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

Jack nodded. Any place would do as long as he could have some hot food. He took a seat on one of the bar stools. A couple sat at the corner of the long bar, a few seats away from him, enjoying the dessert they were sharing.

He ordered a crab bisque and seared scallops. The sommelier recommended a glass of Meursault. Even by the glass the price seemed expensive, but Jack might not be able to find one of such quality in Washington.

The waiter behind the bar brought him six opened Jersey oysters, on the house. An excellent ploy to make sure the first glass of the outstanding white burgundy would be followed by another.

The woman who had welcomed Jack was about to lock the door for the evening when a small man slipped in. Jack cast an eye over him. He looked unremarkable, dressed in a black puffer jacket, a dark scarf wound tight around his neck and the lower part of his face. The hostess hesitated but allowed him in. He moved to the opposite side of the bar, taking off his scarf as he settled onto one of the stools.

Jack took out his mobile, checked on his emails but decided it was too late to reply to any of them. One hour of rest to enjoy his food was well deserved.

He swallowed four oysters, enjoying with them the warm French bread that accompanied the dish. Jack cast an eye casually towards the latecomer. The man had taken his smartphone out too, browsing absentmindedly through its contents. He lifted his head to look at the last customers around the room out of curiosity and returned to his browsing.

The fish soup came and Jack tucked in, forgetting all about the man at the bar. The couple he had noticed a few seats away were readying themselves to go. She slid from the high stool, wobbled a little with a giggle. The man held open her coat and helped her to put it on. They were off, the night was still young for those two, Jack mused.

The scallops came just as he had finished his soup. The aroma of saffron and cream made his mouth water. The restaurant was now almost empty. Another couple of men at a corner table were also departing. Jack checked his watch, 12.35am. He stifled a yawn. It had been a long day.

The waiters around him were setting up the tables for the following day and yet there was no urgency in their movements. Jack finished the last morsel on his plate, mopped up with a piece of bread the remainder of the sauce and asked for the bill. The man on the other side of the bar seemed to have finished his food as well. He had settled the bill and downed the last of his beer. He zipped up his puffer jacket and rolled his scarf around his neck and face and made for the door.

Jack left a couple of £50 notes in the tray. He thanked the waiters who thanked him in return. He slid into his winter jacket and found himself out in the cold again.

Jack turned left, advanced a few yards and stopped. This was not the way he had come. He turned around to change direction. Two men started walking towards him from the top of the alleyway and another man appeared from a recess in the wall of the adjacent theatre. Jack very much doubted it was his money they were after.

* * *

“Yvonne is a source of unexpected help. I didn’t realise she had contacts in places such as MI6.”

The dinner had been more relaxed than Nancy had anticipated. Both she and Pole were surprisingly good at putting their differences aside when it came to appreciating good food. She suspected that Pole’s early family life, with numerous brothers, sisters and friends joining the family table had given him a sense that a meal should be enjoyed to the full.

“You can always discuss and exchange, but never quarrel, around the dinner table,” he once told Nancy when he started telling her more about his parents’ arty household.

But dinner was over. Nancy had rustled up a dessert of vanilla ice cream, roasted almonds and melted toffee. Coffee had been brewed and she handed a cup to Pole. His shoulders had momentarily frozen when she had mentioned MI6 earlier.

“Yvonne has been in the game for a rather long time. She always drives herself hard to deliver over and above. I’m not surprised she has contacts in unforeseen places.”

Nancy poured herself a cup of coffee, giving herself time before replying. They had almost quarrelled a couple of hours ago. Did she want to make things worse? But she had taken matters for granted for far too long, ignoring what she was best at doing … asking the tough questions.

Now was the time to apply the method she was known for to her own case. Whether she liked the immediate results or not, she was confident that in the long run she would not regret it.

Pole drank his coffee in silence and stretched an arm over his head. It would take about forty minutes to reach his house in Clapham. Nancy refilled his cup without asking whether he wanted a top up.

“I have always assumed that the information you have gathered for me about my father’s case came from the contact you have in Hong Kong.” She lifted her own cup to her lips and took a sip.

“But it was lazy of me, Jonathan. I should have asked whether …” She lifted her face towards Pole with a small smile of regret. “… wheather these details came at a cost to yourself.”

Pole’s eyes closed briefly.

“I’m not talking about monetary costs, of course …” Nancy kept the conversation moving, hoping Pole would not clam up. “I have gone through all the data you have provided me with. It’s a lot more than I ever had before and certainly a lot