Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (25 page)

They stopped just behind the other sleds and wasted no time
in finding cover behind a stack of heavy looking wooden crates near
to the entrance. Dillon leaned against the rough-hewn wall, bathed
in sunlight. The salt air from the sea smelled good, Tatiana found
it hard to believe that they had just left a place where a raging battle
was taking place, and that her life hung in the balance, suspended by
a delicate thread of fate.
Her gaze searched the cavern and the entrance that appeared to
lead out to a small cove, all the time she was searching for Assassins.
Searching for the deadly killers... How many of them were left?
And did they know about Ezra’s escape chute?
They both felt the tremor as the Electro-Magnetic pulse was setoff. And then calm...
Dillon tapped Tatiana on the shoulder, “You ready to move
out?”
“We don’t know if they’re out there.” Tats pointed out through
the entrance.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Dillon said, the Glock
firmly gripped in his left hand.
They moved forward, keeping low, and edging their way slowly
until they had a clear view of the cove. Dillon’s gaze snapped round
to the left and came to settle on a twenty-three foot inflatable rib. Fast,
with a shallow keel, making it the ideal craft for shallow water. But the
best part was that it was deliciously close with its nose pulled partly up
onto the shingle beach.
The worst part was that between them and the boat - there was
absolutely no cover...
“Come on,” said Dillon. “You see the rib?”
Tatiana looked along the beach. “Yes,” she said softly.
“I need you to run. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes.”
She took a final look up and down the beach. The cliffs above
were totally blind to their angle of view, they could only hope that
there were no Assassins waiting for them...
Dillon and Tatiana stepped out and away from the sanctuary.
They ran.
It took an eternity...
With each step their bodies screamed at them - protesting for all
the relentless punishment meted out to them over the last few days.
Half way across the beach, Tatiana looked back inside the
cavern and spotted two Assassins’ jumping off one of the escape
sleds. They moved so quick, effortlessly. She turned and threw herself
down onto the shingle, flattened belly down, held the Uzi tight into
her shoulder; looked down the sights, and fired a continuous burst.
Bullets slammed into the cliff-side, spraying small chunks of rock and
debris everywhere. The two Assassins split up; running like Gazelles,
changing direction in the blink of an eye to evade the rain of bullets
being directed at them, Uzi’s firing on automatic. Bullets kicked up
shingle at Tatiana’s heels as she ran towards the shoreline.
Dillon was stood in the prow of the rib, the Glock held in both
hands and pointing straight at Tatiana as she ran towards him. She
knew exactly what he expected of her, and she reacted accordingly,
lunging forward and rolling over on the shingle. It only took two
bullets, each finding their target with lethal effect, and stopping the
Assassins - dead.
Tatiana stood up, and straightening her clothing, let her gaze
drift around the immediate beach area and then up towards the cliff
top high above them in search of more Assassins.
Dillon shouted across to Tatiana to get into the rib. Once she
was on-board, Dillon opened up the throttle and powered at full
speed out of the cove, towards open water.
“You okay, Dillon?”
Dillon looked round, smiled weakly at Tatiana, and then
increased the speed - the twin Volvo Penta outboards at the stern of
the craft roared and the props bit harder into the water. They headed
straight out to the deep water of the Caldera, Dillon looked behind
and spotted two fast moving power craft heading directly for them.
He looked at Tatiana, and said over the noise of the engines, “I’m
afraid we’re not out of the woods yet. We’ve got company.” Tatiana’s
head snapped round, the two power racers were gaining on them, fast
- too fast for her liking...
The rib raced forward at full throttle. Every now and then, Dillon
looked over his shoulder at his pursuers, who were still gaining on
them. He turned to Tatiana and shouted, “Take a look in that locker.
See if there’s a flare gun inside.” Tatiana knelt down and pulled open
the locker door, reaching in she rummaged around and finally pulled
out the flare gun and a box of cartridges. Dillon swapped positions
and let Tatiana take over control, telling her to head straight for the
islands of Palea Kameni and Nea Kameni, and then make a course for
the sound between them.
Dillon found four one-gallon fuel cans stowed under the
starboard passenger seat, lifted two of them out onto the deck, and
went to work on them. He looked up over the rib’s rail and saw that
they were still there - hammering along, keeping pace... “Hell, don’t
