“But there’s one other major headache with this type of cipher. You can also use keywords within it, to further complicate matters. In this format, pairs of letters are typed or written into each location of the grid.”
“Whoever set this box of tricks up would have almost certainly had a keyword, followed by the remainder of the alphabet into the grids in letter pairs. He or she also knew that because of the rarity of this type of coded encryption - that it would be virtually impossible to de-cipher it in time.”
“How do you know about things like this, Dillon? I’ve always had my suspicion about you being a closet nerd.”
“Really?” Dillon continued to study the master control keyboard, consumed by the puzzle. The deepest recess of his mind stirring as he subconsciously rummaged around for answers. This cipher was incredibly complex. And Dillon knew it - maybe if he had three or four hours and a laptop with the latest code breaking software loaded, then he might have a slender chance.
But with the minutes counting down...
And worst of all...
Kirill knew it. Knew that they were completely shafted.
“Can the code be broken?”
“Every code can be broken, Tats. Given time... Unfortunately, time is not a luxury we have. What we need now is the Priest; he’s the only one who could remotely have any chance of cracking a Masonic Cipher.”
Dillon returned slowly, followed by Tatiana, to where Kirill was still crumpled on the floor. Standing over him, he glanced over at Tatiana. Both Tats and Kirill saw the look on his face: it was not a kindly look; it did not convey what could be termed as ‘friendly’.
He paced slowly up and down in front of Kirill.
Dillon lowered the muzzle of the Glock; pointing it straight at Kirill’s genitals.
“Dillon, this will gain you nothing.”
“Keep your sentiments to yourself. Firstly, think twice before speaking, just answer my questions and your little package down there will remain intact.”
Kirill met Dillon’s gaze.
“Why did you try to kill me?”
Kirill remained silent, and then said. “It’s extremely complicated.”
The Glock kicked in Dillon’s hand as the round was released, the bullet ripping through Kirill’s trouser material, missing flesh by a hairs width. Kirill grabbed at his genitals, a look of both disbelief and relief on his face. “Are you crazy?” Said Kirill hoarsely, his voice having risen an octave.
Dillon circled Kirill and stood behind him. Placing the barrel of the Glock just behind his left ear. “Wrong answer asshole. I repeat, why did you try to kill me?”
“You were in the wrong place at the wrong time; things moved too quickly and we needed to take out the opposition before they realised they werethe opposition.” He slowly turned his head, meeting Dillon’s gaze. “You see Dillon, in the scheme of things. You were considered to be the most dangerous of all. This is why you were placed at the very top of the hit-list.”
“Considered dangerous by who?”
“By anyone who has ever come into contact with you.” Kirill tried to shift his weight, groaning with the severe pain as he did so. He continued, “But most of all, by myself and my new associates.”
“So you are no longer working for the British Government? Why would you do this?”
“The British Government?” Kirill laughed, a laugh laced with pain. “The British Government? You dumb bastard, the only thing this has to do with that particular institution is how pathetically weak the honourable members have become... Sycophantic, general-public asslicking-weaklings, each time a new lot get in, they have the power to make good on all of those broken promises ever made by their predecessors. And yet they choose not to - ever wondered why?” He laughed again, grimacing.
Dillon’s face had gone pale. He ran his free hand through his hair, cast a quick glance at Tatiana, and then prodded Kirill with the muzzle of the Glock.
“Who are you working for?”
“For the greater good. And myself, of course.”
“And the virus programme? Chimera? Where does that fit into all of this?”
“The virus programme,” said Kirill thickly. His head was tilted to one side, his eyes no longer meeting Dillon’s piercing gaze. “Chimera. It is the ultimate seek-retrieve-destroy programme. Incredibly powerful - it can invade any computer, without a trace. It uses broadband connections, Wi-Fi connections and moves from one computer to another with lightning speed. It extracts information within a nanosecond and then on exit, leaves the hardrive with a little present that I call, a sleeper. A little sting in the tail, so to speak. The sleeper can be activated at any time and remains under our total control, one stroke of the keyboard and we shut down every computer that Chimera has invaded. Permanently.”
“You’re not working alone, Kirill,” said Dillon softly. “Who else is involved?”
“Ramus. Whom, MI6, the CIA and, the KGB, have in the past attempted to assassinate, without success.” The name sprang to Kirill’s lips and he smiled, smiled inside; he remembered. Ramus was supposed to have sorted Dillon out.
So sort this out, you fucker, he thought.
“Ramus is the one ordering the killing and total destruction of the Scorpion network. He’s the one who controls the Assassins and sent them after you...” Kirill met Dillon’s gaze. “Surely you can see, Mr Dillon, I am just an innocent party to all of this.”
He smiled, and his teeth were stained with tobacco and blood.
“Where do we find this Ramus?”
“You could try and find Ramus, but you’ll not succeed. He remains constantly mobile.”Kirill laughed a nasty laugh.
“How?”
“Stealth-ship. And before you ask. I don’t know where he is.”
Dillon scratched an imaginary itch on his cheek. He glanced again at Tatiana; she had moved closer to the main entrance, both guns held low. It was obvious that she wanted out of this place, immediately. But equally as urgent, was her need to hear the answers as much as Dillon did.
