Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (16 page)

Dillon crashed down onto the frozen ground with his brain
screaming anger-filled hatred, fuelling a re-renewed energy within
him. His soul filled with cold detachment, like a giant’s hand giving
him a nasty squeeze... “
Fight
,” howled his sub-conscious alter-ego.
But Dillon could not; for the briefest of seconds, he could not; it
was as if he had an enormous flat slab of concrete pressing down on
him. Without consciously knowing it, he reloaded the Glock with a
fresh magazine by sense of touch in his jacket pocket as the footsteps
came towards him, and his brain seized and the footsteps suddenly
increased in pace and…

Dillon rolled, the Glock now in his hand and pumping bullets
up into the air.
A kick sent the weapon spinning across the frozen ground.
Dillon curled his lip in a nasty smile. The promise of what was
to come foremost in his mind...
A diesel engine started - the Landrover. The Assassin’s head
snapped right - Dillon leaped, arms latching on to the attacker’s legs at
thigh height, teeth sinking into soft flesh. The attacker screamed with
intense pain, and instinctively fell backwards, dragging Dillon back
down onto the frozen ground. Dillon twisted to the left, rolled once,
and re-positioned himself to attack; he slammed both fists into the
Assassin’s face. One blow, two, three, four, and five. He felt, as well as
heard, bone break under the balaclava.
The Landrover, pluming smoke, accelerated out through the
archway from the courtyard.
Dillon staggered up.
The Assassin’s foot lashed up into Dillon’s groin and he stumbled
back; the scene flashed red, there was a crunch of gravel as heavy
off-road tyres skidded to a halt. Exhaust fumes spewing out like a
dragon’s breath.
Dillon looked up into the Assassin’s face.
Black clad - unreadable...
But the eyes. The eyes were thebluest blue, and filled with hatred.
The figure stood, legs slightly spread, arms raised in classic
karate style, waiting, to finish the job that it had been sent to carry
out. Dillon scrambled to his feet and the eyes were solidly fixed on
him, boring into his very being, and he grinned, a very nasty grin.
“You ready to die, ass-hole?”
“I have merely been toying with you, Mr Dillon. But no more.”
Seemingly, from out of thin air; the Assassin produced a slender
evil looking knife. The highly polished blade glinted menacingly in
the early morning sunshine, and the Assassin lowered its head. Dillon
managed to draw his own long bladed knife and spat blood into the
snow.
“Well if that’s the best you’ve got, then let the party begin. And
you wanting to fight with knives... How fortunate.”
The Land Rover’s diesel engine revved, plumes of black smoke
spewing out of the exhaust. Dillon could see Tatiana looking back
over the seat; the white reverse light came on and Dillon understood...
The Assassin attacked.
Blades flashed and sparks flew as they engaged in this final clash.
Dillon drew back with blood weeping down his forearm. The
smile fell from his lips, as he stared down at the sliced skin. They
circled and Dillon edged the Assassin closer.
Dillon rushed forward - as Tatiana floored the Land Rover’s
accelerator and the engine roared loud. The Assassin came at Dillon,
blade slashing left and right, and then turned - Dillon dived right.
The slab like back door of the Landrover hammered into the
Assassin; the body was violently thrown backwards in a tangle of
limbs to collide with a three hundred year old oak tree at the edge of
the drive. The bloody knife fell to the frozen ground. The Assassin
collapsed in a sprawling broken heap.
Dillon - breathing hard - looked slowly to the left at the knobbly
off-road tyre merely four inches from his nose. He wearily dragged
himself to his feet and glared at Tatiana’s reflection in the side mirror.
“You almost killed me.”
“But I didn’t. Get in,” she hissed, pain lining her face.
“Give me the Walther. I want to check our friend over there.”
“Get
in
!” Tatiana screamed.
Dillon half turned and his jaw dropped in amazement and
disbelief. The Assassin had survived, was leaning against the tree.
Piercing blue eyes met Dillon’s gaze, the balaclava hood had been
discarded, and the bloodied face of a young blond haired woman
confronted him. She sprinted forward at incredible speed over the
frozen ground... Dillon dived, scooping up his Glock, and then
dragged open the door and sprawled full length across the back seat
of the Landrover as Tatiana hit the accelerator. Spitting snow, the 4x4
roared down the track, sliding left and right, bouncing over the potholes and shooting off down the lane.
Dillon stared out of the back window.
The Assassin was close behind, a gloved hand reached out,
brushed against its right boot and Dillon couldn’t believe what he
was witnessing, the Land Rover’s engine screamed and Tatiana’s foot
floored the accelerator pedal with an aggressive stab...
The Assassin slowed to a walk and then stopped, arms limp by
her side, panting with the sudden explosive exertion, blue eyesholding
Dillon’s gaze.
“What is going on? How the fuck did she survive the impact,
and how on earth did she manage to run like that?” said Dillon.
“Are you hurt?”
“Hurt, I’m way beyond hurting.” He said. “How about you?”
“I’m bleeding again, and feeling just a little...”
Dillon felt the 4x4 swerve. He clambered over into the front
seat, and helped Tatiana to bring the Landrover to a halt at the side
of the road. Dillon swapped positions with Tatiana, and then handed
her another sterile dressing, which she held against her re-opened
shoulder wound as Dillon, hands sticky with his own blood, floored
the powerful diesel engine and they sped off up the mountain road.

