“I wish I hadn’t asked.”
“We are taking a great risk going into that area by air - over land would be much safer, but would take too long to get there.” Vince said.
“He’s right, of course.” Dillon’s words were casual.
“But you both agree. It’s a risk we must take?”
Dillon stood up and looked back at both of them, saying. “Of course. If we don’t do this thing. Well, the alternative doesn’t bare thinking about, does it?”
Vince poured out more tea, which they all drank sweet and without milk. Steam swirled off the open pan and Dillon felt suddenly at peace. The aches and pains - which he had grown accustomed to
- had lessened and he felt almost comfortable, almost his old self...
He could not put his finger on the reason for this sudden surgeof good feeling, but the beauty of the Scottish Highlands had something to do with it, and the feeling that he was about to do something life changing - boded well with him. They were no longer the hunted, but the hunter... He had already changed the way he was thinking in his mind, was now thinking like a predator, the one who was now in control.
It might only be limited control, but now he was calling the shots.
Use these Assassins to do your dirty work, he thought. I’ll kill everyone of them.
Let’s see what explanations and answers you have, Professor Kirill.
Let’s see what song you sing.
* * * An hour later and Dillon and the others had restored the beach, as if they had never been there, and climbed back into the cramped cabin of the A-25M.
Dillon warmed up the engine, then eased the amphibious aircraft out into the deeper water and used the entire length of the loch to take-off. Pushing the throttle forward he increased the speed, and was soon skimming over the surface of the water. As the aircraft neared the far end of the loch, Dillon pulled back on the control column and they lifted smoothly up into the air. As they were gaining height he had to bank hard over the left to miss the sheer cliffs of the mountain range looming up before them. The aircraft’s fuselage shuddered under the extreme pressure of the manoeuvre, and as the A-25M levelled out, the valley landscape was there just two hundred feet below them.
Dillon eased back the airspeed, Tatiana looked out of her window, Vince had his laptop open, hacking into the mainframe at Kirill’s facility. As they droned over the rugged terrain, Dillon - now fully awake, alert and seeming more like his old self after an hour or so of rest, only occasionally winced at the stabs of pain within his battered body. He slid down his helmet’s visor, at the same time activating the flight-information display. The terrain ahead of the small amphibious aircraft sprang to life and Dillon gasped at the digital image.
“I’m impressed, Vince.” “So you should be, the amount of favours I had to call in to get it.”
Data started to roll down both sides of the visor; images fed from the fuselage mounted camera’s appeared in separate boxes that Dillon could enlarge with the slightest movement of his eye. Symbols appeared and potential hazardous terrain highlighted with different colours. Dillon noted the weapons-system tracker in the top left corner and he licked his lips nervously.
“How much control do I have here, Vince?”
“None. Not until I log you into the flight-programme from my laptop.”
“And if you don’t log me into it?”
“Well, then I control all of the weapons-systems from back here.”
“Good. Let’s leave it like that, then.”
“Okay. If you say so, Jake. But is there any particular reason why?”
“Because I say so. Trust me on this, I’ll fly, you keep your eyes glued to that screen of yours.”
“What’s the flashing red light on the left-hand side of my visor?”
“That, is definitely not good. In fact, way bad news. Air-defence warning signal - Stinger missiles, machine guns - the full monty, mate.”
“How far from the facility, are we?”
“Twelve miles at most. We need to re-think our approach strategy, and fast, Jake.”
“I’ll drop down to ninety feet and look for somewhere to put down. They might just send out choppers and this amphibian is no match for what they’ll send up.” After some distance, Dillon brought the A-25M down on a small loch between two mountain ranges. Gentle, tree covered slopes rose up to meet the sheer cliffs flanking the expanse of deep water. Dillon taxied the amphibian aircraft up onto a secluded beach - the propeller wound down.
Dillon and Tatiana climbed down from the cockpit, while Vince flicked a few switches and armed the aircraft’s anti-tamper defence system, then eased himself down. He carried his laptop in one hand as he walked towards them. “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”
Dillon looked at the big Australian, knowingly. “Surprise me.”
Vince opened the laptop and set it down on a large smooth rock. “The route that we need to take is crawling with early warning sensors, most likely set-up by the SAS when they established the training centre up here. These early warning sensors will be linked via Kirill’s mainframe to any number of patrol squads - maybe two or three heavily armed and well trained soldiers in each squad. Now, we might get lucky and just manage to sneak past them, might. But I can’t guarantee that we would get past them - undetected. There is also the strong possibility that if we don’t get through - Kirill and his merry band of computer nerds, might just, not be there. Your main man could vanish.”
“What do you suggest?” Tatiana said.
“Well. It’s something I stumbled upon, just before I left London to come and meet you on Santorini.”
“So what is it?” Dillon mumbled impatiently.
“A special forces weapons and vehicle stash.” Vince looked at both of their uncomprehending expressions for a brief moment; “Don’t look at me as if I’m barking mad, you two. I’m not joking, they have them all over the planet. Ezra was a caretaker of one. They are extensively equipped with all manner of goodies, including; allterrain stealth vehicles. It just depends what your priority is - speed or stealth? Now, I’ve been thinking. I could get us there in the A-25M but we might trigger some of their more sophisticated sensors - just depends what they’ve got!”