“Is Ezra dead?”
“I would say so.”
“You would say so, would you?”
“He fell over a hundred feet off of a cliff top. It would have taken a miracle to survive that, wouldn’t you agree?”
“So you’re high enough in the chain of command to be told about his demise?”
“I worked with Ezra on numerous projects for your masters, Ferran & Cardini International. He was also involved in the Chimera project at the beginning.”
Dillon stared hard into Kirill’s eyes, and the man looked up and met his gaze, his crumpled figure covered in blood.
“What is the significance of the Assassins, Professor Kirill?”
“The Assassins...” Kirill’s eyes widened a little. Then he smiled strangely, revealing once again tobacco stained teeth, tainted with blood. “Ah... Assassins... They’re - something altogether different from you or I...”
Kirill’s gaze suddenly altered, lifted to something beyond Dillon, something outside on the heli-pad, and Dillon knew that there was the strong possibility that they were out there.
“Tats -” he started to shout a warning as he launched himself onto the floor, but everything was drowned out by the sudden roar of automatic gunfire. Glass exploded into the reception area; bullets slamming into the granite walls and pillars; they t ore into the oak furniture at the far end of the open-plan room, ending their journey as the wood splintered and yielded under the impact.
Everything was thrown into sudden madness.
Everything suddenly switched to black and white - in Dillon’s mind...
And then… silence. The smell of cordite filled the mountain air, dust drifted through the gaps where the glass had been. He saw Tatiana, crouched behind a large metal container filled with an assortment of large exotic plants, wedged between the wall and a marble-faced pillar. She glanced up. Dillon gave a quick succession of hand signals...
Stay.
Wait
.
Check Weapon.
Dillon glanced right; he could not see Kirill from his new position but he could hear him. At first he thought he was crying... But then he realised with rising anger that he was laughing. The bastard was actually laughing.
“So you want to know about the Assassins?” called Kirill. “Ask one of them yourself, Dillon - go on, ask the question yourself!” He laughed again, almost a cackle came from somewhere in the back of his throat. Dillon sighted the Nemesis scope, adjusting and shortening the focus. And at this short range, the next person to step through the doorway would be literally cut in half by the 12.7mm caliber rounds...
Everything happened at once - and it happened fast.
The Assassins made their move; there were four of them. Dillon squeezed the Nemesis trigger once, adjusted angle, and squeezed again and saw two of the black-clad figures drop almost simultaneously. The first took a bullet in the face and spun up into the air before being tossed violently, down onto the ground. The second caught a bullet in the throat, virtually severing the head from the torso, blood spraying in a wide arc across the walls.
The other two came through the doorway like circus acrobats, tumbling over the polished floor at speed - Uzi mini-machine pistols set to semi-automatic, firing at Dillon...
Dillon left the Nemesis on its tripod and dashed low across the reception area, using anything he could get behind for cover. Bullets ripped through the leather couches and ate the exotic plants, Dillon dived, rolling behind a pillar and then skidding, arms flaying around as he fought to get some sort of grip on the highly polished surface to face Tatiana.
The automatic pistol slid over the floor.
Dillon scooped up the familiar heavy bulk of the battered gun, placed his back against the pillar and a split-second later, spun out into the open.
Dillon dropped to a crouch, head snapping round to the left, and his gaze roaming the room in search of the other Assassins. The first Assassin lay, its skull broken, a sticky gluten matter pooling around it. The second lay a few feet away, its hooded head twisted at a bazaar angle to the body. Where the hell is the Priest and the others, and why didn’t I hear these bastards coming? Screamed his brain.
“They must have come back for Kirill,” whispered his subconscious softly.
There was a movement - a soft sound as soft rubber soled boots moved lightly over the highly polished floor, deep in the shadows at the far end of the room by the glass doors of the lift.
And then it saw Dillon.
Dillon was already firing: bullets tearing across the space, ripping through the gloom and punching the Assassin back against the glass door of the lift. A crimson smear appeared as it slid silently to the floor.
Dillon stayed low, eyes quickly scanning around the room for any other movement. The Assassin he’d just shot was in a sitting position against the glass door of the lift, its head slumped to the left, arms inert, both hands still holding the vicious Uzi mini sub-machine pistols, each forefinger still on the triggers, a red pool covering the highly polished floor around it. He moved cautiously, checked Tatiana. She had scrambled even further back behind the large metallic plant container by the entrance. That’s it, you stay just where you are, he thought to himself. Don’t do anything heroic.
The gun touched the back of his head, cold metal pressing gently against his skull.
There was a long pause.
“Do not make any sudden movement, Mr Dillon. It could be your last...” Came the soft female voice.
Dillon grinned, a nasty malicious grin. “You damned idiot,” he thought. “There were four of them!”
“Gun on the floor. Do it, or I will blow your face clean off. Now.”
Dillon - moving very slowly - lowering his gun, he placed it carefully on the floor, and then stood up again.
“Very slowly, Mr Dillon.”
