“Dedushka Olezka, I don’t want to piss you off. But I can’t have lokhi like this pushing me around.”
“I see,” Oleka said, nodding his head. His sweat-dappled scalp glimmered beneath the lights.
“I respect you Dedushka Olezka, I’m just not sure —”
Keal was interrupted by a whisper from Olezka’s silenced pistol. His thick hand merely swayed with the recoil. Keal felt a shudder as the bullet passed neatly through Konstantin’s head. The man went limp and slid to the floor.
Keal’s jaw dropped. Blood and brains coated the front of his clothes. The bullet had burrowed through the man’s head and missed Keal by less than an inch.
“Problem solved,” Olezka said. “We can’t have him pushing you around, can we?” The pistol was now levelled directly between Keal’s eyes. Olezka’s face contorted into a grin. Without even being asked, Keal felt himself slide the rifle to the floor.
“That’s good,” Olezka said. “We’re just going to have a conversation. Is that okay with you?”
Keal nodded.
“Semion, tie his hands,” Olezka said. “We can’t have any more accidents. And find out where Borya is, he needs to be here. Oh, and take Konstantin outside. We’ll dump him in the Spree later.”
8
“Are you looking forward to seeing Archie and Lucy?” Leo asked as the taxi sped through the streets of Brighton towards their flat. Large coffees imbibed on the train had seemed to help. Now Leo could see straight and almost hold a normal conversation.
“Yes,” Allissa said, “though I’m not sure what it’ll be like. We’ve not really spoken for years.”
Archie and Lucy were Allissa’s older half brother and sister. After learning what their father had done to her mother, Allissa had cut all contact with the family. Seeing them again, after her father was finally sent to prison, they had all promised to keep in touch. At the time, Allissa had doubted it. So, when she’d received an invitation to Lucy’s birthday party, Allissa knew she had to attend.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright without me for a day? What’re you going to do on your own?”
“Can’t wait,” Leo said, not turning from the window. Through the glass, the grey city streamed past. It already felt as though it was closing in around him. The flat they were returning to had been cold and empty for weeks. There would be washing to do and mail to sort — the general business of society from which Leo took no joy.
“It’ll be good to have a chance to tidy the place up,” Leo said.
“You sure? You can come if you want?”
“No, thanks.” Leo turned to face Allissa. “I’m going to get some sleep and try to catch up on the invoices we’ve not done for ages. Then we can afford to eat next week.”
Allissa tried to suppress a grin. She doubted Leo even knew how to raise an invoice.
The taxi rounded a corner, and the sea flickered into view between the buildings. It looked grey and sombre, a world away from the azure blue of the pool they’d been in the day before.
“Just on the right here,” Allissa said as the taxi turned into their street. The large Victorian houses lining the street looked drab and bleak in the grey morning. “Thanks, just —” Allissa shouted as the taxi driver shot past their house. Registering what Allissa had said over his phone conversation, the driver slammed to a stop and began to reverse.
“Honestly.” Leo sighed. “It’s fine, just here will do.”
The taxi driver punched a button on the metre and pointed to the price.
Leo eased out his wallet and looked inside.
“Got any cash?” Leo asked.
Allissa shook her head.
“Can I use my card?”
The taxi driver scowled. He apparently disliked the idea of Leo’s payment going through the traditional channels as much as he disliked the idea of stopping in the right place. When Leo laid out the alternative of receiving his fare in Hong Kong Dollars, the taxi driver conceded that the card payment was better than that “funny money”.
The car sped off the moment Leo and Allissa were clear of the vehicle.
Above them, a pair of seagulls flashed from one building to another. Hearing their sorrowful shrieking, Leo looked up. That was a real Brighton sound. Now he knew he was back.
9
He descended the stairs and heard the whine and hiss of a train accelerating away. For him, that was the sound of Berlin. A sound unlike any other metro train in the world. For five years, a sound that had made this place feel like home.
He glanced around the quiet platform. Every sound and sight was valuable this morning. A group of young people returning from a night out slumped onto a bench. A man with dreadlocks nodded to music on large headphones. Somewhere far off another train rumbled like a nightmare in another sleeper’s head.
The Russian reached the end of the platform and stopped.
The place needed to be exact.
Laughter from the young people rolled like thunder.
The Russian checked his watch.
That’s the sign.
He pulled out his phone and selected his brother’s number. It was the only number saved on the unfamiliar handset. With a wave of guilt, he placed the phone to his ear. Was he really doing this? There was no other way. If there was, he’d have taken it. He needed to get out.
The call connected to the answering service, as he knew it would. It wasn’t yet 4 am in Brighton. There wouldn’t be enough time to say everything with less than a minute. The words came slowly.
A roar from the tunnel prophesied the coming train. This was it.
Glancing at the Russian, he stepped forwards.
The train burst into the station. A flurry of warm air and purring motors. It wouldn’t stop yet.
Stepping forward, he teetered on the edge — the precipice.
The approaching rumble vibrated through the soles of his feet. Shook his knees. Hips. Spine. He closed his eyes
