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

“Hong Kong used to be such a fun place,” Cora said almost despite herself. She had spoken to Philippe about her memories of the place she used to love. There was no need to explain. She simply wished she could have brought back her grandparents with her when she left. Her mother’s parents, so wonderfully supportive of anything she did even when she decided to train as an artist.

“I’m sorry I’m bringing back old …” Philippe’s voice trailed.

“That’s okay, Philippe. It’s not your fault.” Cora drank a little tea to mask her trembling voice. “If it weren’t for Ollie, I’d come with you.” She was not certain it was time for her to go back, but Philippe knew nothing about the complexities of the place, and the underlying tensions between Hong Kong and mainland China.

“I haven’t even asked.” Philippe shook his head in disapproval of his absentmindedness. “How is Ollie?”

“Nothing’s changed.” Cora’s shoulders slumped a little. “I speak to him … I read his favourite poetry. It’s a quirky little book, a volume of mathematical poetry celebrating the connection between maths and the arts. Just like the two of us.”

She took the book out of her rucksack to show to Philippe. “I found it on the bookshelf in Johnny and Charlie’s flat … isn’t it strange sometimes how friends understand you beyond your wildest dreams?”

Philippe spent a moment not knowing what to say. He simply changed the subject.

“Nancy doesn’t know I’m going by the way.”

“Perhaps you should speak to her again before you go.”

“So that she can get me to change my mind.” Philippe shook his head. “She’s very convincing when she wants to be and I don’t want to cop out.”

“It’s not copping out if there is real danger out there.” Cora turned her attention fully on him, his soft profile, the gentle droop of his often-dreamy eyes. “If something bad were to happen to you, it would not help Amy.”

“But sitting here in London is not going to help her either.”

There was little to add to that. Her parents had fought against it and she spoke about it often … for years corruption had been creeping into the Hong Kong establishment, the police and even the judiciary. If Amy’s disappearance needed to be forgotten or treated as suicide, it would be. It would take someone with resources, an understanding of Hong Kong government politics, and ruthlessness, to find out what had happened. Cora did not think Philippe was that person.

* * *

“The place is like Fort Knox.” Jack found a table in the Barbican Centre coffee shop. “I managed to squeeze in after someone entered the premises.”

“I’ve opened up a map of the area.” Harris had called up a 3D map of the Viro-Tech building. “How far did you get?”

“I reached the gardens.” Jack was looking out through the long window of the café. The pond area and its benches, tables and chairs were deserted. “There is another organisation in the building called the Rainforest Foundation. I claimed I was a new volunteer but didn’t get very far with that argument.”

“You mean they didn’t trust your story?”

“No, they didn’t believe my style … clean shaven … leather bomber jacket.”

Harris said nothing for a moment. “What is that thing on the walls?”

“Plants. Different kinds of small evergreen plants that have been planted vertically up the wall … a new experiment apparently.”

“Very clever. A good screen. No one can get through this wall and it looks climate friendly.”

“And the rest of the back of the building has the same security as the front … reinforced steel, specialist glass … high spec devices.”

“That makes me really curious.” Harris’s voice crackled on the phone. “I’ll get my guys to find out more about Viro-Tech.”

Jack took a sip from the bottle of water he had just bought. “You may call me paranoid but … a woman entered the building before me. She looked Asian, perhaps Chinese or mixed parentage; she had a meeting with Wilson.”

“What’s the chance of that happening? Did you get a name?”

“I did. Nancy Wu, perhaps …”

Harris’s silence made Jack wonder whether he was still on the line.

“You still there?”

“Yup … just sending my first email to the donut.” Harris’s fingers could be heard running over the keyboard.

“You mean GCHQ?”

“That’s right … I work at the cross and I get my information from the donut. It’s all very British.”

Jack hung up on the call that had not given him as much information as he had hoped. He finished his water and rolled the empty bottle a few times between his hands. The Station Chief had told him to report. He would find out who Ms Wu was.

* * *

Someone else was trying to call. Nancy ignored the persistent buzz. Yvonne Butler was already on the phone with the details of a contact who could help, or rather who was willing to look into the origins of the document that named Nancy’s father. The photos were now also part of the arrangement.

“I don’t mind admitting it, Yvonne. I’m really impressed.”

“Let’s see first what the results are. Nothing intrigues a spook more than a piece of information that is contentious.”

“I suppose there will be a catch to this.” Nancy’s voice shook a little.

“With MI6 there always is, I’m afraid. The deal is that if this is something important and the information is useful, my contact wants to be able to use it.”

Nancy fell silent for a moment.

“You don’t need to answer now. Think about it.”

“Thank you, Yvonne, but I’ve waited 30 years for an answer … whether I choose to admit it or not, I need to take some risks to unearth the truth. We have a deal.” Nancy lay her hands over the document. “The documents will be on their way shortly, but the photos are rather old.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be amazed what these people can do with the information they receive.”

Nancy thanked Yvonne and dropped the mobile onto the sofa. She winced as she tried to get