Dillon drove the Landrover hard and after twenty minutes left
the relative safety of tarmac roads behind, off-road tyres kicking up
loose powder snow once again, the Land Rover’s diesel engine finding
it easy in its natural environment. He found the narrow track, and
drove into the wilderness. Finding a secluded gateway that was flanked
on either side by dry-stone walling, he jumped out, leaving the engine
running. He unlatched the heavy wooden five-bar field gate, and then
stared into the distance at the brooding dark woods on the far side
of the heather down. The howling of the wind made him shiver and,
as he started back to the warmth of the Landrover’s interior, large
snowflakes began to fall heavily. He eased the 4x4 over woodland
debris and killed the engine.

Dillon helped Tatiana onto the rear seat and checked the
reopened gunshot wound. Blood had clotted; the flow reduced to
nothing more than a trickle now. Tatiana’s face was ashen grey with
pain.

“I’m sorry Tats. But we’re all out of painkillers,” said Dillon,
stroking her hair.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, smiling. She closed her eyes, and
winced. Dillon eased himself out of his jacket with difficulty, his ribs
clicking beneath his battered and bruised flesh with every movement.
He checked the various knife wounds on both his arms; these had
clotted and had almost stopped bleeding, but some required stitches.
“Some of those wounds need attention,” said Tatiana.
“I’ll be okay.” Dillon delved into his holdall, and pulled out a
small plastic bottle.
“What’s that?”
“Cyanoacrylate.” Dillon immediately saw her bewilderment, and
added. “Superglue. Sticks skin together in seconds, and better than
any other method when on the move.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Positive. It was the Americans who first found out the real
benefits of superglue during the Vietnam conflict.” Dillon said as he
ran the nozzle along a two inch gash running down his forearm.
“Did you manage to pick up any provisions?”
“I always keep field rations hidden under this rear seat. I’d say we
have enough for a couple of days, and then we’ll have to head back to
civilisation and re-stock. Have you any cash on you?”
“No. Only plastic. How about you?”
“Three hundred in twenties.”
“We can top up at a cash machine.”
“No good. It leaves a trail. The cash I’ve got will have to be
enough.”
“So why don’t we leave a trail?” said Tatiana. “Only it’ll be a false
one! We’ll draw out as much cash as possible at a number of cashpoints - let them track the transactions, and then double back and
head in the opposite direction?”
Dillon considered this for a moment. They were going to need
a lot more money, wherever they were going. He nodded, smiled, and,
bending down, kissed Tatiana on the cheek.
“Thanks for saving my neck back there,” he said. “Now we’re
even.”
Tatiana’s arm came up and pulled him back down to her. They
kissed passionately, and for a couple of seconds, the world seemed to
be at peace again.
Dillon pulled away, his gaze intensely locked to hers.
“Come on. We have to get going.”
“Can’t we stay here tonight?”
“If what you say about these Assassins is correct. Then she will
be coming for us right now, and that means we need to put some
serious miles between her and us. You understand?”
“Of course. I’ll sleep - you drive.”
“No problem.” Dillon kissed her again, and pulled a heavy
blanket from the back and wrapped her in it. He climbed over into the
driver’s seat, and started the powerful diesel engine. After a moment,
he turned the heater dial to hot, checked the fuel gauge, then reversed
slowly from the wood, tyres crunching over twigs, and out onto the
heath land. Drove back to the gateway and out onto the lane.
“Where are you heading?” Said Tatiana sleepily, pulling the
blanket up tight around her neck.
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
“Any flying involved?”
“A little. But nothing to worry about.”
“Damn it Dillon, you know I hate flying.”
“It’s the only way, Tats. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Tatiana snuggled up against her makeshift pillow and
closed her eyes. Dillon angled the rear-view mirror and watched
her sleep as he drove through the countryside; the cool air from the
partially open side window made him shiver occasionally as mile after
mile of tarmac and the rare traveller sped by in a blur.

