Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) by Andrew Towning Page A

care
of them. Two were taken out as I crossed the courtyard. Are you sure
about there being twelve to start with, Vince?”
“Absolutely. I’m using the thermal imaging on-board the satellite
and I’ve used the electronic guest-list to calculate how many people
should be inside the house - the numbers tally perfectly.”
What do you suggest?”
“You are currently inside the main kitchen on the lower ground
floor. Is this correct?”
“Yes.”
“The girl is with you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Stay right where you are. I’ll liase with MI6 and get them
into position outside in the courtyard to cover you both as you come
through the door.”
“Well be quick. I don’t know how much time we have.”
A few seconds later, Vince Sharp was talking to Dillon again.
“Jake, make your way up to the top of the stairs and wait just
inside the door. Roth and his men will be there to escort you both out.
Good luck, old friend.”
“Thanks - we’re going to need it.”
Dillon closed the cover on the phone and slipped it into his
jacket pocket; he looked at Zhenya. “We are in deep shit. You need to
follow my every order if you want to survive. Understand?”
The girl looked at Dillon, not comprehending what he was
saying.
Dillon grabbed hold of her arms and shook her, hard. “You
understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes - I understand. Let go of me, you’re hurting.”
Dillon released his grip. “This is what we are going to do. They
think we’re going to leave through the back door; they don’t know that
I’ve killed Palmer.”
There was a sound. Dillon moved smoothly to the door he had
originally entered through and opened it - fast, the barrel of the Glock
moving, scanning.
“My God,” hissed Dillon, removing his finger from the trigger.
Professor Kirill had been severely beaten. Blood covered his
face and had spilled down the front of his white dress shirt. By the
look of it he had a broken nose and his lips were badly swollen and
split from the repeated blows upon him. He staggered forward, the
reek of alcohol surrounding him like some sort of cheap cologne.
Dillon helped him into the kitchen and checked the stairway outside;
he could see the door sensor flickering and he checked the phone’s
touch-screen once more. He scrolled through and found the security
application, tapped the screen once and it immediately lit up with a
complex looking grid system. He activated the function: anybody else
entering the kitchen or stairway would now trigger the silent alarm.
“Uncle!” Zhenya ran over to Kirill, hugged him, and helped him
to sit down as he winced with pain. His bloodied nose was dripping
onto the tiled floor, as he stared in horror at the pool of blood
surrounding Palmer’s corpse slumped on the floor of the storage
room.
“You killed him?”
“Let’s just say that he wasn’t up to the job and his contract has
been terminated - permanently.”
Dillon, the Glock still in his grip, crouched in front of Kirill.
“What’s happening here?”
“There are eight of them. They have imprisoned the guests at
one end of the ball room. They have sent me to give you a message...”
“ Me ? But they think -”
Dillon paused. the only way that they could know that Mark
Palmer was dead was if they had the kitchen bugged for sound and
vision - or had access to and were listening in on the MI6 commsnetwork. That meant that the entire MI6 protection unit were in on
the assassination. But why wait for Kirill’s party in Cornwall - why not
take Zhenya out in Scotland with a snipers bullet?
Dillon’s phone started to vibrate in his jacket pocket - the alarm
warning him that movement had been detected. He moved quickly to
the doorway; his Glock went around the door and sent a warning shot
up the stairway leading in from the courtyard. There was no return fire
and no more movement detected.
Dillon turned sharply.
Kirill was now on his feet - but now held a gun pointing directly
at