BLOOD DRAGON by Freddie Peters (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

that looked surprisingly clean. When he reached the second floor, Jack inspected the door that led to the unoccupied rooms. He smiled briefly. The latch had been pushed back with heavy duty duct tape and a long piece of wood was sticking out, creating a handle. He pulled the door open slowly and it responded without any resistance.

Jack stepped into the corridor, switching off his torch. He waited a short moment for his eyes to become accustomed to his surroundings. Despite the lack of electricity, he could see the outline of the corridor fairly well. Doors had been left open along it. Jack started at a slow pace towards the room in which he had seen the movement of a light.

The rest of the floor was silent, without signs of any occupation. When Jack reached the room, he waited for a moment and then walked in. The room had been gutted of its carpets and bathroom fittings. Jack stopped abruptly. A beam of light had just appeared in the corridor, a door had opened at the far end and someone was moving towards the exit.

The exit door opened and closed. The sound of footsteps climbing down faded away. Jack waited for a minute before moving around again. His eyes surveyed the contents of the room. There was little there … a small calor gas heater, on which an old kettle sat, and a grocery bag half full. A sleeping bag had been stretched out where the wardrobe would have been.

Jack moved to the bathroom. A black rubbish bag had been pushed into the corner.

Whoever was living here had not been there long. The smell of rubbish had not yet permeated the room. The floor did not bear the hallmarks of squalor that came with living rough.

There was nothing in the room that gave away the identity of the squatter. Jack ran his torch beam around the concrete floor of the room without success and returned to the bathroom. The various pipes carrying water and waste had been sealed. Jack tried to open them without success. The seal was solid and had not been tampered with. The large tiles in the bathroom had not yet been removed. Perhaps the answer was here?

He tested the floor with the toe of his shoe, a couple of tiles were loose. Jack crouched, took a Swiss army knife out of his pocket, opened a blade and started lifting one of the tiles. It came up easily, revealing a small cache … bank notes folded into one neat roll, a couple of USB keys, a blue document the size of a man’s wallet.

Randy Zhang, clean shaven and with a serious expression, was staring out at Jack from the pages of his American passport. Jack put back the bank notes and the passport. He pocketed the USB keys and replaced the tile.

He returned to the room to choose where he would be best placed to wait for Randy.

* * *

“You’re positive?” It was not a question, more an affirmation of what he had heard. Pole had endured a frustrating interview with Turner Junior, CEO of Viro-Tech Therapeutics. “There was nothing left on that computer … files that might be important have been erased.” Andy he was sitting on the back of Pole’s bike, speaking through a shared helmet intercom.

“Will you be able to find anything once we get hold of the laptop itself?”

“Perhaps, it depends how thorough they have been with cleaning up Wilson’s account. If it comes to it, I’ll ask for help from our tech team but the Viro-Tech guys are pros so it will take some time.”

“They were expecting a visit. Turner was ready with his answers …”

Pole slowed down the Ducati to let a car through the junction that led to the Embankment. He throttled up, making his way swiftly through traffic.

“Did someone warn them then?” Andy’s body was following the flow of the bike.

“No.” Pole was making good progress towards Scotland Yard. “Ollie Wilson’s assault was the trigger point. Either because it sent a warning to them or …”

“… because they knew about it in advance.” Andy finished his boss’s sentence.

Pole gave the thumbs up, removing one hand from the handlebar. Andy stiffened a little. “I’ve not had time to make any inroads into Turner’s Chinese visits. I’ve got some ideas about how to get the information, though.”

Pole this time only nodded, accelerating to go through an amber light. They were almost there. “Before that, find out more about the group that was pushing to make poppy production legal in Afghanistan.”

Pole rolled his helmet underneath his desk and checked his watch. It was gone 2.30pm in London, 10.30pm in Hong Kong. Time to make a personal call.

He was not using a burner phone inside Scotland Yard again. He hesitated, but picked up his smartphone, sat at his desk and dialled her number.

“It’s good to hear from you, Jonathan.” Nancy’s voice was a little croaky and tired.

“And me you, mon coeur, you sound tired.”

“It’s been rather busy since I arrived, but it’s all been worth it. Is Ferguson very pissed off?”

Pole laughed. “You can say that again … I think I’m going to spend a considerable amount of time in the doghouse as far as he is concerned. Marsh is being more circumspect, as you can imagine.”

“You can tell Ferguson about my father … I had some rather … disturbing news.” Nancy gave Pole a summary of all she had learned. “I think Licot knows a lot more than he has told me already, but he won’t speak in front of Philippe.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Who, Licot?” Nancy was moving around the room. Pole heard a door being opened, liquid being poured into a glass. “I’m being cautious, but, yes, I do. He lives in an ultra-secure building with other people who seek to protect themselves as much as he does.”

“Who are these other people?”

“Other lecturers, lawyers … my guess is that they are the sort of people who are likely to be liberals,