Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (31 page)

They were hidden from view in amongst the trees. Dillon had
strung up a camouflaged waterproof sheet between the lower limbs
to protect them from the weather that did not look as if it was going
to improve, the quad’s engine clicked as it started to cool.

Dillon said, as he spread a ground sheet on the ground.
“Jesus, it’s cold. Whatever processed you to come and live up
here Dillon?”
“You really don’t know anything about me, do you?”
“I know that you’re one mad son-of-a-bitch. So that must have
something to do with it.”
“Yeah, yeah... Now let’s get some sleep.”
Dillon slumped down onto the ground sheet exhausted, and ran
his hand over the soft earth. “This place is
old
,” he said softly, his voice
carrying a tone of awe. “I mean, really old.”
Tatiana nodded, retreating into the hood of her parka. Moaning
in mock ecstasy, at the thought of sleep even though it would only
be for a few hours. Her thoughts turned to a far off holiday in the
Bahamas. “I never believed I could be so cold,” she complained,
closing her eyes.
Dillon smiled. “Unbelievable - we’re on our way to a meeting
with almost certain destruction and all you can complain about is the
cold. Lady, this is nothing; you should try this place in the middle of
winter... Now then you would have something to complain about.”
Tatiana emerged from somewhere inside her fur lined hood and
propped herself up on her elbows and glowered at Dillon for a while,
thought about replying with a caustic retort, decided it wasn’t worth
it and laid back down on her back, closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
Dillon checked the map using the light from his torch and
discovered that they were only about two hours away from Kirill’s
facility. As long as they still had the element of surprise on their side,
they would arrive at the coordinates that the Priest had sent him in his
last encrypted email, without incident.
And then… …what?
Dillon knew: he would interrogate Kirill. And then he would kill
him. There was nothing Kirill could say that would excuse him of the
crime of betrayal.
The Government might have brushed Kirill under the carpet.
But not Dillon. It just wasn’t in him, and besides - Kirill had it coming
to him for setting Dillon up, and attempting to kill him in Cornwall...
Dillon lay there in the dark, reliving that day, that night at
Kirill’s country retreat in the heart of Cornwall, reliving that dreadful
moment when Kirill and Zhenya Tarasova had turned against him,
forcing Dillon to awaken his dark side. And then for a few black and
white moments, Dillon did what he did best - kill and survive...
Dillon blinked, wiped sweat out of his eyes.
That’s right, he thought. When he was under pressure, he saw
everything in black and white.
Why?
Dillon felt himself shiver and he opened his eyes - back in the
real world - and his gaze settled on Tatiana sleeping.
His mind was running over the many events since she had reentered his life. And then it dawned on him - perhaps she was not
only working for Ferran & Cardini International, but also for Kirill;
he
didn’t lead the Assassins to Ezra.
She
did!
Dillon remembered what Tatiana had said about the work role
she now held. Her job title was tagged, Government Liaison Officer,
but her real function was acting as the eyes and ears of the partners
of Ferran & Cardini within the corridors of power. Tatiana had been
involved with the Kirill project team - had been involved with the
Chimera Programme, from inception... She has always known what
Chimera is capable of, and what it could do in the right or wrong
hands. So, maybe she works for - Mr Big, whoever he was.
She had pleaded with him to take on the bodyguard assignment
in Cornwall. What a naive fool he had been, not to have seen that
as a set-up. The bullet from the Assassin was only meant to wound
- otherwise she would be dead. She had willingly jumped back into
bed with him during their visit to Ezra’s place on Santorini. How
convenient that was, fuck him, and fuck up his mind - soften him up,
make him more susceptible to suggestion and direction.
Dillon became aware that Tatiana was staring at him strangely.
She was speaking to him, but everything seemed surreal; he felt light
headed, his mind spinning, running wild with doubt and mistrust.
Tatiana reached out to touch him, her mouth open, and her
words unheard.
Then the scene swung back into focus, and Dillon re-took
control of his mind. He looked into Tatiana’s concerned eyes.
“Dillon, are you okay? You look awfully grey, you need to get
some sleep.”
“I...” began Dillon, then halted. He realised, then, that he had
been having a dream, and was most likely mumbling in his sleep,
which had woken Tatiana up.
Dillon shivered. “I think I’m suffering from exhaustion or
something and didn’t realise just how weak I must be. I’ll be okay, let
me get some sleep.”
“Good,” soothed Tatiana. And as she lay back down, she
suddenly felt lonely - and incredibly vulnerable.
She shivered as a gust of wind and rain whipped up leaves
around where they lay.
What would she do if Dillon died out here?
What would she do if she was left alone?
Tatiana shivered again, deep down to her bones.
When she looked around at Dillon, he was asleep. She reached
over and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders; she did not see
the 9mm Glock in his hand as he nestled in the darkness. She did
not see that the safety catch was slipped into the
off
position. And,
of course, she could not see the bullet already loaded into the firing
chamber.

