BLOOD DRAGON

by Freddie P Peters

  “She isn’t on the staff, as I mentioned. That was well done, you know.” Branning nodded in rhythm with his pace.

  “How soon will it happen?” Cora shivered.

  “If it all stacks up … tomorrow.” Branning stopped to step on his cigarette butt. “You know … you can always say no. There is nothing wrong with not wanting to lie about a loved one’s condition.”

  Cora was taken aback by the comment. She thought she needed to comply. She could see Pole’s plan had some real merits. But her heart was still in so much in pain, that she wasn’t sure she could act the part convincingly.

  She stopped as they approached a bench sheltered by some evergreen bushes, and slumped onto it. Branning took his cigarette pack out of his pocket, had second thoughts and replaced it.

  “I’m not sure I have the … strength to go ahead with it.” Cora let her head fall into her hands, elbows on knees.

  “Inspector Pole will understand … it’s possible that he can do this without your input.”

  Branning sat down next to Cora, not too close, but close enough she felt he understood the emotional turmoil she was going through.

  Her eyes felt sore with tears and she stayed still, face hidden for a long moment. Branning simply waited, not impatient, just a companionable presence.

  “No … Ollie deserves the truth. If I don’t do it, Inspector Pole’s plan won’t work so well.”

  Branning pulled out a small packet of Kleenex from his jacket pocket. She noticed it had a floral design. He handed it to her.

  “Nothing wrong about being sad.”

  “But everything wrong about allowing sadness to get in the way of justice.” Cora had spoken.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Suffering from jet lag?” Pole teased Nancy.

  “Wide awake as I should be fast asleep.” Nancy was glad Pole hadn’t asked about her evening.

  “How is Hong Kong?”

  “Just as I remembered it. Some places never change and yet, I can feel a different energy … I can’t quite put my finger on it yet.” Nancy would have ventured an explanation but not now when all she needed was to hear Pole’s voice.

  “Central has always been a packed island. Just as well that Hong Kong decided long ago to create acres of National Park to preserve the forest.” Nancy stretched over the sofa. “Perhaps a few new buildings to replace the old … And yet, the House of 1000 Assholes is still standing.”

  Pole chuckled. “Is that a joke?”

  “Not at all … it’s called Jardine House. Almost opposite the Mandarin Oriental. It’s the first skyscraper built on the island back in the 1970s. I had a client there once. It looks very much like any other tall building, but the windows are round. It was supposed to be a distinct feature that would make it more attractive for prospective tenants.”

  “Who gave it the nickname … the Chinese?”

  “No, pretty much everybody, visitors, expats … it’s a little crude but affectionate nevertheless.”

  “Round windows … Is that a little Feng Shui?”

  “Bien vu, Jonathan.” Nancy chuckled. “The round windows were meant to resemble portholes, and the sun or moon … so wealth and heaven if we’re talking Feng Shui.”

  They continued chatting for a little while. Nancy felt her tense back gradually easing. Pole’s reassuring voice was working its magic.

  Nancy stifled a yawn. She had almost forgotten why she was calling him.

  “I had an email from Cora. She sounded pleased that she had spoken to you about a person she noticed at the hospital.”

  “The nurse that is not a nurse … a good observation. She noticed the woman and decided she should mention it.”

  Pole ran through the information Andy and Mandy had gathered. Nancy looked around, wide awake again. She needed her yellow pad.

  “It’s time to turn the tables on those bastards.”

  “The trap is a good idea, but …” Nancy was thinking. “Is Cora okay with this? I don’t mean to say she doesn’t approve, but she needs to be ready to pull it off.”

  Pole remained silent for a moment. “I should have thought about that. I won’t press her. I can manage without her if she decides it’s too much.”

  “Perhaps you need to give her a little more time to get used to the idea.”

  “That’s why I miss you not being around. No one to bounce ideas off.”

  “I miss that too, Jonathan. I miss all of it in fact.” Nancy tightened the bathrobe closer around her.

  “But we need to see this through.” Pole’s focus on actions rather than recriminations made her miss him even more.

  She was about to tell him about Professor Licot, but Pole beat her to it with more news.

  “The agencies have found Randy Zhang.”

  “Alive?”

  “Yes, and able to tell us what he and Ollie were suspicious about.”

  “Turner Junior is not going to be happy about that.”

  “As much as I’d love to go and put some handcuffs around the wrists of the Viro-Tech CEO, it won’t be on the strength of Randy’s evidence I’m afraid, mon coeur.”

  * * *

  Senior Officer Rachel Lord had gone around the building twice. She had promised Pole she would survey the state of the structure before Cora’s attempt at abseiling down the walls of her flat.

  Someone called her name from a distance. Senior Officer Lord recognised Cora as she ran towards her. Her black and purple spiky hair bristled as the wind blew through it.

  “So sorry, I went for a quick walk … to clear my mind …”

  Senior Officer Lord smiled. “That’s no problem. I’ve just surveyed the building a couple of times thorouhly. The external structure held up pretty well after the fire.”

