RED MIST FALLING

by Richard T Green

  'It's Madeline.'

  Her eyes narrowed, glanced down to my left hand. 'Miss…?' she asked again.

  'deWinter.'

  'What I like about you, Miss deWinter…' She spun a little on the stool to face me. 'Is that I knocked you back, and you took it on the chin.'

  'Sorry?'

  'I watched you. I didn't faze you; you just turned away and left me alone.'

  'They say god loves a tryer though.'

  She laughed, a husky sexy laugh that made me think about running to the washroom for another towel. 'But you see Miss deWinter, there are tryers and then there are infuriating little children who annoy the hell out of me.'

  'I left you alone. That makes me neither of those.'

  She slipped effortlessly off the stool, and back onto the one next to mine. 'Oh, I got the feeling you hadn't finished with me.'

  I looked at her, a flawless beauty even more perfect now she was close up and personal. Somehow she was intimidating, intoxicating. I found a few words, relieved that my voice was steady. 'But you decided to step in first.'

  'I like being in control.'

  Zana’s eyes dropped to my wrist, slender fingers pulling back the sleeve of the jacket so she could get a better look at the Rolex. 'So what line of work are you in, Miss deWinter?'

  'Human resources.'

  She raised her eyebrows, scanned the expensive dress. 'You must be at the very top of your profession. Do you specialise?'

  I smiled, confidence suddenly growing. 'Oh, slave-trafficking, a little sideline in illegal immigrants, that kind of thing.'

  For a moment her eyes narrowed, she bore a stare into me that smacked straight into my brain.

  'I like a woman with a sense of humour.' She slipped off the high bar stool, hitching the Armani bag across her shoulder.

  'See you around, Madeline.'

  She took me by surprise, halfway to the door before I could utter a syllable. For a moment I thought about following, and then remembered her words, knew I was being tested.

  Running after her now would ruin everything.

  There was always tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  The bed felt good. Laying there uncovered, hands behind my head, a kind of satisfied half-smile crept over my face.

  The smile was painted on, covering up a lot of more confusing issues.

  I'd been close to pickup suicide tonight, but I'd seen it through and come out the other side. And considering the adversary I was matched against, that was an achievement in itself.

  That was the good bit.

  I didn’t dwell on the near-panic I'd experienced, the sweat I'd had to wipe from my brow, and the intimidated way Zana had made me feel.

  That was the confusing bit.

  Madeline deWinter didn’t get intimidated, not by anyone. There was nothing left of me to get intimidated. So why now? That was easy to explain. I’d been asked to make friends with my mark, gain her confidence in the desperate hope she would give something away. I didn’t do friends, so right off the bat I was at a disadvantage.

  So just stop worrying.

  I forced my thoughts back to the end result, and to the next evening when I knew we would meet again. That brought up another mental image I didn’t want right then. The smile Zana gave me as she left.

  The smile.

  A nervous uncertain feeling tightened my stomach again. Fuck this... there was no reason for it. I felt unsettled, and it made sleep impossible. Another ten minutes did nothing but make everything worse, so I slipped out of bed, poured a brandy, and opened the blinds to gaze through the full-length windows at the London skyline.

  The apartment, temporarily-acquired by the department, was on the twelfth floor. It offered a panoramic view of what were mostly low-rise buildings below. That made me feel a little better, standing there glass in hand, knowing no one was close enough to see my nakedness as I surveyed my kingdom.

  The fantasy didn't last long.

  DIAL had deliberately chosen the place because it was in close proximity to Zana's. She occupied the top floor of a six-storey luxury apartment block.

  In a straight line, six hundred metres from where I stood.

  I tried, forced my eyes to look at anything except the block, standing taller than the buildings immediately around it. No chance.

  My eyes were drawn to the top floor, and the feeling of nervous dread hit me like a sledgehammer. Zana’s windows were tinted, but I could tell low lights were on. The drapes hadn’t been closed.

  She was awake.

  I glanced at the Rolex, the only thing I was wearing because I couldn’t bring myself to take it off. Three in the morning. What was she doing?