The Landrover drifted across the white line, a sitting duck for any
oncoming vehicles. Dillon swerved violently back to the correct lane
as horns blared and headlights flashed. He wasn’t sure, but he must
have dozed off, just for a split second, and cursed himself for doing so.
Snow had turned to heavy persistent rain and sleet the further south
they drove. The windscreen was awash. Thunder clapped overhead in
the dark brooding sky; he re-adjusted his rear-view mirror and saw the
Xenon headlights glowing white behind him. The driver of the car,
horn blaring, impatient to overtake.

“Okay, Okay,” Dillon said quietly. He increased the speed of
the wipers to cope with the deluge of water falling out of the sky,
eased up on the accelerator and then took the Landrover around the
roundabout and out the other side towards the east and Edinburgh.
The Highlands were now just a bad memory, left behind until this
mess was sorted out...

It was just before dusk when Dillon pulled the Landrover into
the lay-by. Half an hour earlier had seen him in a Tesco-Express
store buying supplies - everything from biscuits and crisps to tinned
Tuna and Diet-Cola through to basic travel medical kits, T-shirts and
hoodies that weren’t covered in blood and a number of mysterious
items which he kept hidden in one of his holdalls. Now they were
both cleaned up and wearing a fresh change of clothing, they looked
at one another and Tatiana ran a hand through her hair. She’d just
taken some pain-killers - the maximum dose - but was still obviously
in considerable pain...

“What now, Dillon?”
“We steal a plane. Or anything else that will get us airborne.”
“Steal a plane... are you out of your mind?”
“Now there’s the question. But, no, I am not, and the reason for

stealing a plane, is that if we just strolled onto an airfield and asked
to hire one; we would immediately give our location away, because it
would be immediately logged with the authorities. And, for another,
whoever it is attempting to track us would know exactly where we
were the minute we log a flight plan. I do not intend to bring attention
to our whereabouts. So it’s lucky for us that privately owned small
aircraft are stolen all the time, and that they only ever call in the local
plod. Now, we need to get to the next village where there is a small
private grass strip; they have a few single prop aircraft, but mostly
gliders. However I do know that there will be a twin turbo-prop towplane in one of the Nissan hangers, which will do us nicely.”
“Dillon,” said Tatiana slowly, “Surely there will be security

