THE RED MIST TRILOGY: The Box Set

by R T Green

  As I jumped back in the van Coop was just cancelling a call. ‘Number six is home,’ he said simply.

  A pang of unexpected nervousness wafted through me. Somehow I was getting the feeling this hit would be more difficult than the others. But it would for sure be easier on the conscience.

  ‘This one I am going to enjoy,’ I said with a smile.

  Ryland Cooper nodded his agreement, said under his breath, ‘Arik.’

  ‘Arik.’

  Chapter 62

  Arik

  The leader of the seven enjoyed a good standard of living. Coop brought the van to a stop just past the entrance to a small cul-de-sac consisting of just four large detached houses. Ash trees lined the walkways either side of the van, the properties set so far back from the road binoculars would help to see them properly.

  ‘Nice,’ I said grimly, the single word spat out with more than a little distaste.

  Coop nodded, equally grimly. He spoke quietly, but the venom in his words was plain to hear. ’You get this one good, Maddie. Give that gruesome tool of yours an extra hard yank for me, yeah?’

  ‘Already on the wish list, Coop.’

  I stepped out into the rain, my mood as dark as the skies above me. Arik's home was at the end of the tiny elegant road; as I walked quickly to the entrance to the drive, the houses either side were in darkness. That would help if things got noisy.

  I couldn't put on an act to gain access this time, the evil piece of shit had already come face to face with me so he'd know straight away who I was. Pussy-footing around wasn't an option, but in Arik's case I had no intention of playing games.

  Like a glass of the finest Courvoisier enjoyed at the end of a hard day's work, I intended to savour every moment of the next few minutes.

  I stood inside the open porch, looking at his front door. Thick dark-stained oak timbers formed the entrance, traditional flagstones covered the floor, and red pantiles topped a pitched roof over my head. A narrow leaded-light window sat each side of the old oak door. I peered through them quickly, tried to get an idea of the layout.

  The entrance hall was in darkness, but enough light was filtering through from the half-open door to the sitting room for me to see the large square hallway and the wide, expensive-looking staircase leading from it to the upstairs rooms. I couldn't see lights on anywhere else, it was a fair bet my target was in the sitting room.

  I stepped back from the windows a metre or so, took a deep breath.

  It was a very nice front door. But it was in the way.

  I slammed a booted foot hard into it; as it crashed back and bits of lock went flying, I slipped inside the hallway, made straight for the sitting room door. As I reached it, something happened I didn't expect.

  I heard a faint click, and I was in total darkness.

  Instinctively I flattened against the wall, my mind racing. How the hell did Arik react so quickly… did he somehow know I was coming for him?

  If he did, he likely had some kind of weapon by his side.

  I dare not move. Arik was an unknown species who maybe had the ability to see in the dark better than me. I felt around the wall within my reach to see if there was a handy light-switch for the hallway. There wasn't.

  I decided to strike up a conversation to gain time to think, opened my mouth to speak. My target got there first.

  ‘Good evening, Madeline. I've been expecting you.’

  I shivered. The voice wasn't as spooky as Duncan Scott's, but it was full of hatred and menace. And threat. Especially in the dark when I wasn't so sure exactly where it was coming from.

  ‘Glad I've not disappointed you, Arik.’ I looked around the hallway as I spoke; a tiny bit of light was coming through the wrecked doorway from the streetlamps outside. I could just make out a door that looked like it led to the rear of the house, perhaps the kitchen. Maybe there was another door from there to the sitting room.

  I grimaced; if there was Arik would know better than me. The voice spoke again.

  ‘You have not disappointed me, Madeline. I am grateful for the company, do not get many visitors.’

  I began to edge towards the rear doorway. ‘No great surprise Arik, if you entertain them in the dark.’

  ‘I like the darkness. It is better that way. For me.’

  Yeah. Seems I was right about the disadvantage I'd now discovered I had. The playing-field had to be levelled. I eased open the door at the rear of the hall. It was the kitchen. A very faint light was coming through the window from the garden, and I could make out a few vague details.

  Painted shaker-style kitchen units lined three walls, a central island in the middle. A tall American-style double-door fridge sat against one wall, offering a little cover if needed. A kettle sat on the granite worktop, I lifted it off its base. It was almost full.