they ever give up?”
Tatiana urged the rib on; the pursuing crafts - whatever they
were - they were incredibly powerful. They didn’t gain, but they were
not going away, either. They sped along in the sunlight, a foaming
white wake trailing behind them, and deep blue water all around them.
“Talk to me, Dillon. What have you got in mind?” Tatiana
shouted, adding, “They’re still behind us and closing in, you know.”
“Just keep the throttles open and the pointy-end aiming straight
for the water between those two islands.”
Moments later they were racing through the sound between the
islands, sheer volcanic cliffs flashing by on both sides, rising up to
meet the cloudless blue sky high above them.
At the narrowest point, Dillon randomly threw two of the fuel
cans overboard, keeping the other two. He instructed Tatiana to kill
the speed; stood in the stern and fired a flare at each of the cans -
igniting them one at a time in a spectacular series of explosions, and
within seconds the surface of the water was ablaze.
“Tats, I want you to lay flat on the deck, and whatever happens -
stay there.” He manoeuvred the rib around so that they were partially
hidden under the overhang of the cliff, and he had a clear view of the
channel.
They waited...
Time stood still, as they waited to see the two powerful boats
that had been following them, come bursting through the wall of
flames, as Dillon knew they surely would. A second later they came
through at high speed - there were three Assassins in each craft and
they all wanted Dillon - dead.
The raced past Dillon, who wasted no time opening up the
throttles and surging the rib forward, now as the pursuer. Dillon fired
the first flare at the trailing boat, veered to the left, accelerating, and
opened fire with his Glock set to automatic at the lead craft. The flare
hit the cockpit with a devastating effect, within seconds the entire
craft was being consumed by intense flames. Two of the Assassins
were killed instantaneously as the interior became their own personal
crematorium, the third jumped overboard, only to be fatally struck by
the bow of the rib, as Dillon came racing back up the channel.
Three down and three to go, he thought...
The remaining craft spun round and chased Dillon back up the
channel. Bullets slammed into the rib from the machine pistols of
two of the Assassins behind, shredding the inflatable pockets running
around the edge of the deck.
Dillon swerved the rib to the right and headed for the cover of
a rocky islet jutting up out of the water. He dropped the power to an
idle, just long enough to allow himself to reload the flare gun with
another cartridge and then immediately broke cover, surging forward
from behind the islet and through the wake of the Assassin’s power
boat as it raced by.
Bullets scythed across the rock face of the Islet, sending chunks
of debris splashing into the water. Dillon pushed the throttles wide
open, spun the rib round in a ninety degree turn, just as one of the
Assassins turned, brought its Uzi up, and fired a continuous burst
straight at the windshield of the rib. Dillon ducked as the glass
shattered into a million tiny pieces all over him and the deck, and also
showering Tatiana who remained sprawled face down on the deck,
hands clasped tightly together over the back of her head.
“For fuck’s sake,” she hissed. “Will they never stop?”
“Not until we are dead - or they are...” Dillon shouted over his
shoulder, and urged the rib on; made a series of evasive manoeuvres,
all the time trying to get a clear shot in with the flare gun. Then he got
his chance... He knew that it would be his only opportunity and he
made it count. The flare hit the Assassin at the controls in the centre
of its chest. The black-clad figure slumped over the side rail and fell,
dead, over the side, the other two Assassins responded, one taking
over the control of the power boat, the other moving forward.
As the dead Assassin went over the rail, Dillon was already
spinning the rib round and as he raced past his pursuers, tossed a
hand-grenade onto the deck of their boat...
By the time the grenade exploded, Dillon was racing through
to the other end of the sound and had just enough time to look over
his shoulder and see the explosion wipe-out the boat in the blink of
an eye.
With a foaming wake trailing behind the rib and no Assassins
pursuing them, Dillon pulled back on the throttles and eased himself
onto the seat. Tatiana came and stood next to him, her arm went
round his neck, and she kissed him on his cheek.
He looked up at her. “What’s that for?”
“For keeping your word. You looked after me and kept us both
alive. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now it’s time to get the hell out of this place,
and take Ezra with us. I only hope we can find him in time...”
“So do I,” Tatiana said soberly. “So do I.”

