It showed, in High Definition, the Royal Navy destroyer with its helpless crew.
There was a flash of white light.
Followed by — death.
There had been no screams, no panic, and no time to know what was happening.
Death had been instantaneous for everyone on board. Dillon’s jaw tightened; he stepped smoothly away from Tatiana, eyes scanning the room: the Assassins, the bodyguard, Kirill and
Ramus.
“You’re running completely off rails,” Dillon growled. “On the contrary, Mr Dillon,” said Ramus, as he turned to face
Dillon. “We are quite sane. We only seek to do what is right- by our definitions of the term. You see that Chimera can take control of the most secure of military assets with ease. This virtual globe is merely my theatrical way of communicating with the programme, something to keep me amused — a pretty light show… But while you were watching one of Her Majesty’s very expensive warships being vaporised, Chimera unlocked every single bank on the planet. Itnow controls them. Inow control them. It has also taken control of every single satellite that circles the earth. Which means that it and I now control every single nuclear weapon in existence today? Shortly I will issue a statement to all the governments of the World Powers — they will surrender their position to me in exchange for their lives. And then… then we will start to re-design this wondrous planet to our liking.” Ramus’ voice had risen in anger and, to Dillon’s ears, in madness. He tapped and dragged his fingers over the touch sensitive tablet screen. Suddenly, the light was gone and Dillon blinked… Kirill walked towards the door, following Ramus. He was almost casual in his movements. His arrogance was total. His position of strength was clearly evident. He halted and turned to Dillon as Ramus disappeared with the tablet processor, the gateway to the Chimera
Programme…
Kirill started to walk away, then turned and looked at Dillon. “Mr Dillon, I feel duty bound to ensure that your last minutes before death; are the most painful you will ever have ever endured.
That’s why I’m leaving you in the most capable hands of Ramus’ personal bodyguard. Azar will see to it that you — die.”
The huge muscular man took a step forward and threw off his robe to reveal a heavily muscled torso. Dillon had to look twice at the man’s disfigurement.
“What the hell happened to you?” Dillon said looking up at the huge man.
“He cannot talk, Mr Dillon. His tongue has been cut out, and the scarring on his torso was made by repeated and prolonged beatings with a large stick. Oh, you’re probably assuming that we did these horrific things. But you’d be wrong; we rescued him from the Arab who owned him. And as we’d terminated his master’s existence, he joined us, willingly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have a world to take over. Goodbye, Mr Dillon.”
“What about me, Kirill?” Tatiana called out.
Kirill glanced at her. “Tatiana, my sweetness. When my large friend has done with Dillon and sent him on his way. I have promised him his reward — you, my dear. Unfortunately, I doubt if you’ll get any pleasure from this experience, but you can be assured of one thing -
he will kill you afterwards.” Kirill laughed loudly, a cold and callous laugh.
Dillon dropped his gaze. Something in his subconscious stirred, screaming inside his head. He glanced at his watch, at the seconds passing by. “Time is running out, kill him, and kill him now and we’ll be able to get off this stinking tub…” His mind was racing ahead of itself… Kirill stepped through the door and was instantly gone. Leaving Dillon and Tatiana alone with the two Assassins and huge bodyguard. The Assassins already had a firm hold of Tatiana, who hissed a string of profanities at them and then everything happened at once. The huge muscled hulk of the bodyguard stepped forward with a mean smile and a deep throated grunt, tossing his gun aside where it clattered against the metal decking. The man’s emotionless face under shaved head — serene and relaxed and ready to kill…
Dillon charged.
And the mute bodyguard leaped to meet him…
They clashed in mid-air with a rapid exchange of blows so fast that they were just a blur. They fell away from each other, both landing and whirling on to the grated metal floor of the control deck… The mute man smiled nastily.
Dillon glanced at where the two Assassins had dragged Tatiana to the open doorway — but he was stuck, stuck without any form of escape route…
He looked back at the bodyguard. “Any chance you could get on with it, old son. Only a rather nasty bomb is about to be detonated under this tub, and I’d rather like to be some distance from it when it goes off.” Dillon smiled back at the huge man.
The bodyguard charged, throwing a series of heavy punches at
Dillon who blocked, dodged, blocked again and then landed a massive blow to the big man’s jaw. Bone crunched as the head was knocked sideways. Then he lifted the toe of his boot and smashed it into the mute’s testicles, causing him to immediately bend forward and grab his crutch with both hands and expel a sort of wincing sound. Dillon stepped back one pace, put all of his weight on his right foot, spun around and made contact with the side of the big man’s head, snapping his neck with the full force of the kick. Dillon whirled round with incredible speed as the big man’s carcass dropped to the floor with a thud, the two Assassins released Tatiana, and with cat-like movements advanced on him. They circled him like caged tigers, waiting for the moment to pounce.
“You are weakened, Mr Dillon. I guess, your age is catching up with you. Why not make it easy on yourself and let us bring your life to a swift end?” Said one of the Assassins, its voice soft and feminine. Dillon laughed. “I don’t feel dead yet.”
“You will,” said the feminine voice, its deep blue eyes gleaming. “Don’t you understand? I know what’s about to happen. I’m toying with you; I am playing with you, Mr Dillon. You are slow compared to the two of us; you are weak. We are going to make you suffer as you made our friends suffer; we will send you to them and they will enslave your soul…”
“Could you hurry up then? I have to be somewhere else, you see.” Dillon snapped.
They closed, slowly, warily.
Dillon went on the offensive, threw a complicated series of punch and kick combinations — the two Assassins blocked them all, and then moved in on him, as if as one being, with front kicks. Dillon dropped to the floor, sweeping his right leg around, knocking both
Assassins off their feet. Like a street break-dancer, Dillon flipped over and spun round, leaping up with agility, that surprised even him. The
Assassins recovered almost instantaneously, both delivering high kicks and punches to Dillon’s torso, and suddenly a soft leather boot made contact with the side of Dillon’s face. Luckily, he had been on his back foot as the blow came, lessening the impact and saving his neck from being snapped like a twig. Dillon went back down onto the hard metal floor with a heavy thud.
Dillon yelled, holding his hand to his ear, blood pouring from the long gash across his cheek bone.
“No!” cried Tatiana.
The Assassin landed in a crouch, then unfolded and stood.
The black clothed figure walked forward. It looked down. Suddenly dropping, one elbow hitting Dillon in the chest with all its weight. The armoured body vest took the brunt of the blow, but Dillon still felt the impact. Dillon grunted — as his hands suddenly shot out, grasped the Assassin’s hooded head and dragged it forward into the crunch of a head-butt — once, twice, three times until the Assassin’s fingers prised Dillon’s hands free and it scrambled, coughing and blinded, backwards, spinning and dazed, away across the metal grated floor. Dillon, feeling sick, rolled to his knees, then to his feet, groaning.