  I switched it on, glad it was one of the groovy kettles that gave off light as it boiled. As the room filled with the spooky blue glow, I called out. ‘Kettle's on, Arik. Fancy a cuppa?’

  I moved over to the shelter of the fridge. A second doorway on the far wall probably led to the dining room. Arik could well decide to use that, thinking he would take me by surprise. The kettle began to sing away to itself, there were no other sounds. Arik hadn't spoken again.

  A minute passed, nothing was happening. Then suddenly the voice was back, much closer this time.

  ‘Do you like playing games, Madeline?’

  I could just make out the dark shadow of the man, standing the other side of the doorway. He wasn't moving, wary of entering the room.

  ‘Just trying to be sociable Arik, seeing as you're not.’

  I glanced at the kettle, steam beginning to rise from the spout. I didn't have long until it would boil. It was a couple of metres away from me. I had to do something quickly.

  It was Arik who made the first move.

  A flash of green light lit up the doorway. Something hit the fridge next to me, sending a shower of sparks across me and the floor. There wasn't much of the fridge door left.

  As he ran into the room I threw myself behind the short side of the rectangular island unit. Close to the floor I couldn't see Arik then. The man was heading for me, but on which side of the island? Right or left… a millisecond to make a life-saving decision.

  I chose left. Arik chose the other side.

  I scrambled frantically around the island on my hands and knees, like a child playing hide-and-seek. Then Arik was right next to the kettle. It boiled.

  He fired again, into the island unit. It shattered into a thousand pieces. But I was behind him, grabbing the kettle. He turned as he realised where his enemy was, fired again in his panic. The bolt of light went straight through the ceiling, sending a shower of plaster into the room.

  The kettle in my hand hit Arik's face at high speed, its clear plastic jug shattering as I slammed it into him, freshly boiled water searing into his eyes. He screamed, slumped over in agony... face down on top of the gas hob built into the counter top.

  Then my hand was around the back of his neck, holding him down. Iron pans hung from racking above the hob, I grabbed one and hit him over the head, just to make sure.

  Not too hard though, I didn't want him out cold. That would end his suffering.

  The man was screaming, blinded and in agony from the boiling water. And thanks to the pan he had the mother of all headaches to go with it. But I was far from finished.

  ‘What does it feel like having your face butchered, Arik?’ I cried out, hatred turning my voice hoarse.

  He didn’t reply. He probably couldn’t. His hands were flailing around helplessly at his sides, he was in no state to fight back. And I'd heard his weapon fall to the floor. I couldn't see it in the dark, but Arik would never get to it again. I leant my face close to the ugly one I was still pressing into the hob.

  ‘But you know what, my friend? I still don't think you've suffered enough to know what Daisy must have felt.’

  Slowly, deliberately, I turned a knob on the
hob to full, heard the gas hissing through. Arik heard it too, his face still pressed firmly into the burner. He tried to break free, but the iron pan had done its job, and his feeble attempts to escape the horror were futile.

  I pressed the electronic ignition button, and as the burner flamed into life, made sure Arik knew exactly how Daisy felt, for a full minute before I pulled him away from the burner and threw him on the floor in disgust.

  As the awful scent of burnt flesh filled the room, I knelt on his chest. He was almost unconscious, but not quite. Exactly how I wanted him. Slowly I pulled the cheese-cutter from my pocket.

  Arik's face was a mess, what was left of it. In one way that was a bit disappointing, I’d wanted to look into the evil eyes as I finally took his life, but that wasn't going to happen.

  He didn't have eyes anymore.

  I took my time looping the carbon fibre chord around his neck, hoping he had enough feeling left to know what was happening. Then I stood up, pressed a foot again onto one handle, holding it tight to the floor.

  ‘The fire Arik, that was from Daisy. This one is from me!’ I pulled the handle upwards as hard as I could, but as it sliced into the man's neck I decided it hadn't gone far enough.

  ‘And this one is from everyone else!’

  A second time I wrenched the handle upwards. As I removed the cheese-cutter, there wasn't a lot keeping Arik's head attached to his body.

  I found his weapon, a piece of alien technology spectacular in its sheer lack of size. A vaguely-gun shaped device, it fitted into the palm of my hand. I shook my head as I glanced at the fridge door that hardly existed anymore, amazed at the power in the tiny gun. Then it found its way into my pocket, and I headed back to the van.

  ‘He's a bit of a mess,’ I grinned as I jumped back in.

