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

“It’s an internal report … prepared for the Pentagon. I haven’t finished reading it, but it puts forward the idea that the US military is about to lose its supremacy.”

“China is no longer a sleeping giant.” Harris nodded. “It’s a dragon alright, and the Chinese will know how to rise to the challenge. After all they invented the art of war.”

“I didn’t mention China.” Jack pointed out.

“Which other country could concern you that much? Russia? Not to be dismissed, despite what most world leaders think, but no … the main challenge to the US in this century is China. And they won’t compete on a level playing field … they’ll use technology and armament in novel ways.”

“What do you mean?” Jack straightened up. MI6 had been doing their homework.

“China can only establish supremacy in one way. It needs to prevent the US from deploying its assets around the Pacific …” Harris waved towards the waitress. “Coffee?”

* * *

“Are you sure?”

Cora grinned in reply. She jumped out of the cab and started climbing the wall to the first-floor bedroom window she had left on the latch. The cabbie gave Nancy a quizzical look. “Should I be worried?”

“No need.” Nancy assured him. “She is a performance artist. She likes to rehearse her number whenever she can.”

“You mean performance, acrobats, like the Cirque du Soleil?”

“Something like that.” Nancy waved back at Cora as she waved to her from the bedroom window.

The cab sped through the backstreets of Hoxton and hit one of the city’s main roads. The traffic was surprisingly light. They arrived at London Bridge shortly before 11am. Nancy thanked the driver, paid and finished the journey on foot.

The wind had changed direction, now blowing from the East. Nancy raised her coat collar, took a pair of gloves from inside her small rucksack and put them on. She hurried along the wide bridge across the River Thames. The water looked grey and murky. It gave a humidity to the air that penetrated even the warmest of clothes.

She walked quickly down a set of stone steps, trailing a hand down the stone rail for balance. Borough Market was busy. She slowed down a little to take in the atmosphere, walking along the street stalls, enjoying the appetising smells of the food on display. Her mobile rang. Yvonne had already arrived at the café and was asking what she should order.

Medium roast Colombian coffee, one sugar and a splash of milk.

She pushed open the door of the Colombian Coffee Company and waved. Yvonne waved back, eager it seemed for a catch up.

Nancy indulged her friend when she fired a salvo of questions centre stage to the inquiry … Nancy’s sentimental life.

The coffee arrived, together with an assortment of delicious looking pastries. Yvonne could never resist, thank goodness.

She groaned. “I’m a romantic at heart … the fact that I cut people open, well dead people I should add, all day is just a way of hiding my true self.”

“I’m glad that Jonathan is helping you connect with your true self then.”

Yvonne roared with laughter. “Enough nonsense, though … so come on … what can I do for you?”

“It’s not a matter that concerns an actual case.” Nancy drank a little coffee. “It’s more of a personal request.” She was conscious of the slight hesitation in her voice and noticed that Yvonne heard it too.

Her friend grew serious. “Perhaps a little background might help as a way into it. If you feel it’s appropriate, of course.”

Nancy nodded; it was a fair request.

Her father had disappeared thirty years ago in Beijing, she needed to know why. Nancy elaborated whilst Yvonne listened without interrupting.

“The document, an article called Contemporary Art in China under Deng Xiao Ping, tells me a lot, or at least things that I’ve never been able to gather before, about my father. I need to establish it’s authentic.”

“How about the author?”

“The internet search didn’t give me much … but I don’t want people to know I am searching his name in any case.”

“Are you being overly cautious?”

“Unfortunately not … someone paid a dear price for that document.”

“Someone got hurt?”

“Someone died, I fear.”

“Fine … I get it … you want help from someone in an environment that protects them from interference and danger.”

“That’s my aim … GCHQ perhaps?”

Yvonne pondered the request for a moment. “I need to know more about your father’s disappearance.”

“If you can spare the time and whoever helps really needs that information …”

Yvonne interrupted with a shake of her head. “Forget GCHQ … you need MI6 and I might have just the person.”

Chapter Fourteen

One of Yvonne’s students had started the Y incision. Pole was standing in the observation gallery and Yvonne waved him in. He reluctantly donned a protective gown and overshoes. He grabbed a pair of gloves out of habit. There was no way he would be touching any part of what was coming out of the dead man’s internal cavities.

Yvonne moved over to the door and released the lock from within. “I’ve just seen your good friend Nancy.”

“Excellent.” Pole was not in the mood to be teased, not that it would stop Yvonne. She chuckled and lead Pole to the mortuary table.

“I’m not going to tell you the obvious about our candidate on the table, but a few noticeable details … excellent teeth with zero work on them, which is a bummer because we won’t be finding him with that.”

She moved closer to the young woman who had finished the large frontal incision, exposing the internal organs.

“I think he had quite a few tattoos on his body. These have been removed, rather successfully, and probably a little while ago. The skin there is slightly different in texture, in particular this patch here, where the scar it left is still visible.” Yvonne was pointing to part of the man’s shoulder. “We have the same scars on the back.”

Pole approached the body, to take a better look at the area Yvonne was pointing to