Dillon paced up and down the small beach. “Show me on the map.”
Vince brought up a map on the screen - tapped in a command and the screen updated itself; the overlay that covered the original map with modified information. Dillon and Tatiana knelt down on the sand in front of the screen, and Dillon traced his finger over the highlighted terrain.
“Where is the Kirill facility?”
Vince pointed. “Somewhere within this mountain range here,” making a small circular motion with the tip of his finger. “It can’t be that easyto hide, although theydo try. By all accounts it’s a labyrinthine complex hewn out of the mountain rock.”
“Couldn’t we take a less direct route, say, by way of no sensors or anything that is likely to blow us clean out of the sky?”
“It’s possible, but something is already taking place up there. GCHQ has intercepted some chatter taking place between chopper pilots and the facility. In fact, there’s been quite a lot of air movement taking place over the last twenty-four hours. It looks like they’re already shipping out. We could try - but to be honest, Jake, I think we’re going to have to run the gauntlet, or dear old Professor Kirill is going to do a vanishing act. The software I’ve loaded into the aircraft’s processor should keep us partially safe, but don’t go blaming good old Vince, if we run into a little heat.”
“Great. Any other good news?”
“I can re-map the co-ordinates to take us to the special forces’ weapons and vehicle stash; or as near to it as possible. Lucky for us, it’s quite close to a loch.”
“Hmmm.” Dillon scratched at the stubble on his chin, and decided that he needed a shower and a shave. He felt the cold air of the Highlands, touch the back of his neck.
“Okay, le
t’s head for the stash, and then I’ll go in by vehicle alone, and you can wait at the aircraft with Tatiana -”
“I’m coming with you, Dillon,” Tatiana said.
“No way, Tats. You’re in no fit state.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are, Dillon. You - do not order me around.”
Their glares locked. Dillon shook his head. “I work better alone.”
“Well, I’m not asking you to wet-nurse me, either. I can do that quite adequately myself. But I’ve not come this far, just to sit on the sideline and simply watch these bastards from afar. I’m going in, Jake, and I’ll either go with you or without you. You can accompany meif you feel up to it - after all, the beating you’ve suffered over the last few days must have slowed down your reflexes a little bit. And remember who got you out of Ezra’s bunker alive... Without me you’d have been just another kill for that Assassin...”
“Whoa, point taken.” Dillon held up his hands. “If you really want to come...” “You should know better than to mess with a fiery woman, Jake.” said Vince.
“Show me on the map exactly where we would have to land; and how far it would be to this special forces depot.” Tatiana pointed at the screen.
“Okay,” Vince enlarged the image on the screen, “The only place for us to land, is this small loch, here.” He indicated a point on the map, “It’s only just long enough for us to land on, but it is doable. From here, it’s only about half a mile to the depot, and another mile to the facility itself.”
Dillon glanced up at a foreboding sky, low thunderous clouds rolled over them, the promise of foul weather to follow. He looked at Tatiana, and then at Vince. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
* * * The A-25M rocked gently on the water at the edge of the loch, hot metal cooling in the light breeze even as they were camouflaging the fuselage with anything they could lay their hands on. Thirty minutes later and they’d covered the half a mile distance to the depot.
They stood, staring up at the wall of rock before them. “Where is it?” asked Tatiana.
“You’re looking at it.”
Tatiana gazed up at the jagged vertical surface of the mountain
that now barred their way. The rock was a dark granite grey, scarred, part of a landscape scoured by the severest weather that nature had thrown at it since the beginning of time. It was a sanctuary from the bitterly cold north wind. It was a mountain with a sense of history.
“It’s a wall of solid rock, Vince.”
“No, you’ve got to look harder.”
Special forces depots were dotted all over the globe, and carried
equipment specific to the sort of territory in which they were located. Periodically they would be checked and re-stocked by Government officials. On numerous occasions they had made a difference between life and death.
All of these depots were located under the ground or behind rock and even inside disused mine shafts. Monitored via live web cams and linked via a military satellite to a secure server, images end up at an automated monitoring station located in a bunker beneath Whitehall. Any undue change in temperature, or unauthorised movement inside any depot, is instantly relayed back and the nearest military unit dispatched to investigate.
Dillon pulled out his Ferran & Cardini smart-phone and held it in the palm of his hand. “This little beauty has the pre-loaded software to open doors. But if I switch it on again, our position will be immediately given away?”
“That’s true. But if they’re that good, they know where we are, or where we’re going. We just have to concentrate on staying one step ahead. Act, don’t react, yeah?”
Dillon switched on the handset and accessed the application. It blipped. There came a release of compressed air from somewhere behind the rock and, raining debris from above, a huge circular section of the mountain side suddenly shifted - sliding back into the rock, allowing access to a deep dark interior.
Dillon and Tatiana moved forward; Vince watched them walk into the gloom from the entrance; after a moment he also moved inside, went forward and found the nearest bench, where he placed his burner and proceeded with the ritual of getting a brew on.
