Rana To The End: The Hidden Series, #4

By JO CHUMAS

FIVE STARS FOR RANA TO THE END, THE HIDDEN SERIES, BOOK 4, PART 2

 

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING

 

"This book has it all! Scandal, suicide, espionage, assassination, kidnapping, romance, and sweet revenge just to name a few. Rana Maddox has only one mission to accomplish and in order to accomplish it, she must find her brother Alexandre. I thoroughly enjoyed this third and final chapter of The Hidden Series, everything came together clearly. I'd recommend this book to anyone! Oh, and I think I'm in love with Harry Dean!"

 

"Really exciting, page-turner. A spy thriller with loads of action. Final in the Hidden series. Have read all three now in the series and feel very satisfied."

 

RANA TO THE END

London-Istanbul-Bucharest - July 1968

 

One sexy French spy codenamed Domino who plays by nobody's rules. A vicious gang called the Black Scorpions who plan to eliminate her from the face of the earth. One missing, presumed dead scientist who holds the key to the world's survival in his hands. And a decades old vendetta that started in Cairo, Egypt with one family. In 1968 Europe, nowhere is safe, no one is who they say they are, and everyone is the unforgiven.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 8dpress
• Release date: Oct 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393937517

Book preview

HELLO

Thank you for checking out the thrilling finale to The Hidden Series, Book 4, Part 2, my novel Rana To The End. This novel continues on from The Unforgiven which is Book 4, Part 1.

FIVE STAR REVIEWS FOR THE UNFORGIVEN & RANA TO THE END

What readers are saying

Really exciting, page-turner. A spy thriller with loads of action. Final in the Hidden series. Have read all three now in the series and feel very satisfied.

**

Brilliant trilogy of stories, The Unforgiven being the thrilling finale of revenge. The Unforgiven is the third of a trilogy, the first book being The Hidden and second The Zephyr, all beautifully written by Jo Chumas who is a brilliant story writer. Her story telling is such that you imagine you are there with the characters, some are very likeable and others you would not want to meet down a dark alleyway. Her research is commendable as the stories are entwined with historical events and fictional links. All three are quite different, but linked in the original story through the life of Aimee Ibrahim and her mother Hezba in Cairo. The Unforgiven is where revenge eventually takes place with Aimee's daughter Rana who has the spirit of both her mother and grandmother and the strength of these women are threaded through all the books. I really recommend reading all three in order. They are very enjoyable, I could not put them down as they are very cleverly descriptive with suspense and a thrilling conclusion. I was really sorry when I finished the last of the trilogy, The Unforgiven.

**

This book has it all! Scandal, suicide, espionage, assassination, kidnapping, romance, and sweet revenge just to name a few. Rana Maddox has only one mission to accomplish and in order to accomplish it, she must find her brother Alexandre. I thoroughly enjoyed this third and final chapter of The Hidden Series, everything came together clearly. I'd recommend this book to anyone! Oh, and I think I'm in love with Harry Dean!

***

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Click through to buy Rana To The End now, and if you like this novel, the first book in The Hidden Series (Book 1, Part 1) is FREE on all digital publishing platforms such as Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Nobel, Apple Books and more.

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CHAPTER ONE

Continuing on from The Unforgiven…….

The heat of MacDowell’s feelings for Mrs Maddox was preoccupying Harry as he walked quickly from the Grand Hotel de Londres back to his hotel. It was late but the streets of Beyoğlu were still buzzing. He had walked up an alley to buy some more cigarettes when he saw her. She was sprinting down his street, half-walking half-running. Harry called after her. ‘Excuse me, Miss. You’ve dropped something,’ he shouted.

God, this was not how he had pictured meeting her. Rana stopped and with a glare, turned to examine the man’s face, thrusting her hands in the pockets of her trousers to shield them from view. She hadn’t had time to check her hands for the blood of the Romanian thug as she’d exited La Fontaine’s house. The swish of the blade against the thug’s throat had been so impulsive and so quick, fuelled by an overdose of adrenaline and her exit had been lightning speed. He’d collapsed in front of her and she’d stepped over him, running for a side door which luckily had been open and which had led to another street in Beyoğlu’s labyrinthian maze of alleys. Now she had to get to Kadiköy in a taxi and fast.

