BLOOD DRAGON

by Freddie P Peters

  Pole took his mobile out of his trouser pocket and pushed speed dial number one.

  Ferguson was following his every move. Pole could feel the intensity of his gaze. Nancy’s phone was still switched off. He left a short professional message.

  She would know from his tone that her prediction had come true. Ferguson and the counter-terrorist squad were on her trail.

  “I hear from Marsh you have a theory about the burner phone that registered both at Scotland Yard and near Ms Wu’s apartment.” Ferguson’s abrupt question were directed more at someoene he considered a suspect rather than a colleague. Pole settled into his chair and spun his mobile in his hands a few times before replying.

  “That’s correct. I have a possible theory … I said so to Marsh yesterday evening.” His face had become expressionless. He didn’t have to share his findings with the Commander until they were more substantial. He had to give Harris a little more time to produce his decoy.

  “Is that it? A hunch?”

  “It’s a little more than a hunch, but I’d like to make sure I’m right, before I share with you.”

  Ferguson sat back. He had not yet finished, but he knew he had not unhinged Pole as much as he had hoped. Pole waited. He hadn’t had time to think about the motives for launching this informal inquiry. After all, Ferguson had dismantled a new terror cell in London, eliminated its members after a brutal assault, despite the delay caused by MI6. Pole had known Ferguson a long time. He was a relentless, determined officer who deserved his successes.

  “What’s your beef with Steve Harris?” The question came out of nowhere and surprised even Pole. It had been an obvious point he should have thought of right at the beginning of the inquiry.

  Ferguson pulled back a little. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve gone along with this inquiry because I’d like some clarity too, but why move heaven and earth, when at the end of the day, no one was hurt and you eliminated the terrorist cell as you had set out to do?”

  “It could have cost us a lot … the delay engineered by Harris to get his operatives out.”

  “But it didn’t … don’t we all have better things to do than to hunt for some hypothetical mole?”

  “The mole isn’t hypothetical, Pole. You and I both know that.”

  “Okay then … this mole of yours, have they done any more damage recently?”

  Ferguson’s eyes narrowed in anger. He sized up Pole for a moment, but judged it was not worth a fight … at least not yet. He took his time to rise, hands gripping the armrests of the chair he occupied. A slow motion that told Pole … you haven’t seen the last of me.

  * * *

  “Forty-eight hours. Shit …” Harris was on the phone to Jack.

  “At least he hasn’t asked me to come back to Langley straight away.”

  “Would you have done so?” Harris had a smile in his voice showing he knew the answer.

  “What I need from you, pal, is all you have on Randy Zhang.” Jack still hadn’t unpacked the suitcase he had hurriedly left in his room at the Mandarin Oriental. He hadn’t had time to check the whereabouts of Nancy Wu either. He would catch up with her tomorrow morning and then do a bit of good old-fashioned trailing.

  His focus was now on Zhang.

  “He left Viro-Tech a few months ago with little ceremony. One day he was there … the following day he was gone.” Harris had turned serious. “This is not the UK so no employment law requiring consultation.”

  “How about the Biotechnology Research Institute?”

  “He is employed as a research assistant there too. It seemed that Viro-Tech liked the thought of him being able to access the research facilities as well as the lab capabilities. He hasn’t been seen there for a couple of months either.”

  “Has anybody filed a missing person report?” Jack opened his laptop, firing it up. He wanted to check Laurie’s latest input too.

  “Nothing. So, either he’s not missing and simply lazing around or managing to keep people concerned about him happy that he is still fine.”

  “Randy is an American Chinese, he’s lived all his life in California. San Jose to be exact. He moved from Hong Kong with family because this is where his grandparents come from. He only moved back to Hong Kong three years ago.”

  “But we can assume he is in touch with his folks in the US.”

  “I’d say he’s lying low. Laurie was unable to find any evidence of a girlfriend, and Harvard don’t describe him as a loner.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The way your agency would know about someone who had studied at Oxford or Cambridge.”

  “Perhaps you should check the YMCA … A lot of students stay there when they visit Hong Kong. It’s a place where young people mix socially and he may have had friends staying there too.”

  “Good point, will do.” Jack hung up and started scrolling down his emails.

  Laurie had not been as productive as he might have hoped. Or, more likely, Hunter III had put an end to her freewheeling co-operation. He hesitated but he only had 48 hours. Jack dialled her number. Laurie replied before the first ring had ended.

  “I’m in the doghouse, Jack.”

  Jack was about to apologise. “But I don’t care … I’m with you on this one. There is a lot more to the case than meets the eye.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Not at the office, this is my day for working from home. I’ll be looking after the kids this afternoon.”

  “Are you sure this is OK?”

  “Don’t even ask again … as long as you don’t mind me hearing screaming kids in the background, let’s keep talking.”

  Harris’s information crossed checked with Laurie’s. She gave Jack details of her research so far which all came down to one important point. Ollie and Randy had technical capabilities that were a match for each other. They had both graduated from Harvard at the top of their year. They had both written about the dangers of misusing biotech. Laurie had traced the address of Randy’s family in Hong Kong. It seemed that Randy had not had much contact with them over the past three years he had been in Hong Kong.

