And then he saw it, like some incredibly bad coincidence...
The camera panned through one hundred and eighty degrees, showing in graphic detail the destruction and carnage in London, sweeping across the explosions’ ground-zero where Scorpion HQ had once nestled in its secret enclave. Dillon wasn’t interested in the reporters hysterical sensationalism, because he didn’t need to hear his commentary, and he did not care what the man had to say; instead his widened eyes watched the amateur camera-phone footage, taken from a London Eye pod. The sudden rush of smoke, followed by chunks of concrete, twisted pieces of steel, and millions of fragments of glass emanating from the small nuclear device that had erupted hundreds of feet below the ground. The instant annihilation of every building and life-form within its effective striking distance of one hundred metres. Then came the small mushroom shaped cloud that rose up into the darkened sky.
Dillon remained sitting, totally shocked, and rubbing his eyes.
What the hell is going on, screamed his confused mind? He pulled out the Ferran & Cardini mobile smart-phone; the screen was lifeless; except for a network error message. Not surprising as the network it was linked to, had just been vaporised in a single violent act of terrorism.
Dillon was suddenly thirsty, the game was getting bigger, the stakes getting higher, the unknown enemy becoming nastier.
The alter-ego that slept deep within Dillon’s sub-conscious surged to the forefront of his brain like a black brooding monster emerging from the deepest darkest depths of the ocean. “I’ve had enough of this shit, playing by somebody else’s rules,” snapped the voice inside Dillon’s head.
“You’re not the only one,” Dillon’s tone was gruff and thoroughly hacked-off.
For a while he dozed, drifting in uneasy sleep. When he awoke with a start the fire was still glowing warmly, but outside he could only see pitch-black, highlighted by the heavy snow drifting up the window panes. Dillon looked over at Tatiana. She was still sleeping deeply, her breathing regular. He checked the sterile dressings, and replaced them with fresh ones. Dillon poured himself a large tumbler of single malt whiskey, and re-took his seat opposite Tatiana, sipping at the smooth fiery amber liquid and staring into her face. She looked so serene, her skin so young looking.
And yet he would have to wake her shortly; not knowing if, or when, more Assassins would be sent after them? Highly trained and intent on murder?
He got up and went and knelt beside her, pushing some stray hair from her forehead. She murmured in her sleep, Dillon stroked her cheek, enjoying the warm flushed skin under his fingers; his mood had shifted to one of reminiscence, of years gone by. This was only moderated by the hard outer casing of the Glock against the small of his back.
More of them will come, he thought.
They will already know that they failed.
Tatiana moaned in her drug induced sleep; she turned, sighing, then her face twisted in pain - stitches pulling tight. She coughed, settling back against the cushions. Dillon held back from waking her, to question her. She had lost a lot of blood, was weak from her ordeal and injuries, the shock of what had happened to her. She needed to rest... but not for long. They had to leave; and leave soon. How long did they have? Twelve hours? Thirty minutes? Dillon caressed the Glock.
He would be waiting.
And he would be ready.
F&CI Com-intercept. Transcript of recent Reuter’s news article.
Sources within the Kremlin have confirmed that two Russian nuclear-powered submarines have gone missing.
These long-range underwater vessels were both armed with the latest nuclear warheads when they went missing while on training manoeuvres in the Barents Sea. Early reports indicate that five surveillance satellites were overhead at the precise time the submarines vanished.
A rescue operation led by military craft in the immediate area was ordered, and since the disappearance of the subs, three high-speed search and seek submersible drones have been searching the deep water at the last known fixed position, but with no success.
The leaders of many countries have already been in contact with the Kremlin to offer their support during this tragic time...
Chapter 8
The small launch cut a foaming wake through the black water of the harbour, the deck rolling gently beneath his sandals. He stood looking back towards the shore as the wind caressed his long curled hair and thick beard, he could see the darkened buildings of the harbour side, embraced by the heat of a tropical summer. Seagulls flapped and squawked, like squabbling children, around the fishing boats as dusk descended upon this exotic part of the world.
A lone eagle soared high above the shoreline, backlit by the full moon, searching out its next prey. The one-hundred and fifty foot black twin hull stealth cruiser sat rocking gently in the deep calm waters of the bay. The eagle dived and disappeared beneath the trees.
The launch reached the stealth ship, bumping against the rubberised hull. The access door slid back and the man stepped up and into the vessel. He moved through the gloom and reached the watertight door, heavy steel, and it swung open on well-oiled hinges. Giving a final look over his shoulder towards the access door and the freedom of the ocean beyond - he was now trapped with nowhere to run...
Ducking to enter the confines of the ship’s lower corridor, he moved up the broad steps, his silver tipped walking cane clicking as he made his way through the ship; his limp even more pronounced on the mesh walk-ways.
Despite his age of sixty-five, he was still an imposing figure of a man, huge and tanned, his head covered in traditional Middle Eastern head-wear, his face hidden under the large grey-streaked beard.
Moving down the corridor, he paused as he reached another door; he wanted to enter, neededto enter, and yet still he hesitated. He considered knocking, but realised it was not necessary... Ramus already knew he was there.