‘Excuse me?’ She was out of breath and perspiring.

‘I saw something fall out of your pocket as you were walking.’

She shook her head confusedly, her eyes narrowing and she bit her lip. ‘Oh?’

‘I’m sorry, I was mistaken. It wasn’t anything, just a piece of paper blowing in the wind. I thought it was some lira that had dropped from your pocket. Sorry.’

Her green eyes widened. ‘Thank you, you’re kind, but I haven’t dropped anything.’

Harry smiled, nodded his head and approached her. He said: ‘That was awful, I’m sorry. You saw through that right away. I just thought I recognised you, from the newspapers, that’s all. I apologise. I am not very good at this type of thing.’

Rana stiffened and the smile on her lips froze into fakery. ‘It’s okay. I don’t mean to be rude but I have to be somewhere.’

Harry ignored that last statement. ‘My name’s Harry. Harry Dean.’

Rana watched him pull at the knot in his tie nervously and then stretch out his hand in a greeting. She held her hands close. ‘I’m sorry Mr Dean but as I said, I am expected somewhere. I have to go.’

‘You’re English,’ Harry said, not wanting her to go. ‘Have you been here long?’

‘I’m French,’ she said, ‘and no, not long.’

The green eyes were on edge, flitting about here and there.

‘Are you on holiday?’

‘Something like that.’

‘You haven’t told me your name.’

‘If you’ve seen me in the newspapers you would know my name,’ she said coolly.

‘Rana Maddox? Is that your name?’

‘You know it is, so why ask me?’

‘I was nervous, I didn’t want to presume.’

‘You don’t look the nervous type,’ she said. ‘You were okay about approaching me just now. Who are you really? Some intelligence person checking up on me?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘No reason. I just find it strange that you stopped me, that’s all. I am here on holiday, here to enjoy some time away from London and you’re asking me too many questions.’

‘So you’re from London.’

‘I was.’

‘But not now?’

She surveyed him, as though she were examining the remains of an insect under a microscope. ‘Do you usually approach strange women like this, in foreign countries and ask them personal questions?’

‘I’m not some sort of creep,’ he said, ‘I was just curious that’s all. Have you never been curious? A beautiful girl like you, alone in Turkey. I felt for you, thought that you might attract attention from the locals. Girls can get into trouble when they travel alone.’

Rana moved off through the streets of Beyoğlu. Harry followed her. ‘It’s 1968, Mr Dean, not the middle ages. You really need to catch up.’

Harry apologised again. It was a record for the day, his attempts at getting someone on side. With the Defence Secretary he had just listened; that had been the best policy. Let the politician dig his own political grave; it meant nothing to Harry Dean. The girl, however, was different. She was alone and in danger, but he had to try and stay with her, without giving himself away. ‘Perhaps we could meet again?’ Harry said.

Rana shook her head despairingly as she walked. ‘I’m married Mr Dean.’

Harry bowed and pulled back, reaching for her arm. ‘I didn’t mean offence,’ he said, ‘I thought it would be nice to offer my services, if you’re on holiday. I could be a guide. I know this city. If you’re new here, I could make your trip that bit better.’

Rana stopped and turned to him. Her mind was on the Romanian thug and she was having trouble breathing. She ran her hand over the back of her neck, studying the streets this way and that. ‘Do you want to be useful Mr Harry Dean?’

He didn’t answer, just waited.

‘If you want to be useful, you can walk with me for a while and help me find a taxi.’

‘I’d like that very much.’

Rana again. ‘Do you know Istanbul very well or were you just trying to chat me up?’

Harry groaned inwardly. That wasn’t classy of him and she had spotted it.

‘I know it very well,’ he said. ‘I lived here on and off for a while. I speak the language. Do you want to be chatted up?’ Harry saw the Maddox girl’s face lock down nervously. She obviously hadn’t heard the last bit of what he had said. She kept looking up and down the street and was now holding her arms across her body as though she was cold. She started walking again. He walked beside her but said nothing. Then he saw her look up and her face pale and freeze in horror at the sight of a figure in the shadow of one of the shop fronts.

