“Well if that’s the best you’ve got, then let the party begin. And you wanting to fight with knives… How fortunate.”
The Land Rover’s diesel engine revved, plumes of black smoke spewing out of the exhaust. Dillon could see Tatiana looking back over the seat; the white reverse light came on and Dillon understood…
The Assassin attacked.
Blades flashed and sparks flew as they engaged in this final clash.
Dillon drew back with blood weeping down his forearm. The smile fell from his lips, as he stared down at the sliced skin. They circled and Dillon edged the Assassin closer.
Dillon rushed forward — as Tatiana floored the Land Rover’s accelerator and the engine roared loud. The Assassin came at Dillon, blade slashing left and right, and then turned — Dillon dived right.
The slab like back door of the Landrover hammered into the Assassin; the body was violently thrown backwards in a tangle of limbs to collide with a three hundred year old oak tree at the edge of the drive. The bloody knife fell to the frozen ground. The Assassin collapsed in a sprawling broken heap.
Dillon — breathing hard — looked slowly to the left at the knobbly off-road tyre merely four inches from his nose. He wearily dragged himself to his feet and glared at Tatiana’s reflection in the side mirror.
“You almost killed me.”
“But I didn’t. Get in,” she hissed, pain lining her face.
“Give me the Walther. I want to check our friend over there.”
“Get in!” Tatiana screamed.
Dillon half turned and his jaw dropped in amazement and disbelief. The Assassin had survived, was leaning against the tree. Piercing blue eyes met Dillon’s gaze, the balaclava hood had been discarded, and the bloodied face of a young blond haired woman confronted him. She sprinted forward at incredible speed over the frozen ground… Dillon dived, scooping up his Glock, and then dragged open the door and sprawled full length across the back seat of the Landrover as Tatiana hit the accelerator. Spitting snow, the 4x4 roared down the track, sliding left and right, bouncing over the potholes and shooting off down the lane.
Dillon stared out of the back window.
The Assassin was close behind, a gloved hand reached out, brushed against its right boot and Dillon couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, the Land Rover’s engine screamed and Tatiana’s foot floored the accelerator pedal with an aggressive stab…
The Assassin slowed to a walk and then stopped, arms limp by her side, panting with the sudden explosive exertion, blue eyesholding Dillon’s gaze.
“What is going on? How the fuck did she survive the impact, and how on earth did she manage to run like that?” said Dillon.
“Are you hurt?”
“Hurt, I’m way beyond hurting.” He said. “How about you?”
“I’m bleeding again, and feeling just a little…”
Dillon felt the 4x4 swerve. He clambered over into the front seat, and helped Tatiana to bring the Landrover to a halt at the side of the road. Dillon swapped positions with Tatiana, and then handed her another sterile dressing, which she held against her re-opened shoulder wound as Dillon, hands sticky with his own blood, floored the powerful diesel engine and they sped off up the mountain road.
Dillon drove the Landrover hard and after twenty minutes left the relative safety of tarmac roads behind, off-road tyres kicking up loose powder snow once again, the Land Rover’s diesel engine finding it easy in its natural environment. He found the narrow track, and drove into the wilderness. Finding a secluded gateway that was flanked on either side by dry-stone walling, he jumped out, leaving the engine running. He unlatched the heavy wooden five-bar field gate, and then stared into the distance at the brooding dark woods on the far side of the heather down. The howling of the wind made him shiver and, as he started back to the warmth of the Landrover’s interior, large snowflakes began to fall heavily. He eased the 4x4 over woodland debris and killed the engine. “Let’s take a proper look at that wound.”
Dillon helped Tatiana onto the rear seat and checked the reopened gunshot wound. Blood had clotted; the flow reduced to nothing more than a trickle now. Tatiana’s face was ashen grey with pain.
“I’m sorry Tats. But we’re all out of painkillers,” said Dillon, stroking her hair.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, smiling. She closed her eyes, and winced. Dillon eased himself out of his jacket with difficulty, his ribs clicking beneath his battered and bruised flesh with every movement. He checked the various knife wounds on both his arms; these had clotted and had almost stopped bleeding, but some required stitches.
“Some of those wounds need attention,” said Tatiana.
“I’ll be okay.” Dillon delved into his holdall, and pulled out a small plastic bottle.
“What’s that?”
“Cyanoacrylate.” Dillon immediately saw her bewilderment, and added. “Superglue. Sticks skin together in seconds, and better than any other method when on the move.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Positive. It was the Americans who first found out the real benefits of superglue during the Vietnam conflict.” Dillon said as he ran the nozzle along a two inch gash running down his forearm.
“Did you manage to pick up any provisions?”
“I always keep field rations hidden under this rear seat. I’d say we have enough for a couple of days, and then we’ll have to head back to civilisation and re-stock. Have you any cash on you?”
“No. Only plastic. How about you?”
“Three hundred in twenties.”
“We can top up at a cash machine.”
“No good. It leaves a trail. The cash I’ve got will have to be enough.”
“So why don’t we leave a trail?” said Tatiana. “Only it’ll be a false one! We’ll draw out as much cash as possible at a number of cashpoints — let them track the transactions, and then double back and head in the opposite direction?”
Dillon considered this for a moment. They were going to need a lot more money, wherever they were going. He nodded, smiled, and, bending down, kissed Tatiana on the cheek.
“Thanks for saving my neck back there,” he said. “Now we’re even.”
Tatiana’s arm came up and pulled him back down to her. They kissed passionately, and for a couple of seconds, the world seemed to be at peace again.
Dillon pulled away, his gaze intensely locked to hers.
“Come on. We have to get going.”
“Can’t we stay here tonight?”
“If what you say about these Assassins is correct. Then she will be coming for us right now, and that means we need to put some serious miles between her and us. You understand?”
“Of course. I’ll sleep — you drive.”
“No problem.” Dillon kissed her again, and pulled a heavy blanket from the back and wrapped her in it. He climbed over into the driver’s seat, and started the powerful diesel engine. After a moment, he turned the heater dial to hot, checked the fuel gauge, then reversed slowly from the wood, tyres crunching over twigs, and out onto the heath land. Drove back to the gateway and out onto the lane.
“Where are you heading?” Said Tatiana sleepily, pulling the blanket up tight around her neck.
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
“Any flying involved?”
“A little. But nothing to worry about.”
“Damn it Dillon, you know I hate flying.”
“It’s the only way, Tats. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Tatiana snuggled up against her makeshift pillow and closed her eyes. Dillon angled the rear-view mirror and watched her sleep as he drove through the countryside; the cool air from the partially open side window made him shiver occasionally as mile after mile of tarmac and the rare traveller sped by in a blur.