Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (10 page)

Alix smiled. “You’re a prize technophobe, girl. They warned me
about you and gadgets, and how you have a nasty habit of destroying
them.”
“That’s a lie,” Lola was smirking, “They only sometimes break.
Otherwise they just break-down...”
Alix played with the phone, and frowned again. “I thought these
things were practically bomb-proof?”
“They are,” Lola called back from the front seat. “I very much
doubt whether it has been damaged.”
Alix looked at a loss, as Lola handed him her Scorpion
smartphone. He attempted to bring the device to life, but it refused to
boot-up. He shook his head, “Where to next?”
“We need to contact Ferran & Cardini, and we need to find out
what the hell is going on. We need to be alert and remember that a
number of Scorpion units have been assassinated.”
Alix looked perturbed, answering. “No I haven’t forgotten.”
“Didn’t you think it a little odd that Scorpion made a point of
requesting that they brought Dillon in to protect Kirill and his niece
- and not us?”
“A little.” Said Alix, lighting a cigarette and laying back, staring at
the panelled ceiling, smoke spiralling upwards and escaping through
the torn bullet holes making him feel a tad wary. Tension, spinning
bullets and a lack of sleep did not fuse together to well. A cold draft
whistled in through the holes. Alix started to dismantle and clean his
Glock.
He closed his eyes, thinking back to his last tour of Afghanistan
and the random suicide bombers.
And the bullets...
And the killing...
“We need to pay a visit to an old friend,” said Alix. He shivered.
And welcomed the darkness of sleep as the van rumbled through the
rain swept streets of the city.

It felt surreal, like a million light years had passed, as if he was
on another planet. Dillon lay in the steaming hot Jacuzzi bath, water
flowing over his body, massaging his back, easing the tension from
his muscles, washing away the spatters and smears of blood. His eyes
closed, his head resting on the roll-top bath, his fingertips massaging
his temples ever so gently; round and round in tiny circles. It had been
a long journey and his weariness had all but consumed him, devoured
him whole and spat him out on the other side of the universe.

Too much had changed in the world since he had opted for the
quiet life in the Highlands of Scotland.
He stepped out of the bath. The towel had been warming on
the heated rail, and he dried himself in slow-motion, automaton
movements. Then naked, he walked through to the master bedroom
and collapsed onto the richly coloured, thickly opulent duvet. Sleep
claiming him immediately into its embrace.
Dillon tossed and turned, sleeping a restless and sweaty sleep...
Zhenya - the look of utter disbelief. And then the silenced spitof
the gun - everything in slow motion. A bullet spinning through the air,
slamming into her shoulder, cloth tearing as the hollow-point bullet
bore through skin and muscle, smashing bone. Kirill, face covered in
blood and saliva, eyes unfocused as he lay in a state of shock - dying.
But it was Dillon who took the bullet, felt his flesh tear and the searing
heat as it entered his body and looking down, watched blood soaking
through his shirt. Could see Kirill’s face staring down at him as he was
lowered into the shallow grave and Zhenya throwing flowers on top
of him as they started to shovel the soft earth in and he wanted to
shout, shout; “I’m still alive. I’m not dead...”

He awoke suddenly in the darkness, a cold sweat covering his
body, shivering with flashbacks of his past cascading through his
mind. Dillon pulled the heavy duvet up around his neck, groaning
with tired and aching muscles. A moment later he rolled from the bed
and pulled on navy blue jogging bottoms and a thick woollen pullover,
much too large but really soft and comfortable, just the way he liked
it. He went barefoot down to the kitchen and made himself a cup of
tea as the first weak rays of sunshine were filtering over the summit
of the mountain range on the far side of the loch.

Dillon went through to the living room and stretched his spine,
then unlocked the French doors and stepped out onto the terrace.
The cold hit him like a slap in the face and he gasped, revelling at
the shock. Wind lashed his unruly hair and he leaned over the stone
balcony, gazing out across the snow covered lawns. In the distance he
could see woodland, snow-laden and picturesque. The lane snaked
into the distance, between hills, and beyond it all; the mountains over
lording the valley and watching over mere mortals far below.

