THE RED MIST TRILOGY: The Box Set

by R T Green

  I groaned as I stepped out of the lift, a suitcase in one hand and a ripped-apart cardboard box in the other, praying no one was around. Ahead of me a long carpeted walkway had a few doors leading off either side; nothing else punctuated the space. Nowhere to dump a large unwanted box.

  I could see a small window at the far end. Hoping it had an opening light, I headed for it as quietly as possible. It was almost midnight, and not a lot of other sounds around to drown out mine.

  Another groan as I reached the window. It did have an opening frame, but if it had been any smaller it wouldn't have existed at all.

  Nothing else for it, feeling like the total moron Ryland Cooper had a habit of calling me, I lay the box on the ground and began to stand all over it to flatten it out. I felt like jumping on it from a great height and screaming insane obscenities, but that would for sure have resulted in a head poked round a door somewhere, and a frightened resident calling the men in white coats.

  So I reigned in my frustrations, and finally the box was small enough to push through the tiny opening. The glass was obscure, couldn't see where it landed, but I didn't care. Heading for the lift once more, I breathed an unavoidable sigh of relief that the suitcase and the cardboard box had finally parted company forever.

  Chapter 23

  I pressed Zana's buzzer, the mother of all bad feelings welling over me. Somehow I knew I wasn't going to like this one bit.

  In seconds the door was open. ‘Thank you, Madeline,’ she said as she took the case, her voice emotionless. She wouldn't look into my eyes.

  She always looked me in the eyes.

  I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Her face was strained, hollow. Her eyes looked swollen like she'd been crying. I wanted so much to reach out, pull her into me. I knew she would push me away.

  ‘Can I come in… we can't talk out here.’

  She didn't move. ‘There's no talking to do.’

  ‘I think there is; something's wrong Zana, I want to help.’

  ‘Right now the only thing wrong is you and me, Madeline.’

  Her words were tearing me apart. I couldn’t understand her, couldn’t understand the desperate panic filling my senses. ‘That's bullshit and you know it. You and me, we're… we're a perfect match.’

  She laughed, a mirthless sarcastic sound that speared into my soul. ‘Perfect match? Oh if only you knew.’

  ‘I don't know though, do I Zana? I don't know anything because you're holding out on me.’

  ‘Me holding out? That's ripe.’ She began to close the door. ‘I'm tired Madeline; thank you for bringing me the suitcase.’

  ‘Wait…’ I put a hand on the door to stop it closing. ‘At least let us meet… in the bar, tomorrow?’

  She fixed a cold stare at my hand on her door. After a few seconds with neither of us moving, I took it away.

  ‘Am I not making things clear?’ she said, her voice shaking and her eyes misting over. ‘You and me. It's over.’

  The door closed.

  Our conversation was done.

  Chapter 24

  I had a problem. A wrecking-ball kind of problem, that smacks you in the face with a ton weight of harsh reality, mashes your head to pulp, and leaves you with nowhere to run.

  Harsh reality number one – I’d betrayed my departmental oath, withheld vital evidence, lied through my teeth to my superiors and… for what?

  For a woman who had now dumped me.

  I was in too deep. I couldn't look Duncan Scott in the eye and confess all, I'd already committed the crime. MI6 didn't make public knowledge of what it did to agents who went rogue, but I knew it wouldn't be pretty. It might be downright ugly.

  But that was only the chain on the wrecking-ball. What was really scaring the shit out of me was harsh reality number two.

  The look on Zana's face.

  Ok, she'd spoken in cold monotones and made it as clear as glass she didn't want to know me anymore. Except that want was the wrong word… my newly-discovered feelings were telling me there was a lot more to Zana's goodbye than her emotionless words would have me believe.

  I had her to thank for that. Two weeks ago in the same situation I would have said something like 'fuck you', and walked away without a second thought.

  Now I just felt alone.

  I spent most of the day wearing holes in the apartment carpet, pacing up and down trying to understand what was going on. She'd looked awful, standing at the door to her penthouse. Her eyes were red from the tears, she must have been tearing herself to bits over something. It could only mean saying goodbye wasn't what she wanted, more a decision she felt she'd had to make.

  Why? Was the really bad thing about to happen? Was it some misguided act to protect me? She'd said she was doing it because of me… what the hell did that mean?

  It was five in the afternoon when I finally made a decision. I had to see this through, discover what it was she was intent on doing. And then… then what?

  That all depended on the truth. If it turned out she was an evil heartless terrorist about to kill thousands of innocent people, and I stopped it from happening, then I could maybe redeem myself with the department and have the satisfaction of seeing her punished for intent to kill.

  If becoming a mass murderer wasn't on her agenda… that could be where the problem really kicked in. Already I could visualise more scenarios, more uncertainties. That bridge would have to be crossed when I came to it. If I came to it.

  But I knew one thing for sure. For me now this was a solo mission. It was far too late to admit everything. Leaving aside what the department would actually do to me, the one certainty was that I'd be taken off the job faster than I could blink.

  That I couldn't bear. Despite her harsh words, I knew Zana still needed me.

