BLOOD DRAGON

by Freddie P Peters

  Jack moved to the bathroom. A black rubbish bag had been pushed into the corner.

  Whoever was living here had not been there long. The smell of rubbish had not yet permeated the room. The floor did not bear the hallmarks of squalor that came with living rough.

  There was nothing in the room that gave away the identity of the squatter. Jack ran his torch beam around the concrete floor of the room without success and returned to the bathroom. The various pipes carrying water and waste had been sealed. Jack tried to open them without success. The seal was solid and had not been tampered with. The large tiles in the bathroom had not yet been removed. Perhaps the answer was here?

  He tested the floor with the toe of his shoe, a couple of tiles were loose. Jack crouched, took a Swiss army knife out of his pocket, opened a blade and started lifting one of the tiles. It came up easily, revealing a small cache … bank notes folded into one neat roll, a couple of USB keys, a blue document the size of a man’s wallet.

  Randy Zhang, clean shaven and with a serious expression, was staring out at Jack from the pages of his American passport. Jack put back the bank notes and the passport. He pocketed the USB keys and replaced the tile.

  He returned to the room to choose where he would be best placed to wait for Randy.

  * * *

  “You’re positive?” It was not a question, more an affirmation of what he had heard. Pole had endured a frustrating interview with Turner Junior, CEO of Viro-Tech Therapeutics. “There was nothing left on that computer … files that might be important have been erased.” Andy he was sitting on the back of Pole’s bike, speaking through a shared helmet intercom.

  “Will you be able to find anything once we get hold of the laptop itself?”

  “Perhaps, it depends how thorough they have been with cleaning up Wilson’s account. If it comes to it, I’ll ask for help from our tech team but the Viro-Tech guys are pros so it will take some time.”

  “They were expecting a visit. Turner was ready with his answers …”

  Pole slowed down the Ducati to let a car through the junction that led to the Embankment. He throttled up, making his way swiftly through traffic.

  “Did someone warn them then?” Andy’s body was following the flow of the bike.

  “No.” Pole was making good progress towards Scotland Yard. “Ollie Wilson’s assault was the trigger point. Either because it sent a warning to them or …”

  “… because they knew about it in advance.” Andy finished his boss’s sentence.

  Pole gave the thumbs up, removing one hand from the handlebar. Andy stiffened a little. “I’ve not had time to make any inroads into Turner’s Chinese visits. I’ve got some ideas about how to get the information, though.”

  Pole this time only nodded, accelerating to go through an amber light. They were almost there. “Before that, find out more about the group that was pushing to make poppy production legal in Afghanistan.”

  Pole rolled his helmet underneath his desk and checked his watch. It was gone 2.30pm in London, 10.30pm in Hong Kong. Time to make a personal call.

  He was not using a burner phone inside Scotland Yard again. He hesitated, but picked up his smartphone, sat at his desk and dialled her number.

  “It’s good to hear from you, Jonathan.” Nancy’s voice was a little croaky and tired.

  “And me you, mon coeur, you sound tired.”

  “It’s been rather busy since I arrived, but it’s all been worth it. Is Ferguson very pissed off?”

  Pole laughed. “You can say that again … I think I’m going to spend a considerable amount of time in the doghouse as far as he is concerned. Marsh is being more circumspect, as you can imagine.”

  “You can tell Ferguson about my father … I had some rather … disturbing news.” Nancy gave Pole a summary of all she had learned. “I think Licot knows a lot more than he has told me already, but he won’t speak in front of Philippe.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Who, Licot?” Nancy was moving around the room. Pole heard a door being opened, liquid being poured into a glass. “I’m being cautious, but, yes, I do. He lives in an ultra-secure building with other people who seek to protect themselves as much as he does.”

  “Who are these other people?”

  “Other lecturers, lawyers … my guess is that they are the sort of people who are likely to be liberals, possibly politically engaged.”

  “That would make sense … artistic rebellion is something that French academics like him would appreciate and understand.”

  “Unless he has been planted there by the Chinese government … which is a possibility … remote, but not to be ignored.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about him.”

  “Through Scotland Yard?” Nancy did not want Pole to become more indebted to MI6 on her behalf.

  “Yes, Andy can do a bit of digging around for you. He’ll enjoy that.”

  “Yvonne Butler has left a message on my phone. I need to call her. She was rather vague, which is unlike her.”

  “More information from her contact.”

  “I feel like Ariadne. I’m following the thread that someone has left for me to find and I think I’m getting closer to the goal.”

  Pole made a quick mental calculation. Her father would be 77. He could still be alive.

  “It would be crazy for me to think my father is still alive. He disappeared in 1992 or thereabouts according to Licot, as he went back to China over 20 years ago. People disappear there, never to be seen again, but it is rarely because they have been kept alive in some godforsaken prison …” Pole could not argue with that. Her father had been prominent enough for his whereabouts to have eventually percolated through … but perhaps this was an exception.

  “Which brings me to my question … what do you think the goal is?”

