RED MIST FALLING

by Richard T Green

  RED MIST FALLING

  Richard T Green

  By the author:

  (as Richie Green)

  The DIAL Chronicles Books:

  The Elfin Voyagers Series:

  Episode 1 – Somewhere to Call Home

  Episode 2 – Girls Just Seem to get Kidnapped

  Episode 3 – The Rock

  Episode 4 – Ghosts Ghouls and Evil Spirits

  Episode 5 - Jason Grubb: Retribution

  Episode 6 - Asterion's Return

  Other books:

  Teletubby Resurrection

  Ellie’s Elf

  As Richard T Green:

  Cry of an Angel

  (Book One of The Chronicles of Anael)

  A Brief Particle of Time

  Raven: Born Wild

  Reflection

  Coming soon….

  The Scarecrow Has Landed!

  Red Mist: Homecoming

  Copyright © 2017 Richard T Green

  All rights reserved.

  www.richardtgreen.org

  RED MIST FALLING

  The Final Curtain

  The roll-up between my fingers fizzled and died, the thin brown liquorish paper soaked in seconds. Leaning out from the shelter of the covered alleyway wasn’t the best idea ever, but I had to see.

  The rain from hell battered onto the black cap doing its best to protect my head, sounded like thunder in my ears. I glanced quickly around; a millisecond to confirm the brick-paved driveway leading to the swank apartment block fifty metres away was devoid of life.

  Still there was no sign of her.

  I ducked back into the shelter of the alley, threw the useless butt to the ground in disgust, and let frustration get the better of me by kicking the wall. It was all getting too much to take.

  Nearly midnight.

  Where the hell was she? She never stayed out this late, unless…

  She must know. Maybe she'd tried to contact one of them, got no reply. Put two-and-two together, made four.

  Maybe she wasn't coming home.

  The griping fear I was getting all too familiar with tightened its grip on my stomach. I'd been so careful, so quick. None of them could have warned her, I'd not given them time.

  Had I?

  Illogical doubts began to creep in. I shut my eyes, rebooted the events of the day in my mind. Six of them, one after the other, all in the space of a few hours. I replayed each incident, every gruesome detail.

  No. It wasn't possible.

  If Zana thought she knew, she couldn't be certain.

  And no one would ever find them, not now.

  It hadn't been the best of days. The mission was almost done, just one last step to take. But somehow, this time it was different. The nasty taste of what I'd done still lingered, unpleasantly. That was illogical. Long ago I'd taught myself to be immune to emotions, so I thought. Maybe I wasn't such a good teacher.

  Or a good pupil.

  I turned, thumped the long-suffering wall this time, angry now at my own weakness. It hurt; I held my hand close to my face. It wouldn’t stop shaking.

  Damn you Zana, why are you so late home? Her spotter had already reported she'd given him the slip, deliberately. It crossed my mind she was playing games, sitting in the little café around the corner, knowing I was waiting.

  She would.

  I looked out at the rain-drenched scene once more, across the perfectly laid brick driveway with its pseudo-Victorian streetlamps, to the elegant communal gardens that were immaculately kept but never used. I couldn’t stop it, my gaze drifted upwards, fixed onto the smoked glass windows of the top-floor apartment. Was she inside after all, sitting in the dark knowing I would come, pretending to be out? Teasing me to see through the deception?

  That she wouldn't do.

  Pretending anything wasn't in her psyche.

  Once more I leant against the damp coldness of the concrete wall, began to wonder if Zana had gone for good after all. Three hours now I'd waited; fifteen cigarettes smoked nervously, plus a few swigs of something with a high alcohol content that had once filled the tiny flask in the breast pocket of my black jacket. The flask that was now empty.

  I never drank on duty. Tough... today I did.

  Today was different.

  Everything was different.

  A sound, so familiar. Even through the rain it filled my ears. She was here, the clunk of high heels on the driveway unmistakable.

  I flattened against the wall; knew it was pointless but it came naturally. Zana wouldn't need to see me, she'd know she wasn’t alone.

  The figure passed across the alleyway entrance, filling my vision just for a second or two. And my heart began to thump like a piston engine. Leaving the shelter of the hiding place, I followed a short distance behind her, the soft soles of my trainers making no sound.

  The girl walking quickly a few metres ahead didn’t look back. A short red cape shrouded her perfect body, the loose hood pulled over her head. Her toned calf muscles flexed alluringly as she walked, and the red shoes with impossibly-high heels clicked mesmerizingly through the sound of the rain.

  Red.

  She always wore red.

  She reached the main entrance to the apartment block, pressed her finger into the reader, and the door slid aside. She paused, lowered her head slightly. Still she hadn't turned to look at me, standing motionless a short distance away. I waited for the words, knowing they would come.

  They did.

  'You coming in, Maddie… or are you just going to stand there like a stalker all night?'

  It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

  It was just a job.

  A very well paid job, for a few hours now and then. Easy, if you didn't have a conscience.

  Uncomplicated.

  But then there was Zana.

  _______________

  Chapter 1

  It was a chance meeting, a month ago, in an up-market bar in Soho.

