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

to see a man for who he is, despite the goatee and the Ducati.”

“Enough you two …” Beth snapped, and it silenced them. “What can we do to help, Cora?”

“Yes, tell us.” Johnny grabbed Cora’s hand and squeezed hard.

“I keep thinking that the answer must be in his office.” Cora volunteered after a moment.

“Why?” Beth frowned.

“He was so involved in the development of this new idea, something that would revolutionise drug production … he didn’t want to speak about it with me, because it was confidential … but I now wonder whether he wanted to protect me.”

“What does Nancy say about it?” Beth was still frowning.

“I haven’t had time to speak to her about it … it’s just dawned on me … after the call from the hospital.”

“Call her.” Johnny was already looking for her mobile phone.

Cora shook her head. “Not yet.” She hesitated.

“Come on … tell us.” Charlie wiggled his fingers to coax an answer out.

“I’d like to pay a visit to Ollie’s office first.”

The others looked at each other. “Why not, you’re entitled to collect his stuff from his desk aren’t you?” Johnny proposed.

“I want to go now.” Cora was already standing up.

Chapter Nineteen

It was almost midnight. Jack’s stomach started to complain, and it was time he paid attention to it.

The file that Laurie had sent had triggered more questions than it gave answers. Ms Wu was not what he had expected. She was not a Chinese investor or biotech researcher and seemed to have little connection with that industry.

She was a retired QC, admittedly retired before her time, but nevertheless a lawyer. A high profile one at that. Her experience in criminal law and corporate fraud had propelled her into representing high profile defendants. She had built a reputation for sagacity, perseverance, and an uncommon intelligence. She had given up the Bar at the height of a career at a point when a possible Appointment to the Bench was in the offing.

For many years now she had focused on mentoring young professionals and supporting contemporary art. Laurie had not found any questionable associations until the Henry Crowne affair popped up.

Matters had changed abruptly for Ms Wu, it seemed. Henry Crowne, the disgraced financier, had spent time at HMP Belmarsh in the high security unit. He had disappeared however after a mere four years in prison, achieving a feat no one had before him … escape from HSU Belmarsh. No one had seen or heard of him since.

Jack had smiled at the information. If MI6 were not involved in this, he was no longer called Jack Shield.

The enigmatic Ms Wu had become, in the meantime, an expert advisor to Scotland Yard in London.

Jack had called Laurie a few times. She was still getting more information. According to her, the best was yet to come.

She was right. Nancy’s father, Li Jie Wu, had been a well-known artist and activist. He had escaped the Cultural Revolution with his family before it was too late and yet returned to China when Deng Xiao Ping had taken over the reins of the country. He had disappeared again like so many dissidents in the aftermath of the Tiananmen Square uprising.

His daughter, however, had never returned to mainland China after her father’s disappearance. Jack was no longer certain what her link with Viro-Tech could be.

Still, coincidences were rare in his line of business. Whatever tenuous connection was there, he had to find it.

Jack had delved back into the McCain report in the hope that something might be relevant. So far, the document had not made him any the wiser, and by this time he also had to content himself with fewer choices when it came to dinner. Jack closed the laptop and placed it back in the safe.

He added a sweater to his shirt, donned his winter jacket and made his way downstairs to reception. The busy lobby was now empty, apart from a young couple who were enjoying their last drink. They sat next to each other, oblivious to the world. The receptionist was now an older gentleman. He gave Jack a friendly nod which Jack returned.

Jack pushed open the heavy entrance door and stood outside, at the top of the three steps that led down to the street. The temperature had dropped to freezing and he felt a few pinpricks of ice on his face. He lifted his head towards the sky. It might snow very soon. Jack stepped into the street and hurried up towards St Martin’s Lane.

He walked at a brisk pace towards a row of old buildings with tall narrow frontages, red bricks and steep roofs. The streets were almost empty. The gift shops, casual eateries and pubs had already closed.

The pedestrian lane that appeared to his right looked dark and deserted. According to his guide he was only a few yards away from the next passage in which he could find a restaurant that served after theatre dinner. A place that had an excellent reputation for seafood and for accommodating late comers after midnight.

The wind had become stronger. The small shards of ice he had felt when walking out of the hotel were now relentlessly assailing his face. He took refuge for a short moment underneath an overhanging roof. The theatre had closed a couple of hours earlier and the façade was now dark.

Jack took his bearings again. The pub opposite the theatre was also shut but the light inside the main room was still on, probably for staff preparing the place for tomorrow’s customers.

A small group of people walked out of the restaurant he was looking for and Jack hurried towards its door. They looked happy with their evening and the weather seemed to have very little effect on their joviality.

He pushed the door open and a breeze of warm air welcomed him. A young woman in white shirt, dark waistcoat and long black apron smiled and took his jacket. “It will have to be the bar if you would like to join us