Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series)

by Andrew Towning

  Dillon’s smart-phone started to vibrate, the Priest’s number showed on the screen. “What you got, Priest?”

  The Priest’s voice sounded metallic over the loud speaker. “I spoke to my source at GCHQ. It’s all very strange, Dillon. They’ve intercepted a lot of heavily encrypted chatter between Ramus and an organisation here in the UK.”

  “What’s strange about it?”

  “The company appears to be legitimate, but is nothing more than a shell, a front.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No. The company’s registered office is in Nassau!”

  “Nassau?”

  “Nassau. But, that’s not all. Get this, Dillon; the UK address is on the south coast of England.”

  “Where on the south coast?”

  “Dorset. To be precise, somewhere that you are very familiar with, are you not?”

  “You must be mistaken, Priest.” Dillon’s voice sounded confused.

  “No mistake. And, I don’t believe in coincidences either. I think that this Ramus, whoever he is, is leading you there for some reason, but as yet, I haven’t been able to work out why?”

  “You mean to say, that this front company is based in Poole? Now that is strange...” Dillon’s mind raced, trying to think, who, if anyone from his past could be involved?

  “Dillon, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here, Priest.”

  “Lola, Alix and myself, are heading down to Dorset in the Apache, that is, after we’ve stopped off in London. I’ve been summoned by Edward Levenson-Jones at Ferran & Cardini HQ.”

  “I’ll set a course for the UK, and contact you again when we’re over British airspace. Oh, and good luck with LJ, you’re going to need it.”

  “The Lord will protect, Dillon. See you in Dorset. The Priest terminated the call. Dillon nodded to himself and said softly. “Dorset again?”

  Vince had listened to the entire conversation on the smartphones loud speaker. Turned to Dillon and said thoughtfully. “You know, that two-faced bastard Ezra stitched us up bad. He couldn’t have done a better job of leading us into a trap, if he had been alive. And, how the hell he got past the security checks, heaven knows...”

  Dillon simply nodded again and continued to re-work the coordinates that would get them back to the UK. Taking into account the fuel stop they would have to make.

  Dillon felt sick. Dillon felt cold. Dillon felt alone.

  Somebody is going to have to pay, he realised.

  Chapter 23

  The Learjet limped over the Dorset coastline just as the sun was starting to rise in the east, warning lights flashing on the display and fuel gauges registering almost empty. Dillon spoke into the microphone of his headset; the air-traffic controller at Bournemouth International Airport giving him immediate clearance to land on the east runway, and to then proceed to the north-west side of the airfield and await further instructions.

  Dillon disengaged the auto-pilot, and without ceremony made his first and final approach onto the runway. Landing with a squeal of rubber as the undercarriage touched the tarmac and he breathed a sigh of relief. He taxied the Lear to the far end of the runway and waited for a moment, before being escorted by airport security to the private hanger of Ferran & Cardini International.

  Inside the cavernous space the Lear came to a halt alongside the Apache attack helicopter. Through the jet’s windscreen, Dillon could just make out the single occupant seated inside the Apache.

  Alix climbed out of his seat and stepped down from the helicopter.

  Dillon released the main door and a moment later he and Vince came down the steps of the Learjet.

  “How goes it, Dillon?” Asked Alix, grinning. The rugged looking man was standing, heavy leather flying jacket belying his muscular physique, hands deep in fur lined pockets, a smoking cigarette hanging loosely from between his lips. His hair was still short and spiky, his eyes dark-ringed and hooded but twinkling with an irrepressible inner humour tinged only with a hint of concern. “Thought you’d gone and got yourself killed down there in Nassau. When the Priest saw your number on his phone, he almost jumped out of his skin. And what the hell happened to this jet?”

  “Assassins, there were four of them flying single-seater training jets that were packing an awful lot of punch!” Dillon sighed, wincing as he pulled on his jacket.

  Alix noted the 9mm automatic that was now holstered under Dillon’s right arm. “That Glock the only weapon you’re carrying?”

