Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (21 page)

There was a pause. The breeze whispered between the trees.
“I think I’m following in your footsteps,” said Dillon.
“So it would appear. I have been reading up on your recent - ah,

shall we say
adventures
in both Cornwall and Scotland. Tatiana has,
of course, filled me in on some of the details. It would seem that
wherever you are - death follows closely.”

“Well, I admit someone appears to want me
dead
, if that’s what
you mean.”
“Hmmm. That would be the most logical assumption; a thought
that did leap to mind is that you were set-up. Used. A tracker with
the sole function of leading somebody to me. After all, Scorpion has
had units all over the planet systematically terminated - wiped out by
teams of highly trained Assassins. And yet they only sent one after
you. Strange, don’t you think?”
“Yes.”
“And further moves have been played across the global
chessboard.”
“Such as?”
“Computer hacks to all of the international banking institutions
- billions of dollars stolen. The authorities all confirm the same thing.
They haven’t got any idea of how a hack of this magnitude was carried
out; because there was no data evidence left behind. And the other
thing is that no-one has claimed responsibility, which is odd, because
geeks like their fellow geeks to know how smart they are.”
There was a long, long silence. Ezra enjoyed his cigarette. Six
hours ago the Thames House grid was hacked into and a total lockdown initiated. Remotely. The lock-down lasted for forty-five seconds;
afterwards the geeks could not find any form of data footprint of the
hack. In all of these attacks, all that is left - is a lot of red-faced and
very confused people.”
“Bloody hell, Ezra.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Ezra said softly.
“Do you think these hacks are linked to Scorpion being wiped
out and the attempts to terminate me ...”
“Dillon, I
know
for a fact that no official agency wants you dead.
We have much bigger problems... And the Assassins, the one that
came for you, I fear these killersare not in the employ of any legitimate
organisation. Whoever it is, has resurrected an ancient order of very
dangerous killers.”
“Who sent them?” Asked Dillon, voice hard, humour vaporised.
“I don’t know,” Ezra sighed, and scratched his chin. He ground
his cigarette stub into the earth. “Although, I have my suspicions.”
“I have a few suspicions of my own,” snapped Dillon. “Now I
know that you still want me dead Ezra - and I can’t say I really blame
you after what we went through: I thought I’d misjudged you when
we arrived here.”
“You had,” said Ezra softly.
Ezra faced Dillon, who looked up at the big man. Ezra rubbed
at the scar on his right ass cheek self-consciously and Dillon noted
the movement, remembered in vivid Technicolor that it had been his
own bullet that had wounded Ezra’s flesh, and given him a permanent
limp.
“You are Dillon, Ferran & Cardini’s most resourceful man - or
used to be. No longer do you seek adrenalin rush assignments; you
have become withdrawn, hidden away in the midst of the Scottish
Highlands with nothing more than your own company and a bank of
computer screens as your window to the outside world. But let’s not
forget the knowledge you’ve amassed over the years, and the awesome
ability in tracking people down - and in killing them... Now, I had
thought of killing you,” said Ezra. “Right here on Santorini... But I
feel, Dillon, that would be wasting a valuable resource, and I have a
far greater use for you.”
Dillon lit another cigarette. And offered the opened packet, Ezra
took one, and lit it with a slim gold lighter.
“And what might that be?”
“The anger I have harboured against you has gone. You love
Tatiana. And because of your love for her, I forgive you for shooting
me in the ass; we need to pull together during this time of great
need... Tatiana needs you. Dillon, somebody is trying to de-stabilise
governments and economies all over the planet - why? Scorpion was
the defence and has been all but destroyed. Scorpion was the firewall
against this sort of thing ever happening; Scorpion was certain death
to those individuals and organisations who oppose all that stands for
good in this world.”
Dillon frowned. Ezra was one of the strongest, most honest
men he had ever met. There was no streak of weakness - Ezra had
shot sleeping men, wounded men, dying men. Dillon would not have
been a problem... and this reinforced the notion that the world was
full of shit.
“What the hell is going on here?” Dillon asked softly, turning
his eyes away from Ezra, gazing through the olive grove towards the
ocean, moonlight glinted off of the water in the distance. “Who is
using highly skilled Assassins, to systematically take out Scorpion units
and are now tracking me? Who do you
suspect
is behind all of this?”
Ezra shrugged, but looked away. Dillon caught a hint of
something; something unsaid, something he almost grasped but
missed in the darkness. Ezra was hiding something. Hiding something
very bad.
“Only a handful of Scorpion operatives have survived,” he
rumbled, rubbing wearily at his eyes. “But more - the destruction
of the Scorpion project took only forty-eight hours from start to
finish.” Ezra turned to look into Dillon’s eyes. Dillon’s face showed
unconcealed shock.
“Forty-eight hours?” He whispered.
“Yes, forty-eight hours - two days. Our Assassin friends are
looking for something - something retrieved by Tatiana many months
ago, and passed on to me for safe keeping. A possibility arises,
Dillon - the possibility that you were
chased
here. This facility is highly
classified... Not even Tatiana knew, but you sure as fuck should not
have done either. This is way outside the normal boundaries of Ferran
& Cardini.
Dillon nodded, smoke pluming from his nostrils. He scratched
the stubble on his chin with the tips of his fingers.
“You really think it’s that black and white? I lead the bad guys
here, because they know you have, whatever it is they want back, and
they think they know that I know where you are? Are you off your
trolley?”
“Why did you come here, Dillon?”
“Answers, Ezra. Answers.”
“And because you had no other options and nowhere else to take
Tatiana. Since my brother killed himself, where else would you bring
her, except to her uncle Ezra, despite your initial misgivings and our
differences
?”
Dillon dropped the cigarette. Grinding the remnants into the
hard earth. He turned to meet an impenetrable gaze and their stares
locked.
Dillon smiled resignedly, “So what is it you have, that they want
back so badly?”
“The original blueprint for Chimera.”
“Chimera?”
Ezra waved his hand dismissively. “I believe that we and the rest
of the world are being given a taste of what exactly Chimera is. But
for now my inquisitive friend, I advise you get some sleep, what is left
of this beautiful night. In the morning, I have many things to show
you.”
“Now I’m completely confused. You obviously know who is
behind all of this.”
It was not a question.
“I know,” said Ezra, smiling - again his smile held no humour.
It was the smile of a shark cornering its prey. The sinister smile of a
natural predator.
The wind blew up from the sea. The olive trees shivered in the
breeze.
“This Assassin has followed me here, then. To Santorini?”
“I’m afraid that it won’t just be one, but many. The blueprint I
have in my possession is, shall we say, instrumental to the downfall of
the world powers and the world-wide monetary system. They know
that the information and calculations contained within it, becomes
the chink in their armour: their
Achilles Heel
. They cannot let them go
un-retrieved, and they therefore cannot let me live. I hold their secret
in my hands, like a God holding the key to the birth of a new planet.”
Dillon shivered as Ezra’s words enveloped him like the stench and
smoke of a burning corpse.
“They
will
come. And they will come very soon.”
Dillon frowned, lit another cigarette and blew a plume of smoke
into the night air. He knew that Ezra was holding out on him, and it
pissed him off badly.
“Well bring it on. Let’s see what they’re about...” He said quietly.

