“Such as?”
“He kills people. Usually with exceptional ease.” Vince said, as he poured more boiling hot water into the small teapot.
“But, that’s what he has been trained to do.”
“Yes that’s true. But part of the reason why he came up here to Scotland, was to get away from all the killing. That last assignment he was given for instance; remember the one? The stolen Vermeer painting, Charlie Hart on Sandbanks. We should all remember it, because that assignment turned out to be one of the biggest smuggling operation busts — ever. Afterwards, Jake told me that it had turned into a blood-bath at the house near Lyme Regis. But, that as he was killing each and every one of those men sent to kill him. He felt nothing, actually found himself enjoying the killing so much, that it eventually felt like he was watching from afar. Affected him really badly, and then that Issy went and left him. Well, that was the last straw, it had all took its toll, to the point, where he had to get off the Ferran & Cardini International merry-go-round for a while. Or, in his own words, go completely mad. Personally, I still feel that he made the right decision, and I’m glad he got out. It saved him, Tatiana. Saved him from himself… We’ve kept in touch over the last year or so, and that’s why I’ve been able to keep an eye on him. Make sure that he didn’t become a candidate for a stay at a secure unit.”
“I had no idea, Vince.”
“Well, it’s not something that you shout about from the rooftops, is it. You and I are the only people who know about this. So let’s make sure it stays that way. Okay?”
“Absolutely okay, Vince.”
“He might also be a bit twitchy about flying illegally the entire route from Santorini. If we had been caught flying through airspace where we’d not got clearance… We could have got into some major trouble.
“It’s a good thing that Dillon stayed below five-hundred feet, then.”
“What’s that about staying below five-hundred feet?” Dillon said gruffly.
“Oh, nothing. I was just saying to Vince, that we’re going to have to stay covert.”
“Easy to say. I’m the idiot who has to weave that aircraft between those mountains. Vince, how are we doing for fuel?”
“With the extra fuel tanks that we installed, we’ve got plenty to get to Kirill’s facility, and then enough to get us out again.” Dillon nodded, and sat down on a near-by rock beside Tatiana. He said, rubbing his eyes, “I suggest we get going soon. How far away from Kirill’s facility are we?”
Tatiana, picked up the e-map reader beside her and tapped a point on the map. “We’re presently about a hundred miles south of the facility. As long as we stay low — and lucky for us there’s not that many inhabitants in this area — then we can carry on skirting up through the valleys, to the northern most mountain range, and our final destination. We’ll be able to head for the co-ordinates Ezra gave to me on Santorini, just before the Assassins attacked…” Tatiana’s voice trailed off. She glanced at Dillon whose eyes were closed, his face stony. “How long will it take us to get there, Jake?”
Dillon opened his eyes, “I can have us there within an hour, but from here on in it’s going to be a much harder ride; there’s definitely a military stealth presence, although I’m not entirely sure why, probably a legacy from the old SAS training centre that is now part of Kirill’s complex. We’ll stick out like a sore thumb, of course, and the area around the complex will be a no fly zone, especially as we’re not exactly flying any official colours or markings. This A-25M is Russian built and will be quite happy flying low over land as well as water, but everything will have to be done more cautiously. And here’s the real peach, I’m not used to flying in such unfamiliar and treacherous terrain.”
“I wish I hadn’t asked.”
“We are taking a great risk going into that area by air — over land would be much safer, but would take too long to get there.” Vince said.
“He’s right, of course.” Dillon’s words were casual.
“But you both agree. It’s a risk we must take?”
Dillon stood up and looked back at both of them, saying. “Of course. If we don’t do this thing. Well, the alternative doesn’t bare thinking about, does it?”
Vince poured out more tea, which they all drank sweet and without milk. Steam swirled off the open pan and Dillon felt suddenly at peace. The aches and pains — which he had grown accustomed to — had lessened and he felt almost comfortable, almost his old self…
He could not put his finger on the reason for this sudden surgeof good feeling, but the beauty of the Scottish Highlands had something to do with it, and the feeling that he was about to do something life changing — boded well with him. They were no longer the hunted, but the hunter… He had already changed the way he was thinking in his mind, was now thinking like a predator, the one who was now in control.
It might only be limited control, but now he was calling the shots.
Use these Assassins to do your dirty work, he thought. I’ll kill everyone of them.
Let’s see what explanations and answers you have, Professor Kirill.
Let’s see what song you sing.
An hour later and Dillon and the others had restored the beach, as if they had never been there, and climbed back into the cramped cabin of the A-25M.
Dillon warmed up the engine, then eased the amphibious aircraft out into the deeper water and used the entire length of the loch to take-off. Pushing the throttle forward he increased the speed, and was soon skimming over the surface of the water. As the aircraft neared the far end of the loch, Dillon pulled back on the control column and they lifted smoothly up into the air. As they were gaining height he had to bank hard over the left to miss the sheer cliffs of the mountain range looming up before them. The aircraft’s fuselage shuddered under the extreme pressure of the manoeuvre, and as the A-25M levelled out, the valley landscape was there just two hundred feet below them.
Dillon eased back the airspeed, Tatiana looked out of her window, Vince had his laptop open, hacking into the mainframe at Kirill’s facility. As they droned over the rugged terrain, Dillon — now fully awake, alert and seeming more like his old self after an hour or so of rest, only occasionally winced at the stabs of pain within his battered body. He slid down his helmet’s visor, at the same time activating the flight-information display. The terrain ahead of the small amphibious aircraft sprang to life and Dillon gasped at the digital image. “I’m impressed, Vince.”
“So you should be, the amount of favours I had to call in to get it.”
Data started to roll down both sides of the visor; images fed from the fuselage mounted camera’s appeared in separate boxes that Dillon could enlarge with the slightest movement of his eye. Symbols appeared and potential hazardous terrain highlighted with different colours. Dillon noted the weapons-system tracker in the top left corner and he licked his lips nervously.
“How much control do I have here, Vince?”
“None. Not until I log you into the flight-programme from my laptop.”
“And if you don’t log me into it?”
“Well, then I control all of the weapons-systems from back here.”
“Good. Let’s leave it like that, then.”
“Okay. If you say so, Jake. But is there any particular reason why?”
“Because I say so. Trust me on this, I’ll fly, you keep your eyes glued to that screen of yours.”
“What’s the flashing red light on the left-hand side of my visor?”
“That, is definitely not good. In fact, way bad news. Air-defence warning signal — Stinger missiles, machine guns — the full monty, mate.”