  Alix held the cigarette packet towards Dillon. “What’s mine is yours, and yours is mine.” Dillon’s weary face brightened a little and he took a cigarette, lit it with his own gold lighter, and inhaled deeply, looking thoughtfully at the slender object he was rolling in his hand, passed the packet back and lifted the barrel of the Glock gently under Alix’s chin. Alix blinked, hand outstretched to receive the packet of cigarettes. He coughed slowly.

  “You seem a little on edge,” he said at last, after a long brooding pause.

  “Let’s see both hands, Alix. Dillon said, and Alix could see there was no humour and no compassion and no give in the man he had called a friend for many years. Alix removed his other hand from the jacket pocket and spread his fingers wide. Dillon frisked him from head to toe, retrieving two automatic pistols, six hand grenades, three knives and a length of piano wire.

  “So talk to me, Dillon. What’s going on?”

  “Where are Lola and the Priest?”

  “Outside.”

  “Where, I didn’t see them out front.”

  “Most likely skulking in the shadows.”

  “Let’s take a walk; you first. And don’t make me shoot you in the back, Alix. Because it would be a fucking bad ending to a really good long friendship. Unfortunately, recent events have conspired to fuckup my sense of who I can and who I cannot trust. And that includes you, Alix. Assassins are everywhere.”

  “But, Dillon. We’ve gone to hell and back since Hereford,” Alix said, his voice hoarse.

  “I know, we did. And in a few moments we’ll either be having a drink or you’ll be on your way to hell, my old mate. I thought I knew Ezra, but a son-of-a-bitch who looked just like him still tried to kill me.”

  They covered the distance across the hanger quickly, moving out through the main doors to be confronted outside by a stiff wind blowing in from the south-west. Alix zipped up his flying jacket, Dillon walked carefully behind the other man, aware of how fast he could move and how deadly he really was. He might have a glib tongue and a wickedly charming way with the women, but he was a deadly killer. Very deadly.

  They walked around the corner of the building.

  The Priest was sitting on a stack of wooden pallets and Lola was leaning against the side of a rusting cargo container smoking a cigarette. They both turned as Alix, Dillon and Vince appeared.

  “You okay, Alix?” Lola purred, moving away from the building, her hand straying towards her gun.

  “No worries,” said Alix softly, waving for the sylph-like young woman to relax.

  Dillon holstered the Glock. Alix turned, gently placing his hand on the shoulder of his old friend. “You really can be a paranoid fucker sometimes, Dillon, you know that?”

  “Sorry mate,” said Dillon, moving over to greet the Priest and Lola.

  “You pull a gun on him, Dillon?” Lola asked.

  Dillon nodded.

  She shook her head. “You’re one mad dog - he’s here to help.”

  “So he said. But when I saw him on his own in the Apache, I suppose I thought I smelt a rat.”

  “Dillon, you’ve known Alix years. Why think that?”

  “Nassau. Had some joker impersonating Ezra who wanted to terminate my contract with life. The latex prosthetics were so good that I wouldn’t have known, until he slipped up that is. Threw him a trick question just to make sure, then I knew. But that bastard very nearly succeeded in killing me. So forgive me for being paranoid, but these bastards will stop at nothing to get wh
at they want.”

  “Wow. You’re forgiven.”

  “Thanks.”

  Alix jogged back into the hanger and retrieved his weapons, reappearing moments later. “Right then - to business, now that Dillon has it clear in his mind that I am for real. I presume you know what’s going on with Scorpion?”

  Dillon nodded. “I know that the organisation has been destroyed, most of the field units have been murdered by Assassins whilst on assignment, which I find disturbing in itself. Why?” Dillon mused for a moment before continuing. “These highly skilled and well equipped killers are part of the Ramus group who had professor Kirill moonlighting for them. They now have the Chimera virus programme that is so powerful and so intelligent, that it’s capable of taking control of any computer it enters, which in turn, would cause a global internet Armageddon within the blink of an eye. And, nothing or nobody would be excluded; military, banking and government computer systems - private individuals - anybody. No matter how sophisticated their protection, Chimera intuitively learns, adapts, and enters without even a trace of evidence, that it was ever there. And here we are now - Kirill, we know is dead because we were all there when he was blown up in Scotland, which leaves only Ramus roaming around and unaccounted for.”

