THE RED MIST TRILOGY: The Box Set

by R T Green

  ‘Ok, I'll give you the facts. Fact one; Zana called me last night because she wanted to come home and she was over the limit to drive. Fact two; she called me because she trusts me. Fact three; that’s what you wanted, me to gain her trust.

  ‘Fact four; it fucks me right off when people don't trust me. I've done MI6's dirty work for five years now, and not failed once. So tagged phones and monkeys hiding in the shadows piss the hell out of me, ok?

  ‘Fact five; Zana said she needed a few days away. I doubt that was the truth. I picked her up from a late bar in Richmond. She was tired, slept all the way home. If I'd pumped her then I would have got nothing out of her. But now I know for sure she trusts me I can get more out of her. Are those enough hard facts for you, Scott?’

  ‘No.’ The little man put the now sparkling glasses back over his tiny eyes. ‘There's one fact missing. The suitcases?’

  I froze. The suitcases.

  My quick mind kicked back in. ‘She was driving a laboratory pool car, a white Mondeo. It was parked outside the bar. I transferred the cases into the BMW.’

  ‘Weight?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Weight. How did they feel?’

  ‘Um… just normal. There was stuff in them.’

  Duncan Scott turned his attention to his PC monitor. ‘Get out of my sight, deWinter. Give Coop the precise details of what went down last night. And next time you walk through that door, show a little more respect.’

  Ryland Cooper left his chair and shepherded me down the stairs. ‘Bit too much angst in that performance, Maddie,’ he said as we crossed the floor of the operations room.

  ‘You're not making sense, Coop.’

  ‘You're hiding something, deWinter. You ain't the first person to kick off in anger to cover up the truth. Let's go grab a coffee; you can tell Uncle Ryland all about it.’

  My heart sank. I thought I'd given a good performance to cover the lies. Maybe I wasn't as good an actor as I used to be.

  But now there was something else occupying my thoughts.

  Zana's single suitcase was still in the trunk of the BMW.

  Chapter 19

  We grabbed coffees and sat at a small table in the MI6 canteen. My mind was racing… until Scott had mentioned the suitcases I'd completely forgotten the one case that did come back with Zana was still in the car.

  And last night with all the high emotion flying around, so had she.

  But I breathed a mental sigh of relief, so glad now I'd put the case in the trunk. The car was sitting in the company car park two floors below us; if I'd slung it on the rear seat instead of the trunk it would only have taken one of the guys who knew the situation to glance inside the car.

  Then my deception would have been blown sky high.

  ‘Ok deWinter, spill.’ Ryland Cooper spoke curtly as he loaded three spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee.

  ‘You like a little coffee with your sugar, Coop?’

  ‘Quit with trying to change the subject, Maddie.’

  ‘I'm not. There is nothing to spill.’

  ‘That's pig-shit and you know it. I ain't been in this job six years without getting to know when folks are holding out on me.’

  ‘What is your job anyway, Coop? Just what do you guys actually do?’

  ‘All you need to know is that we nullify threats to innocent people before they materialize. That's your favourite word isn't it? Nullify?’

  ‘You've done your research.’

  The big man threw a slightly-sarcastic smile to me. ‘Oh yeah, I know things about you that you don't even know yourself.’

  I couldn't help thinking he’d hit the nail on the head even harder than he thought, given that just lately I was behaving like someone I didn't know. I decided not to say that out loud.

  ‘Look Coop, maybe… maybe getting to know Zana has made me see things a bit differently, that's all.’

  ‘Now you's terrifying me.’

  I grinned. ‘Can't ever imagine you terrified somehow. There's no problem, she's just… just different to any woman I've met before.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  The words were said quietly, but I noticed the slightly-uncomfortable look that passed over his face. ‘Ok Coop… so who's holding out on who here?’

  ‘You got all the facts you need. Just be happy your part in all this is helping to stop terrorism, whatever form that might take.’

