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the Eastern European connection.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“The drug squad has given me information about the group they are targeting. They managed to catch a couple of these guys but they turned out to be only couriers … not the senior bods, or even middle ranking gang members. Their theory is that the top men are ex KGB or FSB people. They have recruited from the agents they worked with in the past.”

“Is it a large organisation?”

“That’s the theory … well, a bit more than that. The problem is that not a lot of people are talking about them, and those who do don’t live long afterwards.”

“Apart from the obvious drug link, any other information that could be helpful to us?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. They have a small team of assassins they use to ensure everybody toes the line. The drug squad has a bit more on them, because when they target a victim, they make it very obvious. It’s like a code that tells other members of the gang why that person has been executed.”

Pole perked up. “Those assassins.” He highlighted the word with air quotes. “Are they for hire too?”

“That’s the thing, Guv … the squad doesn’t think so. That’s not part of what the gang offers … However …”

“… for the right price, which must be pretty high, they might make an exception.”

“That’s what Ted, my contact at the squad, said.”

“I wonder how someone gets to know this Russian gang well enough to hire their hitmen … or rather to be allowed to hire their hitmen.”

“I wondered that too and I think the point of contact is drugs.”

Pole frowned. “You mean …”

“An illegal substance is only illegal because it’s not used to manufacture medications. Opium is used to create all sorts of drugs, approved and regulated, sold around the world to hospitals, and used under strict medical supervision.”

“If you’re in the drugs business …” Pole rolled his chair towards his desk. His fingers were running over the keyboard. You sent me a file on Turner.”

“I did, and I also sent you details about his father.”

“Turner Junior is a repeat CEO of biotech companies … He buys, builds and sells, and then moves on.” Pole was scrolling down a document. “Turner Senior sits on the board of a couple of companies … one of which is a large US pharmaceutical company.”

“It might be a bit of a leap, but those people will know a lot about drug production … legal, that’s for sure, but perhaps illegal too.”

Pole finished reading the document in silence. He rolled his chair away from the computer to face his DS.

“Both Turners were part of a group that pushed for allowing opium production in Afghanistan to be used for medical purposes. I can’t recall the details but the idea pissed off a lot of people in the London drug squad. The idea might have been a good one, trying to channel the Afghan production into something legal, but the truth of the matter is that the Afghan government doesn’t have enough resources to police production.”

Andy nodded with a smile on his face. “I remember … they said it could drive production up as well as price, and would be a disaster.”

“I’m glad you recall that too … check how involved the two Turners were.”

Andy was about to leave.

“Hang on … I have another request, if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away.” Andy was keenly waiting.

“We have Turner’s schedule to China … and we assume he stayed in Beijing. Could you find out whether this is the case? He spent a week there every time he visited. It gives him plenty of time to do a little sightseeing …”

Andy pulled a face. “China is a bit of a difficult nut to crack.”

Pole heard some voices approaching. He recognised Turner’s PA and another male voice that sounded irritated yet contained.

The young woman hurried into her boss’s office, flustered. She had brought more glasses and a bottle of water which she left on the coffee table in the sofa area and retreated without a word.

A man that looked in his late 30s, lightly tanned and with an immaculate haircut, walked in. Jared Turner extended a hand to Pole, who had stood up as he entered.

The grip was light but firm.

Jared Turner turned towards the door and a second man entered.

“This is Dominic Tinker, my solicitor. We have just come from a business meeting in the City and were about to debrief. I hope you won’t mind if he joins us.”

Pole shrugged. “Not at all …” Pole managed a courteous smile that did not reach his eyes.

* * *

“Mo Cho, your father, I never met him.” Licot poured everyone a glass of wine and picked at a bowl of prawn crackers.

Nancy felt relieved, yet a little deflated. She sipped some wine without caring much for its taste.

“But I did meet some people who knew him … young artists.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Early ‘90s. It was soon after the Tiananmen Square massacre. The art world was up in arms, literally. There was talk about retribution but nothing materialised, the uprising was driven to the ground … hopes dashed … democracy, free speech in tatters.”

“Of course, it was before Hong Kong reverted to China.” Philippe placed a few rice crackers in the palm of his hand.

“Very true … Hong Kong was a hub for those who had fled repression … once again.”

“My father spent some time in Hong Kong after the events of Tiananmen Square. I have a few photos that show him there.”

Licot drank a little wine and nodded. “Yes, I’m certain he did retreat to Hong Kong for a while. The artist I met told me he had been around for a year or so after the massacre.”

“He went back?” Philippe couldn’t help asking.

“That’s what my artist friend told me. Perhaps in ‘91 or ‘92.”

Nancy inhaled deeply and held her breath for a moment. She needed to scream … why?

“Was he part of the political elite, part

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