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THE RED MIST TRILOGY: The Box Set

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by R T Green




  THE RED MIST TRILOGY

  FALLING

  PHOENIX

  FEARLESS

  R T Green

  Books by me…

  Red Mist: Falling

  Red Mist: Phoenix

  Red Mist: Fearless

  Ballistic

  Cry of an Angel

  (Book One of The Chronicles of Anael)

  The Hand of Time

  Reflection

  Raven: Born Wicked!

  Teletubby Resurrection

  Ellie’s Elf

  Copyright © 2019 R T Green

  All rights reserved.

  http://rtgreen.net

  Click here to get started...

  http://rtgreen.net/ballistic-offer

  Table of Contents

  EPISODE ONE: FALLING

  THE FINAL CURTAIN

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  THE FINAL CURTAIN

  Act 1

  Act 2

  Act 3

  Act 4

  Act 5

  THE FINAL ACT

  EPISODE TWO: PHOENIX

  THE WATCHER

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  EPISODE THREE: FEARLESS

  A COLD WINTER’S NIGHT

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

  Chapter 133

  Chapter 134

  Chapter 135

  Chapter 136

  Chapter 137

  Chapter 138

  Chapter 139

  Chapter 140

  Chapter 141

  Chapter 142

  Chapter 143

  Chapter 144

  Chapter 145

  Chapter 146

  Chapter 147

  Chapter 148

  Chapter 149

  Chapter 150

  Chapter 151

  Chapter 152

  Chapter 153

  Chapter 154

  Chapter 155

  Chapter 156

  Chapter 157

  Chapter 158

  Chapter 159

  Chapter 160

  Chapter 161

  Chapter 162

  Chapter 163

  Chapter 164

  Chapter 165

  Chapter 166

  Chapter 167

  Chapter 168

  Chapter 169

  Chapter 170

  Chapter 171

  Chapter 172

  Chapter 173

  Chapter 174

  Chapter 175

  Chapter 176

  Chapter 177

  Chapter 178

  Chapter 179

  Chapter 180

  Chapter 181

  Chapter 182

  Chapter 183

  Chapter 184

  Chapter 185

  Chapter 186

  Chapter 187

  Chapter 188

  Chapter 189

  INFINITY

  EPISODE ONE: 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 couldn’t see a damn thing otherwise.

  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 felt 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, or 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 her 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 something was unsettling me. Sweaty palms were not a symptom I ever experienced. Waiting on the 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 mug-shots 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 planning.’

  ‘You want me to take them all out?’

  ‘Oh no... no. Whilst I am only 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 could 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, ready 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 mug-shots 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, it’s 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.’

  I couldn’t seem to find anymore words. 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 u
ncertainty 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. Somehow they knew 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, 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. Her long blonde hair had been pulled back tightly into a simple ponytail. The lipstick matched the red jacket perfectly, as did the high-heeled red shoes, and the Armani bag slung over her shoulder.

 

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