Chimera Code (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Read Online Free

metal, slippery like ice, stretching away into
apparent infinity. Pete glanced along the gangway, towards theforward
deck and the storage tanks, which seemed to descend into nothing.
It’s not far.
But not far is always too far when someone is firing hollow point
bullets at your heels.
What to do? Run or sit tight?
Pete crept up to the open doorway until he was crouching on
the platform; the rain stung his face and the wind howled as it drove
into him, finding its way into his tight military clothing, and soaking
him to the skin. His eyes followed every contour that the weak gloomy
light could reveal. He searched for every possible sniping position. He
racked his jangling brain for the best place to lay an ambush.
He decided it would best to move around to the other side of the
ship. This might allow him the time to sneak down to the lower deck
where Zhu De’s quarters were located. Hopefully, the fucker would be
there, waiting, ready to sprint to the safety of the boats... Pete smiled
to himself, craving the nicotine hit of a cigarette.
He suddenly froze to the spot, more out of instinct than anything
else.
And then it was there, his worst nightmare.
Cold metal, pressing against the back of his skull.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
He started to turn, but a hard warning jab stopped him. Slowly,
he crouched and placed his MP5 on the deck.
“Get up and move.”
Pete started to walk... everything ahead of him was starting to
blur and he realised that he was weeping - not from fear, fear was no
longer an option, but from sheer frustration. Of all the ways to be
caught, of all the fucking ways to die.
The crack echoed dully against the howling wind.
A limp lifeless figure toppled over the rail and disappeared into
the black boiling cauldron of sea far below.
Ocean blue eyes watched coldly as it fell.
And, in the next instant, the Assassin was gone.
* * *
    Buenos Aires - Argentina: The air was so still and the heat so
intense it felt as if it were pressing down with a force that was almost
physical. The robust contours of the scarred government building
glittered in the sunshine. It stood defiant and majestic against the
elements themselves. The recent bombing had left one of the front
wings between floors six and thirteen now exposed, water cascaded
down the side of the building from the sprinkler system, and trailing
cables hung from what used to be service shafts. The Argentine
Ministry of Defence building was wounded, torn, betrayed. To the
people of Argentina it was a symbol of their world gone berserk.
    Flint squatted, the heat from the mid-day sun pounding his
tropical fatigues; he listened to the radio and glanced at the Matrix G8
in his hand. Blue LEDs flickered. A voice in his ear said, “They’re on
the move.”
    Flint crawled forward, then glanced down, checking the magazine
of the AMSD OM 50 Nemesis 12.7mm sniper rifle. He repositioned
himself, peering from the rooftop of the building towards the other
side of the harbour. The government building was hazy in the heat,
the harbour spread out before him like the stage set of an enormous
theatre. Flint reached out and steadied himself on the narrow parapet
- he felt the usual tension flowing through every muscle and sinew
of his body. He felt alive. He pushed a small electronic button just
above the trigger guard of the rifle and placed his forefinger over the
large touch-screen of the G8; a tiny red light illuminated and a click
as the rifle synchronised with the device. For a brief moment Flint
watched the scope automatically rotate and focus; then he placed his
eye against it and the world seemed to become very clear.
    The building had been evacuated except for a small number of
officials who had been taken hostage by the terrorists. The scene was
rendered in a blue purple tint; he zoomed the scope quickly forward,
until he could see even the finest details of the building, each bullet
hole and shrapnel scar. Then he pulled