Harry jerked his head in the direction of the man. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Stop talking,’ she said, pulling back suddenly. The man was standing thirty paces from them. There was something familiar and repulsive about the features of the man with his stare fixated on the Maddox girl. A file, a photo and a wanted list appeared in Harry’s mind. He took in his greasy features and secretly acknowledged a shudder. It was Michel Salins, codenamed Raincoat, one of the Black Scorpions top men, part of the known pentagon of five high-risk individuals, wanted by his department. Salins stood there by the restaurant, named Tulip, with a wide grin on his face, his features locked down on Mrs Maddox.

Rana saw him too. The thug had had back-up. And Salins, or Raincoat, as he was known, was wearing a badge, pinned to his jacket lapel. She recognised it, knew its meaning. She shivered with hatred. This was the man who had killed the agent named Bird at close range and now he was going to kill her. Salins’s grin stretched across his face, as he saw her, and his black eyes grew larger in his head. ‘Change of plan,’ she said as she swerved to the right and started walking in the opposite direction, breaking into a run through the crowds of tourists lingering around Taksim Square. Harry followed, running after her. He turned his head and saw Salins striding forward in their direction, with a self-satisfied grin on his lips.

∞

Michel Salins had followed the Maddox girl, had watched her go into the house of La Fontaine, on the orders of brother-comrade Edward West, and enjoyed the experience of power that came from standing back, smoking a cigarette, observing. He was a back-up for Dollar. The stupid fool hadn’t gotten the girl so now it would be left to him. Here she was brazenly walking the streets of Beyoğlu. Her body and face shone out of the darkness like a beautiful star, and he wondered what it would be like to take her to bed. She was a girl after all, and useful for pleasure, but after that, useful for nothing. His limbs went rigid and his heart thumped wildly with the thought of that first erotic moment.

And now here she was walking blindly close by. Her features were as recognisable to him as the map he held in his mind of the maze of tunnels linking the Castle Amora to the laboratories in the mountains. The sight of her represented victory and victory was his life-force. He imagined how he would feel taking her life in his hands and extinguishing it, watching the beauty of her fade away with death. That thought gave him pleasure but brother-comrade Edward West wanted her reunited with her brother, for the sake of the Black Scorpions.

Now there she was, on the streets of Beyoğlu and this meant that Dollar had failed, and this failure would anger his brother-comrades. The car, the Ford, was ready, parked down a side-street. In that moment, a tiny spark of resentment sizzled in his mind; the Rigaud traitor had threatened all-out exposure of every last address the brother-comrades used around Europe if the girl—his sister—was not delivered to him. And Edward West had agreed to his demands, now here she was walking the streets of Beyoğlu with a man, because the boy-assassin had failed. None of this was any good.

He suddenly felt tired of it all, wanted to be in Romania, in among the underground tunnels of the Castle Amora, counting his cash, and delivering the Black Scorpions’ ultimatum to those gangsters in power at Westminster.

∞

‘You know that man?’ Harry said as they swerved down a narrow lane and came to a halt next to a row of rubbish bins that serviced the restaurants on either side. The Maddox girl was panting and had her hand on her chest. She pushed her body back against the wall, her green eyes glittering.

‘Stay back,’ Rana said, as Salins sprinted down the alley past them.

CHAPTER TWO

Harry, hidden in the alleyway, with the icy Mrs Maddox, watched Salins sprint past them in a blur of black wool. They watched Salins do a half-turn and saw his face in profile. Then a woman appeared out of the crowds and approached Salins. He bent towards her and they saw them talking. The woman spun away; there one minute, gone the next. Rana followed the figure of the woman as she exited the scene, trying to place her in her mind. ‘He’s gone past. He’ll come back though. He wants me. That woman, she’s one of them.’

‘One of them? One of who?’ he said innocently. You know that man?’

‘You could say that.’

‘I thought you didn’t know anyone here.’

‘I don’t.’

Harry noticed how the girl’s voice had become harder and more determined. He decided to say nothing more for the time being and to focus his attention on the man