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

the road to find himself on the right-hand side of the pavement. He stopped and surveyed the scene. Skid marks at a right angle made by a single motorbike which had stopped and mounted the pavement, were clearly visible. He squatted down for a moment. A few pedestrians gave him an odd look.

Someone stopped altogether and was about to comment.

“That’s okay … I’m not going to have a crap … I’m looking for evidence.” He took out his police ID card and shoved it in the direction of the onlooker without looking at them.

The intruder scuttled off.

Pole called Andy back. “Speak to Yvonne … I want the skid marks on file …” Pole grunted, “… please.” It was an afterthought, but he was not in the mood.

Another gust of wind reminded him that he had just walked out in only a light jacket and that London in the middle of February required a little more than that.

He had spoken to PCs Doyle and Garth who, unlike Andy, had managed to get on the wrong side of him. DCI Pole did not think it was good police procedure to let a victim wander off alone … even if they made sure she was safely at home.

Was it a good idea? No, Sir.

Hope you learned from your mistakes. Yes, Sir.

Pole surveyed the scene once more and called it a day. He hesitated, decided otherwise, and pushed his mobile deep into his pocket. He was damned if he was the first to call.

He picked up a couple of good coffees from his regular sandwich shop. As soon as he went in, the waitress started preparing his usual order. Pole managed a smile. “Times two please.”

He placed his peace offering on Andy’s desk, but the young man only half noticed. His eyebrows were knotted into a scowl Pole knew well.

“What’s up?” Pole started sipping his coffee, a welcome warmer.

“I’m not sure, Guv … I keep seeing a phone showing up in and around the office which I can’t either explain or trace.” Andy moved the data around several screens he had opened on his PC. He smiled a thank you, took a sip and sighed. Just what he needed, too.

Pole’s hand squeezed a little harder around his cup. He fought the urge to check his jacket pocket. His new burner phone was there. But this time he had switched it off. Harris had insisted it should change every month and for once he had to thank him for a good piece of advice. The phone Andy had traced was long gone. But the question would remain. What was this unknown mobile doing at Scotland Yard and, more importantly, who owned it?

“What do you make of it?” Pole took another sip, as did Andy.

“I’d say a pay as you go. Some people like these when they run an operation using informants or sources. They don’t want to use their regular phone for that.”

Pole nodded.

“I’ve just got to see where else this phone shows up.”

“Keep up the good work,” Pole managed convincingly.

As soon as he stepped into his office, the phone rang. Trouble always came in threes.

Superintendent Marsh was calling him.

Pole stroked his goatee. Letting one of his team pick up would only delay the inevitable. Marsh wanted an update. He sat down at his desk and picked up the phone.

“Good afternoon, Sir.”

“Afternoon, Pole … any news?”

Pole updated Marsh about the meeting with Ferguson, in detail. Although there was little that had been achieved, at least he could talk about the plan they had agreed on.

“Promising. How about the list of people who were working on the Phelps case?”

“I have finished my list and so has Ferguson.”

A pile of documents had arrived with the mail. Pole picked up a large envelope at random.

“What does Ms Wu think about this?” The Super was almost meek.

“I haven’t thought it fit to let her know about the informal investigation, Sir,” Pole replied smoothly. “She is after all on the list of the people who worked on the Phelps case.”

Marsh cleared his throat. “I suppose …”

“I plan to review the data and interview the people on the list tomorrow. Commander Ferguson is conducting interviews on his side. I’ll come back to you soon.” Pole this time was curt … unusually so, and Marsh was silenced.

Pole picked up an old rubber band and played with it for a moment. He needed to place a call to Harris. The clock on his wall indicated 4pm … too early.

A text pinged on his mobile.

You are fuming I know … BUT I do have very interesting information to share … dinner at 8?

He toyed with the idea of not replying. He needed the information though and, more importantly, a good explanation as to why she hadn’t called him.

Need to speak now … I too have information to share.

An excellent excuse to leave the office and place the call he needed to make away from the tracking devices Andy was now running continuously.

* * *

Her fingers grazed the keyboard, then rose suspended in a motionless pause. Cora reviewed the information on screen. There were very few tickets available in economy class … Cathay Pacific was full, Emirates and Qatar Airways had a couple left, British Airways seemed a better bet, but prices had rocketed since she last booked a flight to Hong Kong.

Philippe brought two cups of tea and sat next to her.

“Crazy expensive. Emirates or Qatar with two or three hours’ stop in either Dubai or Doha.”

“I’ve got to go there. The two other gallerists I work with don’t know anything and they are getting scared. The Hong Kong police are not giving me or them any information.” Philippe ran a wary hand over his face. “The longer I delay, the more likely it is they will give up and not try to find Amy.”

Cora rolled back the chair away from the desk. “What are they saying? Suicide? Bad luck meeting a weirdo who pushed her into the water?”

“No, worse … they