Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series)

by Andrew Towning

  “What the hell do you do that makes you like that?” He mused as he lit a cigarette, and blew smoke into the cold night air. “What is the connection with Ramus? And why did Ezra really pull out from Kirill’s team, all those years ago?”

  He watched the smoke as it was snatched by the wind and dispersed.

  That’s what you’re about to do, isn’t it? You’re going to snatch away the world’s feeling of security.

  And then he remembered Tatiana, the look of shock and pain on her face as she fell away from the aircraft in Grand Bahama.

  Dillon shook his head.

  Shit always happens to the good people, he thought. It’s just the way it goes.

  A low drone came from the other side of the airfield.

  And then in a burst of landing lights the JetRanger helicopter loomed from the darkness, hovering into view, and climbed slightly, then dropped smoothly, rotors throbbing, towards the apron in front of the Ferran & Cardini International hanger. Engines screamed. The rotors whined in deceleration. Then there was just the sound of the wind and hot metal cooling.

  Dillon shaded his eyes against the glare of the JetRanger’s powerful forward spot lights, climbed to his feet and walked out across the tarmac.

  A familiar face met Dillon’s scowl, a tall angular man with neatly groomed fair hair stepped down from the executive helicopter. He was wearing a long black overcoat, unbuttoned, that as he walked across the apron, flapped open to show a navy blue wide pinstripe suit. The tall man held a slim Cuban panatela cigar between the fore and centre fingers of his right hand, the tip glowed as he drew on the cigar. “Ah, Jake. Good of you to join the real-world at this time of trouble.”

  Dillon blinked.

  “LJ - what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Moral support, old son. Moral support.”

  Dillon raised an eyebrow, “Oh well you’d better come inside the hanger, then.” He led the way inside the cavernous space, the others had all awoken and were stood around Vince and his tiny camping stove on the far side, next to the battered Lear jet.

  “I say, Jake. So much damage in such a short time! I see you’ve not lost your touch, old son.” LJ said, casting his eye over the black, bullet riddled, fuselage of the Ferran & Cardini Learjet. “It’s good to see you’ve still got your sense of humour, LJ!” Dillon said smiling. He pulled a cigarette from the packet and lit it.

  Edward Levenson-Jones walked over to Vince Sharp, who handed his boss a steaming mug of tea. He turned to face the small gathering, “I’ve dropped in, to tell you personally that the Prime Minister’s order has now been issued and giving you carte blanche on this extremely arduous assignment. Needless to say, you have the full weight of No 10 behind you. Anything you want, just ask.”

  “Anything? Well, that’s reassuring.” Alix blurted.

  LJ went on, “Your assignment is simple - to stop Ramus from launching a fully functioning Chimera virus programme. Jake, you have managed to halt this up to now, by ensuring the optical disc remained out of his reach. But the latest intelligence reports indicate that Ramus has been busy, he’s had some of the best hackers on the planet writing the missing elements to the Chimera scripts and is now only hours away from causing global chaos.”

  “Where is Ramus now?” Lola asked.

  “His last known location was somewhere off the coast of South America. But, the CIA has been tracking him with their newest satellite. Apparently, even a stealth ship can’t hide anymore. It turns out that he’s heading our way to collect something so vital to his plan, that he’s willing to jeopardise everything by doing so.”

  “What about the Anthrax canisters the Priest found on the abandoned Chinook in Norfolk? Do you think Ramus is planning a bio-attack as well as Chimera?” Dillon asked, exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke.

  “It wasn’t Anthrax, turned out to be pure cocaine, old son. The street value of that single canister has been estimated to be at least fifty million sterling. The Anthrax labels were just a ruse, Jake. What better way to transport Class-A drugs, than in such a deadlycontainer.”

  “Ramus is a cocaine trafficker? Well, that’s a relief...”

  LJ shot Dillon a look of exasperation, dropped his cigar butt onto the floor and stubbed it out with the sole of his expensive handmade leather shoe. “Sit tight here until the CIA confirms exactly where this lunatic Ramus is. Oh, and Jake, please keep me in the loop, old son.” He turned and walked out through the hanger door, a moment later the JetRanger helicopter lifted off the apron.