A white mist hung lazily in the valley; the wind and rain from the
previous night had completely blown itself out, leaving only the cold
and an eerie stillness. They had decided against building a small fire,
despite the chill of the mountains; this part of the Scottish Highlands
was not as desolate as it first appeared, and all they needed was for
a spy satellite to pass overhead and pick up their heat signature, or
Kirill’s security force stumbling across them as they cooked their
breakfast.

Tatiana, weirdly, felt very alive; as if she’d never been tired, never
been asleep, as she sat huddled in her parka and wrapped up in a thick
blanket, only her face visible from within the furry hood, eyes staring
up at the hazy sky.

Around her, ancient Caledonian pine trees added colour and
texture to the wild glens - and the mountains beyond - everything
was still. Occasionally noises would interrupt the silence; the cries
of stags, and the unmistakable sound of antlers locking in combat.
After a while, Tatiana gazed across to watch Dillon’s face in sleep.
She studied the lines, the broken line of his nose, the profile of his
strong chin, the unruly hair that she knew he would claim required
a thorough washing. His shape was obscured by the fur lined parka
coat and thick blanket covering him... and her mind wandered off to
better, happier times that they had had together...

She killed the fantasy.
Dillon had been cold since Santorini. Cold and strange...
He had killed so many times on behalf of the realm, that he

carried a demon in his soul that took possession of his mind during
times of extreme stress. Who would have believed that a man who
appeared calm and calculated on the outside - could be so tormented
and damaged on the inside.

Tatiana smiled to herself, lifted her hands and rubbed at her eyes.
Pain stabbed at her shoulder like a hot poker; the bullet wound nagged
her, it still hurt every time she moved her arm - and to top it all she
was starting to wish for a shower...

Paid Assassins.
She smiled again, although the taut grin held little humour.
She had met numerous men - and a few women - while working

as a liaison officer for Ferran & Cardini International; many killers,
murderers, Assassins, members of the security services... their names
were various, their objectives usually one and the same. To locate, and
to terminate. And she had found one connection that linked them all
like a gold skein - as they tiptoed on eggshells, skirted around the edge
of insanity. After all what sane person could kill in cold blood? Kill in
the cold light of day... No matter what the cause or justification.

And, sooner or later, something had to give.
With all the security service people that she knew, no matter how
professional, how adept at killing, how granite-like they appeared - it
was still all bullshit. They were just flesh and blood, like every other
human being. And they might be able to block out the self-loathing
for a while, but it always came back to haunt and torment them. Their
lives as trained killers was finite; only as long as they could hold on to
their nerve and
their
sanity.
Scorpion, Ferran & Cardini, and the security services, were just
like the Armed Forces, Tatiana understood this now. They all absorbed
people; used people; destroyed people - and then they pissed them
away. Field operatives were expendable; they
had
to be expendable
because there was no such thing as a killer without a conscience, no
such thing as a person without a soul. There was always a spark there...
somewhere.
Tatiana sighed, and felt for her mobile phone in her pocket. She
pulled it free and stared at the black touch-screen. When in GPS SatNav mode it could navigate somebody to anywhere on the planet, but
of course, Dillon had forbidden her to switch the thing on, which
made her feel insecure. And that wasn’t a nice feeling... She caressed
the slender device between her thumb and forefinger, then, settling
back, pulled a small knife from her pocket, slipped back the rear
casing to expose the battery, and removed it. She took the blade and
levered out the printed circuit board. The phone gave a warning buzz
that Tatiana ignored; she examined the inside of the phone without
its innards, and smiled.
She pulled out a slender LCD Screen - about the size of a credit
card - and using an extendable cable, plugged it into the phone’
battery. It immediately came to life, brightly glowing blue, and Tatiana
couldn’t help feeling very strange about using such a high-tech piece
of equipment in the middle of such a natural place. And yet here she
was, using the latest cutting-edge agent technology.
She started to scroll through a series of scripted instructions.
She tapped in a short message.
With a pursing of her lips, pale and dry from the harsh cold
environment, Tatiana clicked on
send
.
And then it was done...

