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

and ivy had been freshly planted over the facade. The place looked suitably ancient, nestled at the corner of two alleyways. Jack reached the main door, old wood, thick glass and a cast-iron frame.

He stepped back again to take a better look at the antique building and spotted the date, circa 1623. This was indeed old. The Mayflower ferrying the Pilgrims to America had sailed in 1620, he remembered. Jack crossed the threshold with some excitement.

The smell of beer and freshly waxed furniture welcomed him. He nodded to the bartender who was polishing a glass absentmindedly and climbed to the first floor. He ran his hand over the worn wooden bannister rail.

When he stepped into the room Harris had already arrived. He had settled into the far corner, choosing a table for two by the window. He stood up and walked towards Jack with an outstretched hand and an open smile.

“Good to see you again, Jack.”

They shook hands. “It’s been a while.”

Harris organised a cup of coffee which he assured Jack would be up to standard and they settled at the table.

They made light conversation about Jack’s trip until the coffee arrived. The waitress disappeared, leaving the room empty.

“Does Jethro know you are in town?” Harris eyes sparkled, amused.

“Sort of … the Station Chief usually likes to know when CIA staff visit, even when on holiday.”

Harris chuckled. “Just in case you decide to go off on a tangent and get involved in some devious plot whilst on his patch … ”

“That’s the sum of it.” Jack raised the cup of coffee to his lips. His eyebrows shot up. It was a decent blend.

“It’s your job to be devious, you’re a snoop, not the Salvation Army.”

“I had forgotten what the English sense of humour sounded like.” Jack grinned.

“But onto some serious business. I had a call with my source. Ollie Wilson’s case is starting to look more complex by the minute.”

Harris told Jack everything he had learned. The kidnapping that ended up with Ollie found in a heroin den, the ransacking of the flat, the fire, the fake SOCO team, the man Scotland Yard was trying to identify.

“The Scotland Yard team is good.” Harris’s arms rested on the edge of the table. He moved forward to tell the story, bending a little towards Jack.

“I presume we can conclude that the people who are after Ollie are professionals.”

“Without a doubt, but not people MI6 has on its radar.”

It was Jack’s turn to speak about the meeting with the Head of BIG and to share what he had learned about bioinformatics and the world of viruses.

“Ollie’s story is credible.” Jack finished his cup of coffee. “But the drug addiction is of course an issue.”

“And something to exploit, either to discredit him or to control him.”

“Agreed … still we can’t disregard the fact that all this may simply be drug related.”

Harris frowned. “Perhaps.”

“We need to dig around who these pros are.” Harris glanced at the wall clock. It was time for lunch. “Do you trust me?”

“An odd question … I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Jack gave Harris a side look, his eyes narrowed.

“I’m talking lunch .. shall I order a real East End dish for you? They do it really well here.”

“Go for it.” Jack had never regretted trusting Harris when it came to food in London.

Harris picked up his mobile and ordered. “Two hips and ships, please.”

Jack squinted at Harris but said nothing.

“Agreed on the pros. If they haven’t popped up on our radar or Scotland Yard’s, they’ve got to be top agency people.” Harris was back to business.

“I used to think that … that we were, you know, the best. CIA, SIS, Mossad and the old KGB now FSB … but I’m not so sure any longer. There are plenty of private organisations that are run by former agents from the East, ex-KGB. Officially they run information gathering platforms and at the same time they offer other ‘services’ of direct intervention under the radar. Hell … some of our own people have set up shop as well.” Harris stopped abruptly.

Two pints of Pale Ale appeared on the table. Harris nodded his thanks and waited for a moment. He closed his fingers round the glass. “Perfect, nice and cool with a good head on the top.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Jack took a sip of the golden liquid, yes … it was perfect. “If you are right, then whoever is employing the organisation has pretty deep pockets.”

“Big pharmaceutical companies have very big pockets.”

“But Ollie didn’t work for big pharma.”

“Some of the small biotech companies do have links with them, not through ownership, but through research sponsorship or through the top management staff.” Harris stopped again and waved the waitress over towards the table. “Fish and chips, mushy peas and tartar sauce,” he announced proudly.

“Hips and ships … fish and chips … is it because it sounds the same?”

“Yep … good ol’ fashioned cockney rhyming slang, mate. You need to be brought up in the East End of London proper to understand. Hips because it rhymes with fish and chips, and ship because it is a ship with a sail … ale.”

“Alright … it’s like …” Jack was making an effort to remember. “Porky pie … lie.”

“Hey, I knew I was perfecting your education when I taught you some of that stuff.”

Jack tucked into the battered fish. It was surprisingly crisp on the outside with a succulent chunk of cod at the centre, the tartar sauce was light and tangy.

“But where does that lead us to?” Harris had taken a couple of bites, happy with his choice.

“Ollie was not specific about what was bothering him. He wanted to check out his suspicions carefully first, but the one thing he did mention was China.”

“If he is concerned about technology transfer, he sure is spot on …”

Jack wiped his mouth and took a long pull of Ale. “I have access to some other information too.”

“Information that gives you cause for worry?” Harris put his knife