  Coop smiled back. ‘He was always an ugly fucker anyway.’

  ‘You should see him now.’

  Chapter 63

  Zana

  Ryland Cooper looked into the eyes of the woman sitting next to him as he spoke. They weren't dead eyes anymore; they had come alive with the demise of Arik.

  ‘You ready to finish the mission, Maddie?’

  ‘Yeah, I'm ready.’

  She spoke firmly, sounded like she was sure of herself. But he was all too aware that while she was ready to put an end to things, how she was going to achieve closure was still up for debate.

  He didn't envy her one bit.

  They were sitting in the van, just around the corner from Zana's apartment. A short time ago her spotter had reported she'd given him the slip; five minutes ago Madeline had walked to the entrance of the foyer and pressed her buzzer.

  There was no answer, the apartment in darkness. She wasn't home.

  While Madeline was away from the van he'd called the spotter back. The man was roaming around trying to relocate Red Mist. She was on foot, he didn't think she could be far away. Ryland Cooper told him to abort the search and go home. Then he'd phoned the cleaner, and said the last target was going to be late home, told him that particular mess could wait until the next morning.

  Coop glanced to me as I jumped back into the van, said with a shrug, ‘Maybe we should come back later... she could be ages yet.’

  ‘No!’ I replied sharply. ‘I'm not leaving here until she's back. Anyway, the spotter could well pick her up again, and then we'll know.’

  He nodded, and then lowered his head as he spoke quietly. ‘He won't find her, Maddie. I sent him home.’

  ‘Coop..?’

  ‘You got anywhere you can wait for her without being seen?’

  ‘Yeah, there's a covered alley just across from her drive. I can see the apartment easy enough from there.’

  ‘Then I'm going to leave you to it.’

  Suddenly the nausea was my best friend again, I knew something wasn't right. ‘What's going on, Coop?’

  ‘No one's gonna interfere for the rest of the night, Maddie. You're on your own now, just you and Zana.’

  ‘I don't understand… thought you were here to make sure I obeyed company rules?’

  ‘Sometimes rules stink worse than horse-shit. But if I ain't here I don't know what you're getting up to, do I?’

  ‘While the cat's away, yeah?’

  He leaned his arms on the top of the steering wheel, gazed out at the heavy rain bouncing off the asphalt around us. ‘You's got a massive decision to make Maddie, and despite your fake assertiveness I know you ain't made it yet. And the only way it's gonna get made is by you and Zana, together. Last thing you need is an asshole like me interfering.’

  I smiled, knowing for sure now I'd got a friend. ‘You said if I walked away I wouldn't get very far.’

  ‘That's the risk you take, girl. But I know you ain't gonna walk away. Where you walk to is up for debate. Just know I got a goddamn awful sinking feeling in my gut that if you don't take the right path, an awful lot of us are gonna suffer a fate worse than death. So you and Zana, you find the right road… for me, yeah?’

  I held out a hand. ‘You're a good man, Coop.’

  He laughed as he pushed it away, pulled me into him and hugged me tight. ‘Nah, I'm just one of the fortunate ones who can see further than the end of his fat nose!’

  It was my turn to laugh. ‘That ability just might be your finest, Coop.’

  ‘I ain't gonna be sleeping tonight. You need anything, anything at all, call me you hear? Other than that you won't hear from me. Now fuck off and go do what you gotta do. I'm sick of the sight of you anyways!’

  I stepped out into the rain. Just before I closed the van door I leaned back in. ‘Just one thing, Coop…’

  ‘And what might that be?’ he asked, knowing exactly what was coming.

  ‘Don't call me Maddie!’

  Ryland Cooper watched as she disappeared from his view, a huge lump in his throat. He'd found a lot of respect for the girl who had been slam-dunked with more crap than is good for a body, and yet was still there to tell the tale.

  The final chapter of the story was still to be written, but somehow he knew the woman he'd just put his ultimate trust in would write the words that mattered.

  His heart was breaking for her, for the impossible decision she was forced to make. Impossible because whichever road she chose, someone was going to reach their journey's end in a very bad way.

  He shook his head sadly, turned the ignition key, and drove away.

  He had no idea if he would ever set eyes on Madeline deWinter again.

  THE FINAL CURTAIN

  Act 1

  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 had to see.

  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 closed 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 was 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, 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 the 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 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.