Her mind worked quickly; the Assassins had all left, and those left behind, had been systematically killing those members of staff deemed ‘expendable’, apparently this barbarism was being overseen by Kirill himself, her boss. A flashing light on a device. This had to be a bomb. Had to be. It wasn’t unreasonable of her to assume that they wanted to totally destroy the facility. Claudia had a gold-plated security clearance. She had access to most of the information that flew around the facility; and she knew, knew that Chimera was developed to be one of a kind — in total control…
Claudia took a deep breath.
Shit, she thought.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, turned, and then sprinted across the lab. Her footsteps light on the tiled floor; she bypassed several security doors and returned to the corridor and the ventilation shaft.
She hauled herself up into its confines.
And it was then that she heard the gunshots.
Claudia crawled as fast as the restricted space would allow. The shots continued to echo through the ventilation system and she wondered just what the hell was going on. She went through the shafts faster than she thought possible, knees and elbows sore from friction against the aluminium walls, sweat soaking her clothing. Finally, she reached the spot and, spinning around on her bottom, kicked free the vent grille.
She dropped down into one of the reception level female rest rooms that she used as part of her route during her frequent midnight jaunts outside. She moved to the entrance, looking cautiously around the doorframe, ever fearful that she might be spotted by a guard or worse, an Assassin. She ran, keeping low, her breathing heavy with fatigue, past conference rooms and security offices. She passed one of the facility’s many guard stations, huge banks of monitors stood looking out at her, blank and lifeless. And even now, she felt their accusatory gazes against her sweat drenched face as she went by.
She reached the emergency exit. The solid round metal doorway looked as if it were stuck fast. She pulled out her security pass card, swiped it through the reader, there was a hiss and the door released outwardly… And she stepped out onto the mountain-side.
The strong cold northerly breeze hit her with its full force, sleet and rain washed across her body.
The cold sweat running down her back made her shiver involuntarily.
Claudia ran, fuelled by fear, fuelled by the guilt of her theft, pushed on by the concept of a bomb not that far from her. She left deep footprints in the snow; indelible, as in fast drying concrete.
Reaching the corner of the gangway, some primeval part of her soul forced her to halt, to peer around the reinforced concretecolumn. She saw the winch-house. She crept, as low as possible; peering inside, and then around the general area. Looking down, her gaze went instantly to the bloodied twisted corpses of the dead guards, not more than two feet away from where she was now standing. She gagged at the sight of so much blood, raising her hand up to her mouth to stop herself from throwing up. Glancing quickly around, she moved to the entrance and opened the door.
She went inside.
Closed the door gently.
In the gloom of the interior, she could make out the large wicker basket hanging over the trap-door that would take her away from the danger to the safety of the valley far below.
Claudia pushed the start button, and then climbed into the basket as the winch motor cut in and the two wooden trap doors started to open. Then, as if for the sole purpose of reassuring herself, she said aloud, “Please God, don’t let anyone with a machine pistol in their hand, look through that trap-door now…”
“…She really is one of us, Mr Dillon. Tatiana has always been on our side.”
Several things all happened at once.
Outside, the noise of the winch motor cutting in could be heard; and then the cable running out as the basket was being lowered.
Dillon turned back to Kirill and saw the look of shock on his face.
The crackof the Glock 9mm echoed across the reception area. The Assassin crumpled to the ground, relieving Dillon’s head from the pressure of the gun’s barrel.
Dillon’s eyes flicked around the immediate area. He looked up and around. Into Tatiana’s tired eyes.
“That was close. Felt the heat off that one.” He said softly.
“If she had wanted to kill you, Mr Dillon. You would now be dead.” Said Kirill, his voice was low and a little shaky. “When I said that Tatiana was one of us, what I should have said is that she is one of them.”
“Don’t listen to him,” said Tatiana, her stare fixed on Dillon.
“Damn it, Dillon. I’ve just saved your life.”
Dillon turned fully towards her. “So who are you going to kill now? Me or him? Tats — your gun is still pointing at me…”
“Drop your weapon, Tatiana.”
They both turned. The Assassin had tossed Kirill a Black Beretta pistol that nestled evilly in the Professor’s hand.
The Priest squeezed the trigger and the crack reverberated around the reception area. He was standing in the ideal position by the entrance to have a clear shot. The Assassin dropped to the ground, the side of its head obliterated. The second crack followed immediately, the bullet grazing the side of the Beretta’s grip in Kirill’s hand with bone shaking ferocity.
At the same time, Tatiana kicked the Glock across the floor.
The Priest and Alix stepped over the bodies of the other dead Assassins towards Dillon.
“Took your time, didn’t you?”
“We made it didn’t we?”
“And, lady and gentlemen. In just under two minutes you’re all going to have to say your goodbyes to each other. Truly, a suitably fitting end to this act! So perfectly written! So beautifully performed!”
Dillon’s alter persona stirred deep within his subconscious.
Kirill checked his watch and smiled. Dillon looked sideways at Tatiana whose face was unreadable; he swallowed as time seemed to slow, turn to infinity and he felt the familiar heightening of awareness at the back of his mind; waiting, watching, timing, listening and then, surging forward.
Dillon’s other self took control…
He dropped to his knees and rolled — the Glock slipped like a glove into the palm of his hand.
He rolled rapidly, he came up fast to see Kirill, the small black Beretta wavering, pointing in the wrong direction because Dillon had moved so fast and snapped the Glock up — Kirill just had time to register surprise and absolute fear as Dillon pulled the trigger hard and four bullets slammed into Kirill’s chest, ripping holes through his clothing, skin tissue and muscle, blood splattering like a crimson waterfall across the stone floor.
Kirill’s head was slumped forward, sightless eyes staring down at his gaping chest. Very slowly, he toppled sideways onto the ground and lay still.
“That was way overdue,” said Dillon quietly, his voice laced with satisfaction. He rounded on Tatiana, the Glock trained on her face.
“You make one false move and I will kill you. You say the wrong thing, you will die, Tatiana. Do I make myself clear?”
Tatiana nodded solemnly.
Then let’s get the hell off this mountain top before we’re all fried. Tatiana, the Priest, and Alix all moved towards the main entrance at a run.
Dillon, exhilarated, put another bullet into Kirill’s slumped body. Then another. He stared into the lifeless eyes. Then he ran across the room, collected the Nemesis sniper rifle, muttering, “Can’t let such a beauty go to waste,” and sprinted for the open entrance.
Tatiana and the others had reached the winch house, a look of despair across her face.