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

and called the offices of one of the best criminal QC’s in London.

* * *

“Enjoy the sight-seeing.” Jethro was serious. He had asked his PA to prepare a list of the ‘Latest things to do in London’. She had not insulted him by adding the Tower of London or Madame Tussauds, but the London Eye was high on the list as well as the new Jack The Ripper tour.

Jack left the tube at Barbican. At least it would not be a lie if he said he had visited one of the landmarks of London … the Brutalist architecture of the Barbican Arts Centre had to be seen to be believed.

He found himself at a crossroads. The opposite side of the street was dominated by a heavy construction of concrete and glass. The grey colour of the walls had turned to black in large areas.

At the end of what turned out to be a short tunnel, the famous ziggurat construction stood heavy against the skyline formed by other tall buildings. Jack crossed the road and entered the tunnel. The walls had been decorated with tiles, but the dust of traffic fumes had dulled their colours.

It took less than 10 minutes for Jack to reach his destination … Silicon Roundabout.

Jack enjoyed the stroll down the small streets that characterised the sector known as the City of London. The area had been heavily bombed during World War II and a lot of the buildings appeared postwar, rapid constructions aiming at giving Londoners a roof over their heads. A few of the old buildings still remained and the curving streets conveyed the history of meandering lanes which had evolved according to people’s needs over centuries.

Old Street Roundabout appeared to his left as he emerged from one of these lanes. The desolated central reservation was as ugly as Jethro had described. A few larger streets radiated from it. Silicon Roundabout was no bigger than Central Park. Jack smiled. Unlike its better-known brother, Silicon Valley, which stretched over almost 100 square miles, the London imitation had a way to go.

“Got to start somewhere …” Jack grinned and walked towards Viro-Tech’s location. He turned into an alleyway that looked like a dead end. The red brick building was suitably unnoticeable. Jack walked along the façade, and turned into another part of the lane that housed a small car park. It felt cramped and, despite the cold, the air was heavy with the smell of fumes and garbage bins.

A small door appeared on Jack’s right as he retraced his steps. He stopped and checked the name on the doorbell. Viro-Tech Therapeutics’ buzzer was at the top. The other bells remained blank apart from the very bottom one that mentioned the Rainforest Foundation. Jack took a second look at the door, strong steel security panels fitted with specialist locks. The small camera that was fitted outside the door frame was also high spec.

Viro-Tech did not want any uninvited guests on their premises. Jack walked back along the front of the building. The windows had been placed high up in the construction. The frames looked solid, filled with what he identified as static proof opaque glass.

If he wanted to take a look unobserved, Jack would have to find a way through the back door. He stopped again at the top of the lane and checked the Rainforest Foundation on his smartphone. Unsurprisingly, the Foundation was dedicated to the protection of the the Amazon rainforest.

The Association of Companies with such different interests puzzled Jack but still, it might offer a way in. Jack pulled a black cap from his rucksack, flipped it onto his head. He retraced his steps, only slowing down when a black cab drove past him and stopped in front of the Viro-Tech door.

An Asian woman stepped out on to the pavement, paid the driver and rang the top buzzer. Jack was only a few steps away. She was wearing a smartly cut black coat, her silky dark hair pulled into a neat bun at the back of her neck. She looked professional, perhaps even severe.

He kept going at an even slower pace, hoping he would catch the conversation as the door was being opened.

“I have an appointment with Oliver Wilson,” the woman announced.

The voice that answered the buzzer asked a question Jack could not catch.

“Nancy Wu.” The door opened with a low clunk.

* * *

The cab ride would last barely 15 minutes. Nancy placed her call, hoping he would be available.

Andy Todd answered before the first ring was over. She was in luck.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“Andy, really … won’t you indulge me and call me Nancy like everybody else? I’m not part of the Met’s most notorious circle of women.”

“Very true …” Andy chuckled.

“Good. Now … I have a delicate message you need to convey to Pole.”

The tone changed at the end of the line. “Please go ahead.” Andy was getting ready to take notes.

“At 13.07pm today, a man on a motorbike tried to run me over to steal my satchel. I was crossing the road in front of Whitehall Gardens when this occurred. I’ve reported it to the officers who helped me at the scene, PCs Doyle and Garth. I don’t believe the aggressor was intending to steal the bag. It was much more personal … either a threat or a warning. I can’t quite tell yet. You may want to take a look at the CCTV cameras around the area. The number plate of the bike is D293ACX. I’m about to go into a meeting. I will call Pole as soon as I am out … and before you ask, I am fine apart from a spoilt pair of tailor-made trousers and a few grazes here and there.”

Nancy waited for a few seconds. “Are you still there Andy?”

“I … am.” Andy cleared his throat. “I could try to find Inspector Pole.”

“Sorry Andy, I’ve just reached my destination.”

“He is not going to be happy.” Andy spoke without noticing.

“I know. Just tell