Tatiana stared at Dillon hard. “Can you please hurry up? I’m freezing my tits off standing out here in this bloody awful weather.”
Dillon nodded. “Somebody is trying hard to bring down the UK and global economy with the most powerful ever computer software programme. And all you’re worried about is your tits falling off.”
Dillon continued to jiggle the lock picks around inside the padlock. “And, we find ourselves embroiled in a cat and mouse game to get to those bastards, before they’re able to push the green button. Only one little problem. They’ve teamed up with these Assassin weirdos, who have eliminated the Scorpion network, possibly the only organisation that could have destroyed them, and are now trying to kill both of us…”
He stood up and shrugged, moved forward, and pushed open one of the gates. Then, when they were both on the other side, he closed it again and replaced the padlock.
The airstrip squatted mostly against the darkness. A long hanger with a rolling roof-line stood lonely at the side of the strip withanother low timber building alongside, and a two storey building furthest from them, the control tower, Dillon thought. And, beside the hanger was a single damp and glistening aircraft.
“Is that the plane?” Tatiana asked quietly.
“Yes. And, I’m hoping that it’ll be fully fuelled and ready to go. She’s got excellent range. Fast. Come on.”
They made their way slowly across the grass, and Dillon halted. He checked the area ahead of them with a night vision monocular, and once satisfied that there were no obvious security measures in place they moved towards the twin engine Cessna. They circled the hanger and finally scurried through the driving sleet to crouch under the shelter of a tin-roofed lean-to. Slush and ice-cold water poured around them from the non-existent guttering. Splattering incessantly onto the hardstand beneath their feet. Dillon pointed through the gloom. “You wait here. I’ll go and see if it’s unlocked.” Tatiana nodded from under her faux-fur hood. He moved away from her, and was soon a ghost in the sleet. His senses were alive, and he felt incredibly awake: energy flowed through him and the pain from the beating he’d taken back at the castle had all but disappeared. He moved forward.
He halted beside the Cessna, slowed his breathing, and focused, the Glock in his left hand glistening in the gloom. Just behind the wing he reached up, tried the cabin door handle, and immediately discovered that it was locked. It was the fourth pick that gained him entry, forty-five seconds later. The door opened easily outwards, exposing the dark interior.
Dillon reached up and pulled down the steps, which thwacked against the hard-stand. Then he went back for Tatiana and helped her back to the aircraft, constantly aware that they were sitting targets out in the open…
Tatiana crept forward through the sleet, her outer clothing drenched through to the lining, and soon were both climbing the steps and into the dry interior of the cramped twin engine plane.
“Where are we going, Dillon?”
“Santorini!. Oh and possibly a stop off in Dorset!”
“A Greek Island. A stop off in Dorset? You’re joking?” she said, and then; “So I was right?”
Dillon looked her in the eye. “Right about what?”
“Charlie Hart?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Gold Bullion, Dillon. Gold Bullion…”
“Oh that. Yeah, there was a rumour of gold bullion. I’ll admit, I did look when the dust had died down. Didn’t find any though.”
“Yeah, pull the other one. Like you said, I know you better than most, and I did think it ever so slightly odd, how you announced your retirement shortly after that assignment. How else could you have afforded to buy that bloody great big castle? It all clicks into place, Dillon, and I’ve never forgotten what you said about having transferable currency?”
“Can you just drop the bullshit about gold bullion, please?” Dillon said, as he quickly went through a pre-flight checklist. Then added, “It really was only a rumour, you know… Now let’s get the fuck out of here, before that Assassin catches up with us.”
Tatiana nodded, and wiped water from her face with the sleeve of her jacket. “You sure you know how to fly this thing, Dillon?”
“Yeah, just like riding a bike…” Dillon grinned, and engaged the starter. “Now lean back and chillax.”
The silver Ducati motorcycle flashed through the night, tyres gripping the wet tarmac, groaning under pressure as the powerful bike hit speeds of over a hundred and seventy m.p.h. The sleet and rain smashed down from the blue-black clouds overhead, and the Ducati finally pulled to a halt behind the Landrover.
Light-weight boots splashed down in a large muddy puddle. The black clad figure stood beside the bike, staring towards the heavy metal gates and across the apparently deserted airfield. A twin-engine Cessna taxied along the grass strip with engines roaring, climbing steeply up into the night sky and disappeared, navigation lights blinking through the gloom.
The Assassin stared into the darkness, her eyes alert, unblinking, unmoving. Then as dogs barked and their leads slipped free, the figure moved fluidly, swiftly, climbed back onto the Ducati. Within seconds the full face helmet was on and, the Bluetooth comm.-link was reactivated.
“He’s escaped,” came the soft feminine voice.
“How has this happened?”
“He was ready. He had sophisticated warning systems in place that…”
“Stop. These are merely excuses. Do you know where Dillon is now?”
“He escaped — he stole an aircraft. Heading due south and flying low.”
“He will keep below radar, making it almost impossible to track him conventionally. But not so difficult for a satellite. Keep your comm. open and head towards London.”
“Understood. Out.”
The Ducati was fired up, tyres hissed, the silver motorcycle disappeared into the darkness with only the barking of dogs following the roar of sound emanating from the tailpipe — and nothing remained to provide evidence of the Assassin’s recent passing.
GCHQ Transcript 4. INTERCEPT OF RECENT SOUTH AMERICAN NEWS REPORTS. NON-CLASSIFIED STATUS.
Extracts from daily newspapers, Sao Paulo, Rio de-Janeiro, Salvador and Brasilia, Braziclass="underline"
The business quarters of Brazil’s largest cities were left in chaos yesterday when every credit card terminal linked to the country’s largest banking institutions, re-routed every transaction made during normal trading hours to a number of holding accounts in Zurich, Switzerland. Panic ensued as stores eventually discovered that they had unknowingly been robbed of their entire day’s takings. Early reports speculate that over two billion dollars have been misappropriated. A spokesperson from the Brazilian security service, stated. “This was not just the work of organised crime syndicates. The software and expertise required to carry out such a sophisticated, hack, was far beyond their capabilities. The security service is following up information received and investigating claims from the banks concerned that this crime is the work of a malicious employee with in-depth knowledge of the programming of credit clearing protocols. Our computer fraud department is also following up leads; to see something like this happening was a travesty. We have every resource and top people working on this case as we speak.”
No official statement has so far been made by the Brazilian Government or by any bank official.