Berlin (Leo & Allissa International Thrillers Book 3) by Luke Richardson (best affordable ebook reader TXT) 📗

“Okay,” Minty said.

“Good.” Borya turned brightly. “I’ll take the stuff then.”

“That’s the thing”— it was Minty’s turn to smile — “you’ll have to go and collect it.”

43

“Quickly, get it open,” Olezka said as Semion fumbled with the shutter of Minty’s shop. They had found nothing in the apartment. Nothing. Borya had either taken it all with him — which Olezka doubted because he had to leave it in a hurry — or he’d already hidden it somewhere else. Olezka knew that often the simplest solutions were the best, so maybe the packages hadn’t left the shop to begin with.

“Got it,” Semion said as the shutter rattled upwards. He unlocked the door and the two men stepped inside. Olezka found the light switch and the overhead fluorescent bulbs flickered to life. The shop was exactly as Olezka had remembered. Clothes in an assortment of mad colours hung from a rail on the right-hand side. On the opposite wall, other garments were piled on shelves.

“Do people really buy this shit?” Semion said, pulling a shirt from the rail. It was made from some kind of shiny blue fabric. “Actually,” he said as he held it up against himself, “I quite like —”

“We need to find those packages,” Olezka bellowed. “They’ve got to be in here somewhere. You look in here, and I’ll take the back room.”

“He left the packages in the shop the entire time?” Anafisa asked as they sped down the hill.

“Yeah, they’re hidden in a secret compartment Minty found when he was renovating the place. He reckons it was some hiding place constructed during the war. Minty says there’s no chance it’ll be discovered.”

“Clever guy,” Anafisa said and nodded. She dabbed her foot on the brake and the Maserati slid around a corner. Dark woodland flashed past the windows. “Do you want to go there now?”

“Yeah, we might as well.”

Anafisa toed the accelerator and they sped off towards the city.

44

Olezka knew there was a methodical skill to searching for things. But, unfortunately, that was a skill Olezka knew he didn’t have. It was the same reason he wasn’t good at interrogating. He was impatient. He just asked the questions he wanted the answers to. And if he didn’t get them, he caused the person a lot of pain until they told him.

Olezka straightened up and looked around the small room. He had emptied every box, pulled open and tipped out every drawer, but there was no sign of the packages. Olezka sneered. He didn’t like people getting the better of him, especially people who should have been loyal.

Olezka stepped back into the front of the shop and kicked a basket of cotton across the floor. Semion was searching methodically along the back wall. Olezka watched him removing a pile of clothes, feeling between them checking the wall behind, then returning the clothes to where they were. The parts he’d already searched looked unchanged from the rest. He had no idea how the man had the patience for that.

Olezka shook his head. That wasn’t the way they did things either. Olezka would make sure they smashed the place up a bit before leaving.

Anafisa knew the way to the shop so drove quickly without the need for directions. She had driven Borya there a couple of weeks ago. At the time she had no idea what it was for. Borya had said he needed to stop by as they had been passing.

Borya sat silently in the Maserati’s passenger seat, smoking his pipe and watching the city roll past.

When they approached the shop, Borya stashed the pipe away and stared apprehensively through the windscreen. As the shop came into view, he exhaled sharply and pointed down the street.

“Bastards,” he shouted. “Stop, stop!”

Anafisa applied the brake and the Maserati screamed to a halt.

“Look!” Borya shook an extended finger towards the windscreen. About halfway down the road, a dark car was parked up on the kerb.

“That’s Olezka’s Rolls Royce. They’re looking for the packages now.”

“Are you sure?” Anafisa looked from the Rolls Royce to Borya. “What do you want to do?”

Images of the abandoned bakery, the metal chair and the pooling blood ran through Borya’s mind. “There’s nothing we can do. We’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“What if they find what they’re looking for?”

“They won’t,” Borya said through a grin. “Unless they think to push the sink.”

Olezka opened the door to the toilet cubicle and snapped on the light. They’d been searching for over an hour and had nothing to show for it. Olezka was frustrated.

The tiny toilet cubicle was the only place they hadn’t torn apart. Every inch of both the shop and the back room had been checked several times for packages, hidden spaces and secret compartments. But they’d found nothing.

Olezka examined the room. The toilet cubicle was no bigger than a phone box. The grubby toilet had an old-fashioned cistern on the wall above it. There was a small sink on the left wall and a metal bucket full of cleaning products below. Olezka stepped into the tiny space. His elbows almost touched walls.

Olezka dropped the toilet seat, stood on it and tore the lid from the cistern. He pulled the chain and the water drained. There was nothing unusual in there. He stepped back down and his foot struck the bucket of cleaning products. Bottles of bleach and glass cleaner rolled across the floor.

Olezka swore under his breath and stepped backwards. He felt his hip push past the sink. Then he felt something move. Olezka was suddenly alert. He looked back into the cubicle. Had the sink really moved?

“Sinks don’t move,” Olezka whispered, “unless...?”

The shrill ringing of Olezka’s phone filled the shop. He dragged it from his pocket and answered the call. It was Anafisa.

45

“Olezka,” Anafisa said. She pulled the dressing gown tight around her shoulders against the cold night wind. The city below was quiet. Borya had already fallen asleep. Any man would after what they’d just