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

“We are trying to reach the other side of the flat to check on my artwork.” Cora nodded in the direction of the lounge.

“Before you ladies rush into doing anything clever, I’ll check with the fire brigade. We wouldn’t want you going through the floor, now would we?”

He took his mobile out of his pocket and turned around to make his call.

Where the heck did Pole find this guy?

“Maybe he’s right.” Nat gave a small shrug. Cora turned to Nancy.

“Alright, let’s get out and wait for our guardian angel to find out how safe it is to reach the other side.”

Nancy knew what the answer would be. Neither did she relish going through Cora’s props in front of an army of onlookers. She still did not quite know why she had mentioned them to her. The vague memory of Ollie standing next to them, talking about them, was not enough.

Her mobile phone rang.

“Jonathan.” Nancy moved away from the others onto the landing. “He has just arrived. Thanks for …”

“I’m not calling about that,” Pole interrupted. “I’m on my way to A&E … University College Hospital … You need to tell Cora.”

* * *

“Do you believe in luck?” Jack’s contact in London was being mischievous.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Steve, you know I don’t … We’ve been through that 1,000 times.”

“Well, today you might change your mind.”

“We’ve known each other for over 15 years … So far you’ve never won the argument.”

“Do you have any holiday left?”

“What has that got to do with anything?” Jack wondered for a moment whether he should have called to his most reliable contact at MI6, a man he would also call a friend.

“Yay or nay?”

“Of course, when does a CIA agent, EVER, take his full entitlement of holidays a year?”

“You mean the whole 10 days increasing to what … 14 after a 20-year-long career?”

“It’s 15 days and it’s 21 years.”

“Pack your bag. You’re coming to London for a well-deserved break. I know Jethro is not going to look into this for you because, as far as he is concerned, there is nothing obvious that smells of conspiracy against the United States of America.”

“That’s a bit unfair on the Station Chief.”

“Hardly … Otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me.”

Jack grumbled an acknowledgement.

“And your own boss is not going to let you go on a hunch, when everyone is focused on the Middle East at the moment.”

“Still … If I’m going to sacrifice my 10 days’ holiday, you’ve got to give me something to go on.” Jack finished his coffee, now almost cold. “I’ve told you about Wilson … You barely asked a question about that.”

“It’s because a contact of mine at Scotland Yard has called about the kidnapping of a US citizen. I’m sure you can now guess who the victim is. Right?”

Jack stopped himself from taking the final sip. “That’s impossible.”

“But there it is … pack your bags … I’ll see you in London.”

* * *

Nat had offered to accompany Cora to A&E. She had thanked her friend for her kindness but declined. Nancy was the only person she wanted with her in the police car that was driving them to the hospital on Euston Road she had told Nancy once in the car.

DS Branning was driving through traffic at speed. Cora was looking out through the window, her eyes gazing into the distance, noticing very little of the journey. Nancy kept an eye on her friend,but there was little comfort she could offer until they knew what Ollie’s medical condition was.

The strong smell of stale cigarettes didn’t seem to disturb Nancy as much as it usually did. The unmarked police car stopped abruptly. Branning swore, reversed with dexterity and continued on the wrong side of the road for a short distance. Nancy braced herself but Cora hardly noticed.

They have given up their bikes. It’s the way everybody gets around in China but her mother’s distinctive European features are starting to attract too much attention. An old friend of her grandfather has lent them a truck, old, battered … perfect.

It smells of cheap tobacco, smoked or chewed.

Her father is in the driving seat, alone, in the front cabin.

Nancy and her mother are sitting at the back. The old tarpaulin cover has been fastened to the frame as best it can with bits of string in different colours.

They’re driving down small country tracks. The main roads are teeming with national guards and they don’t want to be stopped. It’s the last leg of a long journey that brings them closer to freedom. Nancy is tired. She has not slept properly for days.

Her mother has dozed off. She too has not slept since they left Sichuan to escape the Cultural Revolution. Some old rice bags have been thrown on the floor, barely cushioning against the rocking and bouncing of the truck. Her mother stirs from time to time but Nancy is too scared to say anything.

The truck has stopped. Nancy hesitates but her father is already out of the vehicle. He lifts the cover after unfastening the strings on one side. His wife has woken up and has become fully alert again. A woman and a child show their faces and hesitate. Nancy’s mother has risen from the floor of the truck. The woman muffles a cry, jumps in and they hug each other fiercely. The little girl is still beside the truck.

Nancy’s father lifts her into the back and covers the rear of the vehicle again. There is no time for introductions. The two girls sit down next to one another and the little girl takes out of her pocket a couple of turtle cakes … She offers one to Nancy with a toothless smile. “My last ones” she says. Nancy has found her best friend forever.

The journey starts again. Her father is still driving alone. His back is tense, shoulders hunched. The daylight is fading and soon they will rely on the moon to guide them.

The truck