  * * * And wait they did...

  Alix took a seat on a stack of empty wooden crates. “Lola, what’s new, girl?”

  Lola glanced down at him.

  “Tea, love.”

  She handed him a mug filled with steaming tea.

  “Lots of sugar, Alix, just how you like it.”

  “Cheers, luv.” He took a sip and stared out across the vast

  hanger, the end of his cigarette glowed in the gloom as he pulled hard to get the maximum hit.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he sighed, wrapping his leather coat around him. “Just tired. Tired of all the shit.”

  Lola sat beside him, putting her arm around his shoulder, and he looked at her, surprised. She pressed her lips against his unshaven face and the smell of her hair filled his senses.

  “Hello?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “You feeling horny, luv?” He grinned his boyish flirtatious roguish grin.

  Lola met his gaze. His cheeky grin disappeared when he saw the seriousness there. “You’ve always been an insolent fucker, Alix. But I have really enjoyed working with you. I feel - I don’t know - I have a very bad feeling about what we’re about to do.”

  Alix nodded. “It’s what we do, though,” he said softly. “Ramus, and Kirill - they’re about to bring this planet to its knees. And what will evolve, is a world of uncertainty and fear of the like of you and I have never seen! If we don’t stop this fanatic from launching Chimera. Well, the alternative is unthinkable.”’

  “Yeah, I know. But... not everybody is going to make it back.”

  She licked her lips. They gleamed in the light from Alix’s cigarette. She reached up, suddenly, and kissed him, a long lingering pressing together of lips, and Alix felt lust rush through his body with a ferocity that he had forgotten.

  She pulled away.

  Alix smiled at her. “Wow, would you like to do that again?”

  “If we come through this, I’ll think about it. Maybe...”

  Alix nodded. “Thanks, luv. I’ll hold you to that.” They both stood up and walked across the hanger to the Lear, and a few hours of sleep until dawn.

  * * * As the tendrils of light crept over the airfield and into the hanger, Alix rose bleary-eyed, stretched the sleep out of his aching muscles, thinking of what lay ahead. He rubbed at his eyes, then at his stubble, lit a cigarette and went over to where Dillon, Vince and the Priest were drinking mugs of steaming hot black coffee. Outside, the sound of helicopter engines screaming and rotors beating the cold morning air could be heard...

  “What’s all the noise outside?” Dillon looked up and said. “Security Services. Three helis, courtesy of MI5, along with nine experienced tactical assault field officers as company.”

  Alix walked outside to a hive of activity.

  There were three Bell 206B-3 JetRanger helicopters, filling the apron with their metal menace. Each had engines screaming, rotors hissing through the cold early morning air, waiting for the instruction to go, glinting in the glorious dawn sunlight.

  Alix’s jaw dropped.

  He didn’t need to be an expert, although he was, to see that these hover-birds were brand new and adapted for the security service, armed to the teeth with the latest weapon systems.

  The Priest came out through the hanger doors and stood beside him, quoting from the small leather Bible, a look of wildness in his eyes. Alix’s gaze roved across the three helicopters, scanning the occupants
inside the cockpits, some of whom he would have worked with on ops in the past.

  Moments later, the helicopters’ engines were shut down and whirling rotors slowed to a gradual halt. All of the occupants got out and came over to where the Priest and Alix were standing. Alix immediately recognised the attractive Italian intelligence officer named Sophia Mazzaro, who had been seconded to MI5 for the past six months, her speciality, assassination.

  The Priest led the nine new-comers into the hanger where, Dillon, Vince and Lola met them and everyone took a moment to get acquainted.

  Alix followed them all inside and climbed up onto a fifty-gallon drum. A torrent of strength rushed through him and drowned his despair.

  “Can I have your attention!” he bellowed.

  Voices trailed off, and slowly all the intelligence officers along with the others turned towards this man who hadn’t had a shave or a bath for over a week and looked like he’d been to hell and back. His gaze met with that of the Priest, who gave him a quick glance and a nod.

