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

time in their twin beds watching American comedies on the giant TV, visited the resort’s spa and pools, and eaten in the lavish restaurants. Allissa had found it therapeutic, but to Leo, it had been the opposite.

Lying sleepless on that first night, he knew why. Before finding Mya, he and Allissa’s relationship was simple. They got on and enjoyed spending time together. And they were pretty damn good at finding missing people. Meaning that, whether Leo liked it or not, he and Allissa had landed themselves with a bonafide business.

It was a business that required them both, though, Leo knew that. Although they were both resourceful investigators, Allissa was the driving force behind the business. Money, to Leo — providing his credit cards still worked — was an irrelevance. To Allissa, it was a way of life. She seemed to understand what they needed for each job. She discussed sums with clients that made Leo squirm. She made the bookings, then allocated funds and somehow ensured there was enough left over for them to make a profit.

She also had a fierce sense of right and wrong. Where Leo might have been ready to give up on an investigation, Allissa would carry on until all the ends were tied. But it wasn’t her business acumen or her investigatory prowess that now worried Leo.

Before Leo had caught up with Mya, things between Allissa and himself were simple. He was looking for Mya. But now that door was closed, Leo could do what he wanted. That brought with it a wave of mayhem, misunderstanding and misery. There was no longer anything in the way.

Watching Allissa’s eyes flick across the landscape, Leo knew that things had changed. A different feeling was smouldering now, and Leo didn’t think he liked it.

7

“Just tell me what this is about?” Keal groaned.

There was no point trying to run. The two men behind him carried weapons capable of firing ten bullets a second. And even if he did by some miracle make it away from them, Olezka’s reach through the underground networks was long. There weren’t many places you could go that the Vor v Zakone didn’t have a contact. But it was all just some big misunderstanding. He would just have to wait and find out what it was.

What worried Keal though, was that Olezka was never that bothered about finding out the truth. Although Olezka was the judge and jury, he usually jumped straight to his role as executioner before asking any questions.

In the torches’ twin beams, Keal saw something scurry away from them down the dilapidated corridor. Whatever it was, it had a fleshy tail as thick as a thumb.

“Turn right,” Semion said.

Keal obliged, and the men followed. Two fingers of light from the torches swept through the room. As far as Keal could see, the place was abandoned. Bare concrete walls bore the scars of decay and graffiti. Some of the windows were bricked up, and others had no glass. The bough of a tree extended through one.

Keal heard the faint whine and thud of a petrol generator and then the room filled with light.

The room was large with thick concrete pillars. It sat empty except for a metal chair in the centre. Seeing the chair, Keal felt his knuckles clench. This really wasn’t looking good.

“Sit down,” came a voice from behind him.

“What, I really haven’t —”

Keal didn’t finish his sentence as he was struck from behind with the barrel of a gun. The room shuddered. Keal did everything he could to stay on his feet.

“Look you kolot, you’re done for.” Keal heard Konstatin whispering behind him. “I would put a bullet in you now, but Olezka wants a word. So just do what you’re told.”

Keal’s anger welled as Konstantin jabbed the muzzle of the rifle in his back.

Such an amateur. Who did this little prick think he was? Keal wasn’t going to be treated like that.

“Move now,” Konstantin said. Keal felt the man’s breath on the back of his neck.

Big mistake.

Swiping his hand behind him, Keal pushed the barrel of the gun to the side. The man squeezed the trigger. Two shots zipped harmlessly into the concrete. Spinning on the ball of his right foot, Keal forced his knee into the other man’s kidney and pushed the gun upwards. The barrel of the rifle now nestled against Konstantin’s chin. Konstantin’s thick lips quivered as Keal leaned over the smaller man.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Keal hissed. Spittle flew from his mouth. Keal closed his hand around the man’s trigger finger and began to squeeze. “You don’t fancy shooting yourself, do you?”

All expression slipped from Konstantin’s face as he realised Keal was serious. His mouth began to move like a fish out of water.

Keal forced Konstantin’s hand from the trigger and took the position himself.

“Turn around,” Keal whispered.

Konstantin turned, and Keal gripped him hard around the neck with his left arm while holding the gun with his right. This felt natural to Keal. This was what he did.

The whole exchange had taken less than two seconds.

“Somebody,” Keal shouted, “needs to tell me what the fuck is going on here!”

Semion, who had turned for just a few seconds to switch on the generator, looked back in shock. His fingers groped for the trigger as he raised the gun towards Keal.

“Well?” Keal said. “You wake me up and drag me to this shit hole, for what?”

Semion raised the gun even higher and took aim. Keal could see his hand shaking.

This guy is so green.

Keal’s eyes narrowed. This was some hangover.

“Keal, what are you going to do?” Olezka’s deep burr came from the door. “Shoot him?”

Olezka stepped into the room, his thick-set body and shaven head silhouetted against the bright light. In his right hand, the silenced pistol pointed squarely at Keal.

“Now what exactly would shooting this man achieve? You would still be here. We would still have the conversation we are going to have. Except he would be dead.”

Pulling a deep breath, Keal ran through his options.