Ezra stood in the shadows of an olive tree, thankful that Dillon
had gone. The man made him uneasy, put him on edge. Ezra did not
trust him; his eyes held too much the look of a killer. He watched
closely as one of his personal bodyguard detail exchanged duty. They
disappeared into the gloom, moving like ghosts, and he took a long,
deep breath, staring up at the vast vaults of the night sky. A cool
breeze at last caressed his skin. He rubbed at his chin. He closed his
tired eyes.

But the images haunted him.
From another time.
From a different world.
Water and slime glistened on the rough dark stone walls. Russian

voices calling out in the darkness, men, women and children, all
embedded with the deep emotion of terror. He moved down the steps,
boots thudding dully on the ancient stone. He was deep underground;
the weight of the castle above, pressing down upon him.

Kirill and Ramus were there. They were pawing over calculations,
algorithms and he was with them. Rows of monitors lined the walls
of the former KGB torture dungeon...

Alix stared at the Westland WAH-64 Apache Longbow attack
helicopter, resplendent in Artic camouflage, with its narrow fuselage,
chin mounted guns and disposable armament of rockets and missiles
mounted on stub wings. The helicopter was also equipped with
the Longbow millimetre wave radar system to enable it to find and
identify its targets. Alix turned back to Lola, who was leaning against
the battered Mercedes van, smoking a cigarette.