  I stood there an age, transfixed. No thoughts ran through my mind - not logical ones anyway - just a great big nothingness as I stared at the tinted windows, unable to look away. I'd long since emptied the glass, yet still I held it between my breasts, the coolness of the glass strangely comforting.

  Something weird was going on, something I couldn't understand. The department had warned me to be careful, said Zana might possess special abilities. Surely they couldn't be at work already?

  As the first light of dawn filtered through the jagged London skyline, I finally turned away. I had to try get some sleep.

  Tonight the coliseum was my destiny once more.

  To face the greatest foe I'd ever known.

  Chapter 4

  I played it a little differently that evening, left it a half-hour after Zana’s arrival so she might start to think I wouldn’t show. That wouldn’t faze her in the slightest, but even so I wasn’t going to be the one to do the waiting.

  A spotter had already told me the precise minute she had arrived. I walked confidently through the heavy mahogany door, saw her sitting at the bar, cursed myself as the nervous feeling wafted through me yet again, and switched on the smile.

  'This time I insist,' I said, making sure I spoke before she saw me.

  It was like she knew I was there. Nothing moved other than her head, turning deliberately slowly. 'This time you may,' she replied quietly.

  I sat on the next stool, beckoned to the bartended as I pulled a wad of notes from a leather purse. I glanced to Zana, just one second enough to take everything in. Tonight the ponytail was gone, and silky highlighted blonde hair framed her face, just the faintest of curl shimmering in the lights from the bar as it fell below her shoulders.

  She wore a simple red dress that perfectly fitted her curves, the hemline just below the knee. The red shoes I would come to know so well, again matched perfectly. Her flawless skin was so olive it almost had a tinge of green. A large silver pendant hung around her neck; there were no rings on her fingers.

  She wasn’t looking at me, seemed lost in thought. I slid the glass with the martini inside along the bar top in front of her; she looked at it and finally smiled. 'You are very observant, Miss deWinter.'

  'I make it my business to know what my friends like.' I cringed inside. That wasn't the best line ever uttered. Zana didn't seem impressed either.

  'Don't patronize me, Madeline. You only know what I like to drink because you spent last night watching my every move out of the corner of your eye.'

  'If you know that, you must have been doing the same.'

  'Maybe I was.' She took a sip of the martini, steered the conversation away. 'You are a little later tonight. Had trouble with a consignment of immigrants?'

  'No, I wanted you to arrive first.'

  She smiled, the words hitting her sweet spot. She looked at me, sudden warmth in her eyes. 'I see I am important enough for you to bother to formulate a master-plan.'

  'If I told you I was doing that at three this morning, would you think of me as pathetic and desperate for friends?'

  'Not at all. I would say you had good taste.'

  'Then you also possess good observational skills.'

  Zana spun round so we were facing each other, our knees almost touching, and pierced an unfaltering stare int
o me. 'So what do you intend doing with me, Miss deWinter?'

  She'd floored me, again. Nobody was ever that blunt. One sentence and I knew for sure I’d met my match. And I knew the blood was pulsing through my veins so hard I could hear it like a drum in my ears.

  Somehow I held her stare, didn't answer straight away. Things were forming in my mind, words I couldn’t believe I was about to say. What the hell was happening here? Were these crazy thoughts about to get me a slap in the face, when I suddenly blurted it all out? Zana seemed to like the blunt honest approach. So to hell with it, that’s what I'd give back.

  'My immaculately-formed master-plan has three elements. Firstly, find out your name. Second, lavish my well-honed feminine charm on you, until you realise how totally irresistible I am. Third, make you come so hard you scream for mercy.'

  For a second or two I thought it was a step too far. My mouth went dry, the letters F.A.I.L formed magically in front of my eyes once again. Zana stared back, her eyes emotionless.

  Then she slipped off the barstool, stood sideways to me, our bodies just touching. A delicate finger drifted through my hair, gently hooking it behind my ear. I could feel her warm breath on the side of my face, our heads so close. Still her expression gave nothing away, as she spoke in a low husky voice. 'Stage one will be easy for you, Madeline.'

