Pole had taken unimaginable risks and, although she loved him more then she had anyone else, she hoped it was not solely for her sake. The thought made her so uneasy she had to stop for a moment.
Marsh was an egotistical bully who, like all bullies, liked to have it his own way. But as long as the high-profile cases kept coming. and his thirst for fame was assuaged, he could be kept under control.
The ping of her phone told her she had a message. She took a cursory look. Philippe had sent her a text. She hesitated, but decided she would pick up the message once she had returned to her car. She turned to the left out of the carpark, following a red asphalted lane. She followed it for a while and the thought of the text awaiting her reminded her of China.
Everything seemed to converge on the awakening dragon. The Ollie Wilson case, her father’s last sighting in Hong Kong, Amy’s disappearance.
She had passed through Hong Kong many times in the past on her way to other destinations, but had never spent much time there except on business, always keen to avoid awakening old memories.
Nancy sat down on a lonely bench. The wind made her shiver. She was giving herself another 24 hours to obtain as much information as she could from Yvonne’s various contacts. She would need to convince Cora to stay put.
Nancy doubted Jared Turner was the sort of man who left sensitive files lying around, or even inside a locked desk.
Nancy placed her elbows on her knees in a sudden move and let her head drop into a hand. “… Jonathan … why?”
Was her next move the only way she could diffuse the tension … send the hunting dogs on another trail?
The gusts of wind became more vicious. Nancy stood up and resumed her walk around the desolate lawn. She slowly returned to the car park. There was still time to change her mind.
She reached the Aston Martin and sheltered into it, happy to be able to call on an efficient heating system. She placed her phone in the dashboard holder and dialled Philippe’s number.
The phone rang and after a few moments a muffled voice answered.. “Nancy, this is so timely. I’m about to depart.”
“Are you going home early today then?” Nancy reversed her car and slowly moved towards the exit.
“No … I’m on a BA flight to Hong Kong. They are about to ask us to switch off. I’ll call you when I arrive.”
The phone went dead. Nancy stopped the car suddenly. The officer manning the gates took a step back at the abrupt movement of her car.
Nancy squeezed the car wheel and inhaled deeply. She resumed a more sedate course towards the gates, lowering her window and apologising.
As she eased the Aston Martin into the flow of traffic, she thought about her latest plan. She did not have twenty-four hours.
* * *
“I’m sure one box will be enough. “Cora was standing in front of Ollie’s desk. She bit her lip.
His personal effects had already been transferred to a cardboard box … to make Cora’s task easier. She didn’t believe this was just thoughtfulness on the part of his company.
She tried not to imagine him at his desk, calling her to tell her about small things … forgetting to put the laundry into the washing machine, or wash his breakfast plate … or to spring a surprise dinner en tête à tête in a nearby restaurant.
Cora quickly cast an eye over the items in the box, not noticing what they were.
“Do you mind if I take a look in his desk to make sure I’ve got everything?”
“Of course not.” Nikki’s fair skin turned a little paler. She was not enjoying the task. Cora sat down at Ollie’s desk, her feet barely touching the ground. She opened the drawers to look inside.
“How long did you work with Ollie?” She was now reaching towards the back, checking to make sure nothing had been missed.
“Almost three years. It’s been … it was …” Nikki’s voice caught in her throat and she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Cora found a few pieces of stationery, plastic ballpens, yellow post-its. She fingered them and her throat caught her too.
“Jared … I mean Mr Turner made an announcement about Ollie’s health yesterday.”
“Ollie spoke a lot about his colleagues here and in Hong Kong.”
Nikki nodded. “They too are aware.” She was twisting a crumpled tissue.
“Do you think I could have a cup of tea, please?” Cora was not faking her need for something to ease her tight throat.
Ollie’s office was small but light. His desk and PC had been set up so that he could see both the corridor and his door, and still benefit from the window view that looked upon the small garden that was growing up the walls of the building. The office seemed quiet. Cora had seen only a couple of people walking past his door. They had made an effort to avoid looking in on her.
Cora’s fingers coursed over the keyboard. Ollie always made sure Cora had his up to date password in case of an emergency. She thanked him mentally for it.
The screen came to life and the screensaver gave Cora a shock. A picture of her and Ollie, taken on holiday in Bali … the first big, expensive holiday they had looked forward to for so long. She had argued against it in, unhappy to be spending thousands on luxury hotels. But he had been so keen to treat her with his first bonus, that she had relented.
Much to her surprise she had enjoyed the beautifully presented rooms at the Raffles Hotel in Janberan Bay, and the spectacular Four Seasons in Ubud, with its breathtaking entrance that invited guests to walk over a bridge suspended over the jungle treetops.
It had been perfect. Everything had unfolded as Ollie had planned, and Cora had resisted the urge to introduce a little chaos into his well-organised trip.
Cora straightened up … her fingers clicked over the mouse, checking folders and their contents. There was no contentious data stored in what she was opening. She methodically tried all the folders that looked promising. Those could not be opened.
