BLOOD DRAGON Page 29

  “Please don’t.” Cora was about to protest. “Please listen … you are all that Ollie has left. And I too need you to stay in London. You are the only person who knows the details of the evidence gathered and you can speak to Inspector Pole, if need be. He will listen.”

  “It’s not fair. I need to find out what happened to Ollie too. I want the truth to come out …”

  “Just as I do. You need to try and catch up with Nikki again and see what else you can find out, but please … no more climbing up walls and trying to get into Viro-Tech on your own.”

  “I’m not promising anything …” Cora had stopped in the middle of the corridor, feeling stubborn.

  “That’s your choice, of course, but it won’t help either Inspector Pole or me to uncover the truth, if you end up behind bars.”

  Cora looked down at her cup of tea. The beverage looked unappetising. She took a sip anyway, pulled a face and walked over to the nearest wastebin.

  “Is there another reason you’re going out there on your own?”

  “I won’t lie to you. More information has come to light about my father, and I need to find out what has happened for myself, without getting other people into trouble.”

  Cora understood. “But you must let me help you … Hong Kong has got its different communities, and there are ways of making sure you stay under the radar of the authorities.”

  “Yes, I’d be grateful for that, thank you.” Nancy’s tone sounded heartfelt. “I haven’t had time to speak to Inspector Pole about your conversation with Nikki at Viro-Tech. Perhaps you could give him a call.”

  “Consider it done … does he know about your trip?”

  Nancy paused. “Not yet.”

  * * *

  “He too comes from BIG at Harvard.” Laurie had been in touch as soon as she’d received Jack’s mail. “I’ll send you a detailed map of the city. They knew each other well … Randy joined Viro-Tech soon after Ollie.”

  “So, he trusted him, what else?”

  “The most interesting part of the story … Randy has completely disappeared. He left his job a couple of months ago and he’s bailed out of his flat as well. He has closed his bank account … vanished.”

  “Spotted anywhere else?”

  “No … the man has literally become a ghost.”

  “I suppose his tech abilities make disappearing a little easier.”

  “Perhaps, but it still takes a lot of doing to stay completely under the radar, in particular in Hong Kong.”

  “He may no longer be in Hong Kong … he may no longer be alive.” Jack had been dropped back at his hotel by an armour-plated car the embassy used for high profile dignitaries. He did not enjoy the attention but at least it provided him with a secure place to make his call.

  “That’s entirely possible … and if he has been dispatched in Hong Kong, the sharks have cleaned up after the guys who did the job.”

  “I am not going to get much help from the Station Chief in London. I need to find Randy though.”

  “You’re on holiday, Jack … no one said you had to stay in London.”

  Jack smiled. “I might take up your idea. London is colder than I remember at this time of the year.”

  “How about you-know-who?”

  “I just dropped him an email … I need to tell him about the latest attempt on my life.”

  “High risk strategy … You-know-who is not going to like it.”

  “He never likes anything anyone does … it’s a question of degree. It’ll just mean I won’t be able to take a holiday for the next 20 years.”

  “You won’t have the support in Hong Kong that you found in the UK … I know Jethro is a bit full of himself, but he does come up with the goods.”

  “I’ll just have to introduce myself to the Station Chief there and see what he can do for me.”

  “It’s a real political minefield, and if what we know about the planned co-operation agreement between the US and China to combat the next epidemic is right, there will be even less desire to rock the boat in Hong Kong.”

  “I’m not asking anyone to scupper the negotiations. I’m just making sure we understand why Ollie Wilson was so concerned about his CEO’s involvement in mainland China.”

  “But if Jared Turner is one of the negotiators in this highly sensitive conversation, it is going to be pretty tough to get at him.”

  “Not unless he’s up to …”

  Laurie interrupted. “Jack, are you for real? You know how politics work. He’s needed to help with a high-profile deal. A few misdemeanours like making money on the sly or being awarded highly lucrative contracts will not matter.”

  “Unless it’s a matter of national security … I get that. And perhaps attempted murder might do the trick, too.” Jack bent forward to look through the window. For once, he was grateful for traffic. The gridlock around Piccadilly was giving him more time to speak to Laurie.

  “And you won’t get to that level of discovery on your own … you need a properly mounted operation.”

  “Are you trying to convince me to come back to Langley?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just pointing out the rather steep hill you’re going to have to climb, if what you think what is happening, is actually happening.”

  “Much appreciated.” Jack checked his watch. He had a little time to pack.

  “Since you mentioned him … what did you manage to find out about Jared Turner, in his role as CEO of Viro-Tech Therapeutics?”

  “Very well-connected guy.”

  “Not surprising, given he’s landed the job of go-between to help the US and China come to an agreement, he must be.”

  “But more remarkably, across the political divide, both Republicans and Democrats are prepared to work with him.”

  “Two possible reasons for that in my experience.” The car had started moving again, and they would soon arrive at Trafalgar Square. “Either he has some real dirt on those people, and could indulge in some good old-fashioned blackmail, or his business connections are second to none.”

