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

“When did you land?”

“Earlier today.” Nancy didn’t feel the need to disguise her eagerness.

“Oh my … you must be starving. I’m afraid I have little to offer you.”

“Don’t worry …” Nancy managed a smile. “I’m here for something much more important.”

Licot sat across from his two guests, gathering his thoughts. “Your father.”

* * *

“I need a good rope … that’s all.” Cora and Johnny were having breakfast at the kitchen table. It was late and DS Branning had disappeared for his first cigarette of the day.

“You’re nuts.” Johnny had cooked a couple of eggs and he was sliding them onto two pieces of well buttered toast. This was the extent of his cooking skills, but he was very proud of his egg on toast.

“I have managed a much more complicated performance than that … it’s not difficult.”

“Why won’t you ask for proper help … Inspector Pole seems a very reasonable guy.”

“Because I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“And what if you find something you don’t want to find? Then what?”

Cora slumped in her chair. “I don’t know.” She shook her head.

“That’s not the right answer, darling.” Johnny pushed a plate towards her. He was going to be annoyed if she didn’t eat what he had cooked for her.

“I wish Nancy was here.”

Johnny took another bite of his food and sighed. Even his favourite breakfast did nothing to alleviate the strain of the past few days. “Me too.”

“Have you heard from Nat?” Cora changed subject.

“Not a squeak … Beth and I were discussing that. We’re worried she’s …”

The door of the flat opened. Someone coughed heavily, a drawn-out rattle that threatened to end badly. DS Branning walked into the kitchen, straight to the kettle.

“Cup of tea?”

Cora and Johnny nodded. They hadn’t noticed their breakfast preparations hadn’t included tea.

Branning just got on with it, filled the kettle with water, warmed the pot, threw some teabags in.

The gurgling of the kettle was for a moment the only sound in the kitchen. Branning had made the tea. He poured the liquid into three different mugs.

The polka dot for Johnny, the red and white stripe for Cora, and any odd mug going for himself.

“I’m sure, if you ask Inspector Pole nicely, he might let you enter your apartment again …” Branning brought his lips to the cup, advancing them gingerly to taste the liquid and finally took a sip, satisfied it was the perfect temperature. “Whatever the reason.” Branning leaned towards the biscuit box, opened it and offered it around.

Johnny gave Cora an alarmed look. He hesitated. “They’re probably a little stale for you officer. Why don’t I make a fresh batch this evening? In the meantime, I’m sure I can find something nicer in one of the cupboards.” Johnny was already rifling through the larder.

“Not to worry.” Branning pushed the box away. “I need to lose weight anyway and you never know … the service may want to test me for illegal substances …”

Johnny’s back stiffened. He closed rather slowly the larder door he had opened frantically a moment before.

Cora could not help but laugh. It seemed that DS Branning had sussed out each of their little secrets. Cora’s night-time investigation as well as Johnny’s pot laced biscuits.

“The truth is …” Cora slid her finger over the rim of her mug. “I’m not sure I want to know what is hidden in my flat.”

Chapter Thirty

His feet were pounding the red asphalt. His rucksack swayed from side to side on his back. The ferry to Kowloon was departing in three minutes and they would be closing the doors in less than one. Jack pushed his way onto Central Ferry Pier 7. The crowd that had disembarked fifteen minutes earlier had not yet left the shops that lay along the side of the pier.

“Wait …” Jack shouted at the top of his voice.

One of the mariners lifted his head. He was loosening the ropes whilst one of his colleagues had started to raise the metal sheets of the ramp to board the boat. He gave Jack a distant look, neither man acknowledged him. Jack started running faster. He didn’t hesitate and jumped upwards to clear the top of the metal doors. The men leaped sideways and gave Jack an earful in Chinese.

“Sorry pals … I’ve got to get to the other side now.”

The men shrugged angrily, moving the ropes faster to complete the manoeuvre.

A few other passengers had raised their heads from their mobiles but soon returned to them.

Jack moved around the seats of the lower deck, checked the stairs and found a space to sit near the bow on the upper deck. In less than fifteen minutes he would be disembarking in Kowloon. From there, it was a five-minute walk to the YMCA. The sea breeze now blew cooler than at the Central Piers. Jack shivered and drew a light jacket out of his rucksack. He took out his mobile phone and saw on his screen a couple of pictures that Laurie had sent him. Randy Zhang smiled in a photo taken at his graduation. Another more recent shot at a conference showed him looking tired and strained. His face had changed, looking thinner and older. Laurie had sent Jack a few extra details. She had used one of her facial recognition apps to produce a picture in which Randy had grown a beard, another where he had changed the colour of his hair. Jack committed the pictures to memory, replacing his iPhone in his bag, and sat back. For a few moments he would simply sit still. Getting a little rest whenever possible was a trick he had learned on his tours of the Middle East.

The green and white painted Star Ferry docked in Kowloon. Jack waited for the other people to disembark. He was keen to reach the YMCA as soon as he could but he also knew the value of being patient. If anyone was trailing him, he too would have to wait until his target left the