“You say that you can actually fly this Apache?”
Alix nodded.
“You sure?”
Alix nodded again.
“It looks far more complicated close up.”
“It is. But that shouldn’t be a problem, as I could be considered

an Apache veteran.”
“Apache veteran?”
“Yeah, flown one of these babies many times. Albeit, as a

computer flight simulation...”
“What. You’ve only ever flown this thing as a fucking computer
game?”
“Well yes. But don’t worry, computer simulation - real thing,
there’s no real difference between them.”
“No difference. Only that we’ll have about five-thousand feet of
fresh air between us and the ground.”
“Look, we have no choice. And we couldn’t very well waltz onto
a military base and requisition one of these things with an experienced
combat pilot and a navigator? Now when I give you the order, I need
you to climb in - you see the release for the cockpit there? Good.
Climb in - insert this key, turn it clockwise and hit the green buttons
on the dash. You got that?”
Lola frowned. “I thought you’d sorted this, Alix? And I thought
we were waiting for the Priest?”
“I did, I sorted it with my old mate, Tiger Jones, whom I served
with in Afghanistan. He flew the Apache here, and if he ever gets
found out, they’ll throw him in a cell and bury the key forever. Now,
these are the keys, and I have the ignition sequence stored up here.”
He tapped his head. Blowing smoke through a cheeky boyish smile,
Lola slapped Alix on the back. He didn’t flinch or move. “And as for
the Priest? Well, he’s a little bit late and we can’t hang around any
longer for the insane fucker.”
“Late?” Said Lola. “Don’t you mean that
we
are early?”
“Depends on how you look at it,” said Alix. “Look Lola,
Scorpion is finished, we are being shafted left, right and centre by
these Assassin dudes - we need to find out, and find out fast, what
exactly is going on. Tiger’s base was the nearest one to this private
airfield with this sort of technology.”
Lola looked around, her face carrying the full weight of guilt.
Across the deserted airfield other aircraft sat unattended, mainly
Cessna single and twin engine aircraft, a couple of Bell helicopters
and an Air Caravan single propeller aircraft belonging to the local SkyDive centre. Behind them, large hangers, originally used during WW1
to house fighter planes but now owned by private companies involved
in various aviation activities, stood dark and still.
Lola looked up into the night sky. Heavy clouds rolled, and wind
whipped at her with the promise of rain.
“Can you really fly this helicopter?” Asked Lola suspiciously.
“Easy - like a walk in the park. Now, where the hell is the Priest,
we need to get going. We’ve got those masked Assassin fuckers killing
Scorpion units and Ferran & Cardini field agents all over the place,
and I’ve got a sneaky suspicion they’re not far behind us.”
“Come on,” said Lola, dropping the butt of her cigarette. Smoke
trailed from her nostrils. She ground the remains of the cigarette
under her boot and zipped up her combat jacket to the neck. “Let’s
get on with it then.”
Alix and Lola moved swiftly to the helicopter, Alix opened the
cockpit door and they climbed in. Lola moved around the hi-tech
war machine, poking here and there; she kicked away the blocks from
under the wheels and climbed up, squeezing in to the navigator’s
position. Alix started the ignition sequence, then the twin turbine.
The engine whined, and then roared and Alix smiled like a small child
opening a special present on Christmas morning.
Rain started to fall from the dark tempestuous skies.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Lola said, as the Apache
engine noise increased.
“Have faith my lovely, have faith.” Alix said grinning.
“Here we go! Let’s see what this little baby can do. Scotland here
we come...”
Out of the gloom, doing perhaps sixty, sixty-five across the grass
airstrip hammered the Priest’s Aston Martin DB5; the vintage car
slewed around, wheels locked, skidding in a broad-side halt in front
of the Apache in a scythe of water.
The door swung open and the Priest stepped out of the iconic
sports car, he stood for the briefest moment, looking straight at the
cockpit, and then crossed swiftly with his Bible in hand; long leather
overcoat flapping, and climbed up into the helicopter to be greeted by
two blank stares.
Well done, you two, for convening so early. It is good to see that
God’s work is going to be carried out with willingness and punctuality.”
“Right,” said Alix, casting a glance at Lola. “We were just
warming up her engines.”
“And
are
they warm?” Asked the Priest softly.
“They are now.”
“So what are we waiting for? Onward, Christians! Let us find out
the source of this scourge.”
The Apache, engines roaring with power, lurched up from the
grass airstrip, rotated through three-hundred and sixty degrees, then
shot straight up a thousand feet; it halted, hovering, rotated ninety
degrees, then with its short squat nose dipped, hammered forward
into the heavy falling rain.
Alix grinned sheepishly. “Sorry! Just getting acquainted with
her!”
The rotors thumped overhead as they raced through the
