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

Jack laugh. He put a hand to his face. “Don’t, I can just about talk, let alone laugh.”

“I know …” Harris chuckled.

They stayed silent for the rest of the journey until they arrived at Tate Britain. Jack looked up at the neo-classical entrance and stalled.

“I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a gallery tour.”

“Neither am I, but the restaurant is excellent and it won’t be full of other eavesdropping colleagues. We’ve got a table in a little corner I usually book.”

“Have you recently turned into an art buff?”

“Nope, but one of my operatives is, and he likes the wine list too.”

They settled into the comfort of the Rex Whistler restaurant. A table had been set apart from the others, it seemed, for the purpose of accommodating guests who required a little privacy. Jack sat down and rubbed his hands together to shift the cold away. His eyes drifted over the mural that spread around the walls. He frowned and Harris noticed his surprise.

“I know … not at all politically correct painting. It’s called the Expedition in Pursuit of Rare Meats, and was painted in 1927 … according to my guy.”

“Was the British Empire not on a steep decline by then?”

“10 out of 10 mate. Yes, it was.”

“How can they keep that on the wall then?”

“I suppose it’s a part of history and British heritage … Tate seems to remain silent on the point though …”

The menus arrived, they ordered, and waited to talk business until the food arrived.

“News on your side?” Harris tucked into his shellfish ravioli.

“How much is the UK government monitoring biotechnology for IP theft?”

“A question answered by a question is disconcerting.” Harris took another mouthful.

“Agreed … but I’m trying to assess where this Ollie Wilson story is going.”

“You mean, how much you can disclose to me without compromising another CIA project.” Harris squinted. “No hard feelings, I would do the same if I were in your shoes.”

“And what is your answer?” Jack gingerly took a sip of his smoked haddock soup.

“There is something brewing on that front. I’ve been assigned to a new MI6 project involving the Far East.”

“And would you say the UK has extended its field of interest to the Far East .”

“A good way of putting it. The UK has realised that for about twenty years we’ve been obsessed with the Middle East and that we need to focus our attention further afield.”

“The US is doing exactly that, and I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence. China and North Korea are at the top of the list.”

“Hong Kong is also a priority for the UK. The Chinese government has tried a few times to tighten up the regime around that enclave’s attempt at democracy … so far Hong Kong has resisted, but it can’t last forever.”

Jack drank a little more of his soup, deciding how much more he was prepared to tell Harris about the McCain report.

“Do you see a large divergence between the UK military and the private sector in your country?”

It was a curve ball Harris had not expected. He put down his fork to concentrate better on working out the answer he was prepared to give.

“Yes … in short.” Harris’ fingertips rested on the edge of the table, as if holding it for balance. “And with it the lack of control of what technology goes where.”

“It’s happening on a large scale in the US.” Jack stopped eating as well. “And I’m sure you can guess where the technology goes.”

“China.” It was not a guess but a statement of fact.

“Which is the reason why I’m increasingly interested in Viro-Tech Therapeutics.”

“But it’s one of many companies working in the field.” Harris drank a little white burgundy and resumed his eating.

“Ollie Wilson saw something important. I’m not sure what it is that he found, but it must be worth finding out.”

“I’ll see what I can learn from my sources.”

Jack nodded, resuming his eating. “Have you been able to find out more about Ms Wu?” he managed between two bites.

Harris lifted his eyes and met Jack’s for a moment. “Will you believe me if I say you are looking at the wrong person?”

“I’m going to need a little more than that to be convinced.”

Harris took another sip of the excellent wine, undecided.

“She was close to a person of interest, so we carried out an in-depth check.”

“You mean the IRA banker, Henry Crowne.”

A faint smile brushed Harris’s lip. “The very same.”

“How about her communist father?”

“Her Chinese father disappeared 30 years ago, and she has not been back to mainland China since she was a child.”

“Yet she’s looking into that story again, as well as the Ollie Wilson case.”

Harris looked surprised.

“If you didn’t know that, perhaps you should revise your views about her.”

“How much of an interest is she taking in the Wilson case, then?”

“Between inquiring about what happened to him, getting a friend to contact your agency and visiting Viro-Tech Therapeutics. I’d say she’s getting pretty proactive.”

“Point taken. Though of course Ms Wu may simply want to know a little more about her ancestry … or what happened to her father … that does not make her a Chinese agent.”

“But she has a perfect background … people take years before they decide on their true allegiance.”

Harris purses his lips. “That’s very true, but so far we have found nothing.” A phone was buzzing. Harris took out of his pocket one of his burner phones and stood up. “I have to take this call.”

“Your source?” Jack took a sip of the burgundy.

Harris maintained a poker face and left the table to take the call outside. The answer Jack was looking for was tantalisingly close.

* * *

The cold wind blew a strand of hair across her face. Nancy pushed it back into the clip, her fingers fiddling to find a way to make it stay there. She stood outside Scotland Yard, underneath the iconic triangular logo. There were too many moving parts she needed to consider before attempting to build a coherent picture, and it was too early