  Except there was nothing chance about it. Weeks of organisation had gone into getting me on the right bar stool in the right bar at the right time. The stool I now occupied, trying to stop fidgeting nervously as I awaited the arrival of my mark.

  Nullifying people didn't make me nervous. That wasn’t an issue, when you didn't possess a heart to get in the way. I'd long since given up caring about anyone, even myself. A tough upbringing in the East End got rid of most of any ability to feel compassion I may have once had; three horrific years in army intelligence in Afghanistan killed off the rest. There wasn’t much left, these days.

  It’s best to not have a heart. What doesn’t exist can’t be broken.

  But now something was unsettling me. Sweaty palms were not a symptom I ever experienced. Waiting on this barstool wasn’t helping, trying to work out why the knots were there but finding no obvious reason for this anxiety.

  Or maybe there was a reason. Just one I didn’t want to admit to.

  This mission wasn’t about nullification. I’d been persuaded to take on a different role, one that took things way outside my comfort zone.

  I'd been asked to get to know my mark.

  Undercover stuff wasn’t my thing, not any more. It was complicated, drawn-out, and just too much hard work. And getting up close and personal was the one thing left that scared the hell out of me. But a department of MI6 I'd never heard of made a special request. Apparently I had the right credentials.

  Our first meeting flashed into my memory. I remembered every word, and the initial lack of enthusiasm I showed the small, piggy-eyed man who spread out seven mugshots on the desk in front of me.

  ‘These are seven marks, Miss deWinter. They’re here for a reason, but as yet, despite our best efforts, we have no knowledge of what atrocity they are pl
anning.’

  ‘You want me to take them all out?’

  ‘Oh no... no. Whilst I am all too aware of your prowess in the field of assassination, that is not why you have been called in.’

  I narrowed my eyes, hardly glancing at the faces in the photos. ‘I nullify people, that’s my role. My only role.’

  He smiled, nervously. ‘This is an unprecedented situation, agent. All attempts to gain intel have failed, and we are left with one alternative. Your mission is to become friends with one of the marks.’

  ‘Me? Your intel has failed you again, sir.’

  ‘Not at all. Your background, training and... um, your physical appearance make you the agent of choice. The mark in question may find you a kindred spirit.’ I swear he was blushing a little.

  ‘Sorry, not interested.’

  He leaned over, handed me a slip of paper. ‘That is the proposed fee.’

  I glanced at it, trying not to look interested. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You want me to go back into shitty undercover work for that pittance?’

  ‘I see.’ He sat back, clasped his hands across his stomach. ‘You are making this difficult, deWinter.’

  ‘No. I’m just not interested.’ I stood up, about to walk out.

  ‘Sit down.’ His spooky voice seemed to make me go weak at the knees. I sat down. ‘You may consider the fee doubled.’

  ‘Wow, just how desperate are you guys?’ Suddenly I was tempted. It was a lot of money. I took a longer look at the mugshots on the desk. One of the guys sure wasn’t someone you’d want to meet on a dark foggy night. ‘Shit, I hope you don’t want me to get up close to him!’

  He smiled again. ‘No, its not him. So are you accepting the mission?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

  He sighed, a bit impatiently, tapped a finger onto one of the faces. ‘She’s the mark.’

  ‘Oh.’

  For a moment words failed me. She was stunning. Kind of took my breath away. I tried not to show it, but my single word came out a little croakily. ‘Ok.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  I tried to gather my thoughts before I spoke, so I could sound confident and assured. It wasn’t easy, suddenly thrown out of my comfort zone. For some reason I couldn’t understand, this one I wanted to get to know.

  I said yes, accepted the mission.

  A month later, I was to wish to god I'd stuck to my original decision...

  The watch on my wrist, a department-issued diamond-studded Rolex, told me it was almost seven. Anytime now Zana would walk through the door. The one I was trying so hard to stop looking at. A wave of uncertainty wafted through me. What if I fouled up somehow?

  I gave myself a mental slap. Madeline deWinter never failed an assignment, not ever. What was so different about this?

  Plenty.

  The department codenamed DIAL had identified seven marks, innocently blended into life in the capital for some time. But this was way different to anything they'd seen before. The seven had to be here for a major reason.

  They didn't have a clue what that reason was.

  They'd given me precious few details; said only what I needed to know. DIAL had been watching the seven for some time, and it was clear the only girl, Zana, was the kingpin. The others followed her lead, she called the shots. But as yet, no major incident had taken place.

  At least, not one that was common knowledge.

  Three weeks ago, an agent staking out one of the six men was killed. And everything changed. Now they'd committed murder, and intelligence decided it was likely because the agent had seen something he shouldn't. Now the buzz was that whatever they were planning, it could be close to kick-off.

  And still they didn't know what the threat was, so I’d been recruited to find out.

  From Zana.

  I ran slightly shaking hands through my long black hair, looked again at the diamond-encrusted watch which must have cost almost as much as the BMW i8 they'd also furnished me with. Zana was a class act; I had to look the part to stand any chance of gaining her confidence. The dark blue dress I was wearing was equal to anything in Ruth Negga’s wardrobe; even the simple white jacket covering it would have had an Oscar-nominee price tag attached to it a few hours ago.