  ‘And what is “whatever form that might take” supposed to mean?’

  He leaned forward, spoke the words slowly. ‘Listen good, Maddie - if this woman is getting under your skin then you gotta grab a knife and open yourself up so she gets out of you… while you still got the chance.’

  I smiled mirthlessly at the somewhat brutal analogy. ‘Don't think that will be necessary; last night she kicked me out, said she didn't want me around anymore.’

  ‘What? What the fuck did you do to her?’

  ‘Nothing. Well, we were getting a bit… intimate. She was loving it and then… then she wasn't.’

  ‘Fuck! This ain't good.’

  ‘You're saying fuck a lot again.’

  He sat back, blew out his cheeks. ‘If you've pissed her off, this whole goddam project could be in jeopardy. Geez, why do you have to be such a pain in my butt, deWinter?’

  ‘It was only last night, she'll be fine later.’

  ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘Pretty sure.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  Chapter 20

  I drove up the ramp and out of the MI6 car park, suffering from a severe attack of paranoid jitters. As I turned left into Albert Embankment and joined the tail of the traffic queue heading to the city of London, I couldn't help glancing in the rear view mirror every few seconds, expecting at any moment a car to come hammering up alongside, and a guy brandishing a gun screaming at me, ‘get out of the car and open the trunk!’

  I tried to shake the image knowing it was extremely unlikely to happen, but somehow as the minutes ticked by and the MI6 building was still in view behind me, it just wouldn't go away.

  I swore at the traffic crawling along at zero miles an hour and keeping me in the firing line, tried to laugh at myself because now I was saying fuck at least as much as Ryland Cooper did.

  But there was nothing even faintly amusing about the hole I was digging for myself, so I gave up trying to laugh it off and went back to saying fuck a whole lot more.

  There was no going back now. I'd given what seemed like an Oscar-winning performance to divert attention from the lies I was telling Duncan Scott, withheld what was very likely vital evidence, and given false information to the big man before we'd parted company.

  There I'd been lucky; I'd lied to Scott about picking up Zana from a late bar in Richmond… the same bar I'd been in a few weeks before. So at least I was able to give Ryland Cooper details of a place that did actually exist. And to cover my story further I'd said that Zana had been staying in a hotel but she hadn't said which one, and then called into the bar for one drink and ended up having one drink too many.

  More lies.

  More earth dug out of the hole getting deeper with each passing hour.

  The slow tortuous journey back to the apartment gave the sweat plenty of opportunity to bead on my brow again. The red hot suitcase in the trunk just wouldn't leave my thoughts. It was like it was torturing me as much as the London traffic. I wiped the sweat away… what was wrong with me? It was hardly a dead body in the trunk.

  Although if it had been, it probably wouldn't have bothered me half as much.

  After an hour of grim-faced frustration I finally made the drive to the apartment. I jumped out of the car, a bit too fast. Someone would for sure be watching, especially now. I checked myself, headed towards the trunk, then thought better of it.

  It wouldn't do for the monkey watching to see me pull a suitcase out of the car.

  I swore again, walked across the drive trying to devise a plan to get a case out of a car without someo
ne watching see me do it. Back in the apartment and ten minutes later, I still hadn't come up with anything.

  I had to disguise it somehow. The monkey wouldn't be too close but he might have bins. I'd parked the car near to the apartment block entrance, but there was still ten metres or so of clear space… ten seconds of time for prying eyes to watch my every move.

  Then I knew what to do. Frantic rummaging through a drawer in the kitchen discovered a tape measure. Fifteen minutes later I pulled into the local DIY superstore, backed the BMW into a space on the edge of the car park up against the perimeter fence so no one could see into the trunk, and opened the lid.

  I could feel my pulse again as my eyes fell onto the offending suitcase. A few more choice words spat themselves out as the paranoid jitters came back with a vengeance. I pulled out the tape, measured the case.