  I swallowed as hard as I dare without it being noticed, the closeness of her almost too much to bear. For some God-forsaken reason I wanted to reach out, touch her. My arms wouldn't work.

  It wasn't me who did the touching.

  Soft full lips pressed against mine, tasted so sweet, just for the tiniest of moments before they were pulled away. 'You can call me Zana. But be careful what else you wish for.'

  I closed my eyes, so wanting the touch of her lips again.

  When I opened them, she was gone.

  Chapter 5

  I love this BMW. Shame its only mine for the gig... however long that is. It almost drove itself as I turned off Albert Embankment and headed down the steeply-sloping concrete drive to the barrier at the entrance of the car park underneath the MI6 building. I swiped the pass, couldn’t help a smile creasing my face as I floored the throttle and the tyres squealed in the echoing void of the big low-ceilinged basement.

  A few seconds in the lift, and I stepped slowly through the four-sided electronic security screen into the big open-plan operations room that was DIAL's domain. A young technician saw me arrive, I groaned silently as he smiled. 'Hi Madeline,' he said, expecting me to stop and chat. Last week, in a moment of out-of-character weakness, I’d agreed to go for drinks with him. He’d probably thought it was a date. And by the look in his eyes now, the pathetic fool was likely thinking I was about to arrange a second one.

  'Oh hi… hi,' I said, trying not to look at him as I walked by. I couldn’t remember his name.

  I never remembered their names.

  I ran the steps to the director's office, set higher off the floor so he could watch over his hi-tech empire through the big glass windows. There were three people in the room.

  'Ah, glad you could finally make it, deWinter.'

  Duncan Scott looked up from the papers he was studying, narrowed his piggy-eyes at me, and spoke in a curt tone. A small balding man, he was dressed as always in a finely-tailored black suit, white shirt and red bowtie. Gold half-round spectacles gave him a slightly caricatured look, but those who crossed him knew only too well there was nothing amusing about DIAL's commander-in-chief.

  My eyes focused on the bowtie, I couldn't help it. What the hell is it with red just lately? 'Sorry sir, traffic was crap.'

  'And do you consider that an excuse, agent?'

  The voice was spooky; there was no better word to describe it. After our first meeting four weeks ago, it crossed my mind the chief was in the wrong job. With an eerie voice like that he could easily have been an A-list movie star. But somehow it was a voice that numbed me into submission, and the only words I could find were a timid, 'No sir.'

  'Perhaps then, it is a good job you're only on temporary assignment to my department, deWinter.' The eerie voice was cold, stark. Again I felt like a naughty schoolgirl brought up in front of the headmaster. 'Coop tells me you made… um, second contact last night.'

  Ryland Cooper, sitting in a chair on the far side of the room, laughed out loud. 'Perhaps I should have said sir, it was more Zana who made contact.'

  I threw him an angry look. 'You get off on being a voyeur, Coop?'

  'Think yourself lucky, deWinter,' he sent back. 'Someone had to pick your credibility off the floor the previous night, and shove it back up your dress.'

  I couldn't stop a wry smile, although I would have liked to. 'Give you that one, Coop.'

  'Would someone like to tell me exactly what went on?' The chill-inducing voice forced both of our attentions back to the big silver metal desk, which made the little man sitting behind it look even smaller.

  'There's not much to tell, sir,' I offered, wondering if my homework would please teacher. 'We made second contact last night. It went well, I will take things further this evening, with a view to meeting her away from the bar.'

  Duncan Scott's little round eyes peered over the top of the half-spectacles. 'So what did Coop mean by, “Zana made contact”?'

  The spasm of griping tension I was starting to get familiar with was suddenly back. 'Just before she left sir. She, kind of… kissed me.'

  'Hmph.' Duncan Scott went back to the papers he was studying. 'You appear to be over-succeeding in your mission.'

  'Sorry sir.'

  'However, that's not why you are here today. Miles has some new information you need to be privy to. Your ball, agent.'