  “And it helped the windows had metal frames rather than wood.” Cora jerked her head towards her apartment.

  “I read your plan … that’s a bit daring for a member of the public.”

  Cora’s face dropped a little. “You haven’t seen what I can do …”

  “I was about to say that you are not the run of the mill member of the public though. I’ve seen your videos and … well … I’m impressed.”

  “So, it’s okay with you?” Cora beamed.

  “Not so fast, young lady. I need to see your equipment and how you are going to gain access to the beams in the flat.”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Cora led the way. DS Branning had stopped at the gate of the small courtyard. He was giving her space to speak to the person she needed to convince.

  The equipment had been laid outside her apartment. Cora strapped the harness around her torso and secured the leg straps. She had called Pole to tell him she was going ahead. Pole gave her a don’t-do-anything-stupid type of reply. She handed the phone to Senior Officer Lord.

  “The equipment is in good condition. I’ve checked everything myself.”

  “That’s very good of you, Senior Officer … I presume she’s determined to go through with it?”

  “You’ve got that right, Inspector. She won’t take no for an answer.”

  Cora was already up on the emergency stairwell that hugged the back of the building. The metal structure echoed to the sound of her pounding feet, vibrations coursing along its frame.

  Cora dragged herself and the coiled ropes to the landing on the stairs that was closest to the window she wanted to access. The glass had been blackened by smoke but she knew exactly where the window locks were.

  She turned to look at her small audience of friends and well-wishers: Johnny, Charlie, Branning and Senior Officer Lord. She gave a confident little nod. Beth was on the landing with her, ready to hand Cora her equipment.

  “I can’t bear it.” Charlie grabbed Johnny’s hand.

  Johnny remained silent. For once he had noth
ing flippant to say about the situation.

  “I hope she’s bloody careful.” Branning muttered.

  Everyone nodded back and held their breath while Cora stepped onto the banister. The weather had been dry all day. Conditions were ideal, she had argued with Pole. The next two days were forecast to be rainy and uncertain. It had to be now.

  She felt in one of the pockets of the harness and took out a small hammer. She broke the glass with a precise knock, cleared the fragments with her gloved hand and found the catch immediately. The window opened.

  Cora pushed up the bottom section. She heaved herself onto the frame and held the position for what seemed an eternity. With a supple move she landed on the window sill. She was inside.

  Beth threw the ropes to her. Cora arranged them at her feet. She selected one and tied it to one of the D-rings of the harness in a secure knot. With a small jump she disappeared out of view.

  Beth stood on the tip of her toes for a moment, then turned around. “She’s okay … I can see her standing on the large transverse beam.”

  Cora was busy securing the other side of the rope she had fastened to another D-ring on her harness to the hooks and pullies she had had made specially for her performance rehearsals.

  The lingering smell of soot and melted plastic made her cough a few times. She stopped for a short moment … focus was essential.

  She surveyed the landscape below her. A lot of the debris and damaged furniture had been removed. The props, however, had not been touched. They were covered in smoke residue, but they had not been displaced by the fire.

  Cora heaved herself below the beam, swung her body a few times and landed onto the windowsill again.

  Beth had jumped on the bannister too and pushed the other rope towards her friend. Cora returned to the main beam. She secured the second rope to different hooks and pulleys. She sat across the beam for a short moment, planning her descent. The floor where she had decided to land looked solid.

  Cora started to slide slowly downwards. She touched down using her right foot … testing the solidity of the floor she had just reached. It felt strong and she rested her foot on the ground, gradually letting the full weight of her body transfer to her foot. The wood held firm.

  Cora secured the rope through another D-ring on her harness. If the floor gave way, she would have time to pull herself up.

  Her props had been stored by performance event. Some of the heavy pieces were lying at the bottom, but none of these provided an opportunity to hide anything within them.

  Cora tried to remember Ollie’s words. He had joked that some of the long tubes she was using to build a structure, around which she would perform some complex aerobatics, were ideal to secretly stash away documents.

  “It’s like an old cypher …” Cora had found his comment a little strange at the time, but not taken any notice.

  She displaced a large sheet of plastic. The dust rose to her nose and she started to cough uncontrollably. She hadn’t brought water with her … a mistake. She calmed herself, controlling her breathing. She wiped away the perspiration that had gathered on her forehead with her arm, and carried on shifting the metal pieces which appeared more promising.

  Each of the tubes was hollow so that they could be joined together in different configuations. Cora started to inspect each meticulously. After fifteen minutes, the pile of props was mounting on one side, so far nothing. She stopped for a moment.

  Perhaps she was simply grasping at straws.

  She almost kicked the pile of metal that resembled a small pyramid. Tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes and she wiped them ferociously against the shoulder of her T-shirt.

  Her eyes moved slowly around the space. All the things that had made the flat home had gone. She gritted her teeth. “For Ollie …”

  She resumed the task, going through each piece, starting now on the smaller tubes. One of the props did not match the others. By the look of it, it had never been part of the set she had calibrated herself, but seemed to have been more of a reject, a piece of metal she had discarded when cutting the props to size.