God, this is such a beautiful place
, he thought. The phone rang. He
stepped back inside and picked up the handset. “Hello.”
“Dillon, its Tatiana.” She sounded serious.
“Tats - I need a
servere word in your ear
, my lovely. Have you any
fucking idea what happened to me in Cornwall?”
“No time, Dillon. There’s something very bad going down, here
in London. I just wanted to let you know that I’m coming up.”
“Here?”
“Yes. I’m on my way now, should be with you in about three
hours. Do not use the mobile phone that I gave you. In fact, I doubt
whether it is even connected at present.”
“Why”
“It’s the Scorpion units. It looks like three of them have been
assassinated - wiped out. Look, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
The line went dead. Dillon went back inside and picked up the
mobile phone. He checked the signal strength, which was usually
strong, nothing, not a single bar; the screen showed that the satellite
network was temporarily de-activated. Tats had called him from the
secure phone system built into the Mercedes SL55 on-board computer
system. She had obviously not wanted anyone to listen into her call...
Dillon ran open fingers through his hair, her words troubling
him. He shrugged to himself, pushing this worry from his mind
temporarily. He would just have to wait until Tatiana arrived and
wonder in the meantime what the hell was going on - and what her
words of warning really meant - but it wasn’t that simple. Why had he
not heard from Vince Sharp or Edward Levenson-Jones at Ferran &
Cardini? What the hell
was
going on?
He changed into a dark blue tracksuit and pulled on a battered
old pair of Nike running shoes and trotted down the stairs and out
through the front door. Dillon stood in the middle of the drive already
feeling the invigorating effects of the bitterly cold morning air and
fresh snowfall under foot. A moment later, he set off across the vast
lawn leading down to the water’s edge, and at a steady pace followed
the contours of the shoreline around the Loch, as wariness and bad
images of the assignment down in Cornwall flickered through his
mind with each stride.
The early morning sunshine and the silence welcomed Dillon
into its embrace and he groaned internally at the effort of such
vigorous exercise and yet he felt the need. The need to work, to be
doing something, to feel the exhilaration and power that only came
with hard exercise; to feel the trail beneath his running shoes, to feel
the burn of lactic acid, the strain of muscles, the tearing of strained
lungs...
Soon, with leg muscles burning, he turned in-land and headed
up a hill towards woodland. He crested the first rise and entered the
woods. Frozen gorse crackled and snapped under each heavy footfall
as he pushed himself to the limit and five minutes later he cleared
the woods and was heading up to a rocky out-crop that offered a
spectacular view across the valley right back to the modest size castle
he now called home.
The distant engine noise indicated a large vehicle. It could just
be passing by but Dillon had a bad feeling about it as no one ever
came in his direction unless invited. Ever since the events in Cornwall
only hours before and the low flying race back home to Scotland...
The pursuit had ended without event but Dillon still felt drained after
those bloody unexpected events at Kirill’s country residence
The powerful diesel engine changed pitch. Dillon ran back down
through the woods, staying just back from the tree line as he heard the
vehicle turn up towards his property. He reached the rise just in front
of the imposing building and gazed down at the battered Mercedes
van, pumping diesel fumes from an engine that had run its last mile.
A Mercedes van? It had to be...
Alix and Lola, Dillon smiled.
He ran down towards the main gate and, ever careful, paused to
watch the van pulling up outside the front doors of the castle and the
visitors disembark. Alix and Lola stepped down from the Mercedes,
both grumbling and stretching after the obvious effects of a long
journey. Dillon stayed where he was for a moment longer - nobody
following - then jogged slowly up the drive to greet his two old friends
whom he had served with during his army intelligence days.
“Dillon!” Yelled Alix, and embraced the sweating man. They
clasped hands, patting one another on the back. Lola smiled warmly.
“I hope you’ve got whisky, Dillon? Lots of it...”
“You Lola, have a wicked mind, and at this time of the morning.
I still haven’t forgotten the last time the three of us started on the
whisky!”
“It wasn’t my fault Alix got thrown into the Thames! And it’s
never too early for a
wee
dram...”
“Lola, it was
you
who threw him in the river!”
“It was nothing, just a little fooling around! It’s great to see you
again, Jake.”
