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    Blackout Part 1: Olesia Anderson Thriller #7.1: Olesia Anderson, #7.1
    Blackout Part 1: Olesia Anderson Thriller #7.1: Olesia Anderson, #7.1
    Blackout Part 1: Olesia Anderson Thriller #7.1: Olesia Anderson, #7.1
    Ebook131 pages1 hour

    Blackout Part 1: Olesia Anderson Thriller #7.1: Olesia Anderson, #7.1

    By D.D. Marks

    ()

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    About this ebook

    No friends. No backup. On the run, and headed for the most violent city in the world. It's all in a day's work for Olesia Anderson.

    After narrowly escaping a hit-squad sent by her former employers, Olesia is headed south. Her only hope: Kay, the assassin-for-hire she worked with in Moscow. Kay promises answers, so long as Olesia helps with a job across the US-Mexico border, in the badlands of Juarez.

    This could be the mission that kills her. But if it takes her one step closer to the truth about her parents, and the man pulling Zero Error's strings...

    It's a risk she has to take.

    BLACKOUT: PART 1 is the first half of a double-length action-thriller where Olesia will be pushed to the limits of her talents and strength in a conflict spanning continents.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChristopher Ruz
    Release dateSep 1, 2018
    ISBN9781386319917
    Blackout Part 1: Olesia Anderson Thriller #7.1: Olesia Anderson, #7.1

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      Book preview

      Blackout Part 1 - D.D. Marks

      Previously, in Olesia Anderson: Snowblind…

      After recuperating from her disastrous trip to Venice, Olesia was sent to Calgary just before Christmas to pull an intimidation job. The mission - force Gruner Osbourne, CEO of CoHide Pty Ltd, to dissolve his multi-million dollar business.

      It was never supposed to escalate, but Mr Osbourne didn’t take kindly to being strong-armed. Olesia was ordered to add pressure by bombing the server room of the CoHide building. She crept in via a third-floor balcony, set C4 charges, and escaped without incident.

      It was when she hit the detonator that things went bad.

      The entire CoHide building collapsed in flames, turning a Christmas snowstorm into an apocalypse. It quickly became clear that she’d been set up - the whole building had been wired to blow, and Gruner’s bodyguards were already moving to capture her.

      Olesia fled both bodyguards and police before stealing a car and tracking Gruner to a museum outside town. There, she cornered Gruner in his vehicle and demanded answers. Gruner revealed that he’d been watching Olesia from the beginning, and that he’d grown tired of her getting in his way. Gruner Osbourne was only an alias - he was, in fact, Patrick ‘Rat’ Burroughs, the previously faceless force behind Zero Error.

      Gruner ordered his bodyguards, Esk and Larry, to execute Olesia in the nearby forest. Olesia barely escaped into the museum, killing Larry in the process. With Larry’s sidearm in hand, she got back on the road and headed for the US-Canada border.

      Esk, Gruner’s last living bodyguard, was tenacious. She pursued Olesia all the way to the border before being turned back. Olesia thought she was safe, and called Headquarters to explain the situation.

      Headquarters weren’t impressed by how things had gone down in Calgary. Based on the damage done and Olesia’s previous hacking of their systems, they decided to terminate Olesia’s contract as Agent 806.

      Knowing exactly what happened to agents with forcibly terminated contracts, Olesia returned to her apartment and started packing passports. She was interrupted by a call from an old acquaintance - Kay, an employee of Burroughs who she’d worked with on the Moscow job. Kay confirmed that a combination of Blackrock’s and Burroughs’ agents were coming for Olesia’s head, and gave her a rendezvous address in New Mexico.

      Olesia took the hint, narrowly escaping the Blackrock hit-squad. She left a quick message on her boyfriend’s phone and put the pedal to the floor, headed south to meet with Kay and find out just what the hell was going on.

      The story continues…

      Chapter 1

      Olesia Anderson dealt with the tail nine miles outside Santa Fe.

      The black sedan had been following close for two hours, keeping within visual range as Olesia wound past the gray stone peaks of the Los Alamos mountains, headed south towards Las Cruces. For a moment she thought she’d lost them after crossing the New Mexico border, but they rose up in her rear view mirror again just as the outskirts of the Las Vegas township came into sight.

      For a moment she considered parking on the shoulder, pulling her SP-01 and settling the matter once and for all. Then she thought of the New Mexico police, and how they were as likely to drive a repurposed Iraq-vintage tank into a firefight as turn up with pepper spray, and decided against it. No point ending up in a body bag less than an hour from the rendezvous.

      The goal was Evelyn Street, Las Cruces. A little city less than fifty miles from El Paso and the US-Mexico border. She was following directions Kay had given over the phone in the moments before Blackrock - her own former employers - had stormed her house with safeties off. Now all she had was the hope that Kay would be waiting to do… what? Spirit her out of the United States? Put a bullet in her head?

