Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (36 page)

The rain had stopped and the night cold descended. Flames
burned low, crackling softly, the only sound against the bleakness of
the highland night. Against scarred and blackened chunks of rock,
twisted metal and fused glass, something moved in the semi-darkness.

It lay amongst the debris, reaching, clawing the smoke-filled
air blindly with blackened stumps, crimson glistening in blood-filled
shallow cavities. Then it slumped, rolling on its back and cold eyes
stared up at the black star-filled sky.

GCHQ Transcript 8.
Transcript of recent
international news incident.
Chaos ensued amidst an entire shutdown of
the British military satellite network earlier
today. Contact was lost with ground, air and
naval forces around the planet as UK computer
and military experts battled to bring the system
back on-line.
Disruption was also caused to UK domestic,
satellite TV, internet services and many other
digital communication systems.
There was an immediate cry from Government
ministers, as to why this happened - and how.
Ministry of Defence experts are blaming severe
electrical conditions in space, possibly
causing a malfunction of the satellite’s advance
warning system to temporarily shut-down...

Tatiana was smiling down at him. He looked up into her eyes and
saw understanding there.
“I am sorry...” he whispered.
“Shh.” She placed a finger against his lips. “Don’t speak.”
“I don’t know why it happens, or what I’m saying. It’s as if I’m
someone else.”
“I know, Dillon, I’ve known for a long time...”
Dillon smiled weakly. Then he flinched as pain flashed through
his entire body, through all of the wounds he’d incurred over the last
few days.
He gasped. And his brain felt like it was going to explode from
the wound to the side of his head that pulsated with even the slightest
movement he made.
Tatiana looked suddenly worried. “Dillon?” She shook him.
“Dillon, what’s wrong?”
He opened his eyes.
He smiled up at her, squinting.
“Nothing, it’s just a headache, nothing to worry about, Tats.”
The Priest and Alix were standing close by, a look of concern written
across their faces.
Dillon coughed, writhing in agony for a moment. “Hell that
hurts. Have you any painkillers?”
“We’re completely out, sorry, Dillon.”
“That’s okay. We need to get going anyway. We’ll get Alix and the
Priest back to their Apache, and hopefully Lola will be there already.
We’ll then make our way back to Vince at the SAS depot.”
“That sounds good to me.” Alix said nodding. The Priest looked
up at the dark brooding sky and then back at Dillon. “Yes, we should
make haste.”
Tatiana helped Dillon to his feet, and he stood panting for a
moment in the early dawn half-light.
Then, with great effort of will, he grunted, and climbed on
board the quad bike. Tatiana jumped on behind him and the Priest
and Alix jumped onto the wide mud-guards either side of her, and
he fired up the powerful engine. Dillon closed his eyes for a moment
as he composed himself - not just for the journey ahead, but for the
realisation that Kirill was actually dead: and that the
quest
, as it was the
fucked-up journey, he had to make.
It was not over.
It was far from over.
The quad bike moved off, bumping along the dirt track and then
racing out down the valley towards the loch...
“Ramus,” muttered Dillon. And, grimacing, he screwed the
throttle round viciously.

Claudia Dax rode the off-road trails bike hard and fast. The
750cc machine was powerful and sped through the darkness, the
suspension absorbing the bumps with ease, the headlight scything the
pre-dawn light.

I’ve done it, she thought triumphantly.
I’ve got away.
I’ve bloody well got away with the Chimera blue-prints. The

ability to create the most powerful programme of all time, the most
vicious piece of malicious software the world has ever seen. And she
had the only script that would be able to run at one-hundred per cent
efficiency.

Claudia Dax smiled; and then decided that there might be
someone following her and the smile fell from her face as she checked
her mirrors. But only blackness swept across the highland valley
behind her, deep and impenetrable. Before her, blood smears on the
front faring of the powerful Yamaha trials bike did nothing to calm
her racing heart-beat.

Claudia wiped rain from her face with a gloved hand; and then
remembered the blood. She glanced down at the crimson streaks
and her stomach turned. And then she remembered her friends and
colleagues who she’d worked with, and got to know over the last two
years who had been murdered in their beds, and her stomach did a
double flip. She swallowed hard, suppressing her fear and the sourness
of bile rising in her throat.

She could flood the world with the Chimera code; only her
version would have the anti-virus element to the programme. She
could stop a global computer melt-down.

The British Government would be implicated as the source of
Chimera. Implicated, blamed and, damned by everyone... She could
blow the whistle on the other bad stuff that Kirill had been working
on.

Claudia needed to get to a powerful computer, and she realised
the danger of her predicament. She was going to ruin their plans;
they would want her dead... But then they wanted her dead anyway.
Did they know that she had the only copy of Chimera that could
run at one-hundred per cent efficiency? She doubted it - after all,
they had been about to blow the top of the mountain - and surely
that had been the purpose of the bomb-to stop any possibility of
anyone pirating the programme. But then she could not rely on that,
she could not rely on
anything
... She had to assume that they knew she
had the copy of Chimera.

