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

coming with me to the toilet?” She laughed at her
own joke.
“Of course.”
“Really?”
Dillon smiled. “Yes. Easy location for a hit - it’s the one moment
when, shall we say, a person’s guard is well and truly down.”
They decended the extravagantly wide sweeping oak staircase,
the walls lavishly decorated with contemporary abstract artwork.
Working for a secret research department funded by the British
taxpayer obviously paid well.
Dillon had been very specific with his instructions to Zhenya
Tarasova earlier that evening: to stay inside the house, no alcohol, and
definitely no wandering off without him. If Zhenya wanted to survive
this potential threat then she had to minimise the opportunity.
Damn this party, thought Dillon.
Damn Kirill! Stubborn bastard.
A hundred and fifty guests. Dillon had almost shot Kirill himself
when Mark Palmer, head of the MI6 security operation, had handed
him the slip of paper.
Guests mingled. Waiting staff with trays of drinks and canapés
circulated and Dillon’s gaze swept across the large, glitteringly
decorated suite. Rich velvet drapes hung to the floor, obscuring the
view of any outside observers - and more importantly from any longrange snipers.
Dillon stayed close to Zhenya. She knew many of the people
who had come to the party and Dillon allowed the conversation
to wash over him. If anybody approached or spoke to him he was
dismissive to the point of being rude, and had no intention or interest
engaging in conversation with them - it only distracted him from his
job at hand.
He watched. Zhenya socialised and, as she had promised, stayed
off the booze.
Kirill, obviously suffering from a little stress, was well on his way
to a serious hangover and was holding court with a small group in a
corner. Dillon checked the security units status and found everyone
where he or she should be. Everything was okay.
* * *
    The many hundreds of acres of woodland and moor surrounding
the Castle Drago estate rose and fell, following the slopes and
dramatic contours of the land - spread out for many miles. Several
rough tracks, littered with fallen trees and branches, crisscrossed the
estate, but on this dark and rain-filled night everything except the
thick branches swaying in the wind high above, was still. The rain ran
in violent rivulets down the nobbled bark of the oak trees - a deep
rumble cut through the gloom, and three dark blue long wheelbase
Landrover Defenders crept smoothly over the moor and through the
woodland. Heavy wheels crushed branches and negotiated fallen trees
with 4x4 ease... slowly the all-terrain vehicles came to a halt in a small
clearing, one behind the other.
    All three engines died - and a silence crept back.
Doors opened, and black clad figures climbed out of the
Landrovers. They moved stealthily forward and crouched, peering
through night vision goggles towards Castle Dago, its lights glittering
with promise in the distance.
The many shadowy figures bristled with weaponry.
There were various clicks as magazines were slotted home.
Commands were given through concealed earpieces; and slowly,
with an infinite and precise care, the unit of armed killers moved off
through the undergrowth, untroubled by the rain and the threat of
death to come.
* * *
    Stevenson squatted beside the old garden potting shed listening
to the commands being issued by Mike Palmer. He hoisted thesniper’s
rifle up and rested its tripod atop the rough stonework of a low wall
just in front of him. It was late and he had been positioned there for
a number of hours, he glanced up at the rolling clouds obscured by
the driving rain.
“Damned weather,” he muttered. “Sent to torment a man”.
    He sighted down the high velocity rifle’s scope, and swept the
grounds in front of him, rotating the rifle on the smooth-action
tripod. He could see nothing through the rain, even with the nightvision intensifier switched on. Stevenson stretched his arms and