The Avenger

THE AVENGER AN ISABELLA ROSE THRILLER MARK DAWSON CONTENTS Prologue CAZEVIEILLE, FRANCE Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 BEIJING, PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 CAZEVIEILLE, FRANCE Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 14 Chapter 15 CAZEVIEILLE, FRANCE Chapter 16 VALLETTA, MALTA Chapter 17 CAZEVIEILLE, FRANCE Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 21 MONTPELLIER, FRANCE Chapter 22 LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 23 MONTPELLIER, FRANCE Chapter 24 LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 25 MONTPELLIER, FRANCE Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 BEIJING, PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA Chapter 31 LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 VALLETTA, MALTA Chapter 36 PERPIGNAN, FRANCE Chapter 37 Chapter 38 VALLETTA, MALTA Chapter 39 LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 40 PERPIGNAN, FRANCE Chapter 41 BOURNEMOUTH, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 42 CAZEVIEILLE, FRANCE Chapter 43 PERPIGNAN, FRANCE Chapter 44 CAZEVIEILLE, FRANCE Chapter 45 PERPIGNAN, FRANCE Chapter 46 Chapter 47 THE PYRENEES Chapter 48 Chapter 49 PERPIGNAN, FRANCE Chapter 50 THE PYRENEES Chapter 51 VALLETTA, MALTA Chapter 52 PERPIGNAN, FRANCE Chapter 53 Chapter 54 THE PYRENEES Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 PERPIGNAN, FRANCE Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 BEIJING, PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA Chapter 73 Chapter 74 VALLETTA, MALTA Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 OUTSIDE LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM Chapter 79 VALLETTA, MALTA Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90 Chapter 91 Epilogue Get Exclusive John Milton Material Also By Mark Dawson In the John Milton Series In the Beatrix Rose Series In the Isabella Rose Series In the Atticus Priest Series About Mark Dawson PROLOGUE CHENGDU, PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA The New Century Global Center in Chengdu was enormous. The sign above the main doors proclaimed it as the biggest mall in the world, and it was easy to reach the conclusion that that was still selling it short. The building was a hundred metres tall, with a concrete pediment that had been shaped to resemble flowing waves. Video screens fixed to the structure ran colourful advertisements for the stores inside the complex on a steady loop. The place was more like a small town than a mall, with hundreds of shops and restaurants. There was an artificial indoor beach, an ice-skating rink and a sculpture garden on the roof. The story was that the government had authorised the billions involved in its construction as a way to demonstrate to the rest of the world the strength of the Chinese economy. They wanted it to be visible from space. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the concourse was thronged with visitors going about their business. One of those people—a woman with the operational name of He Xiangu—stood outside and watched. Her mind was busy with a confusing welter of thoughts. Ideas wound around other ideas, leading to a mess of threads that was impossible for her to untangle. The main thing—the thing that had guided her for as long as she could remember—was that it was important to please her handler, Yuan. The rest was just noise. General Qiang and his wife were just in front of her. There was an enormous sculpture of a panda clambering up the side of the building to the roof garden, and the two of them were obviously amused by it, the woman posing and pointing up at its backside while her husband shot a picture on his phone. Mrs. Qiang was much younger than her husband; Xiangu guessed she was in her late twenties, a good forty years younger than her husband. Xiangu had never been given the opportunity to learn about relationships, but she assumed that the general’s riches—he was reputed to have made a small fortune from the intelligence he had supplied to the Americans—was the reason the couple had come together. That was what Yuan had speculated, anyway, and Xiangu trusted his judgement on all things. Xiangu heard his voice now in the small receiver that she wore in her ear. “Can you still see them?” “Yes,” she replied. “They’re going inside.” “Follow them. Just surveillance. Do you understand?” “Yes, Yuan,” she said. “I understand.” She passed through the vast doors into the main atrium. A Lancôme concession was directly ahead, with two huge escalators, picked out in blue neon, delivering people to the upper levels. Xiangu cut a path through the slow-moving pedestrians and followed the couple. Their intelligence was that they had tickets to the early performance of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte at the mall’s opera house. Xiangu had been told to follow them as part of the reconnaissance that was required before the operation was given the green light to proceed. Last year, when Xiangu had gone operational for the first time, Yuan had explained that it was important for her to get an idea of her targets before she took steps against them. It was useful, he told her, to gauge their routines, to understand how cautious they were, how observant and how aware they were of their potential threats. Xiangu’s instinct was for immediate action, but she trusted Yuan. He had worked with her for five years, and he was the nearest thing she had to a father. He knew what he was doing. Qiang led his wife to the InterContinental Hotel and its Phoenix Pavilion restaurant. “Report, Xiangu.” “They’re going into the restaurant to eat.” “Copy that. That’s enough for today. We’ll pick them up again tomorrow.” She frowned. “Why not proceed now?” “No, Xiangu. Disengage. That’s an order.” Xiangu stared at the window as the maître d’ led the general and his wife through the busy restaurant to a table that was visible from where she was standing. He handed