Free The Good Thief's Guide to Berlin by Chris Ewan Page B

was muttering a lot. She was swearing repeatedly.
    I made some more noises, mostly of the groaning and moaning variety. I stayed down. I did a lot of teeth clenching and fast breathing.
    Scarface didn’t seem impressed. He snorted in disgust and bent down to prod my cheek with a big, dirty finger.
    “Get up,” he said, in slow, measured English, delivered with a thick Russian tongue.
    “Can’t,” I said.
    “Up,” he commanded, and then he grabbed me by the collar of my jacket and hauled me to my feet. “Up.”
    My legs were rubber. But Victoria hooked her hands under my armpits and fought to keep me on my feet.
    The thug smiled nastily, his scar tweaking his expression into a snarl.
    “This is all that you found?”
    The question came from the man in my desk chair. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in my suffering. He had the buff cardboard file open on his knees and he was sorting through the loose pages inside. He was still holding the silenced pistol in his hand, but he wasn’t aiming it as studiously as before.
    “I swear,” I said, panting. “You can search me if you like. There’s nothing else.”
    “No, Mr. Howard.” He closed the file. Pushed himself up out of the chair. “This will not be necessary. I believe you.”
    “Glad to hear it,” I managed, and swallowed a gob of hot saliva.
    “Myself, also.” He pulled a face, like he was disgusted by my pitiful state. “I do not like hurting people. It can be so … messy. But please believe me when I say that if you are lying to me—if I find out that you have lied in any way at all—then I will kill you. And Miss Newbury, too. I make you a promise of this.”
    I felt Victoria’s grip tense.
    “You look like a man who keeps his promises, Mr.…”
    “You may call me Pavel,” he said. “And this is my colleague, Vladislav.”
    “Pavel and Vladislav. And are those your real names?”
    “Nyet.” He shook his head. “But you do not wish to know them. If I tell you our real names, it suggests we must meet again. And you do not want this, believe me.” Pavel tucked his pistol away inside his overcoat. “Thank you for this,” he said, lifting the folder in the air.
    “Pleasure,” I told him.
    He circled around us to the door and his stocky pal followed, shifting sideways like a crab. He faked one final punch, jinking his right shoulder forward, and if Victoria hadn’t been holding me up, it would have been enough to floor me. He grinned his crooked grin and showed me his missing tooth. He seemed proud of it. I guess he felt like he’d earned the right to be proud of most things.
    They left my apartment and I listened to their footsteps on the stairs. They were steady. Unhurried. Then I heard the front door to my building open and close.
    “Holy crap,” Victoria said. “What do we do now?”
    “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m likely to faint.”
    I broke free of Victoria’s grip and staggered across the room, doubled over with one hand clutched to my stomach. I made it as far as the window and looked out at the street below. A sleek black town car was parked alongside the railings of Kollwitzplatz. Pavel climbed into the rear and his henchman with the fast knuckles got into the driver’s seat. A few moments later, the headlights came on and the car pulled away from the curb and sped off along the rain-soaked street.
    “Are they gone?” Victoria asked.
    “They’re gone,” I told her, collapsing onto the windowsill.
    But long after they’d left, their presence still lingered. Two strange men had broken into my home. They’d paced my rooms and pawed my things. Threatened my security. Scared me half to death and pummeled me halfway to the hospital. And yeah, I know, I’m a fine one to talk, but the truth is, I didn’t like it in the slightest.

 
    ELEVEN
    Victoria collapsed into my desk chair and gripped her head in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. I wasn’t sure what to do. I could hobble over and hold