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

In a sea of unopened emails he found what he was looking for.

“Call me,” was all she had to say.

This was not what he had anticipated. He had no means of screening his room. He could ask Jethro for help, but the Station Chief would want to know more. Harris, on the other hand, might be more accommodating.

Jack replied but looking at the clock on the side table, he realised it was only 5.30am in Langley. She was almost certainly getting ready by now, but it was perhaps a little too early to call.

He moved to brew a fresh cup of coffee and when done, made himself comfortable on his bed to finish reading the McCain report.

The young man who had helped prepare the report was incensed about the loss of technological intellectual property to China. Billions of dollars had been forfeited by private companies that were keen to do business with the emerging power. A market of more than one billion people was tempting.

Yet each company knew the price it would have to pay, compelled to relinquish some of its technological advances and allow China to steal its research and development. For years the US had turned a blind eye in the belief that, since the fall of Mao Zedong and the market opening fostered by Deng Xiao Ping, China would eventually embrace the world of free trade to become a strong economic partner. What was a little R&D thieving amongst friends?

Except that China had not seen it that way, or at least not according to the report. Jack read the chapter devoted to the illicit transfer of technology and sat back, coffee in hand. He had heard some of his colleagues lament the lack of influence the military had over the private sector. The schism had occurred a while ago. The intellectual property in the technology the military needed to maintain its advantage over other competitors, no longer belonged to the military. The CEOs of these firms did not report to the army chief but to boards of directors concerned with the returns to company shareholders and not with the might of the US army.

Jack could see the argument and although the report applied to large tech corporations, there was no reason why a smaller company would not do the same, as long as the market it was targeting was worth it.

The clock had changed since he had started reading. It was almost 6.45am in Langley. Time to make his call. He dropped a text to Steve Harris. Need to discuss a theory. Will meet you in the lobby at Vauxhall Cross.

What better place to make a secure call than the impregnable building of MI6?

* * *

Yvonne waved at Nancy from inside the mortuary room. Another day … another cadaver, she liked to quip. The young woman with whom she was working had finished sewing up the Y incision. It was time to tidy up and Yvonne could leave this to her. She approached the bin next to the sliding door of the room, removed her gloves with a precise movement, folding them in such a way that she would not be exposed to any of the residue staining them. She removed her visor and gown and put them in a large bin. She washed her hands as meticulously as she had removed her gloves and finally made her way to greet Nancy.

“I have an envelope for you.”

“And I’d like to see the man who died in the flat incident …”

“Something I missed?” Yvonne grinned. She enjoyed rather than resented Nancy’s acute mind.

They moved to another room, distinctly cooler than the one they had just left. A middle-aged man was closing one of the drawers and turned around.

“Nick … do you mind showing us RG-734- A?”

Nick nodded and moved to the far end of the room. They followed and he pulled open the square door of one of the drawers. He slid the slab halfway out and left them to it.

Nancy froze for a moment, the images of her crashing a chair over the man’s back the ferocity of her attack assailed her. She blinked a few times to will them away.

“Are you alright?” Yvonne murmured.

“Fine … I’m fine.” Nancy approached closer to the gurney and Yvonne removed the white sheet.

“It is a dagger …” Nancy concentrated on the man’s shoulders.

Yvonne stood on the other side and started nodding. “Absolutely … I took a few more pictures with better resolution.”

“Russian prisoner … probably a contract killer.”

“Anything else?” Yvonne waited and Nancy shook her head. It was enough. There was nothing left there for her to glean. Nick reappeared to roll back the gurney and close the drawer.

“Let’s get a coffee somewhere.” Yvonne walked out first and made sure Nancy was following closely. They walked into her office and she handed her the envelope.

The place was new and cosy. They were waiting for their order when Nancy pulled out the envelope from her satchel.

“Are you going to open it?” Yvonne’s forehead was raised, her eyes slightly larger than usual.

“It would be rude not to share with a friend.” Nancy smiled.

“Exactly so …” Yvonne leaned forward. “The suspense is killing me … I know, it’s a bad joke considering the circumstances.”

“I’m afraid you hit the nail on the head, and I worry that may not be just a metaphor.”

“Come on … indulge my nosiness.”

“You’re not nosy. You’re resolutely curious.”

“… must remember that …” Yvonne’s eyes had not left the package.

The order arrived.

Pain aux raisins and black coffee for Nancy.

Triple chocolate muffin and espresso for Yvonne.

Both took a bite of their pastry and approved.

Nancy could delay no longer; she slid a finger underneath the flap and lifted it carefully. When this was done, she tipped the contents carefully into her hand. A USB key appeared together with a couple of photos. What looked like a very old photocopy also slid into her hand.

Nancy brought her other hand to her