  Cora’s heart pounded in her chest. An odd piece out, inconspicuous to the untrained eye, but glaringly obvious to her, since she had invented the structure. Cora bent forward in a sudden movement, and pulled out the piece of metal from where it had been placed at the bottom of the pile.

  The rest of the props that had been stored on top of it came crashing down.

  * * *

  “I have spoken to the hospital.” Pole dragged an old chair on casters over to Andy’s desk. “The registrar has agreed to what we suggested. His head nurse will be in the loop and that’s it”

  “We have three plain clothes officers already briefed. The other PC on duty will take over as agreed.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Where will you be, Gov?”

  “I’ll be outside the hospital …” Pole nodded. “I can’t be anywhere near Ollie’s room, otherwise I fear it will deter our woman suspect.”

  “She doesn’t know me, so I plan to be in the reception area with my laptop … I can control the camera we have installed in Ollie’s room from there.”

  “And I’ll be there too.” Mandy popped up from behind the partition screen that separated her desk from Andy’s.

  “Jolly good.” Pole gave them both an approving smile. “I couldn’t hope for a better team.”

  “Mandy’s got really good self-defence training, too.” Andy’s cheeks turned a little pink.

  “Even better. How many times have you been on a live operation, Mandy?”

  “Only once, Sir, but it was rather tough.”

  Pole eyed Andy sideways. “It’ll be fine. If we stick to the plan, it will work out.”

  “I’ve been chased by Commander Ferguson again.” Andy had changed the subject.

  Pole’s attention switched abruptly. “He asked whether you could call him about Ms Wu?”

  Pole clenched his fist and released it. “I did tell him I would call as soon as I had the time.” He controlled his anger. No need to take it out on Andy. He was on his side.

  Pole disappeared into his office, closed the door and sat down heavily in his chair.

  “Shit.” He ran his hand through his hair and paused.

  Ferguson was worse than a dog with a bone. He would not let it rest until he had found what he was looking for.

  Pole hesitated. Harris had given him the okay. The link between the terrorist who had attempted to eliminate a key witness, and the SFO prosecutor in the Mark Phelps case, had been planted. The rest would follow.

  Still, it would mean lying to his DS, so as to lead him towards the planted evidence.

  A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. He considered ignoring it but Andy was gesturing he needed to come in.

  Pole moved over to the door and opened it.

  “Superintendent Marsh is trying to get hold of you.”

  Pole rolled his eyes. He was about to dial reluctantly, then stopped. Perhaps The Super could be of assistance for once.

  “Hello, Denise.” Pole had appeared unannounced at Marsh’s office.

  “Well, … hello, Inspector Pole …” Denise pulled her glasses away from her face and raised an eyebrow. It was not like him to show up out of the blue.

  “I’m sure he is, as ever, fiendishly busy, but …”

  “As it happens, he wants to see you , so I’ll let him know. He has a call in 15 minutes, but I can delay for a bit if need be.”

  Denise disappeared into Marsh’s office and, as predicted, she opened the door and ushered him in.

  “Pole, you, unannounced.” Marsh expected something juicy and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  “I just wanted to run an idea past you, Sir. It’s about Ferguson and the inquiry.”

  Mar
sh grimaced and waved Pole towards his desk.

  He sat down, made as though he was gathering his thoughts about a difficult situation.

  “I think Commander Ferguson’s team might have missed something important.”

  Marsh straightened up. He was all ears.

  “There is one location that his people do not seem to have checked and that is the area surrounding the place his team stormed 10 months ago.”

  Marsh frowned. “I don’t follow.”

  “Commander Ferguson is intent on finding someone to blame for MI6 having advance knowledge of the terrorist cell’s location. But that doesn’t mean gathering any form of evidence to substantiate that.”

  “I’m sure Ferguson is aware of that. He’s one of the best in the squad.”

  “I’ve worked with Ferguson enough to know how determined he can be, but, in the case of this enquiry, he’s perhaps a little too keen.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Marsh couldn’t see where he was going.

  “Is it not possible that the person who made the calls from the vicinity of the Scotland Yard building, or near Ms Wu’s flat, was a member of the terrorist cell? After all, they were targeting people on the Mark Phelps case.”

  A knot closed around Pole’s throat. Lying to save his skin was not what he was accustomed to and yet …

  Marsh grabbed one of his Montblanc pens and started rolling it around his fingers.

  “That is a good point. Have you spoken to him about it?”

  “No, Sir. His team was the one who came up with the burner phone issue and I don’t want to be seen to influence matters by pointing the finger.”

  Marsh’s eyes grew a little wider. Inspector Pole was being political … a one-off.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “You might perhaps have a conversation with Commander Ferguson’s superior?”

  Marsh rolled his eyes. Pole’s political acumen had lasted less than a second.

  “That would go down like a lead balloon.” Marsh pushed his back into his armchair. “However, I could perhaps have the conversation with Ferguson myself.”

  “That would be excellent, Sir.” Pole smiled amiably. Marsh was sometimes too predictable. It almost took the fun out of it.