“As long as it takes.”
“Oh, only it’s quite a shock after sunny old Scotland,” she said and smiled sardonically.
Dillon greeted the men and explained his dilemma in fluent Greek. He and Tatiana were escorted back up to the house at gunpoint by the obviously suspicious security guards.
As they reached the porch a man appeared, wearing a loose fitting white shirt over stone-washed denim jeans and retro sand suede desert boots. The man had a shabby-chic look about him, and the dark brooding eyes of someone who mistrusted everyone; and the mini-sub machine pistol in his hand looked very menacing.
“Sappho, I have a major fucking problem.”
The older Greek man smiled, a broad smile, breaking the spell of impending doom, and bellowed, “Jake Dillon, you old mongrel! How the devil are you big man? I thought you’d retired or died? Come up here and give old Sappho a hug.”
* * * Their stay was short, sweet and very much to the point. The starboard engine had blown an oil seal, and Sappho said that he would get his mechanic to take a look at the problem.
The aircraft was towed off to a large barn, and Tatiana’s wounds were attended to by Sappho’s personal physician. He re-stitched Dillon’s handiwork, and applied fresh sterile dressings and gave both Tatiana and Dillon a shot of antibiotics. They were shown up to one of the many guest suites, where they showered quickly to remove the grime and staleness of travel and battle, sweat and blood.
When they’d freshened-up, they waited on the porch of Sappho’s impressively large white-washed country house in the early hours of the morning. The sound of a powerful 4x4 broke the relative silence; a Mercedes G Wagon rumbled into view, the silver coachwork covered in baked-on mud and dust, the headlights carving up the night. The vehicle came to a halt, and Sappho jumped down. The big Greek man, bald and grinning widely, slapped Dillon on the back, making him groan in agony.
“She’s all fuelled up and ready to go, Dillon. How about your woman, the doc take care of her?”
“His woman?” Tats hands went to her hips, her stance on the porch changing subtly from submissive to aggressive with barely a change of muscle tone.
Sappho glanced at Dillon, who had a wide grin across his face.
“I did not mean to offend, young lady. Please accept my apologies for assuming that such beauty would be with such a mongrel like Dillon.”
“That,” said Dillon dryly, “is a slur on my exceptionally good character. And I thought you were my friend?” A frown creasing his brow.
Sappho shrugged. “I am your friend, Dillon. And you also know that I only speak the truth.” Sappho smiled. “Now, it’s been a long day, I’m tired, and your plane is not going anywhere, the nearest oil seal is on the mainland and will take three days get here. But, if you are in a hurry; I have a forty-five foot power cruiser moored in the harbour, and like I said, she’s fully fuelled and ready to go. The weather reports are all favourable for the next two or three days. Or if you prefer, you are most welcome to stay until we can get your aircraft fixed.”
Dillon looked at Tatiana, and sighed. “Staying is a lovely notion, Sappho. But we’ve really got to be on our way. So, I’ll take up your offer of the boat.”
“I’ll have one of my men take you down to the harbour. Wherever it is you are going, look after yourselves, and don’t destroy my boat. And Dillon, don’t forget, you call Sappho if you need help.”
“Don’t worry, Sappho. I’ll look after your boat,” grinned Dillon. “I’m forever in your debt, old friend.”
Sappho waved his arms around expansively, “No, Dillon. You are like family, and we Greeks always look after family.” Sappho bellowed an order and one of the black suits stepped forward, and then disappeared into the white-walled country house, then returned with a large rucksack.
“A few supplies for your onward travels.” The big Greek man smiled. He ran a hand over his bald head, where a sheen of sweat could be seen in the light of the porch. “Now you be careful out there, Dillon. This not a part of the world for a lily-livered Englishman!”
Dillon laughed, patting the man in return, his affection genuine. “You take care yourself, Sappho. And remember: we were never here. And we didn’t steal that Cessna that’s in your barn now. We merely borrowed it!”
“We are Greek, Dillon. We havethe most dreadful of memories.”
“They got into the Mercedes, and one of the black suits got behind the wheel of the big 4x4 and the next moment they were speeding over loose gravel towards Sappho’s private harbour, and a forty-five foot power cruiser that would take them across to Santorini.