downpour.
Lola found herself staring out and down at the bleak landscape
below. They passed over towns and villages, vast open spaces of fields
and forests; cars moved like ants through streets. In high-streets,
shoppers cowered under large umbrellas and rushed between shop
awnings for shelter from the heavy rainstorm. A feeling of melancholy
came over Lola as she watched these tiny people in their tiny houses
with their tiny lives.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” said Alix.
“And what might that be?”
“You’re looking at the people -ordinary people going about their
daily business, secure in their ignorance. Not aware of world events
unfolding around them. They watch the news; believe the propaganda
spewed out by the media - like sheep. They have no real concept of
what is really going on, of what the stakes are.”
“That’s really quite profound for you, Alix.”
Alix smiled broadly at her, showing remarkably white teeth.
“Lola, you’re so philosophical, girl.” Alix said, “It’s not profound,
it’s a fact based on my observation of ordinary people.”
“Are you ordinary, Alix?” Asked the Priest casually from the rear
of the cabin.
“Hell no. Ordinary is definitely not something I’ve ever done,
Priest.”
Lola patted his arm. “Steady tiger. The Priest was only kidding
with you, and we both know you’re not ordinary. A little weird
sometimes, but definitely not ordinary.”
Alix nodded a big smile across his face.
The Apache banked, heading towards the north east coast of
England; below, cliffs sailed into the distance and they were flying low
over the cold hostile grey North Sea one hundred feet below them.
There was tension between Alix and the priest.
“We’re not going any lower,” said the Priest through gritted teeth.
“The wave formations will mask us against radar,” said Alix
softly, eyes bright in the glow of the instrument panel.
“And what about the possibility of downdraft? It could drag us
down at this low altitude and straight into Neptune’s watery embrace.”
said the Priest looking down at the foaming cauldron below.
“You can get out any time you like, you insane religious bastard.”
“God will protect us, Alix.”
“God will not protect us, Priest. Because he doesn’t really exist -
does he?” Alix gave Lola a sideward glance, and they both knew that
he was messing with fire and brimstone.
“You do not know God’s will, as I do.”
“Ok, Priest. Perhaps he does exist. But I’ve never heard or seen
him, and I haven’t seen the light, either.”
The Apache dropped closer to the waves; sea spray covered the
windscreen and Lola and the Priest stared out wearily, watching the
effervescence water, the crests of the white foam against the rolling
dark grey liquid.
“Do you know anything about this place we are going to?” asked
Lola, after long moments of silence.
“A little,” replied the Priest slowly, his eyes hooded. “It’s a top
secret Government research facility, exclusively used for military
computer software development by professor Kirill and his team of
nerds, because of its inhospitable location, it was built deep beneath a
mountain. The Ministry of Defence is the governing department, but
Kirill only answers to Downing Street. It’s run as a military centre, an
impregnable place from which the Government can securely develop
weapon’s systems and the like.”
“So how did they discover that Kirill was using the facility for
his own end?”
“A lowly level three programmer at the facility overheard
a conversation and had the presence of mind to report it back to
London. From that point the Ministry had GCHQ monitor every
single incoming and outgoing communication by land-line, fax, email
and mobile phone.”
“What’s this facility like?”
“Impressive, my child, very impressive. It is built high up on a
ridge of a mountain. There are only two ways to reach the place - by
air, or by a single car width un-made track. Kirill’s facility is a state of
the art fortress; almost impregnable. An elaborate system of tunnels
underground travel across and
down, deep down
- access and ventilation
shafts, vast storage rooms, research labs, kitchens, and living modules
- all carved from within the rock.”
“Apart from the obvious defences. What’s the security like?”
“Heavy! Special Forces trained security personnel patrol the
interior of the facility as well as the surrounding terrain. Then there
are the laser guided machine-guns, there are at least six of them
strategically located, that are controlled by the central facility computer
system. This might all seem like the impossible, but God will show us
the way...”
Lola shivered.
“This could get messy with lots of bad death.” Alix said matter
of factly through his helmet microphone
“What’s new.” said Lola.
“We have no choice.” The Priest said softly.
“They said that Kirill was a raving fanatical mad-man. But given
his choice of location, I’m not so sure about that.” Alix said.
“He might be mad and he might be a fanatic. But he is still
considered the most eminent computer programmer in the world.”
Said the Priest.
Alix nodded.
They remained in silence for the rest of the journey.