He pushed, and the heavy door swung inwards.
He stepped forward, into a room of low atmospheric lighting, that was pure opulence; fitted furniture of the highest quality and an array of high-tech computer equipment, and wood-panelling; long rows of unevenly sized books lining the walls and through a tiny porthole the last remnants of daylight spilled in. The room was awash with warm light and colour. Strategically placed throughout the space was some extremely high-tech equipment; binary codes flickered on the High Definition monitor screens, except for one, which remained black. Reminding the man of the darkness, that will fill and consume the new world.
“Ramus?”
“I am here, my old friend.” A figure was standing beside a stack of old leather-bound books; tall and thin, the suit he was wearing, hand-made of the finest cloth that money can buy and concealing an ever present Browning automatic. The voice was rich, had strength and an almost melodious tone.
“Come my friend - speak - we are completely alone for the moment.”
“They have failed,” said the big bearded man in Arabic. “We thought that he might have gone soft after nearly a year and a half out of Ferran & Cardini. We thought him an easy target; retired, lacking rigorous and regular training.”
“Even after the events in Cornwall with... Kirill?”
“He was merely lucky.”
“Your naivety astounds me. You placed him low on the list of priority terminations, when in fact he should have been at the very top.” The smooth voice had a razor sharp edge to it and the bearded man shivered.
“What would you have me do?” Came, the deep voice of the Arab. The voice was starting to crack under the immense pressure. His cane remained firmly at his side, as he waited for a response from Ramus. Who used this to his advantage, allowing the silence to build up the tension. He knew the other man well, knew his fear was a tangible thing, physical, an aura which surrounded him like a cloud.
“Send in just one Assassin, but this time, make sure that it knows just how dangerous the quarry is,” came the soft voice.
“Why? What makes just one so special?”
/> “There is an elite group who are waiting for such an opportunity to demonstrate their unique abilities. Sending just one to our friend Dillon in Scotland, will reap success this time. And don’t forget, these very special individuals who share our ideals, have been waiting patiently for many years, preparing - harbouring their grudges - for a war! Soon this stealth ship will be at the centre of our activities... Yes, my friend you are living through exciting times of immense change - on a global scale. The likes of which, no-one has ever seen before and it is good for you that you are a part of this - integral, shall we say.”
The Arab gazed at the suited figure in front of him, seeing the smile, the show of teeth. His mouth was dry, his eyes filled with tears. His knuckles were white where they gripped the silver-tipped walking cane.
“You may go,” said Ramus softly.
The large man turned, and stepped out from this private room deep within the heart of the stealth ship - Ramus listened intently as the walking cane clicked down the corridor, the noise finally disappearing into the bowels of this vast vessel.
The stealth ship rocked gently on eddies of sea current that caressed her twin prow and black flanks, and the moonlight shimmered across her decks, which were deserted and motionless.
Seagulls cawed outside the room’s porthole as Ramus stood gazing out across the bay and cold eyes glittered in the mixed light of the room and the moonlight. A hand stretched out and opened the porthole, allowing the sultry South American night air to invade his air-conditioned sanctuary.
Pain gripped him, but only for the briefest of seconds. As his twisted face returned to calm, he drank from the tumbler the last remnants of brandy that burned all the way down to the pit of his stomach. “Soon, Mr Dillon - very soon...” came the soft words.
* * * He stirred the coffee slowly, the headache crashing against the shores of his mind and leaving him battered and bruised. Dillon carried the coffee through to the living room, knelt down in front of Tatiana and looked up into her eyes. She had sat up on the sofa, her face drawn, her eyes hooded. Every movement brought a little grimace of pain and Dillon sipped his coffee, drums thumping in his head, rippling across his temples.
“You okay?” Came Tatiana’s voice, weakened, jagged, almost a whisper and unheard.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Dillon opened his mouth to speak again, and Tatiana whispered; “Shh,” with a finger against her lips. She met Dillon’s gaze. There were tears in her eyes and she smiled warmly at him.
“I’m very sorry for bringing such trouble to your life and home.” “They came for me,” Dillon said slowly.
“Both of us, surely?” said Tatiana. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she abruptly brushed them away. “Thank you for saving my life. I don’t know what would have happened, if it hadn’t been for you.”
“You would be dead - that’s what would have happened, my lovely.” Dillon said matter of factly.
Tatiana coughed, her face a grimace, her hand coming up to the sterile dressing covering the stitched bullet wound in her shoulder; she smiled wryly.
“You are a brave strong and honourable man, Jake Dillon. I have come up to this God forsaken place in the middle of nowhere, to warn you.” She laughed softly. “Your life is in grave danger... Yes, I know, a little bit too late.” Her gaze met Dillon.
“You do know that Scorpion HQ has been completely annihilated?”
Tatiana’s eyes went wide. “Scorpion HQ... are you sure?”
“It was on the TV news; and part of Alix’s encrypted message first thing when he came to visit was how the British Government had sanctioned Scorpion to assemble a strike task unit with the sole function of searching out major terrorists and assassinating them. How’s that for a coincidence? And now the whole Scorpion headquarters is - gone!”