  Alix took a drag on his cigarette. “Ladies and gentleman, and men of God,” his words rolled out on a cloud of smoke, “You all know why you’re here and what this assignment will involve. Our job is to ensure that the threat to the UK and Global security network is eliminated, and that Ramus is liquidated at the earliest possible opportunity. This man, if allowed to roam freely around the planet, will change the way we live our lives, if he is actually allowed to launch the Chimera virus programme. For those of you who are not familiar with Chimera, let me tell you; it is the most advanced piece of viral software that has ever been written. A silent attacker - undetectable - devastatingly aggressive - intuitive and most of all - infinitely adaptive. It reacts to the environment it has invaded, in the blink of an eye - a Chameleon. Once it’s in, it can extract every piece of data from the hardrive, send it to a remote server and literally take over the system, whether it’s a single computer, a corporate or government mainframe, military networks or any computer that is connected to the Internet. It can get past anti-virus software, firewalls and protected networks, no matter how many layers or encryptions, they have. Am I painting a graphic enough picture for you all?”

  The intelligence men and woman all nodded.

  Alix continued, “Ramus is the man who has systematically destroyed Scorpion and has murdered many good people, some of whom were friends as well.”

  More nods from around the gathering.

  Alix’s wide-eyed gaze roved over the small, yet, elite group. He exchanged glances with Dillon, Lola, Vince and the Priest. Sophia Mazzaro gave him a tiny smile, the sunlight catching her mane of auburn hair, and her dark eyes flashing bright with a sort of inappropriate flirtatiousness, and Alix beamed her a huge smile: they had got together from time to time. His gaze took in the eight MI5 officers: all were ready, all had weapons primed, all were ready to do their duty for Queen and country against the evil that was attempting to change the world and change it bad.

  Alix smiled slowly.

  “Intelligence reports are that the virus programme is not ready to be launched, the Chimera version the enemy possesses - is missing some of the vital script. The optical disc with it on is locked inside a safe on board the stealth ship that Ramus uses as his mobile operations centre...”

  Dillon stepped forward, turned and stood in front of the group.

  “And this,” he held up his hand holding the optical disc that Claudia Dax had given him. “Is the disc that contains the vital script. In fact this is a copy that has been modified, so that anyone trying to merge this version with the one that Ramus has, will automatically erase both. Rather cunning, really.”

  “But, it would appear that Ramus has had some very capable people working on Chimera and is now very close to cracking these last vital elements. Once that happens, he will be unstoppable... So, it’s lucky for us that the Americans have located the stealth ship using one of their newest spy satellites - and now we know where he is - we are the only ones who can make a difference.” Alix said, and jumped down off the fifty-gallon drum. “And we will win,” he said, his words soft as he tossed his spent cigarette down.

  “We will be given a sat-link assignment briefing by Edward Levenson-Jones at 14.30 this afternoon; be ready people, we move out at sunset. We have a madman to kill.”

  * * * Dillon walked slowly around the hanger, looking up at the battered fuselage of the Lear and the Apache, both looked worse for wear. He knew how they felt! He suddenly needed to be in the daylight. Outside, he walked over to take a closer look at the three JetRangers on the hard-standing; red fuselage gleaming in the sunlight, heavy calibre machine guns and air-to-air missile launchers attached to the underside of their airframes. Inside the cockpit more fire-power; Heckler & Koch MP6 carbines, grenades, cases of ammunition and high-explosive. “Impressive.” Dillon said out loud, and thought that these men were supposed to be the best. Although they were all travelling under the auspice of MI5, Dillon and the others knew that everyone of them had been hand-picked from the elite regiments and security agencies, and that they all knew exactly what was expected of them.

  Sophia Mazzaro was something quite different. A contract liquidator for hire; Interpol, MI5 and MI6, Mossad and the CIA all having employed her special talent, and all having lost good agents to the Assassins and those who were behind the Assassins - and on behalf of them all, she wanted a slice of the payback cake.