Claudia Dax rolled over and opened her eyes, and stared at the
ceiling. Darkness was all around her. Everything was silent - deadly
silent. And yet, She knew. Knew that she was almost there, that it was
almost finished. Knew that it was almost complete... A few tweaks
here and there, some re-writing of certain codes and Chimera would
be 100% ready; the world would not be the same again once Chimera
was launched.

That could only mean that the programme was...
...alive
.
She whispered softly.
Why then, Claudia mused, did she feel so pissed off?
And it came to her, a feeling of frustration, and anger: to create

something so brilliant, to be involved in a project of such magnitude,
ground-breaking, and then to have it snatched away and taken to
some secret Government depository. To be placed in a strong box
and hidden for all eternity! It was like creating a work of art and then
hanging it in a damp cellar, never to be seen by anybody.

The Chimera Programme could be the ultimate weapon in the
fight against terrorism... Chimera was self-learning, intuitive, could
find out multiple encrypted computer trails, simultaneously, even
the most heavily fortified mainframes could not hide from Chimera.
Terrorists worldwide could not hide their computer activities as
Chimera could; scan, decode, extract, and then send every scrap of
data back to the relevant government agencies, in whatever country
the tracked computer was located without anyone knowing that it was
there, and all within seconds... But no. The British Government had
other ideas for this breakthrough in virus programming, and that was
to hide it away, because the politicians and bureaucrats were afraid of
it. Were terrified of it falling into the hands of the very people being
hunted. Terrorists...

