Berlin (Leo & Allissa International Thrillers Book 3) by Luke Richardson (my reading book txt) 📕

would be enough to get started. But what would he do when that ran out? Continue his fashion business under another name?

Thinking about the business, Minty felt a welling sadness. He had loved that business. The adventure of the creative process — not knowing what was going to come out. The thrill of someone wanting to buy it, actually wanting to part with their money for one of his designs. And the pride he felt when he saw them worn around the city. Minty remembered the first time that had happened. He was in a club, and he saw a girl wearing one of his dresses. The way she wore it took his breath away. It clung to her body in all the right places; it was effortless, stylish, perfect. She was perfect. In the rear-view mirror, he saw himself smiling.

But that was gone now. The business was gone. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t ever design clothes again. Of course, he could. But he’d have to start from scratch. New designs. New supplies. New distribution networks. He would have to be very careful too; any links to his old network would be dangerous.

Minty swallowed, suddenly thirsty. But that didn’t matter. They’d stop in an hour.

The business was gone, and what did he have to show for it? A few thousand euros hidden beneath the carpet of a ten-year-old VW Golf. Basically, nothing. Minty exhaled. He had nothing. Sure, he could go and start again, but that was the same as wiping the last five years from the record. It would all have been for nothing.

Spotting movement further down the street, Minty slid deeper into the driver’s seat. Parked on the driveway to the side of the house, and hidden behind a deciduous hedge, the car couldn’t be seen easily. But Minty was cautious.

From his slumped position, he watched the people from the house next door descend their front steps and start in his direction. They were a young family; a man, a woman and two young boys. The boys must have been around three and five. The family chatted together. Minty couldn’t hear their words but saw that whatever they were discussing had them all enthralled. They were a family. They looked happy.

Minty bit his lip. They must be doing well because the houses in this neighbourhood were expensive. He would have to sell a lot of clothes for them to live in a house like that. Or, he thought, as he felt the final bit of resolve drain from him, he would have to wait around to get his money.

54

Borya let the door bang closed behind him and looked around. He had always liked this place. Although it just looked like a run-down townhouse — the render crumbling to expose the bricks beneath and tattered posters flapping fitfully — it was one of the best secret hangouts in the city. The only thing that hinted to the constant party inside was the small window which glowed invitingly.

It reminded Borya of the Berlin he’d known many years ago. The Berlin he had moved to and never left. The city before the multiple waves of regeneration turned houses like this into swanky apartments and offices.

It felt familiar. Borya had been coming here for many years after all. Originally, the place had been a squat, occupied by people with nowhere else to go. Over the years the residents had fought off various redevelopment schemes and managed to buy the place. It was now theirs, thanks in some small part to the multiple shady deals Borya had conducted here. Now run by a small community of people, it was a nightclub, late bar and provided accommodation in the dingy rooms above for the people who worked there.

The whole place was cheap and inconspicuous, which was just what Borya needed.

Borya raised a hand at the woman behind the bar. He knew her, although her name escaped him. A pair of tourists sat at the bar, talking loudly amid a collection of glasses. The woman poured a thick orange liquid into two small glasses and pushed them towards the customers. Borya shoved through a door at the far end of the room and climbed the stairs to the first floor.

“Manuel,” Borya said, stepping into the office. The man he had come to meet sat behind a paper-strewn desk.

Manuel leant back on his chair and looked up at Borya. His chubby jowls contorted into a grin.

“Ah, Borya.” The man stubbed a cigarillo into an overflowing ashtray and crossed his arms. “You’re a wanted man I hear. Everyone around town is looking for you.”

Borya’s eyes skipped left and right. The room was empty.

“Just a little trouble,” Borya said, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“If you’re sure. You know I’ll help you in any way I can. You’ve kept this place going for us over the years.”

“Just the deal we spoke about. This will get me out of the city for a few months.”

Manuel nodded. Borya liked the man. They had done many deals over the years and Borya trusted him.

“What have you got for me then?”

“Just what I promised, my friend.” Borya dropped his bag to the table. “This really is the best,” he said, pulling open the bag.

Manuel peered inside and then sat back. His hands knitted across his chest.

“You are making me very rich indeed,” Manuel said.

Three minutes later, Borya stepped back into the bar. The deal had been quick and profitable. Borya knew he could have got more for the stuff given time. Under these circumstances, though, he didn’t mind.

The two men at the bar were still slumped forward deep in conversation.

He had just one more deal to do before heading to meet Minty.

Finding himself grinning, Borya stepped out into the coming dusk.

55

Allissa walked through the sliding doors of Schönefeld Airport and out into the early evening. She still hadn’t seen or heard anything from Leo. Looking at her phone, Allissa wondered whether Leo was trying to prove he