But something confused Claudia Dax. Why should the British
Government and Scorpion - who she had always thought of as
a brilliant organisation to work for - so why would they kill a large
group of their own employees? And why would they destroy their
own secret facility that had cost hundreds of millions of pounds of
tax-payers money to construct and maintain? Why would they blowup the Chimera project?

Something in the reasoning was flawed. Something was not quite
right - like Kirill and the bombs, like the appearance of the black-clad
and hooded Assassins roaming freely through the corridors of the
mountain complex.

She could not understand why Kirill would do such a terrible
thing.
Unless the Government and Scorpion had been betrayed!
Claudia opened the throttle wider, and the powerful trials bike
surged forward, off-road tyres biting into the tarmac of the Highland
road. She focused on the winding road ahead, but in the back of her
mind, she was thinking about just how serious these people were -
whoever they were. They knew that she was alive; they would have
airports and seaports covered for sure... So how the hell was she going
to get away withher life intact?She knew that whoever it was involved,
would have limitless resources if they really
wanted
to find her.
She racked her brains. What to do?
Focus. She had to stay focused, she thought.
Get out of Scotland. Get as far away from the facility, as quickly
as possible.
Get rid of the trials-bike as soon as possible.
Find a suitable disguise.
The four-stroke engine stuttered, just briefly. Claudia felt the
slightest vibration travel through the bikes frame. She looked down
at the gauges and the orange light that indicated that she was out of
fuel…
“What? You pile of junk,” she muttered, tapping the fuel dial
with a gloved finger. “How is that possible?”
The engine stuttered again, and then stalled. She coasted to a
halt, pulling over to the edge of the road, tyres squelching on the
water-logged grass verge. She sprang off the machine, letting go of
the handle bar as her boots hit the soft ground, the bike falling heavily
into the ditch.
“Shit. Shit!”
She looked around at - wilderness. She reached into her rucksack
and retrieved a metal canister, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold
water inside.
“At least I won’t die of dehydration,” Claudia muttered sourly.
She picked up her small rucksack, and pausing for a moment to take
several deep breaths and to brush a few specks of mud from her jacket,
she bit the bullet of panic and set off down the road. The tarmac road
surface made the going easy, and as she walked, she cursed herself for
not checking the fuel level before she had roared off down the valley.
She also cursed for such bad luck and, most of all; she cursed herself
for ever working for Kirill in the first place.