Dillon stood, gaze roaming, searching for a way out. “Move over towards Professor Kirill.”
Dillon began a slow walk; he did not glance towards Tatiana’s position but he knew that she could hear the exchange. He moved gradually into the view of Kirill.
Despite the fact that he had gaping bullet wounds and the pain that he must have been in. The man was smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He had struggled up and was now sitting on one of the couches, his back leaning against the soft black leather, and then he glanced casually at his watch.
“Four minutes and - twenty-five seconds, Dillon. The clock’s ticking and then it’s - big boom time.” Kirill laughed, the laugh of a man resigned to certain death.
Dillon’s brain was churning over in search of a solution to his immediate predicament, the voice deep within his sub-conscious saying over and over. “Ask him straight out what it is he wants.”
“What is it you want, Kirill?”
“Want. I want nothing, Dillon. I have already resigned myself to death; in fact, it never ceases to amaze me how I’ve survived this long. My only pleasure now is to watch you go to your death, not knowing any of the answers. To know you died wondering where Chimera - where Scorpion - where Ferran & Cardini - and where the Assassins all fit into this rather interesting puzzle... You really have such low expectations of your enemies.”
“You can at least do one good thing, Kirill.”
“And what might that be?”
“You can let Tatiana go. She has nothing to do with this - nothing at all. Let her walk away from here.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I dispute that, my friend!” Said Kirill dryly, his intelligent eyes glinting in the overhead lighting. “She is not an innocent, at all, Mr Dillon. Tatiana is not only the niece of Ezra, but she is one of us. Has been from the very start...”
Chapter 19
Wind and rain kicked up from the Scottish valley below, whipping Alix like a cat-of-nine-tails, the ledge that he was standing on, no more than six inches wide. A tiny figure looking out over an infinite void, down into a wide maw that would willingly devour him should he fall! Alix moved sideways, shuffling his boots, remaining fully focused, ensuring his foot-hold remained firmly on the ledge.
Clouds the colour of coal rushed past in a flurry of wind and rain.
Cold drops stung his eyes, and he blinked them free.
His heart was thundering in his chest.
After leaving the winch-house, they were confronted by a detail of six security guards, who were cut down with surgical precision. Heavy army issue boots could be heard running towards them; they split up, the Priest seeking sanctuary within the network of service tunnels that formed part of the original SAS training complex; and Alix heading for the elements outside.
Alix glanced right and could see the Priest, who had appeared out of the ventilation shaft network, and was now crouched by a large stack of fifty gallon drums. He caught sight of Alix and gave him a signal to; wait!
He then felt, more than saw, the Priest start to move out of his hiding place; thinking something was dreadfully wrong, Alix remained perfectly still, boots firmly rooted to the narrow ledge.
Alix then saw the activity inside the landing bay. The Priest pulled from inside his three-quarter length leather coat, a sawn-off multi-shot shotgun. The cartridges loaded with a heavier gauge lead and capable of bringing down an elephant at thirty paces.
Alix licked his lips, tasting sweat beneath his sodden balaclava. His arms were starting to feel the real weight of the MP5 carbine he was cradling, and his legs were beginning to go numb with the cold and tension. He glanced down, past the narrow ledge. A tiny demon in his mind mocked him: what if he lost his concentration, even for a split second and - slipped? What if the Assassins spot him? What if they start shooting at him?
Alix smiled. The wind buffeted him. Rain stung his eyes. I wouldn’t give any of this up for anything, he thought.
The Priest signalled him, and then started to move slowly forward. There were perhaps eight Assassins positioned at strategic points around the landing area, some were concentrated around the
entrance to the facility. Black-clad figures biding their time, he assumed they were deciding what course of action to take next, to obtain access to the main reception area.
With muscles screaming, Alix drew round the Heckler & Koch MP5, flicking off the safety. With his right hand he signalled to the Priest that he was ready. The Priest acknowledged, replacing his small leather bound Bible to the inside breast pocket of his coat.
They both moved together, Alix slipped over the rampart and landed next to a pile of crates at the edge of the landing bay. He kept to a low crouch, moving forward, all the time watching the Priest for instructions.
Alix’s brain began calculating; eight Assassins and three security guards...
The Priest had also spotted the security guards, motioning for Alix to deal with them...
Machine-gun fire rattled, to the left. And then, all hell was let loose, the large glass panels fronting the facility’s main reception area exploded, Alix immediately reacted by cutting down the three security guards with one sweep of the MP5. The Priest was doing God’s work on the other side of the landing bay, killing four out of the eight Assassins in the blink-of-an-eye. The four surviving Assassins all charged through the now open doorway into the facility’s reception area.
Alix dived, hitting the ground heavily on his front as bullets whizzed past his head, and he rolled, his own weapon kicking in his grip, rain pounding him. From somewhere to his right, he could hear the thwackof heavy calibre rounds being fired; not daring to look up for fear of having his head shot off. The Priest appeared at Alix’s side, “Are you hit?”
“No man, just felt like a lay down for five minutes.”
Bullets continued to ricochet off of the stone rampart just above their heads, the shooter positioned above them on the far side of the landing bay.
Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 36