  “I’m still in the dark when it comes to that.” Nancy’s irritation grew in her voice, giving it a tense ring. “But I think Licot is part of the answer.”

  “When are you meeting him again?”

  “He gave me his card. I’ll call him tomorrow morning. My sense is that he will make himself available.”

  “What about Amy?”

  “Same answer as we received in London, I’m afraid. There is zero interest in finding out what has happened to her. As far as the Hong Kong police are concerned, it’s suicide, end of story.”

  “The embassy should get involved.”

  “That’s what Philippe is trying to do … but I gather the embassy is being a little slow to respond.”

  “She’s not been kidnapped and there is no dead body … suicide is going to look very credible.”

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  Pole held back. Despite Nancy’s reluctance to talk about his MI6 contact he felt increasingly sure he had to mention the CIA interest in her.

  “Did you have time to look at the Ollie Wilson documents I sent you?”

  “They’re all pointing in one direction. Ollie was convinced Turner was involved in some technology transfer to China that became the condition for closing some commercial deal. It may even be that the deal Viro-Tech is trying to close is completely legal … after all they own the technology they have developed. I think it was more an ethical issue.”

  Pole was impressed at the speed with which Nancy had managed to read and assimilate the documentation he had forwarded to her the previous day.

  “Do you mean that, although Viro-Tech were entitled to make the transfer, he felt they shouldn’t?”

  “That’s my theory. These transfers have been going on for some years between the private sector and China. Tech companies both large and small want a slice of the action in the very large market of 1.4 billion Chinese people. Companies are quite happy, if I can call it that, to let China have a piece of their technology. Whether it is under li
cence or not makes no difference, once China has it. They will appropriate the technology and use it as they see fit.”

  “I knew it happened, but didn’t realise it happened on such a large scale.”

  “As far as the US and Europe are concerned … it does.”

  “But why seek to eliminate Ollie, in that case?”

  “Perhaps the biotechnology involved is too contentious to export, or perhaps it’s all about illegal drugs after all.”

  “You’re not serious?” Pole baulked at the idea.

  “I’m glad you reacted like that … I don’t buy the illegal drug idea either, but I can’t find the missing link that transforms a legitimate agreement, albeit unethical, into something completely illegal.”

  “I visited their premises. Turner was extremely well prepared for my questions.”

  “So, the CEO was expecting your visit.”

  “Almost certainly … it didn’t yield much apart from the fact that the company had cleaned Ollie Wilson’s laptop rather thoroughly.”

  “What would make the technology they were working on off-limits?” Pole was thinking aloud.

  Nancy took a moment. “State or military appropriation … if that technology became of national interest then the lab that developed it would not be able to dispose of it freely.”

  Pole tapped his fingers a few times on his desk. She needed to know.

  “And the CIA might like to know where the technology was going …”

  “Do you mean … both agencies are involved now?” Nancy couldn’t contain a laugh. “I took early retirement to lead a peaceful life … serves me right.”

  * * *

  His mobile phone was engaged. Cora hung up as it was about to switch to voicemail.

  Branning shook his head. “You can’t do it … just leave a message.”

  Cora sat back in the old leather chair. She brought the phone to her chin and tapped it a few times.

  “I don’t know why, but I keep remembering coming out of Ollie’s hospital room, and then out of the lift, and seeing the same nurse leaving at the same time as me.”

  “When was that?”

  “Yesterday and again this morning.” Cora sat up, bringing her knees up to her chest … thinking. “I almost missed the lift but I managed to press the call button quickly enough. The door reopened. I stepped in. I didn’t notice the people there … my mind was on Ollie … and I pushed my way back to the rear of the lift. I don’t know why.” Cora thought for a moment. “Then when we arrived on the ground floor, I noticed her … I kept thinking there was something familiar about her … but she was a nurse and I don’t know anyone who is.”

  “Then that’s another good reason to call Inspector Pole.” He tapped gently on the arm of the chair on which Cora had put her mobile.

  This time Pole picked up. He sounded distracted, perhaps too busy to listen to what she had to say. “I hope I’m not troubling you.”

  “Of course not … what can I do for you?” His tone changed, more focused and considerate. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

  Cora explained in as much detail as she could about her encounters. It sounded feeble when she told the story and she felt embarrassed. But she could hear the rustle of paper. Inspector Pole was taking notes. When she finished, he confirmed the times of the encounters with her.

  “I’ll make sure someone in my team checks the CCTV cameras at UCH and in the surrounding area outside.”

  Cora thanked him. Branning grimaced and moved his hand to encourage her to keep talking. “Go on,” he mouthed as she hesitated.

  Pole was no longer in a hurry. He seemed to hear the hesitation and gave her time to gather her thoughts.

  “I was wondering … I know it’s evidence and the lab still need to finish their work in my apartment …”

  “But …” Pole’s voice sounded amused. “… you’d like to get something out of there.”

  Cora blinked. Branning gave her an approving smile.