  In the store I looked for the cardboard box I needed… ok, the box that would contain something I would have to buy and didn’t need, but what the hell?

  I found it on the first shelf of the bright-orange-painted racking in the home heating section; a portable oil-filled radiator. I measured the box to be sure the suitcase would fit. At the checkout I grabbed a roll of clear tape, walked back to the car with my purchase held high for all to see.

  In the trunk I worked quickly; opened the box and removed the radiator, put the suitcase into the box and taped it up again. Back at the apartment I made sure I took my time lifting the box from the trunk, and walked proudly into the apartment block with it in full view.

  And then it was just me and the suitcase. I ripped open the box, lifted it out and placed it on the coffee table.

  Now I didn't know what to do. It might be locked, in which case I could do nothing. But lifting the lid might reveal something awful. Something I didn't want to see that would reveal what Zana was up to.

  The something really bad that might just break my recently-discovered heart.

  I stood, walked away from it, running shaking fingers through my hair.

  I had to know, didn't I?

  My eyes fell on the brandy bottle, I poured a big one. As I sat back down next to the case, I tipped back the glass and downed its contents in one go. And then I reminded myself staring at something doesn’t make it open all by itself.

  It was time to take the dive.

  Chapter 21

  Trembling hands that really didn't want to do what they were doing reached out to the innocent-looking blue leather case. Two double-thickness security straps bridged the zip, clasps with built-in locks preventing anyone from opening the lid.

  I removed the straps, my fingers feeling the coldness of the chrome release buttons, and then hesitated. Were they locked?

  Half of me wanted them to be.

  Two clicks.

  They weren't locked.

  That surprised me for a moment, but then I remembered Zana had no reason to lock it. She had never intended calling me or letting me anywhere near the suitcase… but something had happened on the hillside to make her want me by her side. Then exhaustion and emotion kicked in, and now I had the suitcase.

  Where the hell was the other one?

  The brandy bottle clattered against the glass as I tried to steady my hands to pour another big one. Just one wraparound zip, and I would see the contents of the case. To hell with it. I whipped open the zip, threw back the lid.

  I could feel my rapid breathing as my eyes scanned the contents. I didn't know what I expected to see, but it sure as hell wasn't what I was looking at.

  I could tell straightaway the case was full of clothes; a few other bits and bobs. Exactly what you would expect a girl to pack for a few days away.

  But it was the items sitting on the top that had quickened my pulse-rate.

  Carefully I lifted them out, put the suitcase onto the floor so I could spread them out on the coffee table. That was nowhere near big enough so I used the floor instead. I arranged them in order, crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees. And then I could see the whole picture.

  Spread out in front of me was a full set of ordnance survey maps of London. And I knew what she'd been doing with her time away.

  Sightseeing.

  In a manner of speaking.

  Strategic points had been circled with a red felt pen. I noted the locations as I crawled across the maps, seeing more and more. It didn't take long to work out there was a pattern emerging. The common denominator was easy to see; the why was a lot more difficult to explain.

  Zana had marked every hill in London.

  I sat back on my legs, fighting to understand what she could possibly want from the high ground she'd clearly been driving around viewing over the past three days. It wasn't making sense. If she was a terrorist, was her plan to fire a rocket at The Shard or some other landmark building?

  You wouldn't get a big enough rocket in the missing suitcase.

  I sat back on the sofa, churning over scenarios once more. Maybe she'd liaised with her compatriots? No, that couldn't be… their observers said they hadn't changed their routines in the time she was away.

  Whatever she was doing, it looked like a solo project.

  'I'm doing it because of you, Madeline,' she'd said. Hardly the bitter words of a war-hardened terrorist.

  I gave up trying to make sense of the new piece of the jigsaw, folded up the maps and placed them back in the suitcase exactly as they had been, then closed the lid. As the afternoon sun headed close to the horizon, I stood once more at the window gazing at Zana's apartment, still no nearer to understanding why she was here.

