The Enemy Read Online Free PDF Page B

noticed he sat down in front of Victor.
    ‘Get off at the next stop and follow me,’ the man said without turning around.
    At least you did that right, Victor thought.
    Victor disembarked at the next stop. He abandoned the newspaper and switched the coffee cup to his left hand. In the distance, moonlit clouds silhouetted the harbour’s tall metal cranes. The air was cold. Victor’s suit jacket was unbuttoned. He had no gun to draw but it was easier to fight or run without a jacket than with.
    The man in the leather jacket didn’t wait for him. He was already walking along the riverside in the direction of the harbour. He walked fast, his strides as purposeful as his face had been. Victor didn’t follow immediately but spent a moment observing the area. No one nearby.
    Victor followed at the same pace as his guide to maintain the distance between them. He didn’t know where he was being led to or what awaited him when he arrived, so a little space between them was a necessary precaution. When his guide reached their destination, Victor would have some time to analyse the situation while he caught up.
    They turned away from the river and along a canal that ran between huge warehouses with tall, arched windows. There were few streetlights and the area was quiet and dark. The sound of traffic was in the distance. Victor’s gaze swept back and forth, down and up, continually evaluating the environment for signs of an ambush and advantages to exploit in the event of one.
    Working on the assumption that the guide was right-handed likeninety per cent of the world, if he drew a gun, he would naturally turn around in the opposite direction of his dominant hand to shoot at someone walking behind him. It was quicker that way. So Victor walked behind and to the right to maximise the turning distance, and therefore his own warning.
    Up ahead the man stopped near to a wide alleyway. He turned to face Victor and waited for him to catch up. Victor decreased his pace, watching, listening. When he stopped before his guide, the other man gestured to the alleyway. Victor waited.
    ‘Down there,’ the man said. His hands were in the pockets of his coat.
    Victor didn’t move.
    The guide remained stationary for a moment. ‘I said down there.’
    ‘I heard you the first time.’
    The purposeful face showed understanding. ‘Don’t like people walking behind you?’
    ‘No,’ Victor admitted.
    The man nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s smart.’
    He took his hands from his pockets and walked first into the alleyway. He didn’t look back. Victor followed after a few seconds. There was nowhere to run or hide in the confined space of the alleyway so Victor stayed close his guide. If he pulled a gun, Victor wanted to be near enough to grab it.
    Fifty feet down the alley, the man stopped again. He used a key to unlock a metal door set into one of the warehouses. Hinges squealed.
    ‘Here we are,’ he said.
    The guide looked at Victor, gave a knowing smile when Victor didn’t move, and then stepped through first.
    Victor followed.
    Inside, fluorescent ceilings lights illuminated a vast open space full of stacked crates and boxes. The air was cool and damp, smelling faintly of mould, rotting wood and marzipan. Victor stayed close to the guide. There were no people that he could see or hear.
    The guide led Victor to the far side of the warehouse, heaved across the metal shutter of a freight elevator and stepped inside. Heclosed the shutter after Victor entered and pressed the button for the third floor. It took a few seconds for the ageing machine to come to life and squeaks and clanks accompanied their ascent. They left the odour of marzipan behind but the smell of mould and rotting wood deepened. Victor tilted his head to the left and then right to crack his neck.
    He saw their legs first. Two pairs of boots and faded blue jeans standing near each other. He could hear one part way through telling a joke – something about a prostitute and a