They stepped out onto the dock, unloaded Dillon’s holdalls and the rucksack that Sappho had given them, and took them all to the boat. Dillon looked at what had fifty years previous been a luxury craft, but was now very much like the Mercedes. Covered in grime and years of neglect. The paint on the metal hull was flaking, and rust showed through, and parts of the starboard side gangway were worryingly riddled with rust peppered bullet-holes.
“This old tub has been in the wars,” said Tatiana softly.
“Oh don’t let first impressions fool you. This is very much a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” said Dillon, helping Tatiana across the gang plank and onto the rear deck of the boat. “What did you expect?” He slung the holdalls and rucksack into the deck, then went aboard himself.
“A what?”
Dillon went through the sliding doors into the main day cabin and on towards the bridge, Tatiana followed. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing. When you want to give the impression that something is innocent and harmless, but in fact it is quite the reverse.” Dillon put the key that Sappho had given him into the ignition, and turned. The in-board diesel engines rumbled into life, belching thick black smoke out of the stern into the murky grey light of dawn.
With the powerful diesel engines idling in neutral, Dillon went outside and ordered Sappho’s man to cast off the bow and stern lines, and then went back to the bridge. Within minutes they were heading out to open water at high speed, the metal hull slamming down onto each wave with a loud slap, and suddenly, suddenly the safety of the dockside had gone and a terrible mist had closed in around them.
“Don‘t worry, we’ll soon pass through this murk” explained Dillon. “No ambient light... just water and fish, lots of fish.”
Dillon knew that all around them stretched clear water. He switched on the spotlights which cut two slices of life ahead of them, but all around was the promise - the inherent threat - of a global meltdown...
“Remember what I said about the wolf in sheep’s clothing?” Dillon reached underneath the main control console, feeling for the button he knew was there, and pushed it. A moment later secret panels slid back to reveal three flat screen monitors, Dillon already had the wireless keyboard in his hands and was typing in a series of access commands. The screens lit up and option menus immediately appeared, Dillon activated the night-vision option and the next moment they were looking out through, what appeared to be, green coloured glass. The sea landscape appeared surreal, but visible. He then selected radar jamming and then set the course for Santorini on the auto-pilot. Lastly, he activated the weapon’s systems and placed them on standby.
“Relax, sleep” said Dillon. “The main stateroom is forward, and I think you’re going to need all your energy when we meet Ezra. I’ll rest up here on the bridge”
The dark water rushed past, and as the two Ferran & Cardini operatives rested, the ocean surrounded them completely. * * *
It was over an hour past dawn. The sun had risen, a bright flash over the horizon. The ocean had turned from the murky halflight inkiness to the brilliant blue of a new day - and a blow-torch heat beating down upon them. Their heading was monitored and maintained by the auto-pilot. Clear blue water was all around them interspersed with small isolated islands...
The powerful inboard diesel’s pushed the metal hulled cruiser forward at a steady twenty-nine knots. Schools of silver coloured fish sc
attered as the boat aggressively cut through the Sea of Crete.
Tatiana moaned tenderly, fingers coming up to touch the sensitive area of her shoulder that had so recently been punctured; Dillon had claimed that it was healing nicely, but to Tatiana it felt like it was on fire... a poker through the wound searing her flesh. The sun rose; so did the temperature. Dillon turned on the air-conditioning inside the bridge, and the cool air flowed into the cabin. Dillon settled into the seat and checked the gauges and data readouts on the three monitors.
They passed an island on the starboard side, where a small group of people swimming and sunbathing in a crescent shaped sandy cove, waved as they went by. The few houses that could be seen were built of stone, wood and white-washed rendered walls, which glowed in the strong sunlight. Dillon waved back as they rumbled by. Tatiana, smiling for the first time in many hours, also waved back at the people on the beach.
They left the idyllic island behind, on a heading for Santorini, the cruiser eating the sea with ease. They pressed on; mile after mile, hour after hour, under the singular piercing eye of the baking sun. It was incredibly hot outside, almost unbearable even with the breeze coming off the sea.
