Berlin (Leo & Allissa International Thrillers Book 3), Luke Richardson [any book recommendations .txt] 📗

Just to call his family and tell them he was alive and well. Even getting a message to them would be enough, just so long as their suffering was over.

Pulling a black jacket from the back of a chair, Minty promised himself that when this was all over, he’d never lose touch with his family again. He zipped the jacket and stepped back to look at his reflection in the mirror. Gone were the colours he used to love wearing. Now he wore only black, for fear of standing out. That wouldn’t be for long, he thought. As soon as this was over, he would be the loudest person in the room again. With the hint of a smile, Minty pulled a bright yellow scarf from his bag. This would be the first thing he wore to celebrate his coming freedom. Walking to the front door, Minty hung the scarf over the handle. When this was all over, he’d leave this house with the scarf around his shoulders. With that thought came a small wave of contentment.

Minty turned to face the window. The sun had begun its descent behind the woodland. When darkness had fallen, he would head out. Tonight the Russian should have his money. Maybe in a few hours he would be wearing the yellow scarf on his way out of the city. Minty hoped so.

39

“It’s got to be here somewhere,” Olezka said.

Semion prized the door of Borya’s apartment open. The lock splintered and shards of wood scattered across the floor.

Olezka knew Borya wouldn’t be there. Borya was smarter than that. But he may not have had a chance to move the stuff yet.

“Look everywhere,” Olezka said, pulling out one of the kitchen drawers. Cutlery crashed to the floor. “I’ll start in here. You start in the bedroom. Look for the packages or money.”

It’s a long shot, he thought, tearing open one of the cupboards and throwing the plates onto the floor. But they needed to be sure.

In the bedroom, Semion rifled through drawers and wardrobes. The guy didn’t have much stuff. He flipped the mattress, looked under the bed, pulled the pictures from the wall and ripped the side from the bath. Nothing. The place was empty.

Ten minutes later, the two men met in the living room. The place was ransacked.

“Nothing here Dedushka Olezka,” Semion said. “But he left in a hurry. He’s not packed or anything.”

The shrill ring of Olezka’s phone pierced the silence of the room.

“Da,” he said, holding the phone to his ear. “I see.” A grin spread across his face. “Yes, keep me informed.”

40

Epitome Nightclub was a shambolic collection of buildings in Berlin’s Rummelsburg district. Leo checked the map on his phone to make sure that the decaying structure really was an operational nightclub. Even in the coming darkness the place looked rundown.

Leo had checked the venue’s website before leaving the hotel, although the place didn’t open until midnight, he guessed someone must be around to set up for the event. Leo walked towards what he assumed must be the main entrance and knocked as hard as he could. There was no reply.

The website boasted that one of Europe’s leading techno groups was playing tonight. A pair of DJs called The Space Camels. Unsurprisingly, Leo had never heard of them.

Leo knocked on the door again. Still no reply.

Leo looked around the yard, graffiti covered most of the walls and crates of empty bottles were stacked in one corner. In a few hours, techno music would be thudding from these walls as people queued to get in. Leo felt a strange tinge of excitement at the prospect.

Although he frequently enjoyed a few beers, it was several years since Leo’d been clubbing. At university, he’d grown bored of the clubs playing cheesy music to predatory drunk people. Here, even on the outside, it all seemed different.

A door to the side of the building clattered open and a man rushed into the yard carrying three crates of empty bottles.

“Hey,” Leo shouted, “excuse me? Hello!”

The guy turned, then in a moment of imbalance, dropped one of the crates. It crashed to the floor. Bottles skittered and smashed.

“Ah, fuck!” the guy shouted.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Leo said, running across the yard to help.

“What are you doing here?” the man replied.

Leo was surprised to hear a Californian accent.

“I’m.. I’m... looking for help with something,” Leo said, picking up two unbroken bottles and slotting them back into a crate. “My brother…” Leo had decided to pretend Minty was his brother. “Fell beneath a U-Bahn train last week. This club was the last place he visited. I’m wondering if there would be any CCTV footage of him here.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” the guy said. He went back inside the nightclub and returned with a dustpan and brush. “I’ve got so much to do tonight as well. Just what I need.”

Leo picked up the dustpan and tipped the shards in the bin.

“You say this was the last place he visited?”

“Yeah, I’ve just recovered his phone, and this was the last location he visited —"

“What, you can do that?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty simple. He left just before 4 am.”

“When was this?” The yard was now almost dark.

“Last Sunday morning.”

“Ahh, we had the Luuka Syence on until 6 am. Busy night. Open until 10 am.”

“I just want to get any information about that night. Do you have CCTV in the club?” Leo asked.

“You know, if we were in California there’d be a camera on every wall, but not Berlin. Clubbing’s a private thing here, you know? What happens in there” — he pointed towards the building — "stays in there.”

Leo’s curiosity piqued.

“There’s one camera above the door there,” the guy said, pointing up at it. “And one on the far wall there. Gets a picture of people as they enter and leave. Helps us if there’s ever any trouble with people not being allowed in.”

“But nothing else?”

“Nope. There’s even a no phones policy. I mean, people still do,