be making better choices, but each time he did something selfish, he found a way to explain it away to himself. In essence, he was doing what most people did every day of their lives; brushing over the minor things and still believing that they were wholly good. But with the city crumbling around him, for some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a mistake. No matter how much he reasoned with himself, Samuel still arrived at the Trident building the same way that he had arrived at his parents’ in Freeport, embarrassed and ashamed of himself.

  Being back there was weird. Not only because of how much he had tried to get out just a few hours ago, but because of how different the place now was. When Samuel had left with Cassie, close to a hundred people gathered around the building, many more inside trying to find answers and get their money back. Now the place was eerily quiet. Only a few people meandered about outside, it not quite clear what they were waiting for.

  Unable to resist, Samuel’s eyes drifted over to where he knew R. Hauser’s body would be. The corpse remained there, the grieving woman however no longer anywhere to be seen. But before she had left her love she had granted him a last moment of kindness. R. Hauser’s face was now covered by a silk scarf, one that Samuel remembered seeing the woman wearing earlier.

  That small act of kindness made Samuel feel some relief as he walked toward the main door of Trident. He wondered where the woman had gone after leaving R. Hauser behind and, once again, he wondered whether there truly was anything he could’ve said to stop the man from jumping. His father had told him it was a near impossible task and Samuel believed him, but still he wished he could’ve done more.

  “What the?” Tugging on the door of the building, Samuel was surprised to find it locked. The glass surrounding it and across the windows was cracked and shattered in places but remained mostly intact. Despite his eagerness to get into the building, Samuel didn’t like his chances cl
imbing through the broken glass without seriously injuring himself. The door had undoubtedly been the main way in and out of the building as Samuel left, and he was certain that there hadn’t been anyone around waiting to lock it. Confused he rattled the handle once more, trying to gain entry into his workplace.

  “Hello?” Samuel called out, not really directed at anyone, but attracting the attention of one or two of the people who still lingered around the bank. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered inside, trying to figure out what was happening.

  “You won’t get in pal,” one man spoke out to him, shaking his head and taking a swig from a bottle of something. “It’s all over now.”

  Samuel furrowed his brow, unsettled by the comment but reluctant to let his opinion be shaped by a clearly somewhat troubled man. Giving him what he hoped was a polite nod; Samuel began to walk around the side of the building toward the staff entrance, checking back over his shoulder to ensure he wasn’t being followed by the creepy stranger. Reaching the coded door, he glanced around once more before keying in his code, his hand on the door handle ready to pull it open. But instead of the familiar buzz which should greet him, there was nothing.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. He punched in his code again and pulled the door at the same time, desperate to get inside the building. Nothing. Samuel pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the Trident number once more. This time it didn’t even ring. He didn’t get through to the answering machine message nor did he get prompted to try again later. The call didn’t even connect; it was like the line had been taken down – just like the website.

  A sense of dread washed over Samuel like it never had before. Now he was officially more than just confused, he was frightened. Struggling to make sense of the situation he continued to key in his code, desperately hoping that he had just gotten the number wrong before. But it was no use. There was no way into the building and there was no way of contacting anyone inside. Each and every number he tried ended up on a dead line. The bank had cut itself off from the outside world, there was no other explanation for it.

  He shivered. The city seemed sparse and empty, like something was missing. He had always felt at home in New York, never even considered living anywhere else once he graduated college. He’d studied at Columbia University for that very reason, cementing himself in the life of his hometown and being reluctant to ever leave. New York was his safety blanket, his place of solitude, but now all of that was missing. He looked around and didn’t recognize the place, yearning for something familiar. More than anything else, he felt lost.

  With one last, half-hearted attempt at the staff entrance, Samuel turned away from Trident and started making the short walk back to his apartment. He only lived a couple of blocks away, paying extortionate rent prices so that he could save on transport instead. It gave him little time to think though as he traversed the familiar streets, his mind whirring as he tried to make sense of the situation.

  Trident had called him, plus he was sure there were people on the nineteenth floor. Someone had to be inside the building trying to make good of the situation. There had to be others within the company like him who weren’t willing to stand by and let all of this happen. But then – why had the website been taken down? Why was the building locked? And why couldn’t he get anyone on the phone? Try as he might, Samuel couldn’t figure out the answers.

  As he finally reached his apartment, he felt like he had already failed. The money was all gone and there didn’t seem to be a way to get it back, no matter what he tried. Unlocking his front door and collapsing onto the couch, Samuel wondered what was going to happen next and if there was any way he could help to control it.