Another two hours saw them approaching the most southerly tip of Santorini. Dillon remained on course for another twenty minutes and then disengaged the auto-pilot. As they approached the west coast bay of Thira he took the helm, and brought the forty-five foot cruiser to a sudden stop, the boat gently rocking on the swell. Reddish-purple cliffs, created by a violent volcanic eruption around 1600BC, rose up hundreds of feet before them.
“Up there,” he said simply.
“What?”
“One of Ferran & Cardini’s monitoring stations... and Ezra.” Tatiana stared. “All I see is a lot of red rock, Dillon. I obviously
knew that there was a facility somewhere in the Cyclades - after all, I am a Ferran & Cardini special operation’s liaison officer - but I had no idea that it was located on Santorini!” Tatiana’s voice was a little strained, her gaze looking skywards.
“We’ll moor up alongside the old dock at the far end, away from the other boats. It’s still too early for the cruise ships, but when they do start to arrive, there will be hundreds of tourists putting ashore here. And then we’ll take the cable car up to the top. Someone will be waiting, of that you can be sure. They’ll have watchers. We haven’t got this far without being tagged, even with the radar jamming activated. Let’s just hope that Ezra hasn’t given his men the order to shoot us on sight. But then, that wouldn’t be his code of conduct, would it now, Tats?” He gave Tatiana a sly sideways glance. And she knew; the mistrust was still there. He wasn’t sure if she was real or... or what? A Government spy?
But then, in all the years she had known him, Dillon had never truly trusted anyone. It would have surprised her if he had changed now.
The silence of the early morning was fractured by the tinkling bells of the mules making their way down to the port for the cruise ship arrivals. Those adventurous enough, mount-up, and are taken up the 853 feet of ancient trail way, all the way to the top of the cliffs. Dillon and Tatiana, were not in the mood for a mule ride, and took the cable car all the way up the almost sheer cliff face to the town perched on top. As they stepped outside, they were greeted by four black-suited men. They were all sporting concealed weapons under their jackets; Dillon assumed that they would be carrying 9mm Glock automatics, standard issue and his favoured weapon. Dillon watched them warily, his own Glock in his hand with the safety off, inside his jacket pocket.
He smiled broadly. “Hello boys. It’s good of Ezra to send a welcoming party, but we don’t want to cause a scene. Do we?”
“You’re to leave Santorini at once,” said a large man in Greek. He moved forward, patent leather shoes covered in dust. “You are not welcome here.”
“But maybe I’d like to catch up with an old work colleague while I’m visiting this magnificent island. Perhaps you know old Mr Happy Ezra?”
“There is no one on Santorini of that name,” said the big man.
Tatiana leaned across Dillon and saw one of the other men grin, the big man looked sternly at his subordinate, dark eyes narrowing, his expression reprimanding.
“Tell him that his niece, Tatiana, is here.”
The man stared. He did not blink. Then he nodded at one of the other men, who spoke briefly into his concealed microphone, and then went and whispered conspiratorially in the big man’s ear. He spoke quickly to the others and then turned to Dillon and said. “We walk straight through to the far side of the town, and then to the white-washed villa on the hillside. Try nothing funny or Arte’ here...” he patted the other man on the shoulder: “Well, his gun is silenced and he will gladly kill you both without a second thought.”
The large man led them through the narrow streets of Thira, past cosy bars and restaurants, and chic fashionable shops and boutiques. Dillon walked with Tatiana at his side; Arte’ was directly behind them all the way to the high electric gates of a large white-washed villa.
And then they were inside the grounds of Ezra’s villa complex.
Inside Ezra’s lair.
The black suited men followed them, automatic weapons now on full view, bristling, safety catches switched to off. As they walked through the colourful landscaped gardens, men and women were busy tending the borders and harvesting oranges from the trees in the orchard, while men rode sit-on mowers cutting the acres of grass. They turned a corner and, Dillon licked his lips nervously, and decided that he did not like this place...
Ezra was waiting, hands on hips, eyes staring out across his domain, mind deep in thought. Dillon halted at the bottom of the veranda steps, and allowed one of Ezra’s personal bodyguards to take his Glock from him. Tatiana stood at Dillon’s side, one foot resting on the first step, gazing up at the blazing sun for a moment before fixing her eyes on her - uncle.
