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

Pole inhaled slowly. “It’s inevitable that I can’t always tell you where the information comes from. Not that I don’t trust you, but it is also why the details are of such good quality … my sources know I won’t reveal their names.”

“Are they in danger?” Nancy had forgotten about her coffee. Her eyes searched Pole’s face for signs that would tell her what she needed to know.

“No.” Pole had almost finished his cup.

“Are you in danger?” Nancy grabbed his wrist as he was putting the cup back onto its saucer.

“I’m a police officer, mon coeur … that comes with the territory.” Pole slid his hand over Nancy’s and squeezed gently.

“That is not an answer.” Nancy frowned, her eyes narrowing with concern. “Is the gathering of information about my father putting you in any danger … at all?”

Pole could not prevent a smile at the well-formulated question …

“Don’t worry about your friend Pole.” He placed a light kiss on the palm of the hand he was holding.

“That is not an answer either.” Nancy hesitated, her voice wavering a little. “If you are putting yourself in harm’s way for my sake, please stop. The chances of my father being alive are minuscule and even if he were, he would be a complete stranger. It is not worth endangering your life …”

“But finding out will give you some much-needed peace of mind.” Pole grew serious.

“I’d have to find peace of mind in some other way. What would definitely not bring me peace is if something were to happen to you. I couldn’t bear it.”

Pole smiled again, a gentle smile. “Then you know how I feel when you go running after the bad guys without protection.”

Nancy shook her head and smiled back. “I suppose I have to concede the argument, Inspector Pole.”

“Very glad you do … at least for the time being. I’m sure I haven’t won my case yet.”

Pole had left a short time afterwards. It felt like a stalemate. Nancy knew now that he had committed to some unpalatable deal in order to find the information she needed. She almost succumbed to a moment of recrimination, but thought better of it. It would not help her in her pursuit to find out what Pole had pledged he would do in return for information.

She went into her study. She had reorganised it earlier, and all the loose papers had been filed apart from the two cases she was working on. The board she used to jot down notes, or messages to her cleaner, had now been transformed into a tracking board any good detective would have been proud of.

It was covered with the relevant documents, photos and notes on yellow stickers. Her desk that was usually littered with books was now organised into piles of papers and they were all about two cases, Ollie’s and her father’s.

* * *

One of the men stopped turned his head towards something on the ground. Jack recognised the scarf of the man who had just left the Atlantic Bar before him. So perhaps it was a mugging after all.

But the coolness with which the three men were closing in on him told him otherwise. He had heard the door of the restaurant lock behind him. By the time he had gone back and attracted the attention of the staff inside, the men would be upon him leaving him little chance of escape.

Jack dug into his jacket pockets in search for something he could use. There was nothing in there except for a packet of Kleenex and what must have been the wrapper of an old chocolate bar. His best bet was to tackle the single man, but the moment he turned away the others would be in pursuit. The third assailant had to delay Jack for the others to catch up and he looked more than able to do that … large shoulders hunched forward, thick neck, the sort of man you imagine as a bouncer or Butcher.

In the dark of the night something glimmered to his left. The Atlantic Bar staff had taken in all the tables and chairs that stood outside under the electric heaters. The lane looked a little broader than when he had arrived and someone had left an empty beer bottle lying on the ground that the staff had not removed.

Jack took another step forward, crouched to the ground seemingly to tighten up a non-existent shoelace. He measured the distance to run to the top of the lane. The big man was now moving slowly, waiting for the others to catch him up. Still, he was advancing and in only a few moments he would be upon him.

Jack leapt sideways, grabbing the bottle in one scoop, smashing it against the wall. The sudden move startled the man but only for an instant. Jack reached him in a couple of steps, avoiding the man’s fist by a whisker, and planted the broken glass in his face.

The man yelled and pulled back. His colleagues sprinted towards Jack. He ran the few yards towards the top of the alleyway and dived left. He might as well try to make it back to the hotel although he doubted he would be able to reach it before the other two had caught up with him.

The road was completely empty. Jack kept going, running in the middle of the street, hoping a cab might still materialise at this late hour. The resonant sound of pounding footsteps told him they were getting closer. He had reached Trafalgar Square and the traffic picked up a little.

A few cars were waiting at the traffic light, ready to be funnelled into the one-way system. Jack changed direction and made towards the pavement running alongside the square. His foot caught on the kerb and he came crashing down. He contained the pain, rolled to his side and managed to stand up.

The men had almost caught up with him. He started running again, but it was too late as a solid fist