      Either way, she had to get rid of the uninvited guests.

      She was slamming up the Canam Highway at ninety when Olesia saw her opportunity. The highway was four-lanes of beautiful black hardtop, bordered on both sides by a rocky drop into a gully that, despite the latitude, was still dusted with a half-inch of pearl-white snow. Traffic was mostly tankers and delivery vans shipping God-knows-what over the border. Lots of obstacles and not many eyes.

      A sign pointed to a logging road one mile ahead. The sedan was a quarter mile back.

      It’d have to be precise.

      She crested a small rise, plunged down the far side and jammed the pedal to the floor, falling into the slipstream of a livestock truck. Box-ribbed cows bellowed at her as she pulled alongside, keeping it between herself and her pursuers. Then, with the driver waving one hairy fist at her out his window, she overtook.

      In her rear view was a slash of black, cut off as she nestled her car in front of the truck. Her tail knew where she was, and they’d be hard on the gas to catch up. But the logging road was in sight now, a hard right turn that wended upward into the forest bordering the highway. With a bit of luck…

      The truck driver mashed his horn, scowling down at her from his cab, and drifted into the right lane. Angling to cut her off. Olesia jabbed her middle finger at the trucker and pulled right as well.

      More frantic horn-tooting. The trucker mouthed, Asshole! as he accelerated, ready to kiss her rear bumper. She couldn’t see the tail any more, which meant they couldn’t see her. Perfect.

      The turn came up, and Olesia pulled right so abruptly that the left tires lifted from the road. The wheel jerked in her hands, fighting against her grip. A plume of dust spat out behind the car as she wrestled it back on course, bouncing off potholes as she left the highway and shot up the logging road.

      For a second she thought she’d pulled it off. The truck had hidden her from view as she pulled into the scrub, and her tail was floundering. Then came a squeal of tires as her pursuers struggled to hold the turn.

      Clever little shit. Olesia goosed the gas and wound upward, into the trees. The highway vanished along with the grumble of traffic, and for a moment she almost felt alone, forging a path along a long-forgotten mountain crest. An explorer in wild and dangerous lands. Then sunlight flashed on headlight-glass in her mirror, and she was jerked back to the chase.

      There was no knowing how many were in the car or what they were carrying, whether they were Blackrock or Burroughs’ men. If she pulled over and started shooting, they could respond with milspec rifles and grenades. No, she had to disable them before they got out of the car. Which meant…

      The solution came to her as she approached the peak of the logging road. There were no barriers along the dropoff, only a long tumble down to the tree line. The earth was churned to butter by the passage of heavy machinery, and it took all Olesia’s strength to keep the wheel from jerking out of her hands and sending her over the edge.

      The sedan was gaining. She slowed, letting them close as they reached the peak, until her pursuers were breathing her exhaust. They’d drawn close enough that she could make out the shape of the driver, a man waving for her to pull over. No passenger that she could see. That’d make things easier.

      They were on the last turn before the summit when Olesia hit the brakes.

      Her tires bit deep into the mud and the black sedan fishtailed helplessly in an effort to avoid impact. It was a good try, but they’d been following too close, too fast. The two cars kissed, nose to flank. Olesia was thrown against the wheel as the sedan bounced away, her car spinning about like a whirling dervish, finally ending up pointing at the precipice.

      She stayed on the road. The other car wasn’t so lucky.

      The sedan skidded out of control towards the edge of the logging road. For a moment it looked like the driver had jammed the brakes just hard enough to keep from slipping off the mountain, rocking to a stop with two wheels on and two wheels off the muddy trail. Then the car tipped by slow degrees and rolled lazily off the ridge.

      Olesia caught a glimpse of a pale man’s face pressed against the window, like he was trying to escape through the glass, before the car was swallowed by dust and exhaust. Then came a low crunch of steel. The corn-chip crunch of safety glass caving in.

      A shrill, terrified scream carried through the midday air.

      Olesia flicked the safety off her pistol before stepping out. Dirt crunched beneath the heels of her boots as she moved to the edge of the embankment. The sedan lay below, on its wheels again. The roof was caved in and the windows spiderwebbed, but the engine was still grumbling and if the driver was in one piece then it wouldn’t be hard for him to maneuver out of the ditch, back on to the road.

      The bullshit would start again. It’d follow her all the way to Kay’s front door. She had to end it.

      A bloodied hand slapped against the driver’s window, and Olesia’s finger fluttered on the trigger. It took all the control she had not to put two bullets through the glass. She edged closer, waiting for any hint of a weapon to appear, but there was only the driver, head lolling, blood on his brow.

      Hands on the dash! She slid down the embankment and tried to jerk the door open, but it was stuck fast. "Hands, or I blow

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