“Completely destroyed?” Her voice was a hushed whisper.
“How?”
“The media is speculating that it was a Weapon of Mass Destruction, possibly a small nuclear device. There’s nothing left. The images on the TV left little doubt in my mind that it was a nuke warhead.”
“So LJ was right, after all.” She whispered, horror lining her face like battle scars.
“Right about what?”
“This is even bigger than he imagined.”
“What the fuck are you twittering on about?” Dillon’s patience had run out...
The fire crackled. Dillon finished his coffee, and Tatiana, head bowed, deep in thought, looked up, her face pale, lips trembling.
“Listen, we need to leave here, Dillon... We need to get as far away from here as fast as we can. They will come - they will come soon!”
“If we move you now, the wound might start bleeding again. Then you could die.”
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take, Dillon. Because if we stay here, we’ll both die.”
Dillon smiled, and then it turned to a nasty grin. “They will have to send a legion of killers,” he said the words softly, his hand brushed against the Glock and something stirred deep within his subconscious that made him shudder with the anticipation of dealing out death.
“You’re not listening, Dillon,” said Tatiana sadly. Her hand reached out, stroking Dillon’s cheek. “If LJ is right, and his informant is telling the truth, then they will send Assassins.”
“Assassins? You mean like those sent to Cornwall to kill me?”
“No - these willbe very different. All I know is that Scorpion had always known that a secret society of killers existed. It was thought that they had been destroyed a long time ago, and that the society had simply faded into obscurity. But it would appear that these ruthless killers are very much active, and linked with terrorist groups around the planet, paid for by the major drug cartels in Latin America. They have... somehow returned.” The word hung in the air like a bad smell.
“Why is this happening to me?” Dillon’s voice was cold as reality sunk in and he remembered what Alix had thought was happening to the Scorpion units. They were being assassinated, one-by-one... The possibility that this was happening passed like a chilling breeze over his soul, the certainty walked like a grim-reaper over his grave.
“You remember professor Kirill?”
“How could I ever forget him?”
“The partners of Ferran & Cardini believe that what took place in Cornwall was all about Kirill, and that it was the work of a group of individuals who are involved in terrorism, extortion, murder and just about anything that goes against the establishment. You think of me as your ex, and also as a tactical liaison officer between Ferran & Cardini and Scorpion - but appearances can be deceiving, Dillon, very deceiving.”
Dillon met her gaze.
Tatiana licked her lips.
“My role at Ferran & Cardini has always been a façadefor the work that I actually undertake on behalf of HM Government. I am part of a Government department that has no name and are accountable to no-one except the Prime Minister. We work within the Scorpion network to root out and eliminate anyone who co-operates with terrorists. We look for the enemy - we find them - we erase them. Permanently.” She sighed.
“You’re the bloody secret service?”
“Something like that,” said Tatiana, smiling wearily. “But the enemy has hit hard and fast; we had only just discovered that Kirill was one of them... Our intelligence source was reliable, but we never thought that they were anywhere near ready to make their move... I unknowingly sent you on an assignment that could have led you to your death - but thank God you survived. Others were not so fortunate.”
“And Kirill?” Dillon’s voice was as cold as Arctic ice.
“Kirill is one of the group; as is another man known to us, Ramus. We think that they’ve struck now because Kirill’s new Chimera Programme is almost ready, and with its awesome power they can use it to take over virtually every banking and governmental computer installation, satellites, and God knows what else. It is so powerful, Dillon - I can’t even start to explain just how dangerous this softwa
re could be in the wrong hands.”
“But I don’t understand,” said Dillon softly. “Why have virtually all of the Scorpion units being assassinated? And why has Scorpion HQ been destroyed? After all, no-one ever knew the exact location of the units and HQ was one of the Government’s best kept secrets. I thought that Kirill was a good man?”
“This group, headed by Ramus and Kirill - believe that both the British Government and the current American administration to be weak, corrupt and riddled with decay and complacency. They also believe that Scorpion had become far too powerful - financed, controlled, governed by the upper-most echelon of the House of Commons and Lords. We both know that Scorpion was never meant to be like that - it was supposed to stand alone, incorruptible and untouchable. A worldwide organisation feared by terrorists and organised crime syndicates alike. Ramus and Kirill think that with Scorpion out of the way - they can rule the world. They think that they are way above the law of the land - any land. With Kirill’s new Chimera Programme and the Assassins, they think they can bring down anyone - governments, banking, absolutely anyone they choose. Their beliefs are firmly rooted in the Illuminati, and their vision is to bring global peace... a New World Order... but...”
“The but is, that they will have to fight a pretty big war,” Dillon snapped. “Before their New World Order can be achieved, there will come death, andlots of it. We’ve both encountered a few psychopathic egomaniacs in our time, and some, who have been involved with the Illuminati. Evil bastards, every one of them.”
Tatiana nodded.
“We definitely need to get the hell out of here, Dillon; they will be coming for us even as we speak.”
“Yes.”
Dillon leaned towards her and kissed her gently on the lips. “We do need to get the fuck away from here, and there is only one person I can think of, one person who has the resources and the considerable knowledge to be able to help us.”
Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 14
