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

“I saw some pretty grisly things when I worked on war crimes in Eastern Europe. You learn to recognise who you are dealing with quickly.”

She promptly finished the call. She had enough time for a quick call with Pole before making her way to the mortuary.

Her mobile rang. Perhaps he was calling her first, but the number on the screen was unfamiliar. She hesitated, pressing the reply button as the voicemail was about to kick in.

She recognised the voice of Superintendent Marsh’s PA. They exchanged a few pleasantries before Denise asked her about availability. “He would like to see you on a rather delicate matter, I’m afraid.”

“It always is.” Nancy bit her lip. Marsh’s keen attention was not what she needed at a time when she and Pole were at odds over her investigation methods.

“For once, it actually is a tricky situation.” Denise meant every word she said. Nancy took note. Denise did not pander to her boss. Matters must indeed be tricky if she said so.

“What time did you have in mind?”

“Perhaps late morning … 11.30am?”

“I’ll make sure I am available. Any inkling ?”

“Perhaps you should speak to DCI Pole?”

* * *

“You’re not as bad as I thought you might be.” Jethro Greeney picked up Jack’s health record that hung at the bottom of his bed without paying much attention to it.

“I’ve got two damaged ribs, a black eye and a split lip … what did you expect, to find me brain dead?”

“No …” Jethro replaced the chart. “But they left my other agent in a much worse state, I can tell you.”

Jack straightened up in his bed with a wince. “The man that was having dinner at the same place as me?”

“Correct … I thought perhaps you needed someone to keep you company … I didn’t think my guy was going to be beaten to a pulp, though.”

“Those people knew exactly what they were doing.”

“Evidently. My operatives are well trained but so were they.”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it was a strange mix of moves. Something I have encountered before.”

“There are only a couple of agencies that craft their own training when it comes to hand-to-hand combat … Mossad and the FSB, or rather, men with military training who join the FSB.”

Jack pondered. It was not Mossad’s Krav Maga. “I’d say boys from the FSB then.”

Jethro pulled a face. He couldn’t quite reconcile how the Russians might be involved in Jack’s beating. “Whoever they are, your little escapade into the premises of Viro-Tech Therapeutics did not go unnoticed.”

“I gather not …”

“Yep, the woman you spoke about, Nancy Wu. Former pre-eminent QC, retired early, does a lot of pro bono for a university and collects contemporary art. She was involved in a controversial case … Henry Crowne, IRA operative turned investment banker … after that she was appointed as advisor to the Met in London. They must have been impressed with her work.”

“Do I sense a but …”

“A few of them to tell you the truth. Her father was a well-known artist, Chinese … supported Mao Zedong, until the Cultural Revolution hit. He escaped with his family but returned under Deng Xiao Ping. We don’t seem to have much about him after that.”

“You said a few.” Jack slid down the bed again to make himself more comfortable.

“She worked for a guy called Vergès, a French Barrister … very controversial lawyer, very left wing too … she didn’t stay with him in the end. I’m not sure what her political affiliations are, but I’m looking into those.”

“Back to her being a consultant with the Met, that’s pretty high profile.”

“You bet … so she has the means to find information, pass it on. The best part of the story about Henry Crowne is that he escaped HSU Belmarsh. No one had ever escaped the high security unit there before … although if you ask me the Brits are getting soft with their prisoners.”

“You mean they should reintroduce the death penalty?”

“Might not be a bad idea … a terrorist is a threat, right?”

Jack thought better than to disagree with the Station Chief. “So, what’s your take on all of this?”

“She could well be a player for a foreign power.”

“What? After years in the country, she suddenly turns into a spy? The Met must have done their due diligence before recruiting her.”

“Or someone managed to convince her. That’s what we do when we recruit our informants.”

Jack sank back into the pillows. Steve Harris would not like the way the Station Chief was going about the Wilson case.

Chapter Twenty-One

Superintendent Marsh was standing in front of the large window of his spacious office. Pole noticed that his silhouette had grown a little heavier, the panel of his uniform jacket looked tight around his waistline. Too many networking lunches and dinners were starting to take their toll.

Marsh’s eyes followed Pole as he walked in, moving straight to Marsh’s desk and rearranging the single chair that awaited visitors summoned for interrogation.

The Super finally turned away from the grand view his office commanded … Westminster Bridge that led to the Houses of Parliament on the right-hand side, the London Eye straight ahead and the South Bank cultural centre on the left.

Marsh indicated to Pole he should sit with a short movement of his head. “I haven’t heard any more news about the progress of your inquiry.”

Pole pulled the chair further away from the desk to accommodate his long legs and sat down.

“I’m sorry, Sir. The Ollie Wilson case has been keeping me busy, but we are making progress.”

“The young man who was kidnapped and is now in hospital?”

“That’s right.” Pole didn’t volunteer more information, hoping his silence might arouse Marsh’s interest.

“Anything I should know about this case over and above what you wrote in your report?”

Between a rock and a hard place … the expression sprang into Pole’s mind. Did he really want to attract his boss’s attention to a case in which MI6 was involved, as well as