  “That would be really brilliant.”

  “OK … and how are you proposing to get in there with a large gaping hole in the middle of the floor.”

  “Well … you know I am a performance artist.”

  “I know that very well … I’ve been to a few of your shows.”

  “Oh …” Cora was not sure whether she was pleased or concerned. “Then you will know that I could … use my ropes and abseil down the window at the back of the flat. I’ve done that before.” It sounded worse than it was. “When I was rehearsing that is.”

  “What does DS Branning say?”

  Cora handed the phone to him. He cleared his throat and gave Pole his considered opinion. “I believe she can do it, Sir.”

  Branning handed the phone back to Cora.

  “I want to know the details of how you are going to go about it. All of it. And I’ll speak to the builders too. I want to know whether it is safe to stand at the far end of the room.” Pole was not indulging her. He must have gathered there was something that she felt it was important to retrieve.

  Cora leaped out of the chair. She no longer had to sit on her hands and do nothing. “I’ll get a detailed plan to you ASAP. Jonathan …” She stopped herself … Had she been too friendly?

  “Good to hear it … and I mean it … all the details, step-by-step.”

  * * *

  “I’m fine.” The voice reverberated across the empty space. Jack had not heard the door open. Perhaps he had dozed off. “I’m sorry I haven’t call you for a while … but I’m good. I’m really busy at work you know.”

  Randy Zhang slid his rucksack from his shoulder and dumped it onto his sleeping bag. From the bathroom, Jack could hear the shuffling of feet. Randy had crossed to the far end of the room.

  Jack cast a quick glance through the crack created by the bathroom door opening. He couldn’t see Randy but could hear his end of the conversation. He must have called his parents to reassure them.

  Jack slid through the opening of the bathroom door. He reached the corner that the corridor wall made with the main room and waited.

  Randy hung up but stayed where he was. The entire length of the room separated them. If there had to be a fight Jack would rather maximise the surprise effect.

  After a short moment, Randy walked back to the corner of the room where his small calor gas stood. He was rifling through the bag of food he had brought with him. This was close enough.

  Jack stepped out from his hiding place into the open.

  “Randy … I just want to talk about Ollie Wilson.”

  Randy had been crouching to start cooking some food. He muffled a cry and fell backwards, pushing himself up to move as fast as he could out of Jack’s reach. He lunged towards his sleeping bag and retrieved a kitchen knife from underneath it.

  Jack opened his hands wide and lifted them at the level of his shoulders.

  “I’m not armed … I am the person Ollie contacted about his suspicions regarding Viro-Tech.”

  Randy moved in a semi-circle, slowly, hoping to reach the door.

  “I saw the documents Ollie was trying to send to you. They never reached you, because you had left your flat by that time.”

  “What were they?” Randy’s voice shook as he asked the question.

  “Four documents, two papers written by Ollie, one on AMR bacteria. The others on the impact of deforestation on the spread of viruses. One paper from the Gates Foundation and Turner’s meeting schedule in China.”

  “That just means you’ve intercepted his mail.”

  “That’s true, but Ollie told me about his suspicions regarding the technology Viro-Tech was selling to China.” It was not exactly what had happened, but Jack needed Randy to drop his knife.

  “Why should I trust you … look where that led Ollie.”

  “Because I’m CIA an
d your best chance of getting out of Hong Kong alive.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The water was getting a little tepid. Nancy stretched out her arm, opened the tap and let the heat spread around her body. She had switched off the light in the bathroom, enjoying the breathtaking view from the window.

  The glass extended from floor to ceiling, three panels that overlooked Victoria Pier and beyond it the Harbour. It was almost impossible for anyone to see into the bathroom, but she still felt a little self-conscious to be walking around completely naked.

  The call with Pole had been much easier than she thought it would be. There was a job to do, and their common interest in achieving that, had brought them together again. The time for a conversation about trust would come later. She was glad Pole had not demanded that of her just yet.

  The bedroom was quiet … no background music. This trip was not a holiday. Although she recognised the need to rest, she also felt she needed to remain alert. Too many people had been hurt or killed for her not to recognise that she was fighting an opponent that would stop at nothing. Getting to the truth about her father’s fate might upset certain people. Trying to get to the truth about what happened to Ollie Wilson had already made waves …

  It was gone 10pm on the bathroom clock. Nancy stood up gingerly, wrapped herself in an extra large, ultra soft towel and stepped onto the marble floor. She would order room service and solve the dinner problem that way.

  She moved to the spacious bedroom, with its deep carpets and panels of exotic wood on the walls. The sitting area had been built like an extension, jutting out of the room to give access to the splendid views.

  Her suitcase was propped open on the folding stand, still not unpacked. She rummaged through it and found a light shantung top and trousers she slipped into. She yawned, the time lag was beginning to catch up with her.

  She placed her order of chicken Caesar salad and tea – something very few hotels managed to do badly – and started unpacking. She just needed to stay awake until she had eaten her dinner.