Franky froze. A figure was crouched in the tunnel, an Uzi SMG
levelled at her.
After fighting alongside Ezra and his group, Franky had been
told to keep well back, but as the battle raged on, everyone had either
been killed by the Assassins or had fled the bullets to find safety. She
had retreated back into the tunnel and along the passageways towards
the control room deep underground...
That had been the plan. To meet; to regroup if the situation
became hopeless.
And the situation had become totally hopeless...
Franky stared at the shadowed figure. It had to be an Assassin;
it had to be. She cursed the dim lighting down in the depths of the
tunnel...
Slowly Franky raised her hands in the air.
The Uzi SMG was beside her, digging into her ribs.
She did not dare look down at it.
“What do you want me to do?” She asked gently, not wishing
to antagonise the black hooded, armed and extremely dangerous
assailant.
The muzzle remained pressed firmly against her clothing. The
masked face expressionless, the brilliant blue eyes scanning the tunnel.
The figure remained perfectly still.
There was a slight tilt of the head and a word whispered, almost
inaudible -
die
; the Uzi spat, and Franky was slammed backwards
against the rough hewn wall of the tunnel, blood splashing up the
rock, the bullets cutting a line straight up through her chest, throat,
and ending their journey slamming into her skull. She slumped down
the wall into a sitting position on the tunnel floor, limp and dead, the
top of her skull split open, her brain exposed and bloody, glistening
in the surreal emergency lighting of the tunnel.
Suddenly, silence reigned.
The Assassin’s head snapped right; the Uzi moved in an arc to
cover the tunnel opening.
Karp sprinted into view, his handsome face changing from a
happy smiling visage into a snarl of rage as his eyes fell across Franky’s
still corpse and he staggered backwards. His mind racing, confused,
as he regained his footing and then felt the damp wall of the tunnel
against his back.
“Franky?” He shouted, stumbling towards her. His hand reached
out, fingers stroking her bloodied face, sliding in the congealing gore
soaking her smooth skin.
“Franky!”
Tears rolled down over his cheeks.
The bullets cut into his back and Karp didn’t even know what
had hit him.

Spiros wiped his bloodied lips with the back of his hand and
closed his eyes, listening. He stood in the tunnel corridor, the Heckler
MP5 sweat slippery in his hands and he knew; knew that death had
come and whoever was the executioner had killed both Franky and
Karp. They were good; they may not have been military trained, but
they were fast and they were efficient.

He took several deep breaths, feeling sweat soak him under his
shirt, cold and clammy.
He moved forward; not towards the gunfire, but away. He had
heard the shots; perhaps forty or fifty rounds in all had been fired.
This wasn’t assassination, this was butchery. He had heard Karp’s
raised voice calling out Franky’s name; understood the intensity in his
tone; knew the man - his friend, his comrade - was dead.
Spiros halted, the Heckler swinging from his shoulder.
He was at a junction with three tunnels before him.
“Spiros!” came the distant voice.
Spiros frowned; Ezra?
There came another cry, this time of pain.
Ezra is injured?
Spiros moved forward, still cautious, staying low and close to the
wall of the dimly lit tunnel, every sense in his body on high alert, even
the sigh of the breeze through the tunnel seemed to be amplified. He
came to a small circular chamber with four smaller tunnels leading
from it.
He halted.
He turned, turned again.
And then the figure stepped out from the shadows. His eyes
widened. The barrel of the Uzi swung around but it was too late and
the SMG was already pointing at him and he saw the gentle flex of
muscle beneath the black skin-tight clothing and could read the figure;
could read its amorality.
Spiros closed his eyes.
Using the tips of his fingers he signified a cross in front of him,
opened his eyes and looked straight into the eyes of the figure stood
in front of him.
And then the game was over.

The Russian built A-25M flying boat swayed rhythmically on its
mooring, in Gialos Bay on the southernmost tip of Santorini. Dillon
had spotted the three seater amphibian aircraft when they had first
arrived on the island. It was still moored just off the shore in exactly
the same spot where it had been then, and now this was there way of
getting off the island and their route to safety - quickly...