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

Olezka’s voice grumbled down the line.

“I know where Borya will be with your money tomorrow,” Anafisa said.

“Good, where?”

“I’m not going to tell you right now. Listen to me very closely.”

Olezka swore and began to argue but Anafisa cut him off.

“I know he’s going to have half a million euros with him. That’s ten times what I owe you. So, I want a bigger cut.”

“You’ll get nothing if you —” Olezka raised his voice but Anafisa interrupted him.

“Olezka, you can shout all you want but let me make it really clear to you. I want one-hundred thousand. Plus my debt written off.”

“Why would I do that? You must think I’m crazy.”

“If you say no?” Anafisa laughed into the night air. “Then I’ll kill Borya myself and take it all.”

There was silence down the line as Olezka considered his options. Anafisa knew he didn’t really have any.

“Good, I’m glad you’ve decided to agree with me. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you where we’re going. Be ready.”

Anafisa hung up the phone and looked across Berlin. Maybe it was time she also went somewhere else to live.

46

Borya stepped from Anafisa’s apartment and into the bright, cloudless afternoon. He couldn’t believe Minty had done this to him. Leaving the packages hidden in the shop was both stupid and, Borya had to admit, brilliant. Borya just hoped the hiding place was as good as Minty thought. Olezka and his men wouldn’t have given up easily.

Borya ducked into a kiosk and grabbed a drink from the fridge.

“Danke, behalte das Wechselgeld.” Thanks, keep the change.

Taking a deep swig of the Club Mate, a carbonated energy drink made from some kind of magic root, Borya waved to the group of men sat at the small table outside the kiosk. A growing pile of empty beer bottles and an orange cloud of cigarette smoke surrounded them.

As a man accustomed to driving everywhere, Borya thought it was nice to walk occasionally. Of course, his desire to make this trip on foot had nothing to do with exercise. It was much more important than that. In a vehicle, Borya thought he had a higher chance of being followed.

Taking another long sip of the Club Mate, Borya turned the corner onto Reichenberger Strasse. To his right, a steel pillar covered with posters showed upcoming events in the city. Borya didn’t need to check boards like this to know the events. He had people who would do that for him.

Borya glanced in the darkened window of an apothecary as he passed to check no one was following him on foot. It was essential to be careful now. He couldn’t see anyone. Just to be safe, Borya turned into a backstreet, then ducked into a doorway and waited. A rattle of footsteps came from behind him. He prepared himself to fight. One minute. Two minutes. No one appeared. Good.

He doubled back on himself, then turned left and then right. The streets of Kreuzberg all looked the same. Tree-lined boulevards with bulky five-story buildings on either side. You would have no idea, he thought, finally approaching the shop, the sort of stuff that went on behind these respectable looking shutters.

He looked around. The street was empty. Lunchtime was a good time to come. Berlin was at its quietest and Olezka and his men were rarely around at this time.

Even so, Borya would have to be quick.

Inside, Borya stepped over the strewn clothes which Minty used to sell for a small fortune. He knew exactly where he needed to go. The destruction continued in the back room. The carcass of Minty’s sewing machine lay twisted and smashed on the floor and a filing cabinet had been emptied of its contents.

Olezka and his men had done a thorough job.

Not thorough enough, Borya hoped.

Borya pulled open the toilet door and snapped on the light. The room was no bigger than a cupboard and contained just a toilet and sink. He stood for a few seconds and repeated Minty’s instructions. The sink was on the wall to the left. It looked normal.

“Push the sink,” he muttered. “Okay, push the sink.”

As Borya followed Minty’s instructions, he heard a click and the wall opened inwards. Borya laughed out loud as the moving wall exposed a tiny space behind it. It was used as a hiding place during the war, Minty had explained. But now it made a great place for them to put their stuff. Sure enough, hidden in the gloom, were the missing shipments.

Then Borya heard a sound that filled him with fear. The shop door jangled open.

47

Leo felt the daylight sting as he prized his eyes open. Without sitting up, he looked around. The bright walls of his hotel room were especially offensive this morning.

What time is it?

Leo rolled over and reached for his phone. Shit. It was just after midday. He’d been asleep the whole morning.

The previous night had been pretty intense. He’d completed the shift as the techno rumbled and the black-clad dancers stomped and swayed. Although he still had no idea what people got up to in the darkroom, his imagination now had various theories.

The investigation had progressed too. Leo knew that Minty had left the club just after the man in the green coat. Whatever the link between the two men, it built on Leo’s instinct that Minty was still alive.

That was good progress for the first day. Even Allissa couldn’t have done better, Leo thought, grinning. But all it brought so far was more questions. Most crucially: if Minty isn’t dead, then where is he, and why?

Fifteen minutes later, his eyes just beginning to focus, Leo ordered a large flat white with a double shot from the café across the road. As he waited for the coffee to be made — steam billowed industriously from the gleaming machine on the counter — Leo checked the notes he had made from Minty’s website. Minty sold clothes. Very expensive and, apparently, fashionable clothes. The unique selling point was the fabric they were made from.