The Assassins clothed in black — black hoods — piercing blue eyes
— feminine voice — able to kill — effortlessly…
Kirill, looking on as the people who had loyally worked for him, were gunned down and murdered.
Someone anonymous, talking to her on her private terminal; warning her.
There were a number of possibilities, as to who it had been. It could have been, Ezra? Or perhaps it had been Kirill himself? Maybe it had been someone else at the facility? Or was she going slowly and certifiably insane?
Claudia rubbed at her weary eyes as she mused over the possibilities…
He could have warned her. Edward Levenson-Jones could have warned her — it was feasible… Unlikely but feasible… But then, why her? Why just her? Why not the others?
She closed her eyes again, picturing Kirill and finding a little gratification in the fact that he had perished in the explosion. By the time Tatiana emerged from the galley carrying a plate full of delicious looking eggs and bacon for them all to eat, Claudia was snoring softly in the embrace of a deep, deep welcome sleep.
Dillon returned shortly after lunch, as Tatiana and Claudia were sitting down to hamburgers and fries. He carried several bags, and was looking tired but his demeanour was happy.
“Where’ve you been, Dillon?”
“Shopping.”
“With what?”
Dillon winked. “Very generous friends. Now, I have a few presents for you two and I really must get something to eat. Can one of you, go get me whatever you’ve got there. Looks too good to miss.” The sarcasm in his voice was painful. “You seem upbeat, Dillon,” said Tatiana softly.
Dillon smiled. “I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve.”
Dillon went below and stood under a cool shower, the water cleansing him of sweat and grime. He placed his hands against the tiles and allowed the water to run over the back of his head for a few long luxurious minutes revelling in the feeling of cleanliness that was creeping over him and through him…
And to complete the experience, his mind was now feeling refreshed and clear.
Perfectly clear.
Not marred by the cold-blooded murderous thoughts that occasionally crept up from the deepest recesses of his subconscious…
He towelled himself dry, his gaze catching the six polished metal spheres arranged neatly on a glass shelf above the sink. Each grenade containing a lethal amount of high explosive, designed to make a lot of noise and create maximum devastation.
As he left the shower room, rubbing at his smooth freshly shaved face, it was to see Tatiana walking back down the pontoon with a brown paper bag in her hand.
“I hope you’re hungry, Dillon?”
“Let me at the food.” He said, grabbing the bag off of her and emptying the contents onto the table. He unwrapped a cheeseburger and took a large satisfying bite out of it, split open another bag with French fries in, and ate some with his fingers.
“Manners, Dillon.” Said Tatiana sternly.
Dillon carried on eating, and when he’d finished, he went below to get dressed. Five minutes later, he reappeared with a canvas bag, which he emptied on to the table. Ammunition magazines and bullets clattered free in a large pile.
“Holy-moly,” said Tatiana.
“Get busy, ladies, if you please.”
“Where’d you get all this?”
“You haven’t been paying attention, Tatiana.” Dillon said softly. “I used to be a Ferran & Cardini field officer; I worked in the Bahamas for three years; I worked with the C.I.A. on numerous occasions; I also know where they keep their weapon stashes. And, I’ve got a few contacts who are still ‘working the lot’ over here.”
“I don’t think I can go through with this,” said Claudia, her face having paled at the sight of the bullets and the weapon magazines. Her eyes lifted, met Dillon’s dark stare. “I’m not a fighter, I’m a computer programmer, and I haven’t tagged along to kill anyone. I’m in this shit way over my head…”
Dillon smiled at the attractive young woman, nodding. “You are right, of course — and so far you’ve played your part well,” he said. “So I think that while I’m gone. The best thing for you to do is to hand over the optical disc to Vince and let him help you start to convert the Chimera scripts to Anti-Virus.”
“Do you think Ezra is really alive? And if he is, do you think he can really help?”
“If the meet is genuine, then yes. If it is a set-up…” Dillon shrugged. “I’ll go to the rendezvous with Tatiana, but go in alone to meet Ezra, and then bring him back here to meet you if this thing isn’t a trap? That way you’re not in the firing line — you just play the waiting game.”
Tatiana shook her head. “I can’t let you go in alone, Dillon. I must be there…”
“You have to, Tats.” said Dillon. “This situation screams of very bad things; you can’t expect me to put Claudia in such a dangerous situation — and as for yourself? Well, you know — and I know — that I work better on my own. If it really is Ezra, if he is alive, then so be it, we’re on our way to stopping Ramus launching Kirill’s version of the Chimera Programme; but if he has been captured, then I will do everything in my power to rescue him and I’ll get him out of there alive… And then we can move on to finding Ramus…”
Tatiana sighed. “Okay. You’re right. When is the meet arranged for?”
“Two hours. I have just a few more things to take care of.”
“Where is it?”
Dillon met Tatiana’s eyes and their gazes locked; he fell headlong into those beautiful, bright blue depths. He paused. And the question at the front of his mind was…
Can I trust her?
Kirill’s words returned to him.
She’s one of us…But she had helped him get this far still alive. Without her he would surely be dead… And since the Highlands Dillon had been playing his cards much more closely to his chest — revealing nothing… The perfect poker player… The perfect gamesman.
Tatiana smiled slowly.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, sniffing, her eyes unreadable. “I don’t need to know the details and I fully understand that it could compromise you, yeah? You go alone and I’ll stay here with the others, we’ll be here when you return afterwards.”
Dillon nodded at Tatiana and turned, gathering up all the fully loaded magazines into his canvas holdall along with the second Glock. The grenades he kept separate in another bag. He glanced at Claudia. “You’ll find that you and Vince have quite a lot in common, you know. Hacking is yourthing, gives you that adrenalin rush. And, if this gig is a trap, then I’m hoping that one or both of you can tap into one of the CIA’s little spy satellites overhead and be my advance eyes.” Dillon handed her one of the two-way radios that Margarita had obtained for him. “Here, take this. It’s preset to a secure channel, just push the red button at the side when you talk and release to listen, yeah?”
“Push the red button to talk, right.” Claudia Dax smiled, her eyes glinting in the sunlight.
Dillon took the jewel-case containing the Chimera Programme optical disc from Claudia. He brought it up to his face and stared hard.
“Hope you’re worth it, hope those fuckers need you more than they need me dead,” he said softly. Then he dropped the disk back into Claudia’s hand and headed for the door.
The 4x4 SUV came to a halt in a small parking lot, deserted apart from three dusty old cars. Large metal waste bins lined one side of the area at the rear of the luxury hotel, the faint reek of kitchen waste emanating from them, mixing with the balmy humid air. Dillon opened the driver’s door, scanning his temporary surroundings. Papers blew across his path as his boots touched the hot concrete under a bleached sun. He stood, stretched his back, and looked warily about: a predator, assimilating the various markers, alert and ready for action. Dillon reached back into the SUV, slipping various things into his trouser pockets and the many pockets of his khaki safari style gilet.