And she could still remember Ezra’s words, when he had
contacted her. Claudia shivered.
She had complied with his wishes...
Copying the entire blueprint had been the easy part; getting
them to Ezra had been where the real difficulty lay.
Don’t ever call me un-resourceful, she mused.
Claudia smiled,emotions on her face conflicting, and she rubbed
at her tired eyes. She knew that the Chimera Programme was a tip-top
secret, and the top brass at the facility had the security so tight, not
even a mouse could fart without them knowing about it. But what the
hell, Chimera was almost ready, and she would be able to have a long,
long, well-earned-rest.
Her duty to humanity, and Ferran & Cardini, and Ezra, was
nearly complete.
Claudia Dax thought all these thoughts as she stared at the
ceiling. Her hand came up, ran through her long auburn hair, and then
she heard something; not so much a
noise
as a single high-pitched note
on the very edge of her hearing...
Claudia frowned, and then sat up.
The sound was coming from the living quarters of her
apartment. She leaned over the edge of the bed and peered through
the connecting doorway to the other room; she saw a glow from one
of her terminals. She didn’t remember leaving it on. In fact, she
knew
she had not left it on.
And the terminal was protected. Electronically. Her own code.
Her own sophisticated firewalls to intercept hackers, which she
had tested by attempting to hack her own system; she had found it
impossible. That meant that someone had hacked it, but that was
highly unlikely. It must have been accessed; either remotely from
somewhere else in the huge facility, or someone had entered her
apartment. Claudia Dax shivered.
She jumped off the edge of the bed, looked quickly around, and
picked up a heavy looking bronze sculpture from her dressing table.
She had purchased it, after much deliberation, from a rare weekend
break to Edinburgh, and was now thankful that she had.
She hefted the makeshift weapon.
It would make a very good weapon...
Claudia crept towards the open doorway. The light from the
terminal grew brighter. Her grip grew tighter around the slender piece
of sculpted bronze; her gaze flickered from the doorway to the head
of the bronze. She made a concerted effort to control her breathing
and her racing heartbeat.
Why would somebody be inside her private apartment?
Why
would somebody from the facility be spying on her?
Unless they
knew.
Suddenly she went cold.
And then something hit her - with the force of a sledge hammer
in the face. If they had discovered that
she
had been the one to copy
the blueprints and pass them on to Ezra... Then they would want to
know why?
They would be extremely harsh with her, and would certainly
not thank her.
Claudia reached the doorway. Peered cautiously around the
frame. And saw - nothing.
The terminal screen was blank; a bright blue with only a flashing
red triangle. Claudia’s eyes fixed on this because it was a symbol that
she had never seen on the terminal before - and it was
her
private
terminal; she was the only person who could give it commands. It was
her own from the ground up; including all of the software.
Claudia stepped across the threshold, moved towards the
terminal, her gaze sweeping left and right, hand still gripping the
bronze sculpture tightly. Fear had dried her mouth, she had difficulty
swallowing; the thought of Kirill’s
Big Boys
possibly suspecting her of
the Chimera blueprints’ leak was there, a foreboding of a
reality
of
particularly nasty proportions just waiting to surprise her.
The red triangle sprang to life, a black cursor started to flash in
the middle of it;
#
Hello Claudia Dax.
Claudia stood motionless, staring at the screen, a frown on her
face. She shook her head and sat down, placing the bronze sculpture
down on the top of the workstation, and typed her fingers a blur
across the keyboard.
#
Who are you? How did you get past my firewalls?
#
It’s not important who I am. The important thing is that I
know who you are. I would like to thank you Miss Dax - you have
done a remarkable job in creating Chimera; I must congratulate
you on a superb piece of programming and I give you full credit.
Your scripts stand out from all the other gibberish I’ve seen. Tell
me - where did you learn such a skill?
#
Why should I tell you anything? What’s to stop me from
shutting this terminal down and informing this facility’s cyber
security team?

Claudia sat back, staring at the blank screen, and reached for the
comm. But something was strangely wrong, and the IP address from
where the message was coming from
was
being blocked; somebody
had to be re-routing the message around the globe to mask its place
of origin. She felt annoyed, and started to punch in the code for
security as the following text appeared on her terminal.

Claudia’s fingers halted, her stare moving from the screen to the
comm. in her hand and back again. Were they watching her? Were
they watching her
now
?

Damn - was there somebody in her apartment?
She picked up the sculpture and spun around.
But there was nobody there. She was completely alone.
She lightly bit her bottom lip.
Sweat tickled the small of her back under her pyjamas.
#
I am giving you this information because you are the one

Your programming skills are world class, but you will need
every ounce of this skill to stop a catastrophic act of terrorism
being carried out by the programme you created...

Claudia stared. Her jaw dropped.
Holy shit, she thought, this can’t be real. Chimera - terrorism?
She typed:
#
What do you want? And why is my life in danger?
#
Listen carefully - Professor Kirill knows that you leaked

the blueprints. Because of the leaks and several other factors
concerning the re-location of the facility where the final
countdown and implementation of the Chimera Programme will
take place, the complex you are now located in will be destroyed.
At least half of all the employees involved within your unit are
to be terminated - you have no idea how high the stakes, being
played by people who employ you, are - it would appear though,
that Kirill’s agenda is at odds with the very highest echelons of
Government.

The killing has already begun; check your personal govlink to verify this.
You have perhaps five minutes before Assassins arrive in
your private apartment.

Claudia smiled. It had to be a joke, right? A wind-up of
monumental proportions by one or any numbers of her nerdy
colleagues downstairs in the programme suite. The bastards! She had
almost believed them!

