Without a Shadow

Chris Cowley

Description

The story begins with the discovery of a body of a foreign student, which then leads to a meeting between a senior police officer and a Swiss businesswomen with an intimate knowledge of Swiss banking and its role in international crime. The plot unfolds as together they journey to disrupt the flow of billions of dollars funding the worldwide trade in heroin. Set against a background of international crime and the vast resources of Triad Chinese gangsters, sensitive Triad banking data is hacked, finances mysteriously disappear, apparently stolen before reappearing within competing Triad bank accounts. The actions leap between London, Geneva, Bangkok and Hong Kong. Suspicion grows as senior Triad gang members commence a deadly self-destructive Triad war.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 29 mars 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528959209
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Without a Shadow
Chris Cowley
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-03-29
Without a Shadow About the Author Dedication Copyright Information Chapter 1 Missing Persons Chapter 2 Mason Sorts Files Chapter 3 Mason Visits Interpol in Amsterdam Chapter 4 Pathologist Interrupts Chapter 5 Gabriella Meets Mason in London Chapter 6 Mason’s Resume Chapter 7 Triad Meeting, Tu’s Proposal Chapter 8 Bern, Adolf Mutz Chapter 9 Mason Meets Gabriella in the Park Chapter 10 Gabriella Returns from Meeting Mason Chapter 11 Gabriella Thinks About Mason Chapter 12 Bank Chairman Receives a Telephone Call Chapter 13 Cheng Meets Tu Chapter 14 Mason at Home Chapter 15 Message from Gabriella Chapter 16 Cho’s Bank Visit Chapter 17 Russell Enters Mason’s Office Chapter 18 Mason Receives a Call from Gabriella Chapter 19 Mason Travels to Moutier Chapter 20 Mason Still in Moutier Chapter 21 Moutier Running Chapter 22 Cho in Swiss Hotel Chapter 23 Tu Faces Disaster Chapter 24 Mason Visits Switzerland Chapter 25 Tu Meets Old Man. Tu Meets Parrot Chapter 26 Wu Is Seen Leaving the Crime Conference Chapter 27 At Parrot’s House Chapter 28 Tu Returns to Hong Kong Chapter 29 Parrot’s Execution Chapter 30 Wu Is Picked Up and Tortured Chapter 31 Benny in Pub Chapter 32 Tu Reads Mason’s File Brought from Benny Chapter 33 Gabriella Accesses the Bank Computer Chapter 34 Gabriella on the Bank Computer Chapter 35 Cheng Awaits the Next Computer Attack Chapter 36 Tu Meets Other Triad Leaders Chapter 37 Wu’s Body Is Found Chapter 38 Tracking Mason Chapter 39 Mason Learns of Wu’s Death Chapter 40 Cheng at the Computer Chapter 41 Gabriella and Zermatt Chapter 42 Man on Bike Chapter 43 Periscope Chapter 44 Gabriella’s Death Chapter 45 After Gabriella’s Death Chapter 46 Mason Meets the Counterfeiter Chapter 47 Mason Arrives in Hong Kong Chapter 48 Mason in Hong Kong Chapter 49 Mason Plants Discs Chapter 50 Mason Switches the Computer Off Chapter 51 Amsterdam Raid Chapter 52 HMS Scorpion Chapter 53 Tu Meets Other Triad Leaders Again Chapter 54 Tu’s Death Chapter 55 Mason Turns Off the TV Chapter 56 End Epilogue
About the Author
Chris Cowley was born and educated in Britain. After training as a metallurgist, he travelled to the Alps and worked there as a mountain guide. His love of the outdoor life and his profession enabled him to travel to places as far-flung as East Africa, South America, India, China and Tibet. From 1984 to 1989, he worked for the Brussels-based Space Research Corporation as the Project Engineer responsible for the manufacture of the Iraqi supergun.
During the last thirty years, he and his wife have travelled extensively in the Far East, including visits to the rainforests of Borneo and Sumatra. He currently lives in Bristol with his wife and family.
Also by the author:
Guns, Lies and Spies.

Some parts of this story are true.
I leave it to the reader to decide which.
Dedication
To Glynnis, who is rather special.
Copyright Information
Copyright © Chris Cowley (2019)
The right of Chris Cowley to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528909242 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528909259 (Kindle e-book)
ISBN 9781528959209 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Chapter 1

