Pain raged through his head; he gasped, struggling to focus, his fingers coming up to his bleeding forehead. He glared across the room at the injured Assassin, who was shaking its head, a thin trickle of blood dripping through the black skin-tight hood from a broken nose. The stealth ship around them rocked and shuddered. Distant screams could be heard as the first explosion ripped through armoured metal like a knife through butter. And then a low groaning rose as another distant explosion rumbled.
The Assassin stood, cobalt blue eyes fixed intensely on Dillon. And lunged.
Dillon readied himself; they punched, blocked, circled; the
Assassin charged again, gaining momentum for a flying kick that Dillon barely moved away from. Again the Assassin came back with a quick succession of punches, that Dillon blocked and counter-punched in response, and then Dillon struck with a kick to the Assassin’s ribcage and the reassuring sound of bone cracking under the heavy blow. The
Assassin staggered back for a moment.
They circled again, Dillon paining, sweat dripping from his brow.
The Assassin seemed untouched.
“I thought you would be much faster,” said Dillon. “I am faster than you.”
“Then show me, freak.”
The Assassin charged. The blows were ferocious and Dillon found himself retreating, unsure about the outcome, under the insane barrage of punches and kicks. He barely managed to keep his footing as he dodged and blocked — a blow caught him in the side of the head and he staggered backwards, suddenly trapped against a bank of computer terminals.
The Assassin stood, watching the man in front of him as he struggled to get his mind sharp again.
“Dillon!” cried Tatiana. She was in the clutches of another
Assassin, struggling with the thought that Dillon might not make it through this fight.
Dillon shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. He looked up, looked up into the cobalt eyes of the Assassin; and at that moment he knew he had been out-classed; knew he was dead…
“Is that really the best you’ve got?” Dillon taunted. “I thought you were supposed to be a fucking killer — you’re dead mate put up a better fight…”
The Assassin’s eyes widened and the narrow smile disappeared.
Dillon dodged and blocked a combination of punches and kicks, and then launched himself across the metal grilles, a full-on rugby style dive. As he hit the deck he rolled and sprang towards one of the benches and — the Glock 9mm automatic.
His fingers curled around the weapon, carelessly left by Kirill on the alloy bench and discarded in a fit of arrogance. Now his fingers curled around the heavy familiar weapon, around the sturdy grip of his 9mm defender and he rolled onto his back, gun up and pointing at the Assassin who suddenly halted and dropped to a crouch. A laugh emanated from under the black hood.
Dillon squeezed the trigger.
The gun kicked and the Assassin moved with cat-light reflexes to the right, and the bullet slammed into a computer monitor on the other side of the control room. The screen exploded into a billion fragments, Dillon rolled, the Glock coming around for a second shot. He heard the metallic click — and despite his injuries, he dived as the other Assassin holding Tatiana opened fire with the silenced
Uzi. Dillon rolled behind one of the metal workbenches as bullets smashed into metal panels all around him. He waited a moment before breaking cover; heard the dead man’s click, rolled, raised the Glock and squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered the Assassin through the right eye, Tatiana looked round as the black clothed figure released its grip on her and dropped dead to the metal floor.
Dillon watched momentarily as the bullet hit home, dropping the Assassin like a stone. He smiled with satisfaction, short lived; as the Assassin he had been fighting became fully aware of his position and moved towards him.
Dillon closed his eyes for a brief moment, he opened them — and a world in black and white prevailed.
“Now we finish this, once and for all,” snapped Dillon’s alter-ego.
He slipped a long darkened blade from its hidden home in his boot. In a normal situation Dillon would shoot to kill, but this was no ordinary situation, and it called for the use of a blade… He was fast losing patience and strength. The remaining Assassin loomed above him and
Dillon slammed the dagger up hard into its inner thigh, feeling the razor sharp blade part flesh and muscle with consummate ease. Blood flushed warm and crimson over his fist and he twisted the knife before pulling the blade out. The Assassin staggered, then slumped slowly to its knees. Dillon pulled himself up to his feet, bathed in the Assassin’s blood, reached back and hurled the dagger across the control room. It drove into the neck of an Assassin rushing through the open doorway
— without a sound it toppled forward onto its face and twitched as the life drained out of it and down through the metal grating. Bullets flew at Dillon, and he ducked as sparks kicked up around his head, and everything was suddenly quiet — except for the moaning, writhing form of the Assassin he’d stabbed.
Dillon got to his feet and checked around. He recovered his
Glock and moved to where the back clothed figure was squirming.
The Assassin’s hands were coated in deep red glutinous liquid. Dillon pulled back the hood to reveal the Assassin’s face. Cobalt blue eyes, naturally blond hair, the face of an angel…
And Dillon felt — sorrow. Not hatred, nor anger. Just sorrow for this poor wretched soul at his feet. He lifted the Glock. Wiped his bloodied hand down the side of his combat trousers. And put a bullet in the middle of the Assassin’s forehead, ending her pain.
Chapter 25
When the first explosion came, Vince climbed back into the cockpit of the Apache helicopter. The stealth ship shuddered and groaned as black metal was ripped open, Vince frowning to himself, checked his watch. Dillon had been gone far too long — far too long. He peered down from the cockpit, scanning the catamaran’s deck areas for any unwanted company. He spotted two Assassins further along the deck, flicked a switch, and the forward cannon fired a burst of large calibre rounds directly at them. “Great,” he muttered.
There was more movement on the port side, six Assassins, all carrying machine-pistols. Vince fired another burst from the Apache’s cannon and took down four Assassins, the other two scattered, he activated the cannon’s heat seeking laser sight. Instantly, two short bursts erupted and one of the remaining Assassins was cut in half. The other one disappeared into the ship. “Gone for reinforcements,” Vince muttered. “Shit… Come on Dillon, you arse, come on!”
Dillon walked slowly across the control room where computers whirred and groaned to themselves. He took hold of Tatiana’s arm and led her out into the corridor; he scanned the immediate area and found that it was completely clear of Assassins. “Where is the real operation command room?”
“Level 1, but we won’t get anywhere near it. Ramus has his elite guard protecting it and him.”
“Let’s see, shall we?” Dillon moved forward with Tatiana trailing behind him. They moved up through each level with a remarkable lack of confrontation, Dillon was amazed that there appeared to be no other Assassins on the stealth ship.
The corridor was wide with glass running along one side, and looking down Dillon could see a mass of activity; this was definitely the catamaran’s bridge and command centre. Dillon could see Ramus and Kirill, the massive screen at one end showing the world laid out with live streams of information informing them as they directed their master plan for a New World Order. Tatiana looked down with disbelief.