They stopped just behind the other sleds and wasted no time in finding cover behind a stack of heavy looking wooden crates near to the entrance. Dillon leaned against the rough-hewn wall, bathed in sunlight. The salt air from the sea smelled good, Tatiana found it hard to believe that they had just left a place where a raging battle was taking place, and that her life hung in the balance, suspended by a delicate thread of fate.
Her gaze searched the cavern and the entrance that appeared to lead out to a small cove, all the time she was searching for Assassins.
Searching for the deadly killers... How many of them were left? And did they know about Ezra’s escape chute?
They both felt the tremor as the Electro-Magnetic pulse was setoff. And then calm...
Dillon tapped Tatiana on the shoulder, “You ready to move out?”
“We don’t know if they’re out there.” Tats pointed out through the entrance.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Dillon said, the Glock firmly gripped in his left hand.
They moved forward, keeping low, and edging their way slowly until they had a clear view of the cove. Dillon’s gaze snapped round to the left and came to settle on a twenty-three foot inflatable rib. Fast, with a shallow keel, making it the ideal craft for shallow water. But the best part was that it was deliciously close with its nose pulled partly up onto the shingle beach.
The worst part was that between them and the boat - there was absolutely no cover...
“Come on,” said Dillon. “You see the rib?”
Tatiana looked along the beach. “Yes,” she said softly.
“I need you to run. Do you think you can do that?” “Yes.”
She took a final look up and down the beach. The cliffs above were totally blind to their angle of view, they could only hope that there were no Assassins waiting for them...
Dillon and Tatiana stepped out and away from the sanctuary.
They ran.
It took an eternity...
With each step their bodies screamed at them - protesting for all the relentless punishment meted out to them over the last few days.
Half way across the beach, Tatiana looked back inside the cavern and spotted two Assassins’ jumping off one of the escape sleds. They moved so quick, effortlessly. She turned and threw herself down onto the shingle, flattened belly down, held the Uzi tight into her shoulder; looked down the sights, and fired a continuous burst. Bullets slammed into the cliff-side, spraying small chunks of rock and debris everywhere. The two Assassins split up; running like Gazelles, changing direction in the blink of an eye to evade the rain of bullets being directed at them, Uzi’s firing on automatic. Bullets kicked up shingle at Tatiana’s heels as she ran towards the shoreline.
Dillon was stood in the prow of the rib, the Glock held in both hands and pointing straight at Tatiana as she ran towards him. She knew exactly what he expected of her, and she reacted accordingly, lunging forward and rolling over on the shingle. It only took two bullets, each finding their target with lethal effect, and stopping the Assassins - dead.
Tatiana stood up, and straightening her clothing, let her gaze drift around the immediate beach area and then up towards the cliff top high above them in search of more Assassins.
Dillon shouted across to Tatiana to get into the rib. Once she was on-board, Dillon opened up the throttle and powered at full speed out of the cove, towards open water.
“You okay, Dillon?”
Dillon looked round, smiled weakly at Tatiana, and then increased the speed - the twin Volvo Penta outboards at the stern of the craft roared and the props bit harder into the water. They headed straight out to the deep water of the Caldera, Dillon looked behind and spotted two fast moving power craft heading directly for them. He looked at Tatiana, and said over the noise of the engines, “I’m afraid we’re not out of the woods yet. We’ve got company.” Tatiana’s head snapped round, the two power racers were gaining on them, fast
- too fast for her liking...
The rib raced forward at full throttle. Every now and then, Dillon looked over his shoulder at his pursuers, who were still gaining on them. He turned to Tatiana and shouted, “Take a look in that locker. See if there’s a flare gun inside.” Tatiana knelt down and pulled open the locker door, reaching in she rummaged around and finally pulled out the flare gun and a box of cartridges. Dillon swapped positions and let Tatiana take over control, telling her to head straight for the islands of Palea Kameni and Nea Kameni, and then make a course for the sound between them.
Dillon found four one-gallon fuel cans stowed under the starboard passenger seat, lifted two of them out onto the deck, and went to work on them. He looked up over the rib’s rail and saw that they were still there - hammering along, keeping pace... “Hell, don’t they ever give up?”
Tatiana urged the rib on; the pursuing crafts - whatever they were - they were incredibly powerful. They didn’t gain, but they were not going away, either. They sped along in the sunlight, a foaming white wake trailing behind them, and deep blue water all around them.
“Talk to me, Dillon. What have you got in mind?” Tatiana shouted, adding, “They’re still behind us and closing in, you know.”
“Just keep the throttles open and the pointy-end aiming straight for the water between those two islands.”
Moments later they were racing through the sound between the islands, sheer volcanic cliffs flashing by on both sides, rising up to meet the cloudless blue sky high above them.
At the narrowest point, Dillon randomly threw two of the fuel cans overboard, keeping the other two. He instructed Tatiana to kill the speed; stood in the stern and fired a flare at each of the cans - igniting them one at a time in a spectacular series of explosions, and within seconds the surface of the water was ablaze.