  “The other interesting point about Randy is that he has been very vocal about the status of Hong Kong.”

  “Is he an activist?”

  “I would say so … He has joined quite a few protests in the past.”

  “How about the YMCA?”

  “How about it?” Laurie was trawling through some data from the file she had compiled so far. “Hang on … Oh, I see … That’s a good idea.”

  She moved to another screen. “The YMCA is in Kowloon, Salisbury Road, very close to one of the ferry routes between Central and Kowloon.”

  Jack scribbled the address on the notepad picked up from his bedside table.

  “Guess where I’m having dinner tonight?”

  * * *

  The ride from the arts centre towards the residential part of Hong Kong was silent. Professor Licot was sitting at the back with Nancy. Philippe had insisted he should sit at the front with the driver.

  They had driven through Hong Kong Central to arrive at the Peak. Densely populated streets gave way to a leafier environment. Nancy gripped the handle of the door and did her best to conceal her panicked breathing. She needed to keep her mind calm.

  The dense forest with its jungle of tangled tropical trees and shrubs revived memories of her arrival in Hong Kong so many years ago. She was amazed that the feel of nature on the island had not changed since then.

  She has two missing front teeth that make her resemble a gentle vampire. She has managed to hold onto a couple of marbles from an old game. Despite their parents asking them to keep quiet the two girls giggle almost the entire journey.

  Everything is easy when her friend is around. The chit chat about what they see along the way. What is thi
s tree? What is this flower? Why do they speak so low? Why, what … it’s a fun game even though answers don’t come often and they are only whispers.

  They have been walking for a long time she thinks. She’s not quite sure. She’s only seven. They have stopped in a small clearing. In the distance, Nancy thinks she can hear the sound of waves. Her friend thinks it’s spirits ready to take them away … She doesn’t really believe that but she likes spooky stories.

  Their fathers have gone ahead. They’ve left the women and children alone. For once the girls are quiet, holding hands tightly. They huddle together like two sparrows on a branch in winter.

  The light fades away. It will soon be dark, twigs and branches crack in the woods nearby. Everyone holds their breath. The mothers have moved next to their children, ready to flee. But a low voice calls them. She recognises her friend’s father. The road is clear. It’s time to go. They make their way in stillness towards a small cove where a flimsy boat awaits them. Their fathers lift them into their arms. But they are separated. Nancy wants to cry but her father puts a hand over her mouth gently. “Silence.” They board the boat for a crossing, Nancy does not want to remember any more.

  A hand on her arm made her jump. Professor Licot activated the gate of the residence where he lived. Nancy searched his features but, in the darkness, she couldn’t make out his face.

  “We’ve arrived.”

  The car glided into an elegant courtyard. The apartment blocks were lower than the skyscrapers in Central, two storeys, modern and spacious. The walls that surrounded the eight buildings were of good height, protective and robust. It was a place that felt secure and welcoming.

  “I moved here recently.” Licot lead the way. “I suppose I had had enough of fighting the air conditioning and cockroaches in downtown Central.”

  “Is this an expat building?”

  “No, when I first came to Hong Kong, it was to live amongst its people, down in Central. But now is a little different, some other residents share the same profession as me … quite a few academics and some lawyers too.”

  Licot pressed a sequence of buttons on the keypad and one of the entrance doors opened.

  Nancy breathed in the cool air. February nights were chillier in Hong Kong and she welcomed the soothing effect of the breeze.

  Licot pushed open the door and gallantly stood aside to let her walk in first. Nancy noticed a camera above the door recording people’s comings and goings. The door, although of glass, was heavy and, she suspected, bulletproof, judging by the strange glow it emitted in the corridors light.

  They climbed one flight of stairs and walked into a modern apartment. It faced the mass of an untouched forest and in the far distance the sea. Modern and contemporary art covered the walls. It felt deliberately cluttered. Nancy and Philippe couldn’t help going up to a couple of pieces, noticing an Ai WeiWei print.

  Licot smiled. “Contemporary art is my passion … as you can see.”

  He moved into the back of the large open plan room, offering drinks of wine, white or red and came back with some savoury snacks.

  “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 minut
es 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 boat. The crowd that had gathered at the doors spilled onto the causeway and into the night. Jack looked around. He was the last person on the upper deck.

  He stepped down the metal staircase. A few other people were also taking their time. A couple, looking amorous, were walking towards the gates in a leisurely fashion. An elderly man with a large bag that seemed too heavy for him was following them.

  Jack crossed a couple of busy roads. Skyscrapers of various heights were jostling for space. The car exhaust fumes reminded Jack that Hong Kong Kowloon was a city that never slept. He didn’t need to wait for the light to go green at the crossing. The traffic was solid.

  He moved in the direction of a building that looked under repair. As Jack came closer, the YMCA façade came into view. Sheets of plastic resembled billowing black sails in the light breeze; others had come loose and were floating along in the air. Jack increased his speed. He reached the front of the building that read in bold letters – YMCA – NO ENTRY.

  “Shit …” His shoulders sagged at the discovery. Part of the entrance was obstructed by a heavy tarpaulin cover.