Dillon switched on the handset and accessed the application. It blipped. There came a release of compressed air from somewhere behind the rock and, raining debris from above, a huge circular section of the mountain side suddenly shifted — sliding back into the rock, allowing access to a deep dark interior.
Dillon and Tatiana moved forward; Vince watched them walk into the gloom from the entrance; after a moment he also moved inside, went forward and found the nearest bench, where he placed his burner and proceeded with the ritual of getting a brew on.
They stooped, peering into the gloom lit by triggered emergency lighting set into the side walls on both sides of the wide access tunnel.
“Let’s see what little goodies are stashed here.”
They descended the ramp; against one wall was an array of weapons, from mini machine pistols to sniper rifles and even a couple of Stinger missile launchers. All weapons were neatly lined up in racks and protected behind glass screens. Ammunition sat in wooden crates in one corner, and there were several large metal containers, the type used on freight ships. Dillon moved forward and pulled open the doors of the first container.
Tatiana frowned.
“A quad bike?”
“It’s more than that,” said Dillon, a hidden sense of joy in his voice. “It’s modified for these conditions — this machine has a much more powerful motor, more torque, and an array of extra special modifications and upgrades. It’s a dream machine, Tats.”
“I would have preferred a four-wheel-drive with a nice warm cabin.”
“Sounds cosy, but these things are best for running over this rough terrain — as long as you know how to handle one. This quad will eat whatever is thrown at it; look at the tyres! Just wait till we get this baby out there.”
He walked into the container and sat on the quad bike, hand tracing the contours of the fuel tank. His gaze roving around the machine as he got off and stood back. The engine was much more powerful than the standard one fitted, with its curious design and powerful output. He tapped the enlarged fuel tank. “Full and raring to go; all we have to do is turn the key and fire her up.”
“What modifications does it have?”
Dillon pointed to a place just below the twin headlights; four, small bore barrels poked forward. “Mounted sub-machine guns with ammunition on four drums stored either side of the fuel tank up front. Mounted on the handlebars is a GPS sat-nav, sat-phone, and data panel for all of the gizmos. It has a stealth exhaust system, and this baby will run silent — silent and deadly. And special mudguards which stop all the shit from flying everywhere and over us.”
Dillon moved around the large machine, before getting back on and firing it up, true to his word, there was nothing more than a gentle purr. “If anything can get us to Kirill’s facility over land, then this is it.”
Tatiana shook her head. “The mental scars are still there from the last time I rode on the back of a bike with you.”
Dillon grinned boyishly at her. “Don’t worry, luv — this ride will be much, much worse.”
The quad bike climbed the ramp with ease, its engine note nothing more than a whisper; tyres bit into the dirt and Dillon pulled a perfect wheelie towards Vince.
“Very nice, chap,” remarked Vince, nodding as he held out a steaming hot mug of tea.
Dillon jumped off the quad and walked over to the big Australian, accepting the offered mug. “There’s only packs of field rations down there, which is better than nothing and they’ll keep us going for the time being.”
Vince delved into his rucksack and pulled out a large red apple and tossed it across to Dillon, who deftly caught it in his left hand. “I’ll regret giving you that, when all I’ve got to eat is a dried meal in a bag.”
“Thanks mate. There’s another thing.”
“What’s that?” Vince sipped his brew, his eyes suspicious.
“Back down there, I saw an AMSD OM 50 Nemesis 12.7mm sniper rifle. With a telescopic night sight.”
“What of it.”
“It’s got some sort of fingerprint recognition trigger instead of a conventional one. “I was wondering if you’d set it up for me?”
“A Nemesis, eh. Not an easy rifle to set up, but I’ll give it a go. Why that particular weapon? There must be hundreds of weapons to choose from in that armoury.”
“It’s not just a rifle, Vince. It’s the ultimate long range sniper rifle.”
“Possibly, and I’ll agree it’s most likely the best weapon here.” The two men walked back down the ramp to the weapons store and Vince proceeded to personalise the Nemesis trigger grip to Dillon’s hand print, using the software on his laptop. “Now that this grip is associated with you — no one else can use this weapon, even if they wanted to. Just remember that you cannot just pick this up and fire it. You must let the reader inside the grip recognise your hand print, first. Although, this only takes a fraction of a second to complete.”
“Yeah, Yeah. I know all of that stuff, and I won’t forget.”
“I’ve seen you in action, remember! Waiting is not something you do so well, along with treating your equipment with respect…”
“I’ll take extra care of all my equipment, I promise.” Dillon said soberly, but the grin across his face gave him away.
“Yeah, right, I’ve seen the condition of that Glock you carry around with you.”
“Used but never abused,” said Dillon. “The fact is that it’s so worn and yet still functions perfectly, is a testament to my love for it. And it wouldn’t have lasted this long if I’d casually tossed it aside, now would it?”
Vince muttered something incomprehensible.
“Now, now, Vincent. Leave Dillon alone,” said Tatiana softly, moving out of the gloom. She carried a Glock, several spare magazines and some boxes of ammunition. She handed Dillon some of the magazines and ammo boxes and stashed the rest in the pockets of her jacket, saying, “I also grabbed a few of the field ration packs, they’re under the quad’s front seat.”
“I’m hoping that we won’t be gone long enough to need them,” Dillon said, smiling grimly.
The special forces depot also contained clothing necessary for the locality, in case they were separated from the quad bike: thermal base layers and traditional Arctic camouflage fatigues were chosen.
“Wrap up, Tats — we’ll blend in and at least we won’t die of hypothermia.”
“Are there any helmets in there?”
Dillon shook his head. “Balaclavas only. Don’t worry, we’re not going to crash.”
They spent a few minutes getting into their clothing, Dillon fooling around despite the seriousness of their predicament. When both were fully dressed, they stood staring at each other and Dillon’s hand reached out and stroked Tatiana’s cheek.
“You look stunning, as always.”
“What are you after?”
“Absolutely nothing. I merely wanted to tell you, that’s all.”
“You old charmer, Dillon. You’re so full of crap.”
“So a man can’t even be romantic, even if the timings off and the situation, so wrong on so many levels?”
Dillon smiled, tension easing from him. “Come on, best we get going. thanks to this unscheduled diversion, we’re already running late. You got the co-ordinates for the facility?”
Tatiana punched the numeric codes into the quad’s sat-nav to guide them to Kirill’s mountain.
They both sat on the quad bike and Dillon fired up the machine. Tatiana settled herself on the back seat of the huge machine and they both turned, gazes fixing on Vince Sharp. “You know the procedures, Vince,” said Dillon.
Vince nodded. “Be careful, mates.”
Dillon laughed, pulling on his goggles. “Oh, we’ll be careful, mate. But we’ll also be lethal.”