“Tats, I want you to lay flat on the deck, and whatever happens - stay there.” He manoeuvred the rib around so that they were partially hidden under the overhang of the cliff, and he had a clear view of the channel.
They waited...
Time stood still, as they waited to see the two powerful boats that had been following them, come bursting through the wall of flames, as Dillon knew they surely would. A second later they came through at high speed - there were three Assassins in each craft and they all wanted Dillon - dead.
The raced past Dillon, who wasted no time opening up the throttles and surging the rib forward, now as the pursuer. Dillon fired the first flare at the trailing boat, veered to the left, accelerating, and opened fire with his Glock set to automatic at the lead craft. The flare hit the cockpit with a devastating effect, within seconds the entire craft was being consumed by intense flames. Two of the Assassins were killed instantaneously as the interior became their own personal crematorium, the third jumped overboard, only to be fatally struck by the bow of the rib, as Dillon came racing back up the channel.
Three down and three to go, he thought...
The remaining craft spun round and chased Dillon back up the channel. Bullets slammed into the rib from the machine pistols of two of the Assassins behind, shredding the inflatable pockets running around the edge of the deck.
Dillon swerved the rib to the right and headed for the cover of a rocky islet jutting up out of the water. He dropped the power to an idle, just long enough to allow himself to reload the flare gun with another cartridge and then immediately broke cover, surging forward from behind the islet and through the wake of the Assassin’s power boat as it raced by.
Bullets scythed across the rock face of the Islet, sending chunks of debris splashing into the water. Dillon pushed the throttles wide open, spun the rib round in a ninety degree turn, just as one of the Assassins turned, brought its Uzi up, and fired a continuous burst straight at the windshield of the rib. Dillon ducked as the glass shattered into a million tiny pieces all over him and the deck, and also showering Tatiana who remained sprawled face down on the deck, hands clasped tightly together over the back of her head.
“For fuck’s sake,” she hissed. “Will they never stop?”
“Not until we are dead - or they are...” Dillon shouted over his shoulder, and urged the rib on; made a series of evasive manoeuvres, all the time trying to get a clear shot in with the flare gun. Then he got his chance... He knew that it would be his only opportunity and he made it count. The flare hit the Assassin at the controls in the centre of its chest. The black-clad figure slumped over the side rail and fell, dead, over the side, the other two Assassins responded, one taking over the control of the power boat, the other moving forward.
As the dead Assassin went over the rail, Dillon was already spinning the rib round and as he raced past his pursuers, tossed a hand-grenade onto the deck of their boat...
By the time the grenade exploded, Dillon was racing through to the other end of the sound and had just enough time to look over his shoulder and see the explosion wipe-out the boat in the blink of an eye.
With a foaming wake trailing behind the rib and no Assassins pursuing them, Dillon pulled back on the throttles and eased himself onto the seat. Tatiana came and stood next to him, her arm went round his neck, and she kissed him on his cheek.
He looked up at her. “What’s that for?”
“For keeping your word. You looked after me and kept us both alive. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now it’s time to get the hell out of this place, and take Ezra with us. I only hope we can find him in time...”
“So do I,” Tatiana said soberly. “So do I.”
* * * Franky froze. A figure was crouched in the tunnel, an Uzi SMG levelled at her.
After fighting alongside Ezra and his group, Franky had been told to keep well back, but as the battle raged on, everyone had either been killed by the Assassins or had fled the bullets to find safety. She had retreated back into the tunnel and along the passageways towards the control room deep underground...
That had been the plan. To meet; to regroup if the situation became hopeless.
And the situation had become totally hopeless...
Franky stared at the shadowed figure. It had to be an Assassin; it had to be. She cursed the dim lighting down in the depths of the tunnel...
Slowly Franky raised her hands in the air.
The Uzi SMG was beside her, digging into her ribs.
She did not dare look down at it.
“What do you want me to do?” She asked gently, not wishing to antagonise the black hooded, armed and extremely dangerous assailant.
The muzzle remained pressed firmly against her clothing. The masked face expressionless, the brilliant blue eyes scanning the tunnel.
The figure remained perfectly still.
There was a slight tilt of the head and a word whispered, almost inaudible - die; the Uzi spat, and Franky was slammed backwards against the rough hewn wall of the tunnel, blood splashing up the rock, the bullets cutting a line straight up through her chest, throat, and ending their journey slamming into her skull. She slumped down the wall into a sitting position on the tunnel floor, limp and dead, the top of her skull split open, her brain exposed and bloody, glistening in the surreal emergency lighting of the tunnel.
Suddenly, silence reigned.
The Assassin’s head snapped right; the Uzi moved in an arc to cover the tunnel opening.
Karp sprinted into view, his handsome face changing from a happy smiling visage into a snarl of rage as his eyes fell across Franky’s still corpse and he staggered backwards. His mind racing, confused, as he regained his footing and then felt the damp wall of the tunnel against his back.
“Franky?” He shouted, stumbling towards her. His hand reached out, fingers stroking her bloodied face, sliding in the congealing gore soaking her smooth skin.
“Franky!”
Tears rolled down over his cheeks.
The bullets cut into his back and Karp didn’t even know what had hit him.
