Bad Luck in Berlin: An Exclusive Short Story

CHAPTER 8

It took another fifteen minutes before the man who could be Basayev had finished his drink. It was a further four minutes before he came to the bar for a replacement. He moved slowly, but deliberately so, as though the world rushed for him, not the other way around.

‘A Coke,’ he said to Anika.

She nodded and took a glass from a shelf.

The man with green eyes asked, ‘Resisting the call of the table?’

As before, he spoke to Victor without looking at him. The Turk’s distorted reflection remained stationary on the bottles behind the bar.

Victor said, ‘I don’t like to push my luck.’

The man faced him and Victor thought he saw the first trace of a smile. ‘Or perhaps you are trying your luck elsewhere in succumbing to another type of call?’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’

A full smile. ‘From the looks of things I think you would find more success at blackjack.’

‘I’ll bear your advice in mind.’

‘Consider it a gift.’

They held eye contact for a moment before Anika brought the man his drink. He turned to pay and waited for his change. His gaze remained fixed on a point behind the bar. Anika returned with a small stainless steel plate on which rested a few coins. She placed it before the man. His head angled downward. His gaze rested on the coins. His right hand reached towards them.

Victor’s glass shattered on the polished flooring that framed the bar.

Orange juice splashed outwards. Shards of glass and cubes of ice skidded across the flooring.

Victor paid no attention, neither when he knocked the glass with his elbow nor when it smashed near his feet. His attention was fixed on the man with green eyes and his reaction to the sudden noise. That reaction wasn’t to start in the instinctual response to potential danger, or to turn around in surprised curiosity, but was to thrust his right hand under his left lapel as he stepped away from the noise and twisted ninety degrees in its direction, left hand coming up to create distance and defence, feet a little more than shoulder width apart to provide balance and stability.

The reaction was fast. The movements were practised and smooth. The response was measured and confident. There was surprise but there was no hesitation and no fear.

‘Damn,’ Victor hissed through clenched teeth as he pretended not to notice.

He looked down to the floor and the mess he had created and then to Anika, an embarrassed and apologetic expression on his face. He expected her to roll her eyes or to laugh or smile at his clumsiness. Instead her chest heaved with panicked breaths. Her already large eyes were larger. White showed around the irises.

The man withdrew his hand from under the navy blazer and picked up his drink. He was relaxed and calm, his face neutral and unreadable.

‘Unlucky,’ he said to Victor without looking at him and took the Coke back to the table in the corner.

Anika was slower to control herself, and turned away in search for utensils to clear up the mess, her movements tense and hurried.

‘Sorry about that,’ Victor said, because most people would and because he was genuinely sorry about making a mess, and more so for scaring her.

He got up from his stool and squatted down to collect up the largest shards of glass in a napkin. Anika rounded the bar with a dustpan and brush in one hand and a towel in the other. She squatted down too, close enough for him to smell her perfume.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, a little tersely — not angry at Victor but embarrassed by her earlier shock or not yet fully recovered from it.

‘I knew moving to neat orange juice was a bad idea.’

She managed a forced smile but didn’t make eye contact. She pointed at him picking up shards of glass. ‘You probably shouldn’t be doing that.’

‘I’m being careful.’

‘No, I mean you probably aren’t allowed, as a customer. It’s bound to be against twenty different European health and safety regulations.’

He didn’t stop. ‘How did we survive before the EU was there to look after us?’

She shrugged and looked at him, relaxing.

He said, ‘Death by broken glass must have been endemic.’

Anika smiled, briefly but genuinely, and some of the tension seemed to fade. She was fast and efficient in sweeping up the broken glass and then using the towel to soak up the puddle of orange juice. She took away the debris and towel and returned with another towel, a damp one, to wipe down the area of the spill so the soles of shoes didn’t end up sticking to the flooring.

She grunted as she went to stand and Victor surprised himself by offering her his hand and was surprised to find Anika took it. Her hand felt tiny in his own. The skin was warm and smooth. He helped her up. He held on to her hand longer than he needed to, but she didn’t pull away.

‘Sorry,’ Victor found himself saying again as they released hands.

She nodded to say no problem, and moved to serve a waiting customer. Glad to have repaired the damage he’d caused, Victor settled back on his stool and glanced to the bottles behind the bar to check on the Turk’s reflection, but the glass surfaces were empty of distorted shapes. Victor turned his head to see the watcher was no longer sitting at his table, and the booth where Deák and the blonde had been lounging a moment ago was now empty.