“Come on in”, said Dillon smiling. “I’m just about ready for a
cooked breakfast, if I can entice two of my oldest friends to join me?”
“I’m up for some of that.” Alixsaid, as he followed Dillon inside.
“And me,” Lola called as she stepped down from the back of the
van with a holdall full of weapons.
“It must be two or three years since we all got together. And with
so many holes in that van. I assume there is a reason?” Dillon’s eyes
were hooded, his mouth a grim line. Recent events having removed
much of his humour, and this unannounced visit felt somehow
ominous.
“I’m afraid there is,” said Alix softly. He lit a cigar, rested his
head back and rubbed at tired eyes. “Something bad is going down,
old buddy. Have you logged on with the Ferran & Cardini server
recently? Checked out the encrypted fodder on your adventures down
in Cornwall?”
Dillon shook his head. “No, not since I got back, I’m not really
interested to be honest.”
“Something just doesn’t add up, Jake. Scorpion HQ has no
answers as to how the security was breached at the facility in Cornwall
and how the SAS and MI5 protection squads were eliminated with
such ease. And Kirill - our friendly Government computer nerd and
creator of the all-powerful new programme - has disappeared and
is presumed dead. They pulled the char-grilled corpse of his niece -
along with the bodies of
all
the guests from the party - from the burnt
out ruins of his mansion once the fire service had managed to get
the blaze under control. But mysteriously, no sign of professor Kirill.
Strange that, considering you put a bullet in the fucker? I’m finding
it just a little disconcerting that no one is able to answer the simple
question of what the hell is going on - after all, their surveillance and
technology budgets must exceed all the others put together.”
Dillon shrugged. “Have you thought - just for a moment - that
they might not know what is going on? After all, it might not be so
bizarre to think, that what happened to me and from what you’re
saying has happened to you - may have something to do with someone
trying to obtain or destroy Kirill’s new software programme? After all
Kirill seems to be the common denominator here.”
“You’re dead right, Jake,” Alix said tucking into a plate of eggs
and bacon. “Go on, Lola, tell him about the other Scorpion units.”
Lola sighed, and took a swig of her whisky, and Dillon caught
the resignation in the young woman. Strange, for sure, because they
had survived some of the worst and most dangerous hot-spots on
the planet together as serving officers in army intelligence. They
had infiltrated terrorist networks throughout Europe, assisted
humanitarian relief agencies in the most devastated areas of Africa
and South America, and partied from dusk to dawn in a few dubious
bars and clubs from London to Cuba.
Lola’s face was stern. “Scorpion 7, was wiped out while they
were on a babysitting assignment in the Carpathian Mountains in the
Ukraine.”
“I know,” said Dillon softly. “But these things
can
happen.
Anyone involved in this kind of work - knows fully well that it could
happen to them. Good men and women
die
. Life’s a bitch,
yeah
?”
“Yes, but what is even worse is that Scorpion HQ has not said one
word about it. I found out from a friend of mine. A former Russian
special forces sergeant who is now working inside the Kremlin for
their equivalent of the cyber monitoring and crime squad. He came
across the report on a Russian news agency website and called me. So,
Alix and I set out to find out a few things, keep a few tabs on several
other Scorpion units, including members of Scorpion HQ. Two more
units are missing, 3 and 4.”
“The Sniper unit and the Southern Asia close protection unit.
God, all those good men?”
“Hmmm,” nodded Alix, filling the room with cigar smoke.
“Coincidence or just very bad luck? I thought to myself. Then
we get this real bad gig in London. You know the sort, Dillon. One of
those jobs that you just wish you hadn’t been given. But you still sign
the insurance waiver form and pledge your allegiance to the Crown
for ever and after eternity. And guess what...”
“Smoke and mirrors - a set-up?”
“Too bloody right.” Alix finished his cigar, and immediately lit
another. “They were waiting for us. I went in on foot to check ahead;
there were five of them, almost got me and all. Very professional:
well-armed, eastern European and as hard as fuck, intelligent, quick
thinking, moved like greased lightening.”
“And you also think that I was deliberately set-up?” Said Dillon
softly.
“Certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Dillon pulled gently on one of his earlobes, and accepted a
cigarette from Lola. “It’s funny... I had a phone call from Tatiana
earlier this morning. She’s on her way up here. She sounded a little
freaked out.”