* * * Spiros wiped his bloodied lips with the back of his hand and closed his eyes, listening. He stood in the tunnel corridor, the Heckler MP5 sweat slippery in his hands and he knew; knew that death had come and whoever was the executioner had killed both Franky and Karp. They were good; they may not have been military trained, but they were fast and they were efficient.
Get a grip, screamed his brain. He took several deep breaths, feeling sweat soak him under his shirt, cold and clammy.
He moved forward; not towards the gunfire, but away. He had heard the shots; perhaps forty or fifty rounds in all had been fired. This wasn’t assassination, this was butchery. He had heard Karp’s raised voice calling out Franky’s name; understood the intensity in his tone; knew the man - his friend, his comrade - was dead.
Spiros halted, the Heckler swinging from his shoulder.
He was at a junction with three tunnels before him.
“Spiros!” came the distant voice.
Spiros frowned; Ezra?
There came another cry, this time of pain.
Ezra is injured?
Spiros moved forward, still cautious, staying low and close to the wall of the dimly lit tunnel, every sense in his body on high alert, even the sigh of the breeze through the tunnel seemed to be amplified. He came to a small circular chamber with four smaller tunnels leading from it.
He halted.
He turned, turned again.
And then the figure stepped out from the shadows. His eyes widened. The barrel of the Uzi swung around but it was too late and the SMG was already pointing at him and he saw the gentle flex of muscle beneath the black skin-tight clothing and could read the figure; could read its amorality.
Spiros closed his eyes.
Using the tips of his fingers he signified a cross in front of him, opened his eyes and looked straight into the eyes of the figure stood in front of him.
And then the game was over.
* * * The Russian built A-25M flying boat swayed rhythmically on its mooring, in Gialos Bay on the southernmost tip of Santorini. Dillon had spotted the three seater amphibian aircraft when they had first arrived on the island. It was still moored just off the shore in exactly the same spot where it had been then, and now this was there way of getting off the island and their route to safety - quickly...
Vince Sharp was seated on the pebble beach, gaze locked on the open water between Nea Kameni Island and Gialos Bay. He watched the wake of thesmall craft cutting a direct line towards him; away from a billowing thick black plume of smoke rising up into the brilliant blue sky. He frowned, deep furrows appearing across his forehead, as he listened to the sound of the powerful outboard of the craft getting closer.
Dillon went round the aircraft once to take a look at it, and then skilfully beached the rib about six feet away from where the Australian was standing.
Dillon jumped down from the rib and went across to Vince Sharp. “You made it. Thank the heavens, you’re a sight for sore eyes, and I can honestly say that I’ve never been so glad to see an overweight Australian in all my life. How are you my old friend?” Dillon said, genuinely pleased to see his friend.
“Ditto - but to be honest, chap. When I got your email, I went straight to the partners who put me on a private jet and a priority clearance all the way from the UK. Thought I wouldn’t make it in time, to be honest with you. The chatter I was intercepting between Ezra and GCHQ did not make good listening. I’m very surprised to see you both still alive.” Vince sat back down onto the beach.
“Got the seaplane, I see. Did you manage the modifications that I asked for?”
“Yes, and a few more for good measure. Now listen up, people.
The 6-cylinder engine has been tweaked, increasing the cruising speed
of 150MPH to 200MPH, but with this, came the need to double the
capacity of the fuel-tanks. The bonus there is that we’ve also increased
the range that it will now achieve, which originally was around a
thousand miles and is now up to around eighteen hundred miles.”
Vince stoo
d up and pointed at the aircraft. “Under each wing you have
forward and rear firing machine guns, and at the tip of each wing you
have a single stinger missile launcher. Inside the cabin you have all of
the standard kit, with the addition of a monitor screen and a HIDSS
helmet linked to all of the weapons, as well as three cameras, one
mounted forward in the nose-cone of the fuselage, there’s another
above just forward of the engine mount, and a third mounted at the
rear in the tip of the fuselage. All three cameras are equipped with
night-vision and heat seeking modes. And that’s about it really. Oh, I
mustn’t forget the last modification you asked for - and I can tell you,
Jake. Adding a forth seat in an already cramped cockpit was a feat in
itself. But why the extra seat?”
“Because there will be four of us leaving this island.” “Four?”
“Ezra is the forth. That is if we can find him...”
“Surely, if he’s still alive he will have gone to ground, wouldn’t
he?” Vince said gently.
“Maybe he is dead. But, I don’t think so, he’s as wily as a fox,
knows this island like the back of his hand, and could lose himself for
days underground within that network of tunnels under his facility”
Tatiana said walking down to the water’s edge.
“What about the enemy?” Vince said.
“We’ve lost them for the moment, but I’ve no doubt that we’ll
be seeing them again. So, I think it’s time to get the hell out of here.”
Dillon said, and walked off down the beach to join Tats. “You okay?” “Yeah, fine thanks. Although, this shoulder is killing me and my
head aches like it’s going to explode. But otherwise, I’m fine.” They all waded out to the aircraft with Vince getting aboard first,
followed by Tatiana and then Dillon climbed the ladder and settled
Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 27
