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

Borya mimicked the designer again. “Don’t lose faith, rah rah rah.”

“And fourth?” Minty grumbled.

“Fourth, Olezka’s men tried to follow us here —”

“They what!”

“Relax! We lost them for dust. They have no idea where we are.”

“But that means they’re on to us?”

“Yes, but that’s okay, it’s no problem. Borya has it all sorted.”

Minty frowned.

“Listen, you said yesterday that you wanted your family to know. You said you were worried about them. This is your opportunity to tell them.”

“You’re from Brighton?” Minty said. It wasn’t a question.

Leo nodded.

“What part?”

Leo thought it was an unusual time to start talking about the city.

“What part of Brighton do you live in?”

“In Hove, two streets back from Brunswick Square.”

Minty nodded. “And my parents have sent you? I thought they might send someone. This was the reason I didn’t want to do this.” He turned on Borya. “But you said this would take just one day. I should have been out of here by now. But I’m waiting for you, holed up with nothing to do, my family worrying about me.”

“Well, now your family will know you’re alright. And you’ll have all this money to enjoy.” Borya held up the bag.

Minty reached for it.

“No no, don’t snatch,” Borya said, pulling the bag away.

“Just show me,” Minty said.

“You guys just have no, how you say… decorum.” Borya dropped the bag, squatted down and pulled open the zip. Then he pushed it across the floor towards Minty. “There you go. All yours, my friend.”

Minty knelt, pulled a torch from his pocket and snapped it on. The beam felt blinding in the dark building. Borya turned to face the smouldering outline of Berlin on the horizon.

“It’s a shame,” Borya said. “We could have cleaned up here. This could have just been the start. This money could have been the first of many.”

Minty pulled a wad of notes from the bag. They glimmered as he spun them in the light. “I assume it’s all here?”

“What do you take me for?” Borya spun to face Minty. “Of course it is.”

“Well, that’s it then.” Minty dropped the notes and zipped up the bag. Slinging it across his shoulder, he lifted it from the floor. Leo watched as the bag’s fabric bulged.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be a part of this business?” Borya turned to face the city again. “It’s been good to work with you. Do you want to reconsider? I could make you a very wealthy man.”

“No. I never wanted to be part of it in the first place. Now I’m getting out.” Minty turned. “Remember the deal? Whatever you do now, my name stays out of it.”

“Yes yes, but why the rush all the time? Business is as much about the people as it is the money. Don’t people realise that anymore —”

“This is not business.”

“Oh, it is,” Borya said, pointing a finger at Minty. “This has always been business. Business is business. Whether it’s fashion or drugs.” He rested the finger on Minty’s chest. “Or even murder.”

66

Anafisa turned the Maserati around and killed the engine. For now, Borya needed to think things were going his way. If he saw the car’s tail lights fading into the woodland, then he’d know something was off. Anafisa drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. This whole thing was making her nervous.

She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. Was it possible that she was even more nervous than the night before her husband had died? There had been no reason for her to be nervous that night though. The plan was flawless. He would always go skiing before breakfast when they were staying in the Alps. And the boring bastard took the same route every day.

The simplicity of Anafisa’s plan was genius. She strung a cord between two trees on her husband’s route. When he didn’t return, she went looking for him — like any good wife would.

She removed the cord and then raised the alarm about his crumpled body.

Obviously, his family had suspected her, but nothing could be done. The will was signed, and skiing was known to be dangerous.

“Stupid man, had it coming to him,” Anafisa said to herself in the silent car.

Then she’d moved to Berlin and her life had changed forever. Looking at the bag on the passenger seat, Anafisa wondered whether she should just take the money now and run. She could drive straight out of the city, right now. But did she really want to spend the next few years looking over her shoulder? No, that wasn’t worth it. She would take her share and Olezka could have his. It was worth keeping these people on side.

She glanced at the clock on the dash. Borya had only been gone two minutes. How this was going to play out, Anafisa had no idea, but she was going to wait and see.

Anafisa opened the bag and looked at the money. Great dirty piles stacked together with elastic bands. She did some quick calculations and stashed what she assumed was a hundred thousand beneath the seat.

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and looked at the clock again. Borya would still be a while yet. Anafisa remembered the coke she’d found in Keal’s room yesterday. She rummaged through her handbag and held it up to the light. The powder glistened.

She was impressed. She’d had it overnight and still had loads left. Maybe she didn’t have such a problem with it after all. Maybe she could be trusted just to have a bit now and again.

The beasts of her addiction began to rage with the thought.

She could have a little bit now. Nothing was going to happen for the next few minutes at least.

Anafisa rolled a cigarette and sprinkled it with a greedy dose of cocaine.

A few months ago, someone had asked Anafisa why she took so many drugs. It seemed like a silly question at the time. She remembered actually laughing when they asked. That was like asking why a fish swam. It was what she