“Be careful with her, mate. She’s turned into something else
since you were with her. You know that the partners made her up to
their personal liaison officer with the Government and Scorpion HQ.
And don’t forget, she’s Old School. Crafty as a fox.”
“I’ve known her for years - slept in her bed for a few of them.
We’re still good friends...”
Alix shrugged and gave Dillon a knowing look. “Tatiana is street
wise - and don’t you forget it.” Alix said, and then immediately added.
“No offence meant, Jake. But you know what I mean, and you
always did think with your dick. Trust no one, my old friend. Not
Tatiana. Not even us. There are Scorpion Units that have been wiped
out and others that are missing. You’ve been close enough to this
thing to know what’s what, and we had enough fire power used against
us, back in London to have been able to start a small war. Why do
you think we came up here? Looking for some lively night-life? Our
telecom has been compromised and Scorpion HQ is not responding
to any communications... and if our Matrix G8 encrypted comms.
are down, then nothing is safe. We know that something is terribly
wrong and think it started at Kirill’s project establishment up here in
Scotland. As you know there had been death threats against him and
his niece. The main threat came from al-Qaeda. You sure this place
isn’t bugged, Dillon?”
“I’m sure. I have the latest scanning equipment installed
throughout the entire building. I don’t believe that Ferran & Cardini
or Scorpion HQ have anything sinister to do with any of this. But the
ministry - well they’re an entirely different can of worms... I reckon
that Scorpion and my lot will have people working around the clock
to sort this out.”
“Maybe,” said Alix. “But then, we’re employed to think. Because
we trust nobody. And, because we get the job done with the minimum
of fuss. We don’t have blind faith, Dillon old mate. There are people
inside Scorpion HQ and Ferran & Cardini who are corruptible, they
live in the real world, where they have real problems. Where a large sum
of money would make their dreary little lives a lot more comfortable.
As you found out yourself. Listen, the last email from Scorpion HQ
was informing us of a special unit they are putting together to shut
down the Taliban - permanently. Things are that close, Jake. The
apparent betrayal by Kirill in Cornwall is being played down and kept
very quiet. Don’t want to give the fuckers any warning, do we now?”
Dillon scratched at the back of his head, then his tired eyes.
“Kirill. That bastard got exactly what he deserved.”
There was an uncomfortable protracted silence. Outside, snow
had started to fall heavily again, large flakes falling straight down to
earth through the absence of any breeze. Alix shivered, then grinned
over at Lola. “You gonna keep me warm tonight, my South American
beauty?” He winked, a cheeky boyish grin on his face.
“Alix, you couldn’t afford me.”
“Oh, don’t be like that Lola. I’m sure I could scratch together a
fiver.”
“You cheeky bugger. I’ll cut it off if you even try to wave that
weener at me.”
“Well, perhaps another time, another place, then. But enough of
this banter - come on, we’ve been well fed and have warned our old
friend of the impending danger. Time to get the hell out of here.”
“Where to now?” asked Dillon as they both got up, leaving a pile
of dirty plates and pans.
“Not telling,” smiled Alix. “The less you know. You know the
routine. And remember not to use your Ferran & Cardini mobile
phone. It’s linked to our G8’s and most likely useless. Listen, Dillon. I
have a bad feeling about all of this. A real bad feeling.”
“Alix, your bad feelings usually turn out to be sheep in wolves
clothing,” said Dillon.
Alix shrugged. “I’m just saying man. Take it or leave it - but
watch your back and lock up your doors and windows securely.”
Dillon nodded, then led Alix and Lola outside into the heavy
snowfall and towards their van. They thanked Dillon for breakfast
and, with Alix’s grinning face mouthing the words; “See ya around
big man,” from the window of the battered Mercedes van, within
seconds, and through a plume of thick black exhaust fumes they
disappeared out of the main gates through the snow.
Dillon watched them leave and went back inside. He sat, gazing
out at the snow. He toyed with the mobile phone, but no matter how
many times he tried he could not get the device to activate. The screen
remained black and lifeless as he tossed it from one hand to the other,
as you would a soft ball.