Missing Persons
It was a large Victorian building stained by the grime of Britain’s Industrial Revolution and the heavy traffic passing its doors daily. Destructive oxidation had silently eroded the scrolled cast iron balustrade, which led upstairs to a partially opened door.
The building’s function had not changed since its construction at the end of the last century. Despite its tired appearance, it still functioned as a police station. It was a building without ambience suggesting a lack of interest or investment by its past and present owners.
It was late in the afternoon, and the light was fading as the sun slid from the sky.
“Good day, how can I help?” The question was directed at a man, who seconds before had pressed a button, a button yellowed in the way smoker’s fingers spoil ivory piano keys. It was positioned below a hand-written notice.
“My name is Robert Graham from South Bank Polytechnic. I’ve an appointment to see Constable Burrows. I believe he’s in charge of missing persons.”
“Oh yes, Constable Burrows did mention you’d be coming in. Something about a missing student.” A wry smile enveloped a thin mouth. “Please come through. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Constable Burrows’s office was located on the first floor, directly over the busy road below. Two elderly wooden chairs and a desk sat erect in the centre of the room. The small room, like its occupant, was not completely spotless. A yellowing, out-of-date calendar formed the office walls’ single decoration.
On the desk were such objects of immediate need: an aluminium food tray posing as an ashtray, an old telephone and several sharpened HB pencils arranged in a line.
The hum of traffic forced its way in with the draft from loose fitting sash windows.
“Mr Graham?” he asked. Burrows held out his hand.
Constable Burrows was a grey man, having silvery hair and an ashen face, with a few remaining nicotine-stained lower teeth. Amongst his colleagues he had a reputation for never knowingly seeking work or accepting responsibility, for which he was tirelessly mocked.
Burrows knew he had grown lazy, something he admitted to himself but denied to anyone else including a complaining wife and so he waited early retirement.
Now he sat poised on the edge of the desk with an inhaler in his right nostril. “Hay fever, had it since a child. What’s the problem, if there is a problem?”
This was his place. His inner sanctum.
Annoyance spread across Graham’s features, “I wouldn’t be here if…”
“No and yes, sir, I appreciate that. So before we go into the details, can you provide the name of the student believed to have gone missing?” Burrows said, not without a tone of scepticism.
Graham imagined how Burrows had been as a child. Lazy, at times a bully and with little desire to contribute to the world.
“Jourdin, Sabine Jourdin, that’s spelt J-O-U-R-D-I-N.”
“Not British then?” This was his dismissive answer before sitting down, appraising the contents of his desk for a moment and moving the telephone to a more central position.
He had a talent for looking thoughtful. Had Burrows been paying attention, he would have seen a man of medium height in his early fifties with grey eyes and a tanned complexion.
“Believe me, it’s not uncommon for young people to take off as it were.”
“In fact, several thousand a year disappear from London alone. Most eventually reappear, wondering what all the fuss was about.” Burrows seemed to sigh. “Bit irresponsible, but then that’s reality.”
Graham nodded. “I appreciate what you’re saying officer and I wouldn’t bother normally. Still, I think this is a different situation.”
“And where does your student come from?” There was a protective barrier about Burrows expressionless voice.
“Actually she’s from the Jura, a French speaking part of Switzerland and—”
The policeman had got up and was looking out beyond the room’s dirt-stained windows, leaving Graham talking to his back.
Maybe it was the tone of Graham’s voice which caused the police officer to turn around.
“So, Mr Graham, what makes you believe your student,” he managed to add possessive tone whilst referring to a note on the desk, “that Miss Jourdin will not reappear in the next few weeks or perhaps even tomorrow?”
“Let’s hope she does. We try to keep an eye on our foreign students, particularly if they seem to be the vulnerable type. Many have cultures and backgrounds different from our own; it can leave them very exposed.”
“Exposed to what in particular?” To Graham it appeared a stupid question. He looked Burrows squarely in the face and decided not to answer.
“I have a photograph, if that would be useful.”
Graham slid a passport-sized photograph across the table. It showed the missing student in close up. The oval face of a young woman with a coy and effervescent quality, dark blonde hair swept around both shoulders framing her delicate features. It was the face of a young girl laughing at the camera.
Burrows picked up the photograph and thought about the time it had been taken.
“Do you happen to know her age? She looks about sixteen.”
“Actually, she’s twenty. She’ll be twenty-one in June.”
“An attractive young woman.” Burrows knew it was an understatement.
“Yes, she’s very popular, so much energy and not afraid of anything.”
Burrows looked at his watch, a movement feigning the urgency of his day and the need to attend engagements that were more pressing. His gesture did not go unnoticed by Graham.
“I’ve put together additional information which may be helpful. I’m afraid it’s not an awful lot. Basically, it’s a list of her friends, or perhaps more accurately recent acquaintances, addresses etc.” Graham slid a foolscap piece of paper across the desk.
“Also, I should mention that’s quite an old picture, the most recent we could find, but still her appearance has changed quite a lot since then.”
Burrows picked up the photograph again. “In what way?” There was a laconic drawl to his voice. Graham took a deep breath and braced himself for the next meaningless question.
“Well, it’s difficult to be specific, but she seemed to have le