  I held my hands up in front of my face; a slight shake in them but nothing too bad. I was going to need steady hands, and a rock-steady resolve. This wasn't going to be easy. The mission now was to save Zana from herself, stop a really bad thing from happening… and do it all without the prying eyes of DIAL discovering my betrayal. No pressure then.

  Now I really felt alone.

  The moon rose above the skyline, casting a strange orange light across the apartment floor as I prepared for the first stage of the plan. I was just changing into some dark clothes when the phone screamed at me from the coffee table. The DIAL phone, so it likely wasn't Zana.

  Ryland Cooper's voice filled my eardrum. ‘I assume you and the gorgeous blonde are all luvved-up again now, deWinter?’

  ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘She dumped me last night.’

  The voice went silent for a few seconds. ‘This ain't the best news I could have got, Maddie.’

  ‘I expected a fuck in there somewhere, Coop.’

  ‘Ok. You’re a fucking moronic pussycat. What you gonna do about it?’

  ‘Not sure yet.’

  ‘Fuck! Get yourself back in there girl… beg, plead, use all that sexy charm of yours… whatever it takes. You gotta get this back on.’

  ‘Ever thought maybe you're wrong about her?

  ‘Not a chance. She's here for some bad reason for sure.’

  ‘How do you know? How did you identify her as a risk in the first place?’

  Again the voice hesitated. ‘That ain't for your ears.’

  ‘You're not helping here, Coop.’

  ‘You gonna get your tight ass back over there, or have I gotta come and drag you there myself?’

  ‘I will, but not today. Let her stew for twenty-four hours. She might come to me, that's your advice after all.’

  ‘Fair point. But no longer than that; we're running out of time here. Someone's gotta come up with the goods, and right now unfortunately that’s you.’

  ‘Nice to know you have such unbreakable faith in me.’

  ‘Do what you're paid to do and I'll be your best friend for life, Maddie.’

  I booted up the laptop, studied the satellite images of D
awson's Hill. Then I found a detailed online visitor map of the nature reserve, and memorized every detail of that. The small building in the clearing was marked on the map, the park café. I noticed there was a second entrance to the park, filed it in my brain.

  There was nothing remarkable about the hill, just the view it gave across London. No obvious feature that would be of interest to Zana, or any other terrorist come to that. But the furtive glance she threw at the café as we passed in the darkness the other night told me there had to be something about that building worth investigating.

  I checked the Rolex; not yet nine. Another hour and I'd set off for Dawson's Hill. The plan forming in my mind had a thousand uncertainties, but the first step was clear enough.

  Find out if the second suitcase was stashed somewhere in that café.

  Chapter 25

  I turned out of the apartment drive the opposite way from the last time I'd driven to Dawson's Hill. I was going to lead my tail a merry dance through the late evening London traffic before heading south. I had to lose the watchers without them realizing it was intentional.

  It was a frustrating hour sitting in traffic queues which this time I deliberately sought. Three times I stopped; once for fuel, twice more at small supermarkets I found along the way.

  Five times I backtracked a little, scanning the cars coming the other way for anyone who looked at little suspect. One time I thought I saw them, noted the make and colour of the car so I’d know what to look out for.

  I began to head back towards the apartment, but then turned down a side street, threw three right turns and then a left to put me back on the main road heading south. There was less traffic then; I watched the rear view mirror closely. They weren't following.

  An hour later I made Dunstons Road, but drove past the main entrance to the park, took a right turn into a smaller street, and found the second entrance.

  I wasn't sure why. Somehow the relatively open space of the main entrance spooked me a little. Here the access was no more than a narrow gateway, blanketed by tall trees.

  Just gone midnight. There shouldn't be anyone around other than maybe the odd insomniac dog-walker. That wasn't likely either; a hard frost covered the ground in a white haze, glistening in the light of the full moon.

  I grabbed the torch and a small toolkit from the passenger seat, headed into the trees. The gravel pathway crunched beneath my feet, sounded like thunder in the still night air. The trees thinned out, and then I was in open space, climbing higher, heading for the pathway I'd taken the first time. Below me to the south, the long narrow lake with the smart apartment blocks built on one side sparkled as it reflected the moon like a perfect mirror; in front of me a Snowy Owl hooted a greeting as it swooped majestically over the hill. It was all quite beautiful.

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  Not so long ago I would never even have noticed such things.

  I rejoined the path I knew, and headed into trees once more. Ahead of me I could make out the clearing, the full moon illuminating the space like an overhead spotlight. I shivered, and not because of the sub-zero temperature. The dark shape of the café loomed closer, and that damned feeling was back.

  I took a long look around; the park seemed deserted. The building was made from machined logs, the front wall punctuated in the centre by two wide Georgian glass doors, a notice pinned across them.

  Park Café. Closed for the winter.

  It was starting to make sense. From Zana's point of view. If she had stashed something here, it was unlikely to be found. I shone the torch through the glass. An L-shaped space formed the main cafe, a few pine tables and chairs dotted around. A serving counter with glass-fronted display cabinets filled the opposite wall. Behind that I could see a door, which must lead to the kitchen and food prep area.