They stooped, peering into the gloom lit by triggered emergency lighting set into the side walls on both sides of the wide access tunnel.
“Let’s see what little goodies are stashed here.”
They descended the ramp; against one wall was an array of weapons, from mini machine pistols to sniper rifles and even a couple of Stinger missile launchers. All weapons were neatly lined up in racks and protected behind glass screens. Ammunition sat in wooden crates in one corner, and there were several large metal containers, the type used on freight ships. Dillon moved forward and pulled open the doors of the first container.
Tatiana frowned.
“A quad bike?”
“It’s more than that,” said Dillon, a hidden sense of joy in his voice. “It’s modified for these conditions - this machine has a much more powerful motor, more torque, and an array of extra special modifications and upgrades. It’s a dream machine, Tats.”
“I would have preferred a four-wheel-drive with a nice warm cabin.”
“Sounds cosy, but these things are best for running over this rough terrain - as long as you know how to handle one. This quad will eat whatever is thrown at it; look at the tyres! Just wait till we get this baby out there.”
He walked into the container and sat on the quad bike, hand tracing the contours of the fuel tank. His gaze roving around the machine as he got off and stood back. The engine was much more powerful than the standard one fitted, with its curious design and powerful output. He tapped the enlarged fuel tank. “Full and raring to go; all we have to do is turn the key and fire her up.”
“What modifications does it have?”
Dillon pointed to a place just below the twin headlights; four, small bore barrels poked forward. “Mounted sub-machine guns with ammunition on four drums stored either side of the fuel tank up front. Mounted on the handlebars is a GPS sat-nav, sat-phone, and data panel for all of the gizmos. It has a stealth exhaust system, and this baby will run silent - silent and deadly. And special mudguards which stop all the shit from flying everywhere and over us.”
Dillon moved around the large machine, before getting back on and firing it up, true to his word, there was nothing more than a gentle purr. “If anything can get us to Kirill’s facility over land, then this is it.”
Tatiana shook her head. “The mental scars are still there from the last time I rode on the back of a bike with you.”
Dillon grinned boyishly at her. “Don’t worry, luv - this ride will be much, much worse.”
* * * The quad bike climbed the ramp with ease, its engine note nothing more than a whisper; tyres bit into the dirt and Dillon pulled a perfect wheelie towards Vince.
“Very nice, chap,” remarked Vince, nodding as he held out a steaming hot mug of tea.
Dillon jumped off the quad and walked over to the big Australian, accepting the offered mug. “There’s only packs of field rations down there, which is better than nothing and they’ll keep us going for the time being.”
Vince delved into his rucksack and pulled out a large red apple and tossed it across to Dillon, who deftly caught it in his left hand. “I’ll regret giving you that, when all I’ve got to eat is a dried meal in a bag.”
“Thanks mate. There’s another thing.”
“What’s that?” Vince sipped his brew, his eyes suspicious.
“Back down there, I saw an AMSD OM 50 Nemesis 12.7mm sniper rifle. With a telescopic night sight.”
“What of it.”
“It’s got some sort of fingerprint recognition trigger instead of a conventional one. “I was wondering if you’d set it up for me?”
“A Nemesis, eh. Not an easy rifle to set up, but I’ll give it a go. Why that particular weapon? There must be hundreds of weapons to choose from in that armoury.”
“It’s not just a rifle, Vince. It’
s the ultimate long range sniper rifle.”
“Possibly, and I’ll agree it’s most likely the best weapon here.” The two men walked back down the ramp to the weapons store and Vince proceeded to personalise the Nemesis trigger grip to Dillon’s hand print, using the software on his laptop. “Now that this grip is associated with you - no one else can use this weapon, even if they wanted to. Just remember that you cannot just pick this up and fire it. You must let the reader inside the grip recognise your hand print, first. Although, this only takes a fraction of a second to complete.”
“Yeah, Yeah. I know all of that stuff, and I won’t forget.”
“I’ve seen you in action, remember! Waiting is not something you do so well, along with treating your equipment with respect...”
“I’ll take extra care of all my equipment, I promise.” Dillon said soberly, but the grin across his face gave him away.
“Yeah, right, I’ve seen the condition of that Glock you carry around with you.”
“Used but never abused,” said Dillon. “The fact is that it’s so worn and yet still functions perfectly, is a testament to my love for it. And it wouldn’t have lasted this long if I’d casually tossed it aside, now would it?”
Vince muttered something incomprehensible.
“Now, now, Vincent. Leave Dillon alone,” said Tatiana softly, moving out of the gloom. She carried a Glock, several spare magazines and some boxes of ammunition. She handed Dillon some of the magazines and ammo boxes and stashed the rest in the pockets of her jacket, saying, “I also grabbed a few of the field ration packs, they’re under the quad’s front seat.”
“I’m hoping that we won’t be gone long enough to need them,” Dillon said, smiling grimly.
* * * The special forces depot also contained clothing necessary for the locality, in case they were separated from the quad bike: thermal base layers and traditional Arctic camouflage fatigues were chosen.
Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 31
