Bad Luck in Berlin: An Exclusive Short Story

CHAPTER 14

Victor stood to leave a minute after Basayev. It was 00.29. Anika kept her gaze on the clock to avoid looking Victor’s way as he crossed the bar towards the exit. He didn’t try to say anything to her. He just left. Outside the casino he saw the blue flashing lights approaching and heard the wail of sirens. Three police cruisers. He watched them race past the Golden Talisman, on their way to where an anonymous tip reported three bodies were lying in a subterranean restroom, victims of a professional killer known only as Basayev, who was now fleeing the scene.

Victor climbed into the crew’s Audi, and drove it away. Before the sun rose it would be nothing but a smouldering shell sitting on a strip of wasteland miles away from here with its licence plates tossed off a bridge into the Spree. There would be no link to the three bodies. The crew probably had records, and would be identified quickly even without IDs in their pockets, but those who knew where they had spent the evening worked for Farkas in Budapest and weren’t going to help the German authorities trace the kill team they’d hired.

Without further evidence, the BKA would likely determine Basayev had killed the trio in a professional assassination for an indeterminate reason. If anyone ever figured out anything closer to the truth the security recordings at the Golden Talisman would have long since been deleted. Victor didn’t want the BKA picking up his face from them any more than Basayev did. Victor didn’t doubt Basayev would manage to slip out of Berlin, and if he used the sources he’d boasted of, would discover the BKA had surveillance footage of him, but he still wouldn’t come back to Berlin. Not when he found out the BKA had a photo of his face anyway, taken by Victor when he held up his phone no more than three feet from where Basayev sat opposite.

Half an hour later, Victor felt his phone vibrate. There was a short message from his employer, but one weighted down with significance.