The Priest returned from the outcropping of rock, the Heckler
in one hand, a canteen of water in the other. He yawned.
“How are you feeling now, Dillon?”
Dillon smiled, wincing at pain emanating from various locations
around his body. He glanced up at the Priest; the last few days had
taken its toll on him, lines around the eyes appeared much deeper and
the bruises seemed to have darkened.
“I feel like I’ve been run over by that quad bike a few times.
What about you? You look wasted.”
“I’m fine, thank you, Dillon.” He smiled. “I need to return to my
flock, I’ve a sermon to give this Sunday coming.”
“Yeah, I could do with getting back home. I’ve got a small castle
to repair when I get back.” Dillon said with heavy sarcasm.
“Yes, I heard they messed up your place pretty bad. But look
on the bright side, Dillon. You’re still alive, to fight the good work,
another day...”
After a brief break, and making sure that they were not being
pursued, they all climbed wearily back onto the quad bike and once
again set off. Forty minutes later and they found the Apache helicopter,
and Lola, who appeared from her hiding place, once she was certain
of who it was.
“What took you so long? I’d almost given up on you all.”
“Sorry. We had to take care of some unfinished business, back
there. Took longer than we anticipated.” Alix said, smiling.
“You okay, Dillon? You look like crap.”
“It’s good to see you too, Lola. And, thanks for asking, but I’ll
live.”
After arranging to meet up as soon as possible, they all said their
goodbyes, and Dillon and Tatiana set off again. This time to pick up
Vince and then head back to the sea-plane that they’d arrived in. They
travelled for an hour, until Tatiana spotted something and tapped
Dillon on the arm, pointing.
“You see it?”
Dillon glanced up. “The bike in the ditch over there,” she said.
“There might be someone injured. Let’s go take a look.”
“Wonder what happened?” Said Tatiana.
Dillon coasted down the road; and as they approached the
ditched bike, Dillon reached for his gun, tyres crunched on gravel
as he pulled up twenty feet back from where it was laying on its side.
Dillon climbed warily from the quad bike, eyes scanning the
deserted Highland landscape. He moved around the trials bike and
saw that the key was still in the ignition. There was no one around; he
checked the ditch in both directions, but found no bodies...
“Ran out of fuel by the look of it.”
Tatiana was holding a long-range scope to her eye. “In that case,
whoever was riding it, is now on foot. That bike came from the facility,
the security patrols used them.”
Dillon glanced around. Tatiana immediately sensed that now - in
a potential conflict situation - he gave no sign that he was injured: all
pain had been pushed out of the way, as the adrenalin started to flow
freely around his body for the moment.
“Could be a stray guard or an Assassin then, wandering around
the countryside.” Dillon slipped the Glock’s safety to the off position
for a little more reassurance. “But it could also be a biker who simply
ran out of fuel.”
“So let’s keep going. We’re still too far away from Vince.”
Dillon jumped back on the quad bike and they charged off up
the road with all four tyres gripping the tarmac and the stealth engine
running at full throttle. Dillon kept the Glock in his hand and stayed
vigilant as they raced forward.
They rode with a heightened awareness for the next hour as the
sun broke through the cloud and sent welcome rays down upon them.
They passed no traffic in that time, and saw no other living being. It
was as if everyone had hibernated...
It was Dillon who spotted her.
“Look. Over there to the left, that track running parallel to the
road.” Dillon said, pointing.
The young woman squatted down behind the remnants of a low
stone wall when she spotted the quad bike. But by then it was too late
- Dillon’s sharp eyes had spotted
her
.
They came to a halt and climbed off the quad.
Dillon moved off of the road and up the track, stopping just
short of the dilapidated low wall. “Stand-up and show yourself!” He
called.
Nothing moved...
Dillon pointed the gun at the pile of rocks. “Either you come
out and show yourself or, I’ll come make sure you endure a slow and
painful death. You have to the count of three. One, two, three...”
The woman stood up slowly, hands held high in the air. She wore
tight fitting stone-washed denim jeans and a brown leather sheep-skin
flying jacket, and carried a small rucksack. Dillon gestured with the
Glock. Out onto the road, where I can see you clearly.”
Dillon moved closer, checking to see if she was alone. The
woman was strikingly beautiful, her eyes bright. She looked frightened,
terrified even. “Please don’t shoot me, please,” she said as Dillon came
closer.
He stopped a few feet away, looking her up and down.
“What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“It’s a long story,” she said, smiling weakly. Slowly she lowered
her arms, but Dillon waved them up again. He stepped in close and
checked her for weapons, a cold sweat beading on his forehead as he
fought with his inner turmoil of pain.
He stepped back. “What’s in the bag?”
“Nothing much. Just a few personal items.”
Show me.”
Claudia Dax opened the rucksack; she slowly pulled out the few
personal items from inside and then showed Dillon the inside which
was now empty.
“What about the side pocket?”
Claudia unfastened the Velcro flap. Slowly she withdrew a small
silver disk and instantly Dillon aimed the 9mm Glock at her head and
her eyes widened, like a deer caught in headlights. Tears started to roll
down over her high cheekbones.
“What is it?” Dillon asked.
“That’s a relief. You’re obviously not from the facility?”
Dillon raised his eyes, and smiled grimly. “Well, we did have a
brief acquaintance with a man called Kirill.”
Claudia looked into Dillon’s eyes at the mention of the name.
“Where is he now?”
“Very dead. Are you going to answer my question?”
“It’s the entire blueprint of the Chimera virus programme. So
you’ve not been sent to kill me?”
“I don’t even know who you are, luv. Come on, walk over to the
quad bike; you look like you’re suffering from the cold.”
Claudia walked, with Dillon a few paces behind her, checking
warily all around. When she reached the quad Tatiana smiled, and
Claudia was allowed to lower her hands.
“And who do we have here, Dillon?”
“Haven’t got a clue, Tats.” Dillon took a long swig of water from
the metal canteen.
“But, she has got the blueprints for the Chimera virus
programme,” said Dillon.
Tatiana’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Very serious.” Turning to Claudia, he said, “I’m assuming that
you worked for Kirill?”
Claudia nodded. “Kirill had the majority of his staff murdered
by those freaky Assassins. I hid in the air-conditioning shafts, and
as all hell let loose, I’m assuming that was you and your friends? I
managed to escape off the mountain in the basket and then steal a
trials bike from outside of the guard-room. But before I left, I made a
master copy of Chimera. So you’re really not here to kill me?”
“If I was going to kill you,” said Dillon softly, “we wouldn’t be
talking now. Come on, jump up on the quad. I assume you need a ride
out of here?”
Claudia nodded, and climbed up behind Tatiana, squeezing onto
the tail-end of the saddle, just above the two stealth pipes.
Dillon fired up the engine.
“Where are you heading? Or alternatively, you can have this quad
in about three hours...”
“I’ll go wherever you’re going. I just need to get as far away from
this place as possible,” Claudia said wearily.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do,” said Tatiana, smiling warmly.