  Or even understanding her.

  But I had discovered one hard and crucial fact. Whatever the really bad thing was she was going to do, I now knew where she was going to do it.

  One of the red circles had been marked with a big black cross.

  Dawson's Hill.

  Chapter 22

  My butt was firmly planted on the barstool that was beginning to feel like my second home. Today was Wednesday, the day Zana said we would next meet up. Although that was before the unexpected call and the rescue mission to Dawson's Hill.

  I had a feeling she wouldn't show, and I was right. I left the bar at nine and took a slow walk home. It was lousy weather again, a cold late autumn rain freezing me to the bone.

  I knew it wasn't just the rain.

  I'd felt sure the phone would ring, and on the other end a remorseful and apologetic Zana would have begged me to go to her so she could make up. Now as I walked along the rain-drenched paving I was starting to realise there was a side to her that wasn't so good to know.

  And somehow that was making the shivers difficult to stop.

  I knew I could call her; the thought crossed my mind a few times as I'd sat alone at the bar. But I was reluctant, for two reasons. 'Let her come to you,' Coop had said, and he was right the first time. And sooner or later she'd have to call me, the suitcase and her in different places.

  The case was the second reason. I could have used it as an excuse to call, but a better plan would be to pretend when she did ask for it, that I'd completely forgotten it was there.

  But back in the apartment with the time drifting slowly past eleven, my resolve was crumbling. I wasn't helping the cause, standing at the window looking across to Zana's windows. I could see the lights were on; she was home and hadn't closed the drapes.

  She was awake. Just a few keys pressed and I could talk to her.

  I dragged myself away from the window, sat back on the sofa staring blankly at the DIAL phone and my own, sitting next to each other in silence. The urge to call her was getting stronger; I walked away again, but this time to the bathroom. It was time to try for sleep, even thought just lately that seemed to consist of fitful bursts punctuating hours of being awake.

  I was just heading for the bedroom when the phone rang. My own phone, thankfully.

  Zana.

  Damn it hand... why do you spend half your time shaking like a leaf? Somehow I managed to press accept.<
br />
  ‘I need my suitcase, Madeline.’ She sounded distant, cold.

  ‘Suitcase?’

  ‘The one in your trunk?’

  ‘Shit, I'd completely forgotten it was there.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah; I'm so glad you called. How are…’

  ‘I just want the suitcase please.’

  I swallowed hard. She was talking in monotone and it hurt like hell. ‘I can bring it to you but it will have to be now or tomorrow night… I'm away early in the morning.’

  ‘Now's fine.’

  She was gone.

  I threw the phone on the sofa, buried my face in my hands. The awful feeling in my gut was there again, but this time something else was mixed in. She was cold towards me, not the way I expected her to be.

  It hurt. Really hurt.

  I'd already thought fast; the only way to keep the truth from prying eyes was to carry on the cardboard box deception, and that was a lot easier in the dark. I loaded the case back into the radiator box and taped it up again. I was a little over the limit for driving but it wouldn’t have to matter. Two minutes in the car was all it would take to get there.

  I turned into Zana's driveway, saw there was a parking space close to the foyer. I grabbed the box, stood outside the entrance and called her. The lock clicked as she pressed the switch in her apartment, this time I took the lift to the top floor. But as the doors pinged open, something slightly important occurred to me.

  Quickly I pressed the button for the ground floor, and as the doors closed ripped open the box. Ok, I was taking Zana's suitcase back, but she might find it a little suspicious if I presented it to her packed in a cardboard box.

  I separated the case from the giveaway packaging, and as the doors opened on the ground floor pressed the button for the second floor. Somehow I had to get rid of the box. There were only two penthouses on Zana's floor, and I didn't want to be walking around close to her door with evidence there wouldn't be a hope in hell of explaining away should she see me and spot it! Maybe there would be somewhere to stash it on one of the other floors.