  She was late. Every night after work she came at the same time, stayed for one hour. Sat at the bar, bought three drinks, was polite but attempted no conversation with anyone, left and went home.

  So why was she late, tonight of all nights?

  She wasn't late.

  I could feel her presence before I set eyes on her. She came into view, sat elegantly on a bar stool three seats away, greeted the bartender by name, and cast the briefest of glances at the girl to her right, who was trying so hard not to look.

  I couldn't not look. She was stunning.

  Impossibly tight black leather trousers shrink-wrapped perfect long legs. A short red leather jacket sat unbuttoned over a high-neck black top. Long blonde hair had been pulled back tightly into a simple ponytail. Her lipstick matched the red jacket perfectly, as did the high-heeled red shoes, and the Armani bag slung over her shoulder.

  I swallowed hard, starting to feel out of my depth before a single word had passed between us. I told myself I was here to do a job, nothing more. Telling yourself that is fine, but you’ve got to believe it to make it work for you. I watched her, hoping she didn’t know it, and made sure my drink was finished the same time she sipped the last of her martini.

  Then I turned to my mark, tipped the glass towards her. 'May I...?'

  She turned her head slowly, green eyes throwing out a look of total distain. 'Not interested.'

  'I only…'

  'Just get lost, ok?'

  Chapter 2

  I turned back to the bar without a word, feeling like I’d just been told off by teacher. It wasn't quite the reaction I'd expected. Ok, I hadn't known what to expect, but that sure wasn’t it.

  Now I didn't know what to do.

  The bartender handed me another drink. I sank far too big a gulp, and then hoped the girl sitting to my left hadn't noticed the growing panic. That really would have meant failure.

  I tried to think; Zana's rebuke wasn't making that so easy. If I approached her again now, it would be seen as pathetic and desperate. Endgame.

  I emptied the glass, much too quickly, still undecided on the next move. Was there even a next move? There was one option, something I really needed right then. I felt around the side of the Rolex for the little button that would call my backup, headed for the washroom foyer.

  A man sitting quietly in one corner of the bar gave it a minute, and then followed her. He found her pacing the small room, looking like she was in the middle of a panic attack. Ryland Cooper, DIAL agent of six years standing, had spoken out against enlisting her as soon as it was first suggested. And when he’d read her file, objected even more forcefully.

  He was well aware being a cold, heartless bitch was an advantage for the task she’d been given, but it was also the one thing that worried the hell out of him.

  When it came to judgement calls, sometimes a little heart helps to make the right decision.

  But high up the DIAL ranks as he was, it wasn’t high enough to influence the choice of agent. Duncan Scott made the call, and now he was stuck with her.

  I could see the second he walked through the foyer door he wasn’t exactly amused. 'What the hell, deWinter? She's only been here ten minutes, and you're pressing the panic button?'

  I glared angrily at the burly Jamaican-born man who'd spat out the words. 'Did you hear what she said?'

  'Course I heard. So what's the problem?'

  'Come on Coop, am I supposed to just ignore being told to fuck off?’

  He smiled sarcastically as he put his hand on the door to the gents. 'Well well, now I've heard it all. Madeline deWinter, never fails an assignment, queen of all she surveys, fallen on her pretty face in the dirt of the first hurdle. You a tige
r or a pussycat?'

  'This is different.'

  'How different, deWinter? ‘Cause you gotta be nice to someone?'

  I narrowed my eyes, about to retort. But he was right, so instead I looked away. ‘Maybe.’

  He put an arm around me, knowing I was struggling to cope with the unfamiliar territory I’d dived head-first into. His tone softened.

  'Get yourself back in there, Maddie. Best thing you can do… let her come to you. If she don't, well there's always tomorrow.' He turned away, headed for the washroom. 'And wipe that sweat off your brow, it ain't doin' you any favours.'

  'Hey, Coop.' The big man, already through the door, poked his head back around the frame.

  'Don't call me Maddie, ok?'

  In the washroom, I pulled a towel from the dispenser, and did as I was told. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. No one would ever believe what I did for a living. Despite my upbringing, my features were soft, feminine. Inside was the exact opposite, but most of humanity didn’t get to see that. To my marks, I looked like I wouldn’t hurt a fly, maybe another reason I was so good at my job.

  I gave myself a half-convincing killer smile, told my head I was far too good to fail a simple operation like this, and walked back into the bar.

  I almost froze to the spot, managed just in time to keep my cool.

  Zana was gone.

  I sat back on the stool, ordered another drink. Four huge red letters seemed to be blocking out any other vision.

  F.A.I.L.

  As first contacts go, this was a total disaster.

  I was so preoccupied with my perceived incompetence I didn't notice at first, until she spoke. 'You know what I like about you, Miss..?'

  I looked to my left, startled away from the depression. Zana was back on her stool, a very slight smile on her face. I took a moment to steady my voice.