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

“Can you recreate these tats by using some product or tool? Like ultraviolet light?

“Good thinking, Inspector Pole,” Yvonne noted, enthusiastic at the thought. “I’ll have to check whether that is possible. I’ve not had to do it before.”

Pole moved to the end of the table to view the man fully. He had only seen the picture the SOCO team had produced. As well as the one Yvonne had sent him when the dead man had arrived at the Mortuary.

“Eastern European … almost certainly.”

“Well spotted, and the blood type we’ve found suggests that too. B blood allele is very uncommon in Western Europe but much more widespread in Eastern Europe and Central Asia.”

Pole took a few steps back and turned towards her. “Let me know what else you find.”

“As soon as possible and preferably yesterday … I know.” Yvonne was already moving closer to her trainee. The stomach was about to be taken out and Pole decided it was time to go.

* * *

Pole had left the bike at home. From the car he called Andy to check progress on the elusive Balham man. He plugged his mobile into the dashboard holder. The phone was ringing with no answer. Pole almost hung up.

“Sorry Gov, was just on a call with London Transport Police. There was a bit of a scuffle with a chap whose description corresponds with the man we are following.”

“Sounds promising.” Pole had stopped at a traffic light. He engaged the siren of his unmarked car. He manoeuvred the vehicle around the queue waiting for the lights to change and sped away. “Keep going … why is that important?” Pole raised his voice to be heard over the noise of the siren.

“Someone in the crowd that witnessed the incident took a short video of it. They’re just sending it to the London Transport Police and they will forward it on to me.”

“More good news?” Pole swerved his car around a lorry that was double parked, swearing silently.

“Spot on … We can see the face of the guy under his hood.”

Pole slapped the car wheel. “Well done, Andy. What comes next?”

“I’ve tried new software designed for facial recognition. I know it’s not always accurate, but it’ll give me a better image of the chap and then I’ll broaden the CCTV camera search.”

“Even if he has escaped from the Balham area. He might resurface in the neighbouring boroughs.”

“Just my thinking Gov.”

“Anything else?” Pole slowed down to ease his car through a busy junction onto the Thames Embankment. “I’ll be with you in 10 minutes.”

“Perhaps we should discuss it when you get back.”

“Any inkling?”

“A request came to trace all mobiles that connected at or near Scotland Yard a few months ago. It coincides with the time we were working on the Mark Phelps case.”

“Let’s talk about it in 10 minutes.”

Pole changed gear ferociously. He terminated the call and got out his latest burner phone.

“Harris … you’d better deliver,” he muttered.

* * *

“Have the forensic guys finished with my flat?”

Cora was in the kitchen, preparing a lunch of soup and freshly baked bread, one of Charlie’s new culinary discoveries.

DS Branning shook his head. “There were still at it when I arrived this morning.” He checked his watch and looked at the meal Cora was preparing with suspicion. It looked a little too healthy for a meat and two veg man like him.

“I would offer you soup, but it may not be what you have in mind for lunch.”

“Very kind, but I brought my own sandwich. Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Damn, DS Branning had been efficient and prepared. He was not going to leave the premises. Or perhaps …

“You could get yourself a hot lunch from the café over the road, where you get your tea. I’m sure Renee wouldn’t mind if you called her to order and pick up a bit later.”

Branning straightened up … an enticing proposition. He slumped back a little. “Better not.”

“She does a mean steak and kidney pie.” Cora had not given up, anything to give her a few minutes on her own.

Branning folded the latest copy of the Daily Mirror he was reading. “I thought you were vegetarian.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Cora laughed. “I’m Chinese … you know what they say … if it crawls, I eat it, if it swims, I eat it and if it flies, ditto.”

“Is that so?” Branning’s eyes widened a little. “I had snails once … they were okay. Though I mostly enjoyed the garlic butter.”

He stood up and fetched a carrier bag that had seen better days. He took out his sandwich, white bread, Cheddar cheese and pickle, wrapped in cling film. Either Michael Branning lived on his own or his wife had little imagination.

Cora wrinkled her nose at the sight. He watched her expression and shrugged. Cora picked up a mobile and waved it around playfully. “Last chance … I’ll make the call to Renee …”

Branning hesitated. His stomach rumbled. “As long as it’s ready when I arrive.” Cora gave him the thumbs up. “It will be.”

He had just crossed the small courtyard and turned into the road. DS Branning would be away for less than 10 minutes. Cora pressed the number on her frequent contact list as soon as the door had closed behind him. Philippe’s phone was ringing.

“Please, please, please … don’t go into voicemail.” Her voice was low and anxious.

Philippe replied with a muffled voice.

“I haven’t got much time … first of all though, are you alright?”

“Ain’t slept much and don’t know what to do.”

“What is it?” Cora’s voice tightened.

“Have you not spoken to Nancy?”

Cora hesitated. She had better not talk about her unannounced morning visit. “Not yet.”

Philippe sighed heavily. “Then you’ve not been told about Amy.”

The hairs on the back of Cora’s neck bristled. She uttered an inaudible ‘no’.

“They found her handbag and mobile phone on the Victoria Harbour jetty in Hong Kong.”

Philippe’s