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

It was all explained on the website in flamboyant terms, but in essence, it was some kind of recycled cotton and synthetic mix that Minty had imported from South America. The website glamorously described the process and boasted that Minty was one of the only designers in Europe to use this sustainable product.

Visiting the shop was Leo’s first job today. Even if it was closed — as Leo expected it to be with its proprietor missing — it may still hold the answers he needed. The shop itself, as Leo understood it, was more like a design studio. It seemed that having premises in Kreuzberg was a statement of authenticity for the fashion designers of Berlin. Hopefully, the place would help Leo better understand the man he needed to find.

On the train towards Kottbusser Tor, Leo looked around at the rooftops and brightly coloured buildings of the district. Imperial townhouses of white and red jostled for space next to 1960s concrete apartment blocks. Creepers climbed the walls and flags hung from windows and balconies. Stepping out into the afternoon sunshine, Leo had an unusual feeling — he actually quite liked Berlin. It felt quiet and calm, vibrant and fresh, almost like his familiar Brighton. Descending from the station, Leo passed a man in a grey suit talking to one in traditional Jewish robes. A young lady with tattoos and ripped jeans walked beside him. At the corner below, two women wearing gleaming, sequined headscarves gossiped. It seemed to Leo, as someone who was becoming increasingly well-travelled, that Berlin was a city of the world. With that, Leo started to understand why a young fashion designer might want to make the city the base of his operations.

Leo followed the directions on his phone to a wide and quiet street lined by white five-story townhouses. The rumble of the city had faded and, listening carefully, Leo heard birds from a nearby park. As though on cue, a pair of blackbirds perched on a windowsill a few feet above Leo. They examined Leo through small, inquisitive eyes.

Leo dug out his phone and checked the directions. He must be close now.

Yep, Minty’s shop was about a hundred yards ahead on the left-hand side.

Leo squinted down the road. Most of the shops had their white shutters rolled down. Maybe early afternoon wasn’t the time the fashionistas of Berlin liked to open their businesses.

Walking on, Leo counted the ascending numbers — 55, 57, 59. Minty’s was 87.

One of the shops further along the road did seem to be open. Its shutter was up, and something moved behind the darkened glass. Leo quickened his pace. Maybe they would know something about Minty.

77, 79. Leo continued to count the numbers on the doors.

81, 83. What number is Minty’s again?

Leo checked his phone. 87.

Looking a few doors up, Leo saw number 87 and stopped.

87 was the shop with the raised shutter.

87 was Minty’s shop.

Leo had expected, with Minty missing, for the shop to be shut. The place being open made no sense. Leo crossed the road. With each step, his heart beat heavily in his chest.

Leo pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The stop had been ransacked. The floor was strewed with clothes and boxes had been pushed from shelves. The sofa was flipped, and its base torn open.

Someone had clearly been here looking for something.

Leo stiffened as he heard movement from the back of the shop. What he saw next made his mouth gape in astonishment.

48

“That one looks like a castle, don’t you think?” Minty says to Charles. They’re lying on their backs in the garden of their family home. The smell of cut grass and wildflowers hangs in the air. It’s the summer holidays — one of those heady summer holidays of childhood which seems to last forever. At least, Minty and Charles are young enough to think it will last forever. Each day is just a new adventure.

“No, it looks like a boat,” Charles says, rolling over. Shoots of the freshly cut grass stick all over his clothes.

“No, it’s the wrong way up to be a boat. Maybe if it was that way?”

Charles lays back and narrows his eyes. Their ears are almost touching as they lie head to head on the lawn.

“Pah, I don’t know what you’re on about. This one though” — Charles extends a hand to point at another of the nimbus shapes — “that’s a rabbit.”

“Definitely not, it’s a car,” Minty says, his arm following Charles’ against the deep blue of the summer sky.

“It’s not,” Charles says, swinging his arm around to thump Minty on the shoulder. Seeing it coming, Minty deflects it and sends another back at Charles. As the clouds — be them cars, castles, rabbits or boats — slide regally overhead, the two boys roll and whoop across the grass.

Behind the window in Minty’s bedroom, a cloud of an undiscernible shape floated by. Minty watched it through vacant eyes. His mind was elsewhere. The new day had done nothing to alleviate his sour mood. As the clock on the bedside table clicked into the early afternoon, Minty rolled over to face the wall. He didn’t even want to see the empty room today.

His meeting with the Russian last night had been a complete waste of time.

The furrows which lined Minty’s brow became deeper as he questioned why he’d gone along with the plan in the first place. Was the money really that important?

He could leave now if he accepted that he wasn’t going to get money. The car was ready. It was packed with all the things they needed and parked beside the house. He could pull off the tarpaulin, start the engine, and be on his way out of the city within minutes.

The thought caused Minty to sit up. He wasn’t a victim here; he was in charge of his life. He could make a choice. Fuck the money. Yes, it was a lot of money. It was enough money to set them up for the future.