Dillon said, “I want you to know that I’ve never failed on a protection assignment. He squeezed her hand gently. “If you do what I say — when I say it, we might just stay alive if the bullets start flying. Okay?”
“Okay.” Zhenya smiled a beautiful smile. She placed the flower in his lapel button hole. “I want you to have this flower as a mark of my friendship.” Dillon was touched by the girl’s gesture and followed her back up towards the house. He watched the agents in the bushes and, as clouds gathered once again overhead with the threat of more heavy rain, did not envy their position. A smile crossed his face as he walked over the gravel path that led back to the main house.
“Professor Kirill.”
Dillon stood up and watched the older man approaching him. He was of small build, with sandy coloured hair, soft grey at the temples and a neatly trimmed goatee-beard. His eyes were sharp and intelligent, his dress smart and expensive. Dillon shook the offered hand — a remarkably powerful grip.
“A drink, Mr Dillon? Dillon was about to accept when Kirill continued. “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. Straight single malt whisky without ice. Am I right?”
“Absolutely right, Professor. But, not while I’m working. Just water will be fine.”
“It was extremely good of you to agree to this assignment. As I understand it, you are virtually retired, yet you come, shall we say, with the very highest of recommendations.”
“I’ve had many years to perfect my talents.” Dillon smiled wryly. He took the glass and watched Kirill go and stand in front of the fireplace and light a cigarette. The man fixed his gaze on Dillon who sat back down and glanced over at Zhenya, who was seated on an antique leather chair by one of the tall windows.
“In your opinion, Mr Dillon. Are we in great danger here?” Asked Professor Kirill.
Dillon sipped at the glass of iced water. Placing it down on to a small round side table at the side of his chair. He looked up at the Professor and shrugged. “From what I’ve been told and the reports I’ve read. I would say most definitely, yes. If I understand correctly, you have been working for the British Government, and it would seem that your work has gained you a few enemies.”
“The people you are referring to, Mr Dillon. Are nothing more than cowards, they have heard rumours about a new programme that I have developed — their fear is justified — it means the end for them. But I must tell you that whilst I believe them to be cowards, that in reality, they will try and fight back as sure as adversity stares them in the face.
“Can you tell me about the new programme?”
“Even with your security clearance, that is still too highly classified,” said Kirill softly. “All I can say is this, and I know that you are fully aware of the Scorpion units. They exist to combat against the terrorist threat wherever it may be found and my new programme will be of tremendous assistance in their task. It is incredibly powerful and is able to gain access and interact with any programme or database — whether encrypted or not — in the blink of an eye. I have created a programme that can locate computers being used by organised crime syndicates and terrorist cells globally by accessing their every available on-line resource. It then up-loads a tiny piece of mal-ware which eventually destroys the hard drive. But not before taking control of the system and downloading every single piece of data on it… Ahh,” he sighed, relaxing slightly, the look of excitement in his eyes fading to a more guarded unreadable expression. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. As you pointed out earlier, this is still at the field trial stage and very much only a prototype — it is not quite ready to be set free — yet.”
“It must be uniquely powerful and light years ahead of anything else currently developed to evoke such interest… and a threat to your life, Professor?” Dillon said, almost casually. “Maybe there are some people who would prefer not to see it ever become operational?”
Kirill merely nodded, smiling, and sipped at his drink.
“This threat to Miss Tarasova — you do realise it could be merely a double bluff? You could be the target.” Dillon said matter of factly.
“Of course, that possibility was the first thing that came to mind. However, should the need arise — rest assured that I can handle myself, Mr Dillon. I worked for the KGB for many years as a field operative. Like you, I am very capable of staying alive. It is my niece who needs protection now, I cannot watch over her twenty-four hours a day. Edward Levenson-Jones will have sent you the schedule of events, I will be giving lectures throughout the day and then there is the party this evening.” He looked across the room at his niece. “I’m afraid her stubborn nature will not keep her away and well…”
“I can only advise you to cancel, professor.”
“I will not cancel. And, I will not cower because of something that might or might not happen.” Said Kirill, his face hardening. Anyway the MI6 agents have said they will draft in more men if needed. And of course, you’re here.” He smiled without humour, showing tobacco stained teeth. “Zhenya will be safe. She can stay out of the day’s proceedings…”
Zhenya turned to face them from where she was sitting. Her eyes bright. “No I most certainly will not. I won’t hide myself away either.” She sounded indignant.
“If that’s the way you want to play it.”
Dillon stood up and left the room. Rain was falling again and he delved into his jacket pocket and pulled out the mobile phone, turning it over in the palm of his hand. After a moment he connected to the security services and checked that all of the agents assigned to the protection unit were present and correct, but most importantly stationed at their positions at various locales inside the building and outside in the grounds. He set the device to automatically check and update him every fifteen minutes until the day’s events and party that evening were over.
Dillon cursed Kirill’s stubbornness. A party! For work colleagues and Government dignitaries to celebrate a ‘milestone achievement’.
“Bloody hell, Kirill. Why couldn’t you just stay in Scotland?” Dillon said aloud to himself.
Dillon had to admit to himself that he was annoyed. He hadn’t realised that LJ had drafted him in on what he had thought was a simple VIP protection assignment. Kirill was a top dog — a former KGB operative, Government researcher and world renowned computer program developer — and Dillon knew that he would therefore have made some very powerful enemies along the way. That meant the game was far more important than Dillon had been led to believe; more important than Tatiana had led him to believe.
Dillon moved through the house, checking security points and his own weapon and ammo stashes.
With this preamble came the electric feeling he always felt, the excitement of the imminent danger and the promise of killing — that was surely to follow.
The three black long wheelbase Landrover Defenders pulled over onto the roadside, powerful diesel engines idling with a promise of almost limitless torque. Heavy raindrops continuously rolled down the blacked out windows and in the heavy woods to either side a quiet stillness prevailed.
The police car that had been following, a dark blue BMW M5 sporting full police livery, slowed to a crawl as it passed the Landrovers. The two armed response officers inside taking a close look, before moving on, tail lights glowing. It disappeared over the brow of the hill up ahead and was immediately swallowed by the rain and dense woodland.
Still, the Landrovers remained at the edge of the road with their engines idling.
Heavy thunderous clouds continued to roll in with ever increasing persistence, the rain still ferocious as it pounded against the blackened glass of the Landrover’s windows and sent streams running down the narrow strip of tarmac.