  Chapter 13

  The sheer elation that KW felt as she basked in the knowledge of what they had done was utterly incredible. Never before had she felt such a huge sense of pride and relief all at once, knowing that everything she had worked toward for years had finally been entirely successful. Everything had been worth it – the tireless nights, the setbacks, the failures – all of it had come together in perfect harmony to not only topple the United States but bring its closest allies to the ground, as well. The American dollar was worthless now. No matter what the country tried, they wouldn’t be able to bounce back from this for years. They were ruined and it was due to her and her small team of elite and daring hackers.

  She knew how different her situation could’ve been if it wasn’t for this opportunity. As a hacker, she had never really lived her life in the spotlight and when she was tracked down five years ago, that could’ve been the end of not only her career, but also her life.

  Prior to this planned attack, she had gained experience by hacking into the mainframe of one of her own country’s biggest cyber security firms. Usually, the penalty for being caught doing something like that was death and KW had been caught red handed. Had she failed in the Trident hack, KW was sure that was a sentence that would’ve returned to her. The years she had spent hacking the US with her team was just an elaborate prison sentence. Her task had been simple: either succeed and go free or fail and die.

  But now that was a worry that didn’t need to hang over her like a storm cloud any longer. They had been successful and they would be granted their freedom. What they would each do with it was another question. KW had never known anything other than the ones and zeros that fired inside computers; she had never practiced any other skill or tried to be good at anything else. Going out into the real world after five years of dedication to one task would be different, but it was certainly a challenge she was ready for. She wanted to see the sun again. She wanted to breathe air that hadn’t been filtered through hundreds of feet of tubing, eat real food and live by her own rules.

  So, this hack had been much more than just a job to her, it had been her life. She wondered what would happen to the United States now. It had been in debt to her own country for nearly fifty years, each year the figure increased until it was far greater than anything they would ever be able to pay back. She wasn’t surprised her government had finally decided to take action. They were the most powerful country in the world, and it was about time they started to do something with that power. Things would change quickly now. Emptying the American accounts was surely only the beginning. The attack would continue, and it would become so much more than just the eradication of dollar bills.

  Chapter 14

  The sound of his phone ringing startled Samuel awake, his legs kicking out from where they rested on his coffee table and knocking over what remained in his glass of red wine. After getting back to his apartment that evening, he had struggled to figure out what to do with himself. Terrors and torments circled through his mind to the point where he ended up seeking comfort in his couch and the bottle. The breaking news channel still played on his television screen in front of him, going over and over the story of the Trident collapse and the different ways it would affect their country. Samuel must have fallen asleep somewhere along the spiel of devastation, the nightmares thankfully not seeping into his dreams while he slept.

  Sitting up he felt groggy and exhausted. With a glance at the grandfather clock in his apartment – a relic he’d been left by his actual grandfather when he passed away – Samuel saw it was nearly four in the morning. He’d been asleep for give or take six hours, a decent amount of rest any other night. The memory of everything that had happened washed over him almost instantly, bringing with it a fear and desperation that made him shiver.

  By the time he reached his cell phone, the incoming call had rung out, but as soon as he saw who it was from Samuel snatched the phone up in disbelief. After everything he had gone through trying to get in touch with Trident, he had missed a call from them yet again. Immediately clicking on their number, Samuel called them back, hoping and praying that this time he would get a response.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, hello? It’s Samuel Westchester, Marketing Director. I’ve been trying to reach you for
hours.”

  “Samuel, finally!” The voice at the other end of the line sounded relieved, though it wasn’t one that Samuel recognized. “Where the devil have you been? We need you down at HQ stat. How soon can you get here?”

  “What? Why? What’s going on?”

  “Can’t tell you that over the phone I’m afraid,” the mystery correspondent replied, cutting short Samuel’s quest for answers. “Just get yourself down here. I’ll explain everything then.”

  “Wait, wait!” Samuel panicked suddenly; feeling like the conversation was going to end before he’d uncovered anything at all. “How do I get in? I was there earlier, and everything was locked up. How am I supposed to get inside?”

  “Call me back when you’re here, I’ll come and let you in.”

  “Okay,” Samuel replied, “and what about –”

  Before he could finish his question, the line went dead. Samuel didn’t know how to react. He was relieved that he had managed to speak to someone at Trident, but the conversation had undoubtedly left him with more questions than answers. Looking up at his grandfather clock again, Samuel wondered what could be happening at this hour of the night. Time often lost its relevancy in big business – especially in banking when global stock markets were involved – but he still found it curious that he was getting summoned at this time.

  Catching his reflection in the mirror he wondered whether he had time for a quick shower and a shave. His stomach grumbled while he considered it, reminding him that it had also been several hours since he’d eaten. All in all, Samuel didn’t look like the respectable man that he was known for being around the office. He was scruffy and dirty and he felt horrendous too; drinking half a bottle of wine before he’d passed out hadn’t been the best idea he’d had.