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

landing. The music
drifted into the distance, a surreal ambience. He checked the security
service interface screen - ten minutes since all members had checked
in with Mark Palmer. Dillon frowned. An awful lot could happen in
ten minutes.
He moved into a darkened doorway that was located directly
opposite a nearby window on the wide landing and, crouching low,
peered out into the darkness. He couldn’t see any of the positioned
snipers - but that didn’t mean they were not there.
He moved cat like along the landing, keeping low and moving
fast, all the time keeping his free hand outstretched following the
gentle breeze.
Stopping in front of a broad oak door, he rested his hand against
the polished wood.
His senses were alive; the thought of what might be on the other
side, excited him.
He pushed gently and stepped aside; the door swung free. Dillon
peered in, and then with the Glock held outstretched in front of him,
slid in. The room was pitch-black and he swiftly turned on the main
light...
Empty.
Dillon moved towards the window, which was open, no more
than a four inch gap. He looked out, then down, immediately spotted
the muddy scuff mark on the wooden sill - and suddenly realised
that he was an easy target against the window. He moved fast, as the
hollow-point round smashed through the glass and embedded itself
in the ceiling.
Dillon rolled away from the window, was up and running.
He shouted into the comm, “We have uninvited guests, I repeat,
uninvited guests - first floor entry.”
He flewout of the doorway and into the path of a startled blackclad figure; the Glock kicked twice in his hand and the intruder was
hurled backwards off its feet, its hands groping around its throat in
a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood pumping out of the bullet
wounds as it hit the carpeted floor, hard.
Dillon looked left and right. From somewhere in the house came
the sound of distant screams and rapid automatic gunfire. He ran to
the top of the stairs and a stream of silenced bullets slammed into the
surrounding woodwork, sending splinters and chunks of balustrade
in all directions. He dived, rolling up against the far wall with a jarring
thud. His gaze fixed on the bullet holes in the woodwork, judged the
angle of entry and determined where the shooter was positioned,
rolled over twice and fired off six rounds in quick succession. Then,
scrambling to his feet, he ran across the landing.
The silenced machine pistol devoured the wall behind him as
Dillon reached the top flight of stairs and started to descend them
two at a time; his Glock kicked in his hand once more, four rounds
that picked up the Assassin and sent it spinning down the remaining
stairs where it lay crumpled at the foot, blood soaking into the plush
ivory coloured carpet.
The hall was quiet - no guests - no security service.
How many of them were there? Dillon thought as he crept down
the remaining stairs and over the dead Assassin’s body. The comm.
in his ear crackled. “Dillon, Palmer. I have Zhenya in the kitchens.
There are eight of them in the main ballroom - they’ve rounded all of
the guests up and are holding them in there. Oh and, Dillon. They’re
heavily armed with some nasty little toys.”
“I know. I’ve already taken down two of them,” said Dillon
softly as he put home another full clip into the Glock. “You stay there,
I’m coming to you.”
Dillon moved quickly along the wide hallway towards the
ballroom, stopping momentarily outside to listen. Everything was
quiet apart from the occasional whimper from some of the guests
who were otherwise silent. Dillon slowly eased his head around the
corner; a black-clad Assassin stood guard with a silenced 9mm Micro
UZI SMG. Dillon fired two rounds and ran off in the opposite
direction towards the courtyard. As he burst through the outer door,
bullets tore the wood and plaster only inches behind him. Outside in
the courtyard he ducked and darted in