  “Or a bit of both …” Laurie was weighing up the idea. “But to be fair to the man, no matter how unpalatable it may seem, I would say the latter. He has some very high-profile connections in the tech world. He seems to know Bill Gates pretty well. Yes, connections in the small biotech industry as well as with the big pharmaceutical companies, and a whole host of smaller companies in Silicon Valley.”

  “Whom does he know amongst the big pharma companies?”

  “Pfizer, AstraZeneca … and he also has good connections with Johnson & Johnson.”

  “Why isn’t he working for one of the big guys, if he has such good contacts?”

  “That’s not the way he operates. He makes a lot of money by developing new drugs in small companies or start-ups, and then selling them on to the large pharma companies once he has a prototype that works.”

  “How many times has he done that?” Jack had stopped worrying about the progress of his car, puzzled. The man he had seen in the picture attached to the file Laurie had sent did not look that old.

  “Three times and that is pretty impressive at the age of 37.”

  “So, Jared Turner is gifted when it comes to research and development in the biotech industry. … That doesn’t mean he’s not up to no good.”

  “Agreed … he must be pretty ruthless to finance his companies through private equity and then sell to the big groups. He knows how to play the financial game, and he’s no pussycat.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind. Anything else on his background?”

  “Yep … his father worked on Wall Street until he retired a few years ago. He worked in asset management and in the same pharma sector. Now running a consultancy practice and sitting as non-exec director on the board of large companies in the NASDAQ.”

  “Still i
nvolved in pharmaceuticals?”

  “Good question … let me see.” Jack heard a few clicks of the mouse before Laurie returned. “A couple of pharmaceutical firms … one medium, one very large.”

  “I’m not surprised Turner Junior can get a deal done, then.”

  “I agree it helps to have dad sitting in the right boardrooms.”

  “Can you email me the information?”

  “Done,” Laurie interrupted.

  The car had arrived at his hotel. Jack moved swiftly through the lobby and called the lift.

  “Going to Hong Kong?” Laurie’s cheery voice became lower.

  “BA flight tonight at 9pm from London Heathrow.”

  “Is it not the flight …”

  “… on which Ms Wu is flying?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She hesitated when Chuck, her limo driver, called to say he was waiting downstairs and would she like him to help with her luggage.

  She slowed down when she presented her British passport at passport control, wondering whether she shouldn’t turn back.

  Now that she was sitting in the first-class BA lounge courtesy of her gold executive card, she stood at the floor to ceiling window overlooking the runway. A couple of businessmen had vacated a cluster of seats that hugged a corner of the room and provided privacy.

  Nancy was reluctant to hide in one of the business booths to make her call. She checked her watch, only 30 minutes to go before boarding for business class, and 45 minutes before departure. Charlie had been, as ever, efficient at driving her to the airport in record time.

  She took a sip of the champagne an affable stewardess had deposited on the low table next to her seat. The bubbles did not produce the lift in mood they usually did. It was time to call Pole.

  The mobile phone felt clammy in her hand. She had been holding it ever since she settled in the lounge 10 minutes earlier. Nancy took a slow intake of breath and pressed recall button number one. The phone rang a few times. She grew nervous as she had not anticipated leaving a message. Pole’s voice sounded pressed. “Could I call you back please … or, even better, shall we speak tonight over dinner?”

  “Jonathan …” The tremor in her voice surprised her. “I’m at the airport. I’ll be boarding in 20 minutes.”

  The silence at the end of the phone was deafening. She cursed herself for not giving him more notice, hearing his muffled voice giving instructions and sounds that indicated he was moving around.

  “Are you flying to China?” his voice was hardly recognisable, blunt, unemotional.

  “Hong Kong.”

  “Why?”

  “Philippe has already gone. I can’t just leave him there on his own.” She stopped herself. Whether Philippe was there or not would not make much difference. She would have gone anyway. “And because too many things have surfaced recently … concerning Ollie, my father …”

  “Can’t you wait a day, so that we can at least discuss it?” Pole interrupted and she interrupted back.

  “… and concerning you …” she grabbed the glass of champagne, almost spilling it and took a large gulp. “You’ve been so helpful …” She hoped she was choosing her words carefully enough. “Peut-être trop … I feel my absence may give you a break.”

  Pole was now walking outside. She could hear traffic in the distance. “I’ll call you back from another number.”

  The line went dead, but within seconds her mobile was ringing again.

  “This line is secure … What do you mean? What are you saying?” Pole’s voice had an urgency she had only heard when he sensed danger. “Are you sure?”

  “Certain … S’il-te-plaît … I know where you have been getting your information from and I suspect that is also the reason why Ferguson and Marsh are running this damn inquiry on the Phelps case.”

  Torn between the desire not to lie to Nancy and the necessity to keep silent about his MI6 involvement, Pole remained silent.

