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
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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 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.