In the distance, Nikki’s silhouette was moving along the corridor, reflected in the glass partitioning of the offices that lined the L-shaped passageway.
Cora attempted to open Ollie’s calendar. That too had been locked. She promptly logged off and diverted her gaze towards the garden outside.
Nikki knocked at the open door and walked in hesitantly. Cora’s face must have looked distraught as she stopped in the middle of the room.
Cora nodded her in. Nikki placed the tea in front of her. She laid it on a small paper napkin with a stirrer, a couple of sugars and a small tub of milk. “I was not quite sure how you take it.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Her fingers still shaking after her failed incursion into Ollie’s computer, she managed to prepare the tea slowly, pouring in the sugar and the milk in a controlled manner.
“I forgot to ask. There was a gentleman Ollie mentioned a few times when he spoke about his Hong Kong colleagues … Randy Zhang. Do you think I could perhaps contact him? It would be lovely to speak to someone that Ollie knew so well.”
“Mr Zhang no longer works for the company.” The answer came out like a shot. Nikki’s cheeks turned deep red, the flush spreading to her forehead and neck.
“Oh.” Cora opened wide watery eyes. “Never mind … it would have been nice.”
Nikki looked around as though someone was about to materialise in the room. She hesitated, then bent forward towards Cora.
“I’m not sure what happened, but he was asked to leave very suddenly.”
Cora’s didn’t take her eyes off Nikki’s face.
“But he came from the Biotechnology Research Institute in Hong Kong … maybe they have an address for him.”
Cora nodded her thanks and finished her tea. She had the information she was looking for.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pole lashed out at Harris without any preamble. “Who the fuck do you use to clea
n your data, Harris, and don’t bloody well tell me to calm down.”
Even Harris could not argue with this. Letting the calls of Pole’s burner phone register next to Nancy’s apartment was poor practice, unforgiveable.
“If you want more information about the Ollie Wilson case, you make the burner phone issue disappear.”
“Consider it done.” Harris already had a plan in mind, or so he suggested.
“What are you proposing?” Pole had left the Scotland Yard building, crossed Parliament Street and ended up next to the Churchill War Rooms. There were plenty of tourists there and his burner phone would mix with other similar devices.
“That doesn’t need to concern you. I have an idea.”
“It does concern me very much. I’m not giving you one more bit of intel until I understand how you are going to get me out of this mess.”
Harris remained silent for a while and Pole wondered whether he was still on the line.
“Fine … this is what’s going to happen. You recall that it was a woman who tried to gun down the SFO prosecutor?”
“How can I forget … I ran after the little cow across Kennington and couldn’t catch her.”
“Then you will also recall that she is no longer of this world after an unfortunate encounter with the bullets of Ferguson’s squad, so I intend to associate her with the burner phone you used.”
Pole weighed up the idea … plausible. She might have done a reconnaissance of her next target’s residence, or hovered around Scotland Yard to track down either Nancy or the SFO prosecutor.
“That’s a credible idea … how are you going to create the link?”
“I’m sorry, but from there on you will need to trust me, and yes, I know what you’re going to say.” Harris interrupted Pole before he could vent his still simmering anger. “We could have done better and we didn’t. I’ll deal with it personally, in any case. For what it’s worth, I too do not want you to get caught.”
“How touching.” Pole’s jaw clenched again and he felt the desire to hit something, anything. He started walking again along Horse Guard’s Road.
“It’s pure self-interest. You are an excellent source and I trust your judgement.”
The genuine compliment silenced Pole for a short moment. Harris was infuriating for most of the time, his assurance and cockiness sometimes unbearable, but he was also capable of being straight.
“If you have something to tell me, now is the time. I’m having lunch with the US contact we spoke about … And it would be good to convince him he should concentrate on somewhere other than London at the moment.”
“Why?”
“Because he is getting a little too interested in Ms Wu.”
Pole almost regretted the kind thought he had just had about Harris. “I have just received some documents which I need to go through thoroughly with my team. But in a nutshell, they were sent by Ollie Wilson to one of his colleagues at Viro-Tech in Hong Kong, a certain Randy Zhang.”
Pole gave a list of the documents that had been returned to Ollie. Harris did not comment until Pole mentioned Jared Turner’s diary extract.
“Regular meetings in China? Whereabouts?”
“The National Institute of Biological Science in Beijing.”
“The name is familiar … I’ll look into that too.” There was no point in telling Harris to let him do his job. He might as well avail himself of the MI6 and GCHQ research capability.
“Anything else about Ms Wu’s search?”
“She’s been given details of her father’s whereabouts after Tiananmen Square. She now knows he was alive after the June massacre.”
“Are you controlling the flow of information that goes to her?” Pole shot back.
“I’m not the person she used. Yvonne Butler has been her contact, but I still can find out what is going on.”
“What else does she know?”
“That the document she was shown about her father’s links to art events during the Deng Xiao Ping era is genuine.”
“Don’t hold back on me Harris … I’m not in the mood.”
“And that her father, at least for a while, was in close contact with Deng himself.”
