“They really are arrogant fuckers,” he said vehemently and slid the Glock’s safety catch off. He checked the magazines stowed in various pockets of his armoured vest.
He had bullets. Lots of them.
Dillon smiled at Tatiana. “Now don’t argue, But I want you to get to the Apache and wait there with Vince.” He put his hand on her shoulder, leaned forward and gently kissed her on the cheek. He watched her go through the hatch that led directly out onto the deck, and then turned.
“Let’s finish this Kirill,” he said. And stepped warily along the corridor.
Further along the corridor, Dillon could hear heavy machine gun fire. There was also the incredibly loud whining of the laser-guided gatlin guns. Distantly, he could hear other explosions and the scream of engines. “You’re doing your work well, Alix.”
Dillon touched the comm-link in his right ear and said. “Vince, are you there?”
“I’m here, chap. I’ve got the rotors spinning, but time is running out. Where the hell are you?”
“Corridor outside the main command bridge. Talk to me about the ship’s damage.”
“The JetRangers have knocked out the navigation systems; the ship cannot steer without the help of the Chimera Programme. The same goes for the stealth mode and weapon’s systems. Chimera is controlling all of them.”
“Thanks. I’ll be along to you both shortly.”
“You have exactly two minutes and thirty seconds before the big one goes off.”
Dillon moved along the corridor, which was sloping down. He came to steps and carefully picked his way down their metal surfaces. He heard something behind him. Ducking into a service hatchway, he watched an Assassin rush past. The main doors to the bridge opened: Kirill stood there, a true blood Assassin to either side of him, and a look of anger and frustration on his face. Behind, a massive wall mounted monitor running streams of data created by Chimera as it went about its business of entering every computer connected to the Internet and taking electronic control of them — taking control of the digital planet…
Ramus was dictating a message to the heads of state and leaders of the world; Dillon caught phrases such as “ultimate destructive technology” and “total digital shutdown”. He wiped the sweat from his browwith the back of his hand and gripped the Glock even tighter.
“Well?”
“The surviving intelligence service JetRanger helicopters, is as we speak, fleeing into the rain and gloom — but the Apache helicopter is still standing ready on the rear starboard deck. I would assume that they are waiting for Dillon. Why has it not been destroyed?”
“Ramus, believe me when I tell you that attempts have been made, but this helicopter is equipped with a sophisticated weapons system programme — that is definitely not standard.” Kirill spoke softly.
“It is of no importance at this time. Ramus raised his right hand in a gesture of dismissal, a gesture of arrogance…
The sound of footsteps came from the corridor, and another four Assassins came into view. They came to a silent halt in front of Kirill. But Kirill could tell that something was wrong… Something was seriously amiss…
“What is it?”
“A bomb has been attached to the hull on the port side,” said the Assassin calmly, eyes sparkling.
“What type of bomb is it?” Snapped Kirill. “Tell me, what kind of fucking device is it?”
“Our scanners have determined that it is a sophisticated dirtybomb of unspecified yield, magnetically attached to the underside of the ship.” The voice was soft and very calm.
Kirill’s eyes widened. “We need to get a diver down there. Now! You hear me?”
The Assassin ignored him. “We must evacuate this vessel immediately.”
“Won’t the armour plating protect us against this?”
“No. This type of device creates extreme pressure at the point of detonation. The hull is extremely strong, but it will be ripped open by the explosion. Our armour is thick, designed for attack by torpedoes and mines. This device is different; when it detonates there will be no water to support the catamaran’s weight. The ship will simply break itself in half.”
Kirill stared, dumbfounded.
A million thoughts rushing through his brain.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could hear Ramus talking rapidly into the microphone of the comm link. A look of utter triumph at his defiance of the world, in celebration at bringing the world’s most powerful administrations to their knees…
And all this through a virus programme.
Kirill lifted his gun; a single shot through the centre of the forehead ended the Assassin’s report. He turned towards the other Assassins and smiled a thin cruel smile. “It would seem that Dillon and his friends had an ace up their collective sleeve. They’re not running away like girls, they’re getting free of this ship and the immediate blast zone.” Kirill walked towards the main doors, and stepped off of the bridge.
Dillon stepped out from his hiding place behind him.
“Stop right there, Kirill.”
Kirill turned, raised his gun and started firing, a mad smile creasing his lips, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. As Dillon had spoken, he had also stepped back into the shadows and concealment of the door recess. Sparks kicked up all around him, bullets ricocheting from the wall, one scorching a furrow across his right forearm — there was a moment when the wound was nothing but a narrow strip of red, and then blood started to gush out. Dillon clamped the wound with a silent curse and pressed himself tight up against the doorway. He tore off a sleeve of his shirt and bound it tightly about his forearm, instantly blood soaked through. Gripping the Glock 9mm, he stood shakily, his mind swam: loss of blood, constant pain, and a severe pounding at the hands and boots of Ramus’ bodyguard had left him weak.
It’s also left you slow, Dillon thought. He licked his lips, and stepped forward to peer along the corridor; he could hear a commotion on the bridge. His jaw became taught with the tension he felt, as he caught the fleeing form of Kirill who was once again cheating death.
And then he averted his attention back to the bridge and the processor containing the master copy of the Chimera Programme. Hell-bent on destroying the digital world as we know it.
“Damn it.”
He strode onto the bridge, past two Assassins standing to one side of the doorway; each got a bullet in the head. He broke into a sprint as he heard Ramus saying arrogantly, “…we will spare the lives of millions of Americans…”
The Glock touched the back of Ramus’ head.
Dillon could feel the bony skull through the muzzle of the automatic.
Ramus froze.
“But I won’t spare your life,” Dillon hissed as he squeezed the trigger.
The bullet smashed through Ramus’ brain and exploded out of his right eye along with blood and gore.
Ramus collapsed.
The bridge became silent, except for the humming and whirring of the processors. Four Assassins turned their attention towards Dillon. He took a single step forward, glanced down at the processor unit with the Chimera optical disc and levelled the Glock directly at it.
“This is for everyone who has been murdered,” he muttered. “Now it’s pay-back time…”
He put six bullets into the processor as one of the Assassins behind him screamed a single word — “No!”
Bullets smashed the cold black casing into a billion tiny harmless fragments that blew violently outwards in a black mist.
All of the monitors around the bridge went blank. The master screen turned blue and all of the Chimera script disappeared.