  Dillon halted. The Priest had followed him outside, was quoting from the Bible and reciting mantra-like phrases akin to a man possessed. Dillon turned and looked into the tall man’s dark eyes. The Priest was muscular; one of the most muscular men of God he had ever seen.

  “Can you fuck off and leave me alone,” Dillon said.

  “I see, Dillon. That you are annoyed by my intrusion,” said the Priest closing his Bible slowly. The book looked small in his hands. “But I seek merely to make light of your pain, to fill your soul with joy in this most stressful of times, to fill you with light before we embark on our quest to eradicate this evil Satanic God-mocking heathen. from the face of this planet...”

  “Well don’t - just don’t. I need to collect my thoughts on my own. I need calm. And you know, because now you’re the only one who does know, why I need to collect my thoughts.”

  “Ah yes, of course. Tatiana was the only other person who knew, wasn’t she?” He held up a hand, “No need to answer, I know that is so. I’m still wondering, though, how the hell you have kept such a secret from the shrinks, for so long.”

  Dillon looked at the Priest for a few long moments. “You’re wondering, aren’t you how I keep the secret of my psychosis, my psychopathic alter-ego? Well, it only comes to the surface during moments of extreme stress. And lucky for me, I don’t find a fortyfive minute post-assignment assessment with a shrink, that stressful! That’s how…”

  “I see. Thank you for being so candid, Dillon. I know that you have suffered great loss at the hands of Ramus. The Lord will pay back this evil man with bolts of lightning from Heaven; the Lord shall smite down our enemies. He shall fuck him up real bad.” The Priest grinned then, “Dillon, put your trust in the Lord and he will surely guide you.”

  “I’ll put my trust in my Glock 9mm, Priest,” said Dillon, smiling.

  “It’s worked wonders on Kirill, and it will work wonders on Ramus today.”

  The Priest’s smart-phone sounded. He took a moment to decipher the encrypted message and read it, twice. Frowning, he looked up, his face filled with confusion and anger.

  “Kirill still has to be punished.”

  Dillon shook his head. I shot Kirill in Scotland, Priest; I killed that son-of-a-bitch myself and left him to be fried by his own fucking bomb.”

  “You are wrong, my friend. By some perverted fluke of injustice, he somehow escaped a fiery death”.

  “How do you know this?”

  “The encryption I received just a minute ago was from GCHQ. They intercepted a bounced transmission, a video
. He had sent a message to Ramus; their arrogance is colossal, they actually think we are as nothing. They think they can flaunt themselves with impunity. But Kirill is alive, Dillon.” The Priest handed his smart-phone to Dillon, who read the intercept and watched the video clip.

  Dillon’s jaw dropped. “That fucker just will not die.”

  “There is more.”

  “More?”

  The Priest nodded. “They have Tatiana on the stealth ship. You saw her shot and then fall from the aircraft, yes, but she did not die; she was mentioned in Kirill’s message to Ramus.”

  “Tatiana! Alive?” Hope died as soon as it had flared. “Definitely not,” Dillon growled.

  “Well, it wouldn’t seem bizarre that they would seek to save a bartering tool against you, their greatest proven adversary?”

  “Me?”

  “You scare them, Dillon. They know what you’re capable of. There is a dark demon in your soul, and they can see that it’s your protector.”

  “So what are you saying that they’re reeling me in?”

  “Like a lamb to slaughter,” said the Priest softly.

  Dillon moved back into the freezing cold interior of the hanger. He paced like a caged tiger, for what seemed like an age, his mind whirling, images of Tatiana flickering through his brain, sadness overtaking him, then anger, then frustration, and then utter disbelief.

  If she was alive, then he had to save her.

  And Kirill - alive, and using her as bait?

  Dillon smiled a nasty grin.

  “Our next meeting Professor, will be a sweet one, I’ll make sure of that.” He said softly.

  * * * The briefing was over. The intelligence officers were making final preparations for their departure; including the incorporation of a highly sophisticated software programme that Vince was uploading to the database of the three JetRanger helicopters to help them evade surface-to-air and air-to-air missiles.