The grin still beaming across her attractive face, she typed:
#
Who is winding me up?
#
Not a wind up - check your Gov-link NOW...
The word NOW continuously scrolled down the screen
.
The

grin fell from Claudia’s face. She moved back into the bedroom and
went quickly to the side of her bed, felt for and located what she was
looking for, and withdrew it. She had pulled free a tablet computer.
Hit the power switch and watched its screen come to life. The 10”
screen split into six smaller screens, each with a live feed from the
facilities own security surveillance cams. She punched in the digits
for one of her co-workers apartment, and her mouth dropped open.
Then closed again. Quickly.

There was lone black-clad figure; black balaclava; it was standing
outside the bedroom door. It held a silenced machine pistol. It did
not turn as another figure - another Assassin - dragged the man from
the bedroom. A tiny neat hole in the centre of his forehead. His head
twisted towards the camera, eyes staring blankly straight ahead. Blood
was running down over his left eye and cheek, and dripped as he was
being dragged across the tiled floor and dumped by the door.

Bateman - hands held high above his head, a look of disbelief
and horror on his face.
The knife flashed across his throat, severing major arteries
cleanly, spraying blood up the wall and ceiling, spattering the large
watercolour that he had loved so much. As he slumped down onto
the hard floor in a heap, a red pool instantaneously gathered around
his head.
Claudia flicked through the other channels.
More rooms were empty.
Some of them contained mutilated bodies.
She punched in another series of commands and a moment
later the upper cargo level appeared on the screen. There were three
Chinook transport helicopters, rotors idling, their cargo doors fully
lowered and open, two of the three interiors revealing a plethora
of dead bodies. Men and women, with whom Claudia had worked,
bantered and talked with only a few short hours ago.
Claudia hastily moved back to her terminal.
The screen was blank.
Why? Screamed her brain.
Why are they doing this?
Why are they
killing
them? Because they know too much?
Because of the blueprint leak?
She was sweating, suddenly panicked now. She ran back into
her bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and pulled out a small prepacked travelling rucksack. She threw her laptop inside and zipped it
back up. She paused for a moment, thinking, what the hell was her
next move going to be. Claudia ran to the door and halted abruptly,
hesitating before opening it. They could be in the corridor outside.
They could be in the lifts. They could be watching her right now on
the security system, ready to terminate her contract of employment -
permanently...
She inhaled slowly, trying to calm her breathing.
Keep your wits about you: think how you are going to survive
this nightmare.
She looked up, as the air-con cut in. Hissing quietly.
Claudia Dax went over to her desk and dragged a chair back to
the shaft and, reaching up, used the bronze sculpture to dislodge the
stainless steel grille. It was going to be a tight squeeze but - but then;
did she really have a choice?
She ran back into her bedroomrandomly pulled out clothes from
her wardrobe, and scattered them across the floor and bed. Then she
went to the kitchen and picked out a long handle floor brush from the
utility cupboard. From the chair she could just about reach the rim
of the shaft, which bit into the soft skin of her fingers, and hauled
herself up into the narrow tight confines of the metallic shaft. With
trembling fingers she manoeuvred the chair away from below with
the brush handle, and then replaced the grille cover back into place,
shifted her position just to the right of the grille and waited, her heart
thumping in her ears.
Three minutes passed.
Claudia heard it; a tiny
click
. The front door to her apartment
eased open. Two Assassins slid through the opening like ghosts; they
moved silently from room to room. They were very thorough as they
moved around her apartment, communicating only with hand signals.
As quickly as they had arrived, they were gone again out into the
corridor.
“She is not here.” The voice was soft and feminine.
“We will find her.”
“Report back to the control room; we’ll come back in ten
minutes and check again then.”
They left the corridor.
Claudia pushed herself backwards along the narrow shaft,
deeper in, the cool draught making her shiver, her
proximity
to death
made her shiver even more. I don’t believe it, she kept telling herself.
I just don’t believe it.
She moved on through the shaft, her mind pondering her current
precarious situation. She had actually been lulled into believing that
she was building Chimera to help in the fight against terrorism. Ezra
had been the only one telling her the truth all along...
And now?
Now
she
was in the firing line.
Claudia Dax shivered again, and started to weep into her hands.