  “You can’t tell me, of course, but I have a feeling from my meeting with Marsh that some piece of information has perhaps moved a pointer in my direction … and my trip to Hong Kong will also serve that purpose.”

  “I’m not using you as a decoy.” Pole had recovered his voice and his pent-up concern had turned into anger.

  “Why not? After all I have benefited from the information you gathered on my behalf without asking too many questions, which as you know is not like me at all.”

  Pole tried to interrupt but Nancy carried on. “I could have been much more suspicious about that. Instead, it suited me fine to be taking a back seat with the investigation into my father’s disappearance.”

  “So now you’re taking the front seat, by making yourself a suspect with Marsh and the counter-terrorist squad?” She imagined Pole, striding along the banks of the River Thames, not having bothered with a coat like most of his colleagues.

  “Now that you put it like that, it sounds very dramatic, but at least it will give you and your … contact … time to sort out something that can exonerate you.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “I’m not an expert in these matters, but the little I have seen of MI6 tells me they are pretty resourceful when it comes to protecting their sources.”

  There, she had said it, and it was a weight off her shoulders to be telling it how it was.

  Pole stopped walking. He found the doorway of one of the buildings that lined Victoria Embankment to shelter in.

  “You have more faith in them than I have.”

  “I don’t have faith in them, Jonathan. I have faith in you.”

  “But can’t you at least delay your departure so that we can talk about it … make a plan.”

  The thought of being back in her flat, speaking to Pole about her next step made her stomach churn. She could still change her mind, claim an emergency of some kind … BA could unload the luggage … there was still time. “Please, only by one day.” She heard in Pole’s voice he had sensed the shift.

  Nancy gulped down the rest of the champagne, warm and acidic now.

  “If I don’t do this now, I may not …” She hesitated, felt the pressure in her stomach again. “I may never do it. And in any case, Philippe has gone and he needs someone to shepherd him around, if he is going to find out what happened to Amy. One day can make a big difference in Hong Kong.”

  Pole must have been holding his breath. She heard a slow exhale.

  “I’ll try to join you as soon as I can,” he finally said.

  “No way … that would defeat the object of the exercise. You are needed there to look after Cora, please. And you also need to be in London to keep gathering the information I need.”

  “Ollie Wilson’s case might well require me to fly to Hong Kong.”

  Nancy thought about the documents Cora had shown her, but perhaps now was not the time to tell Pole she knew about those too.

  “As long as Marsh is on your side.”

  “Since when do I care about Marsh’s opinion when it comes to solving a case?”

  “Since you became the subject of an inquiry led by the counter-terrorist squad.”

  “You may have a point,” Pole grumbled.

  Then she felt a presence, polite but hovering at her side.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but you should think about boarding the aircraft now.”

  Nancy turned towards the young man who had approached her and nodded a thank you.

  “The flight is boarding now …”

  Pole’s voice held back his goodbye for a short moment. “Safe flight then … call me when you’ve settled into your hotel. I’ll text you a new number to use.”

  “I’m staying at the Mandarin Oriental.”

  “Do I need to say it?”

  “I’ll be careful, mon coeur, promise.”

  “That
does not fill me with the warm glow of certainty.”

  Nancy started walking towards the gate. Only a few people remained. She presented her boarding pass.

  “But the one thing that should convince you I’ll be careful is that I want to come back to London and to you.”

  * * *

  “Call me if you remember anything else.” Pole’s warm baritone voice soothed her. Cora felt a little guilty. She knew about Nancy’s imminent departure to Hong Kong, and yet had said nothing.

  It was almost time.

  She imagined Nancy settled into her business class seat. She had loaded the information she needed to review on her laptop, and taken the documents Cora had photocopied with her.

  Cora pulled the soft blanket up to her shoulders and snuggled into the bed. She was still squatting in Beth’s bedroom. The latest from the builders who had visited her flat, was a minimum of six months to clean and rebuild after the fire. A specialist firm had started removing the furniture, and the personal effects that could be salvaged.

  She was staggered at the amount of stuff she and Ollie had accumulated. She was grateful she had digitised all of her photos. It was not the fire that had caused such damage, so much as the smoke that had penetrated and covered everything with a thick coat of black soot. Nothing had been spared.

  She still hadn’t been able to reach her artwork and the props she had stored at the back of the large L-shaped room where her studio once was.

  Some of her work was still at Philippe’s gallery. At least she had saved some of the more recent print editions she had created.

  Her mind shifted back to her conversation with Pole.

  She had described in detail the visit to Viro-Tech. The reluctance to speak about Randy Zhang. Nicky’s eventual disclosure that he had left under a cloud. Pole had been grateful for the information. She could sense it in his voice. He was perhaps gathering enough information to justify a visit to Ollie’s former company.

  She had never shared Ollie’s blind appreciation of Jared Turner, too cordial to be honest, too keen to praise people to be genuine. She didn’t like the man, perhaps because of the condescending way he looked at women when he thought he was not being observed. People were a means to an end, yet he seemed good at running a successful company, supporting his employees in their research endeavours.