* * *
“Slow down … where are you?” The Aston Martin was now gliding smoothly through traffic. Cora’s breathless voice made it almost impossible for Nancy to understand her.
“I’m … back … at home.”
“You went to Viro-Tech?”
“Yes.” Cora’s voice changed and Nancy detected a tremor.
“I’m sorry I’m not with you. Call me back if you want to take a moment …”
“That’s okay.” Cora interrupted. “I want to tell you now, it’s important. Randy Zhang, Ollie’s colleague, no longer works there.”
“He was sacked?”
“Yes, I believe so … Nikki told me. She was Ollie’s PA. I could see she was not supposed to talk about it but she did. She also told me where we might find him.”
“Perfect … I’m on my way.”
Another call was coming through, Nancy switched caller.
“I have news for you.”
“You’re a mine of information, Yvonne.”
“First, I have found a couple of contacts at the Biotechnology Research Institute in Hong Kong. I’ll send their names via text, and secondly, my MI6 contact has come back with an address for Emmanuel Licot, the author of the paper that talks about your father. He lives in France but he regularly lectures in Southern Asia …”
“In Hong Kong?”
“Correct.” Nancy could picture Yvonne stabbing her desk with her index finger whilst she rolled her rs.
“It seems that all roads lead to one place at the moment.”
“Are you going to buy an air ticket?”
“Perhaps …” Nancy would play that card close to her chest. “I’m surprised how incredibly helpful MI6 have become.”
“Don’t be, she wants something … I don’t mind telling you it’s a she. There is an angle for her, but of course she won’t tell me what it is.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Nancy hung up. A set of traffic lights turned green and she pushed the car a little more as the roads were clear. Nancy found a parking spot and stopped abruptly. She took the iPhone off its cradle and typed in the name that had been surfacing in her mind too many times now for her to ignore.
Deng Xiao Ping’s profile materialized on the screen.
The traffic was now whizzing past the door of her car. She scanned his profile, scrolling down the page until she found a place name that caught her eye … Sichuan province, the same province her father and his ancestors had come from.
Nancy nudged the Aston Martin back into the traffic.
She accelerated, overtaking a few cars that objected, sounding their horns in protest. She kept going until she had to stop abruptly, barely avoiding the boot of the car in front.
The window of the BMW next to her came down. A bearded man was shouting insults that she, no doubt deserved.
She eased her clenched fingers off the wheel and sat back for a few seconds, numb.
When the traffic started moving again, she resumed the drive towards Cora’s flat at a more civilised pace.
* * *
The CIA Station Chief in London had called Jack. Jack had left Harris after he had gathered fresh information from his source.
Ollie Wilson had sent several documents to a contact in Hong Kong. He had squeezed as much as he could out of Harris. He could not expect to be given everything. After all, he too had been economical with the truth. He hadn’t felt able yet to discuss a possible research co-operation between the US and China. This was too sensitive to be entrusted to just anyone, even a close professional colleague and friend such as Steve Harris.
Jack hailed a black cab …
One of the great joys of London. He loved riding in the back of these quirky vehicles with their cramped cabin for the driver and the spacious passenger compartment with five comfortable seats. He enjoyed even more the chattiness of their drivers.
“You on holiday?”
“That’s right.” Jack quickly surveyed the cabbie, an older man in his 70s, white thinning hair underneath a tweed cap. His leathery hands were relaxed on the wheel and his manner confident yet courteous.
“Did you enjoy the Tate?”
“I have to confess; I’ve only been to the restaurant … But I’ll go back.”
The old man nodded appreciatively. “I like to visit the gallery meself. We do that on Thursdays with me wife, Di … Not too many people then.”
They continued chatting. The cab entered Grosvenor Place. The tall garden walls of Buckingham Palace stretched on their right. Jack recognised the place he had once visited under very different and less relaxed circumstances. He changed seat, sliding to the left, ready to disembark when they arrived at Hyde Park Corner.
The glimmer that flashed next to the right-hand side window, caught Jack’s attention in an instant.
“Stop the cab … now” His shout worked. The cabbie applied the brakes as though he was about to hit an obstacle. Jack opened the door and rolled onto the pavement, sheltering behind the heavy metal frame of a van.
The sound of bullets hitting the open door of the cab, and breaking glass, made Jack crouch even lower. There was nowhere else to hide. The wide pavement was a simple straight line, anyone venturing there would be too exposed. He had counted five shots. There were still plenty more in the gun’s magazine, whatever its make. Jack crept around the body of the van in the opposite direction from the shots. He tried to open the rear door. It was unlocked. A shadow was coming towards him from the road.
He waited for his assailant to come nearer and slammed the door into his face. The figure staggered, Jack slammed the door closed and stood in the road to face the gunman. The man was wearing a helmet and the crash of metal against metal had stunned him.
Jack threw a back-leg kick into the man’s side. He dropped his gun, staggering. Jack made for the gun before his aggressor could retrieve it. Instead, he turned around, jumped on the back of a waiting motorbike and the two men roared off.
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