A Slow Death (Max Drescher Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned in the stick leather seat to look directly at her driver. ‘What are we now? Deutsche Telecom? BMW? Canal-fucking-Plus?’
    ‘No, no, of course not.’ Stefan kept his eyes firmly on the road. ‘But we need to keep things in perspective. We don’t need to do this.’
    ‘Well, don’t give me any of this shit about early retirement. If you wanted to be some little white collar bureaucrat, you got into the wrong profession.’
    ‘Okay,’ Stefan shrugged.
    ‘No, it’s not okay.’ Barbolini was straining against her seatbelt now. ‘You worry me sometimes. You never used to talk like this.’ She checked her new lipstick in the wing mirror and shook her head. It might be called ‘Midnight Blush’, but the shade of red was not dark enough. Sometimes experimentation could be such a waste of time. ‘Before, you could have just gone and done this for me. But now it’s like I find myself having to ask your permission.’
    ‘Hardly.’
    Carolina kept her eyes on the streets as they slipped through Prenzlauer Berg. In a small playground, a drunk sat slumped on a bench while a gaggle of young girls lined up to take turns on a single swing. ‘What is wrong with you?’ she sighed. ‘Is this some kind of early mid-life crisis? You’re only what? Thirty-two?’
    ‘Thirty-four next month.’
    ‘You cut off your ponytail, you have a shave, and you think you’re somehow going to make yourself respectable?’
    ‘I thought you’d like the new look.’ Stefan ran a hand across his smooth cheek and grinned.
    His boss felt a stab of irritation in her chest. Why was it that her employees all thought that they had to come on to her? Not a chance, she thought. I don’t fuck the help.
    ‘Anyway, I feel good.’ It was true.  As well as investing in a new haircut, he had shed a few kilos. As a result, he looked about five years younger, almost his real age. More importantly, it had helped him remember who he really was. 
    Barbolini rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t care what you look like,’ she snorted. ‘It’s been more than two years now, since we started working together, and you’ve usually been looking like shit during that time.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘What you look like doesn’t matter,’ she snapped, sounding like his mother now, and liking it. ‘It’s what goes on up here that’s important.’ Barbolini tapped her temple with an index finger. ‘I need to be able to depend on you – especially now.’
    Stefan glanced at the empty road behind in the rear-view mirror. ‘You can depend on me,’ he said glumly.
    Barbolini nodded. ‘I know I can, despite all your moodiness. That’s why I’m sending you to keep an eye on Dante. I want you to find out exactly what’s been going on.’
    ‘And also find out what happened to the damn money.’ Stefan grinned, happy to move the conversation on.
    ‘Exactly,’ Barbolini chuckled. ‘What happened to the money is rather important, don’t you think?’
     
    They passed the harness racing track in Karlshorst, each lost in their own thoughts. After another ten minutes or so, Stefan carefully steered the Saab into an alley between two single-storey factories on a small industrial estate in the shadow of Lichtenberg’s Plattenbau. After a hundred metres, they arrived in a grimy courtyard surrounded by a collection of dilapidated buildings covered in a truly impressive amount graffiti.
    ‘Have kids been in here again?’ Barbolini groaned, gesturing towards a series of crude slogans sprayed on the crumbling brickwork. ‘You wouldn’t have thought they could afford the paint.’
    ‘They steal it,’ Stefan pointed out, ‘just like they steal everything. Law and order has broken down in this city.’
    Barbolini allowed herself a crooked smile. ‘Which is exactly why we’re here.’
    Stefan edged the Saab forward, finally bringing it to a halt next to a gleaming metallic-blue Porsche. ‘At least Dante still knows how to keep a low profile,’ he grumbled,