patrols and possibly dogs?”
“The only security they have is a padlocked gate at the entrance
to the field, and every member has a key to let themselves in and out
whenever they want. A lock pick should do the trick...”
“And assuming we get onto the airfield and manage to steal an
aircraft. Do you know how to fly… whatever it is you’re going to
steal?”
“Cut my teeth on single and twin engine Cessnas. Admittedly,
it’s been a few years, since I last flew a fixed wing plane. But they’re all
the same. Joy-stick. Rudder. Flaps. Landing gear. Hey, come on, don’t
look so sceptical - after all said and done, it could be a lot worse. That
weirdo Assassin could have murdered us both back at the castle. So
why the grim smile?”
“You’re barking mad,” said Tatiana slowly. “And tell me you
don’t still plan to visit Ezra?”
“Yes, I’m sorry Tats - but I do need to see Ezra. He is the only
one who can possibly help us.”
“He will most likely try to kill us. Well you,” she corrected.
“Your perception of him as a war-mongering butcher is
completely exaggerated. The giant geek is a monumental softy, with a
heart of gold...”
“Yes,” said Tatiana slowly. “But don’t forget you shot him in the
ass and almost destroyed his right hip. He won’t forget that in a hurry.
Surely you haven’t forgotten...”
Dillon shrugged nonchalantly. “I saved his life by shooting him
in the ass. Remember why I shot him? Anyway, he’ll understand,”
came the simple reply. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Christ, Dillon. You’ve still got that
bloody death-wish, haven’t you?” She looked sternly at him, and
rubbed at her tired pain-filled eyes. “Where is he living these days? Do
you know if he’s still playing havoc with his little computer games?”
“I’m not falling into your trap Tatiana. And I’m not going to
divulge where he is,” said Dillon with a boyish grin.
“You
are
completely off your trolley,” Tatiana said with feeling.
“It helps in this business. That’s why I’ve stayed alive for so
long.” He coughed. “But I’m a realist, Tats. And, it’s one of the many
reasons why I decided to opt for the quiet life for a while up in the
Highlands.”
“You like the thrill of danger to much. The possibility that the
next assignment might be the one that takes you out. Permanently...”
“Perhaps. You know me better than most.”
“No perhaps about it. And these Assassins are being used to
take out Scorpion units and anybody who poses a threat to Ramus
and Kirill’s ‘New World Order’. That means you, Dillon.” She said the
words without emotion.
“You said that these Assassins were originally a secret society
that disappeared into obscurity. But Ramus and Kirill have somehow
resurrected their modern day equivalent? Well, surely that means they
had access to the Scorpion network, and that was how they managed
to track each unit down and terminate them. But, it also means that
they have access to the Ferran & Cardini secure network as well.”
“So why not contact Vince Sharp. Get him to look into it?” said
Tatiana simply.
“Definitely not.” Dillon’s words were spoken softly. “No contact.
We do it my way; if Ferran & Cardini have been compromised, and
the bastards are waiting to lock onto our signal. The moment we try
to make contact the lights on their tracking screens will light up like a
Christmas tree.”
“Maybe you’re right. But isn’t it worth taking the risk? After all
Ferran & Cardini could help us.”
“I can do without their help,” Dillon said without humour. “I’m
better off on my own - and that’s how it’s always worked best.”
Tatiana shook her head slowly and ran a hand through her blond
hair.
“So, when are we going to break the law and embark on this mad
scheme of theft from a private airfield?”
“Theft? No, I’m only going to borrow an aircraft from my old
friend Lord Roth.”
“Oh, you didn’t mention that you knew the owner of the airfield.
But what about the police? Won’t they be notified, when the plane is
found to be missing?”
“There you go again, thinking about the negatives of this little
enterprise. I’ll tell you what; I will leave him a note. How does that
sound?”
“Cavalier, to say the least.”
“Well, unless you hadn’t noticed. We don’t really have the time
to sign the hire agreement in triplicate.” Dillon said sarcastically. He
pulled out the battered Glock from its shoulder holster, and stared at
it lovingly. “I’m sure if we run into any bother, my old friend here...
Well you know what I mean.” His smile was without humour.