  There had to be a rear door. The building backed onto the trees, giving plenty of cover for anyone who wanted to gain rear access without it being obvious. Which right then was me. I slipped around the corners of the pine-log building, back into the darkness.

  I found the door, shone the torch onto the handle. A simple padlock was all that stood between me and the possibility of finding the next piece of the jigsaw. So easy to open, with the right tool.

  I laid the leather tool-bag on the ground, picked up a tiny serrated prong, and reached out for the padlock.

  I froze. As my fingers touched the lock, the clasp dropped open.

  The café owner had maybe been very careless and not seated the clasp right before turning the key. Or someone had already done what I was about to, and when they'd left pushed the clasp back into its hole but not far enough for it to lock.

  So it would appear locked to anyone who might glance casually at it, but be easier to get in when whoever it was came back a second time.

  Chapter 26

  Slowly I stepped inside the dark building, closing the door behind me. I didn't think anyone would be around at this time of night, but an outside door hanging open wasn't a risk worth taking.

  I was in a storeroom. A small walk-in fridge occupied one corner, its door open now the café was closed up. A few large cans of produce sat on mostly-empty shelves, everything else likely removed for the winter. I hung my head around the fridge door, there was nothing inside.

  Through a doorway I found a small commercial kitchen, all stainless steel that felt cold to my touch as I ran fingers across the smooth countertops. I walked through to the café itself, the service counter in one corner and the dining area with its solid pine tables and chairs at the front.

  Quickly I familiarized myself with the layout; the double glass doors opening out into the clearing in the trees, no other doors leading off the dining area. Moonlight so bright it cast shadows streamed through the doors and the two windows each side of them, giving the silent café a ghostly feel. I shuddered, a sudden image filling my mind of some kind of apparition hiding in a dark corner watching my every move.

  I laughed at myself to shake the thought. But it brought the nausea back, and a sickening uneasy feeling because dark empty buildings had never spooked me before.

  What was going on with me?

  I turned back to the kitchen, and then noticed another door next to the service counter. A staff washroom, with a toilet and hand-wash basin. Nowhere to hide a suitcase.

  The glass display cabinets on the service counter sat above cupboards, so I slid back the doors. Storage for crockery, nothing that shouldn't be there. If the case was anywhere, it had to be in the kitchen.

  A run of steel base cupboards sat next to a range cooker. Four large pull-out drawers. The first two contained pots and pans, the third was rammed full of kitchen utensils.

  The fourth was rammed full of a blue leather suitcase.

  I cried out involuntarily, turned away from it, put a hand across my mouth. Part of me had wished the case wasn't there, hoping my hunch about the café was a false one. Now I could no longer deny the truth. Something was going to happen here, and Zana was the one with her finger on the trigger.

  My heart sinking through the floor, I turned back to the case. My senses were numb. The only thing that existed in the whole world right then was the suitcase. Hands on autopilot reached out to the clasps.

  It was locked.

  I slumped to the floor, wrapped my hands around my head. The tears tried to come, I wouldn’t let them. My mind racing, I desperately tried to think rational thoughts despite all the crazy stuff flashing through it. If I forced open the case, Zana would realise as soon as she saw it. But I had to know what was inside. Was it some kind of explosive device?

  Idiot. Moron. Blowing a closed-up park café was hardly a major terrorist incident.

  But then the dread was back. And it filled my whole body with horror, made me feel physically sick. Suddenly I knew, and the realization turned my soul to stone.

  Zana worked in bio-genetic research. All of the seven marks were involved in one form or another with human biology. It could only mean one t
hing.

  I knew then what was in the case. And the reason it was hidden on a hill to the south of the city of London. The perfect location, with its uninterrupted view of the metropolis where a million people lived and worked.

  A suitcase with a horrific mission, waiting patiently for the ideal wind conditions, when its owner would come, unlock the clasps, and release the deadly contents.

  I closed the metal drawer, a million needles pricking my skin as I moved away to put some distance between me and the case. Now I knew what the really bad thing was, 'really bad' didn't even begin to describe it.

  Blindly I stumbled back into the main cafe, horrendous thoughts hammering hell out of my brain. I couldn’t keep still, unknowingly pacing the room, vaguely aware of my surroundings, like they were a fog cocooning me. I caught sight of my own shadow, my hands buried in my hair. Somehow that pathetic image jolted me back to my senses, cleared the fog.

  Pull yourself together. You’re better than this.

  I stood at the double doors looking out at the dark shadows cast by the moonlight filtering between the trees, my heart in bits. It was time to think straight, clear my head of the emotions getting in the way of cold, hard facts.

  I couldn't; too many of the hard facts were permanently welded to gut-wrenching feelings of one sort or another.

  The desolate look on Zana's face when I'd found her at the top of the hill; the way she spoke that pierced right into my heart. The passion and desire she'd aroused in me that I thought I didn't possess. The softness, the vulnerability she'd shown when her strong confident exterior had faltered.

  The way I feel right now.

  Still nothing made sense; still I was fighting conflicting emotions. She'd said she was doing it because of me… that made less sense than anything. Now doubt began to creep in. Was all as it seemed, or had my cynical mind jumped to the wrong conclusion?