  “Yeah, that sums up just how bad things are,” said Alix, grimacing. “They’ve certainly shown the world what they’re capable of and what is likely to come. But what I don’t understand is - why? What is it they want? After all, they’ve not even made a blackmail demand, so what do they want? What we do know is that they’ve used Chimera to hack into a number of mainframes, including; Scorpion, the UK Government, and the Bank of England. They’ve already got the world’s most powerful governmental administrations sitting up and paying attention. The world’s media are already reporting on this and it won’t take long before some clever-dick journalist works out how all of these events are linked.” He took a breath and his eyes were wild, sparkling with fury. He lit a cigarette, then pulled out a pack of rations from his backpack, and ripped open the packaging from a bar of chocolate.

  “Yeah, we found out much the same with the help of one of my sources at GCHQ, and the Priest had one of his Whitehall spooks do the same. Ezra worked with Kirill, way back, in the early days of what was to become the Chimera project - although no one seems to know much about this stage of the research and development. Ezra pulled out, butKirill carried on his work until the Government started talking about the withdrawal of funding and moving him from Scotland back down to London. But in the meantime, Ezra had joined Ferran & Cardini International as a station co-ordinator, although his real role and sole purpose was to develop counter-intelligence and covert ops software for the Government. The facility he had on Santorini was ideal because it positioned him in a perfect geographical location for any covert ops being carried out over in that neck of the woods by the SAS. So, there it is...”

  “So where did these Assassins spring from and why are they involved?” Dillon spoke the words softly.

  “Well, we’ve been talking to Interpol and they’ve been on the trail of an extremist occult group calling themselves, The Black Dawn. And get this, from the case file that Interpol sent to me, these really are Assassins.” Alix lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply.

  “And...” Dillon prompted.

  Alix grinned nastily. “We started to work on finding out just where they’ve run to.”

  “But?”

  “Yeah, there’s always a but, Dillon.” Alix said, blowing smoke. He grinned at Dillon; the two men held each other’s gaze for a brief moment, smoke trailed from Alix’s nostrils.

  “MI6 have been tracking you since you left England with Tatiana. Apparently they had a special interest in you - fucking spooks poking their noses in where they’re not wanted. They initially used satellites and Tatiana’s F&C smart-phone to keep tabs on your position, but then they lost the GPS link and that was that. But credit to you, Dillon. You always kept them one step behind you - they had trained squads chasing after you, but you kept them guessing. They turned up in Nassau to find dead Assassins everywhere and total devastation.

  “What else did they find in Nassau?”

  “Apparently you stole a power boat from one of the nastiest drug dealers on the island. Man, you’ve got a big pair of balls.”

  “Did the spooks go up to Scotland?”

  “Yeah, they found a whole lot of mess: the remnants of the research facility. But no Kirill.”

  “You watched me shoot him. His body would have been burnt to a cinder with all of that explosive he’d planted.”

  “But there was no sign of his body. Even though he was in the middle of the explosion, they had a full team of CSIs and these guys were using state-of-the-art scanners. There were no genetic traces - in fact, no traces at all. Somebody, Dillon. Somebody must have gone back for his corpse.”

  “Why do that?” Dillon said incredulously.

  Alix Shrugged and the Priest stepped forward. “I know what you’re thinking, Dillon. What use is a char grilled carcass? But that’s not for us to waste time debating. What you might not know is that MI6 lost you completely after Nassau, that is, until you powered up your smart-phone. I was glad you remembered to use the encrypted scramble code.” The Priest walked around the group, and then strode off back inside the hanger, halting for a moment, then walked towards the Apache attack helicopter, and stood looking at it. The others watched him from the hanger doorway in bewilderment. After a minute he turned on his heel and came back towards the doorway, his long leather coat whipped around him as he walked.

  Dillon watched the religious man walk towards him, the Priest’s Bible held firmly in his right hand. He motioned for Dillon to walk with him.