Ezra looked round and his gaze met Tatiana’s. He smiled briefly, and then he looked at Dillon and glowered, the kindly expression of a moment before disappearing from his face.
“You either have the nerve of the devil by coming here, or a death wish, Dillon. And before you say anything, I still haven’t forgiven you for shooting me in the ass with that hollow-point. It took out most of my hip, you know? And now I’m reminded of it every day with this infernal limp. So, Dillon. You’d better have a very good reason for daring to come here.”
Dillon said nothing. He made no move. He merely allowed his gaze to remain fixed on Ezra, a silent connection - a linking of minds that Tatiana did not quite understand.
“I was told that you had retired to an eccentric hermit-like existence in the Highlands of Scotland, Dillon.”
“I had,” said Dillon softly.
“I don’t understand,” whispered Ezra, eyes intense.
“It was... interrupted. And when I shot you, Ezra, it was to keep you alive, not to kill you.”
There came a long uncomfortable pause
“You are a legend within the Ferran & Cardini history files, you know.”
“That is misplaced, and you know it, Ezra. But thanks for trying to boost my ego...” Dillon said softly.
“How so? One cannot become a legend without the actions to back it up. You were revered by your peers and the partners and feared by your quarry.” The contempt in Ezra’s voice could not be missed.
“You’re only alive today because of the bullet I put in you, Ezra. I know we’ve never seen eye-to-eye - because of my relationship with Tatiana, and because of my reputation... And I know you will have read all of those emails sent out by MI5 when they embarked on the smear campaign against me... But you have it really, really wrong. I know you will find it hard to trust me on this... but you need to hear us out, Ezra, because we need your help...”
Ezra was silent. He lifted Dillon’s 9mm Glock and played with it in his bear-like hands.
Dillon calmed his heart rate; he relaxed his muscles and readied himself - for Ezra’s body
language was all wrong, it was the body language of someone in preparation.
Dillon’s eyes surveyed the available weaponry and he realised, realised too late that maybe he had overestimated Ezra’s ability to forgive and forget.
And then it came to Dillon, an understanding that Ezra was the same. The same as Dillon, the same breed...
“This is dangerous,” Dillon’s sub-conscious told him.
Dillon closed his eyes momentarily as pain seared through his exhausted mind, through his head, burning bright red with white hot edges; he dropped slowly to his knees, cold sweats gripping him, and Ezra no longer existed and nothing mattered and the adrenalin that had been keeping him going for so long was no more there. His head rolled from side to side as a cloak of darkness wrapped itself around his mind. A low moan growled through his lips and Tatiana was with him, holding Dillon in her arms. She stroked his brow free of sweat, rocked with him at the foot of the steps and looked up at Ezra.
“Get him inside. In the cool. Now!”
“What is wrong with him?” Came Ezra’s deep voice.
“I don’t know. He’s most likely exhausted... Help him, uncle. Please help him.”
Ezra gestured and the biggest bodyguard approached, lifting Dillon easily and carrying him up the steps and into the villa and depositing him in one of the guest bedrooms. Ezra stepped into the air-conditioned room behind Tatiana, “I will help him now, Tatiana. But I cannot guarantee what will come later.”
“What? You really can’t see it, can you?”
“See what?” Growled the big Greek.
“You can’t see for the red mist of anger and hatred. Haven’t you realised after all these years, that you and Dillon are the same. You call him an Assassin; a force to be reckoned with. And what the fuck were you when you were a Ferran & Cardini field officer? What the hell were you doing in Berlin, and Istanbul, and then later in South Africa, in the first place? You are kindred spirits... and you are a fucking hypocrite.”
Ezra stood for a moment, staring hard at Tatiana. She lowered her eyes then, a feeling of overstepping the line causing her face to redden with embarrassment. Ezra stepped forward and placed his large hands on her shoulders and then kissed her on the forehead. “I have missed you, young lady. And despite everything I said to you before, I wish you no harm. I’m over the moon that you’ve come back to your uncle Ezra.”
Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 20