  'Thank you, sir.' Miles Courtney, Ryland Cooper's awfully-English sidekick, brushed slightly-too-long sandy hair from a pale thin face. 'We picked up a radio transmission from Zana's apartment last night…'

  'Hold on,' I interrupted. 'She's been there six months, why wasn't I told she was transmitting before?'

  'Because she wasn't, dear girl.'

  'Come on!'

  He looked slightly embarrassed. 'Well, she probably was, last night's was the first we managed to intercept.'

  'Are you serious?'

  Duncan Scott stepped in. 'Reel yourself in, deWinter. She's been using a band frequency we've never come across before. One of the techies discovered it by accident. Now we know how to intercept it, she can be monitored.'

  My heart sank to the floor, I wasn't sure why. 'So you don't need me now. You can get all you need from the transmissions.'

  ''Fraid not, old girl,' said Miles. 'She's using some kind of code or weird language. The bofs are on it now, but so far there's not the faintest sniff of cracking it. So we still need you and your lips.'

  'Funny guy.'

  'So.' The chief's single syllable word silenced us both. 'We need you in that apartment, deWinter. Use that feminine charm of yours, or whatever means your devious mind can conceive, to persuade Zana to entertain you in her pad. We need to find what she's using to make these transmissions, see if there are any call-logs.'

  'So you're asking me to snoop around while she's not looking?' I couldn’t help it, the words were tinged with a touch of sarcasm. Ok, maybe more than a touch, based on the assumption Zana would know everything that was going on within a fifty metre radius.

  'Precisely.'

  'No pressure then.'

  The boss’s face changed, and a look of disbelief and anger bore its way into my brain. 'Do you think you're the only one under pressure, deWinter? This has the potential to be the biggest ever threat to the UK, and up to now we don't have the foggiest idea what they're even doing here. If you don't have the balls to see this through agent, then hand me your badge and walk away right now.'

  My heart did its impression of a piston engine again. Here was the chance to walk away.

  I couldn't.

  'I have the balls, sir.'

  'Then get out of my sight, and go preen yoursel
f or whatever you do to make yourself irresistible.'

  It seemed the meeting was over. The chief spun his chair away from the others, the two field-agents made their way to the door. 'Watch your back, Maddie,' Ryland Cooper smiled as he walked by. 'For some god-forsaken reason I seem to care about your well-being.'

  'I'll watch it,' I grinned back as the two men started down the steps. 'Just don't call me Maddie!' I headed to the door to follow them, but the voice from hell stopped me dead.

  'deWinter!'

  The chief had pulled a long black overcoat from a tall cloaks cupboard, and was wrapping it around his shoulders. 'Walk with me.'

  Together we cleared the steps, and made our way slowly across the vast room. 'I have no intention of giving you precise instructions on how to extract the necessary information from Zana,' Scott spoke quietly. 'I am sure you have devious and time-honoured methods that work for you. And frankly I have no desire to know the gory details.' He stopped walking, turned to me with an intense piggy-eyed stare. 'But I need to say this, deWinter. Your task is to get to know Zana… well. However, in such an unprecedented situation, there are limits. You understand you mustn't… um…'

  'I'm aware sir. I don’t bat for that team.'

  The stare got even more piercing. 'I hope you are aware, deWinter. It would be a catastrophe of epic proportions if somehow it got out that…'

  'Sir… trust me.'

  Chapter 6

  I sat on the bar stool that seemed to have my name on it, a slight smile on my face. Somehow this evening I felt more confident. As I waited for Zana to arrive, my mind had drifted back a day. I couldn't stop it… I'd been replaying the key moment over and over in the last twenty-four hours.

  The moment Zana kissed me; a touch of lips that lasted less than a second, but still dominated my memory a full day later. Why? Why did it happen at all… and why was I still thinking about it?

  It crossed my mind for a fleeting moment that maybe it was Zana playing me, but that didn't sit too easy so I dismissed it straightaway. And I didn't dwell on the fact I'd actually done very little so far. Or the even-more-embarrassing fact my mark was the one making all the running.