  Together they walked out to the edge of the apron and stared out across the airfield. The wind howled around them, buffeting them; nothing to shelter them from it.

  “You ever been down here before, Priest?”

  “You mean Dorset?

  “Yeah.”

  “Never. You?”

  “Fell in love with the place while on assignment down here, and have been here a few times since. Funny thing though. Every time I come back, some bastard tries to kill me...”

  “Well, you’re lucky that they have all failed, Dillon. Because, whoever they were. Someone is obviously looking kindly down upon you.”

  The two men shared a moment of silence.

  “What are your plans now?” Dillon asked.

  “This Ramus character has a stealth ship. He thinks he is going to take over the world or something like that, and it’s our job to stop him.”

  “Our?”

  The Priest turned and grasped Dillon’s shoulders. “You’re a part of this now, Dillon. You also know this area and the waters hereabouts like the back of your hand; we need you.”

  “I have my own war to fight.”

  “And what war would that be?”

  “A war with my conscience.”

  “In my capacity as a fully ordained priest, Dillon. I’d say you were long past that point.”

  Dillon scowled.

  “How long have we known each other?”

  “Too long, Priest.”

  “It’s nineteen years. That’s how long. And in that time I’ve seen and heard many things about you, mostly how you always survive! I also know that when you attended your post assignment assessment interview with the shrinks, you used to always demonstrate that you had a consistently stable mind. But you have a secret, and you’ve kept it well hidden for a very long time, my friend.”

  “Which is?”

  “Oh, come now, Dillon. Don’t be coy. It’s not your conscience you’re at war with, is it? It’s your subconscious.”

  “Only God knows what you’re talking about, Priest. But you make sure you keep that very safely to yourself. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Transparently. But I didn’t mean to disrespect you, Dillon.”

  The two men stood in silence, until A
lix walked out to join them.

  “I’ve just had a call from Levenson-Jones,” he took a long pull of his cigarette. “The sanction has been authorised. Ramus and these Assassins have to be found and terminated. LJ has just come out of an emergency meeting with the Prime Minister at Downing Street, the outcome of which, gentlemen, is simple. There is no time to lose in locating Ramusand his stealth ship... The Americans, Russians, NATO and virtually every other fucking government and their respective intelligence agencies around the globe are already experiencing problems with their Command and Control IT mainframes. They’re all reporting exactly the same, that their systems keep crashing - going off-line and dumping its own data... It looks like Ramus’ plan is starting to roll-out. I think we need to fuck-up his strategy good and proper. Now come back into the hanger, it’s warmer in there, not much, but at least we’ll be out of this freezing wind. We can sit down, talk tactics, and have a drink, I packed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s especially for my old mate. And you can bring us up to speed on what exactly happened in Nassau.”

  Dillon smiled; the expression felt very strange on his face. “Jack Daniel’s, you say?”

  “The one and only Jack Daniel’s.” Alix winked. All three men walked back into the hanger, where Lola and Vince were huddled over his primus stove brewing a pot of tea. Alix bent down and drew out a full bottle of JD from his backpack and some small plastic cups.

  “Drink, anybody? A toast to us winning against all the odds?”

  Dillon laughed then, like a schoolboy, grinned. “You going to pour that whisky or simply wave the bottle around in the air? Because I need a drink, badly!”

  * * * Alix, the Priest, Vince and Lola were all crashed out in the main cabin of the multi-million dollar Lear jet. They were all sprawled, sleeping in the luxurious reclining seats, Vince was snoring loudly at the rear of the aircraft, Alix and Lola curled up next to each other and the Priest, eyes closed, sitting upright in one of the front seats. And that left only…

  …Dillon. He sat at the front of the hanger, to one side of the partially closed doorway, staring out into the night, mulling over thoughts of catamaran stealth ships and Assassins. He could not understand; could not understand, how they could move so fast without making even the tiniest sound, could not understand, why they were so good at killing. Because he knew that even at his age, he was pretty good, if not one of the best. And, that if he was totally outclassed by these black clothed creatures.