exactly is your employer, if you don’t mind my asking? Or is that something you can’t trust me with, either?”
“Oh, I can tell you now, I suppose.” He ambled toward me and I returned his bat and ball to him. “The truth, Charlie, is that I work for the British embassy in Berlin.”
A gust of air escaped my lips. “The British embassy? But wouldn’t that make your chief exec—”
“The ambassador? Yes, Charlie, I’m rather afraid it would.”
FIVE
So I was stealing on behalf of Her Majesty’s Government. And I was royally screwed. The first apartment on Freddy’s list had been worse than a dud. It had offered me a choice view of a murder. A murder I’d been drawn into. And so far as bad omens went, I didn’t think they could get much worse.
The atmosphere in the nearby café-bar where Victoria was waiting for me certainly didn’t help. The place was as quiet as a morgue. I guessed the rain had kept people away. Either that or the young guy behind the bar needed a radical new business plan. He was talking in a relaxed, companionable way to his only other customer—a woman who was sitting on a high stool at the counter. The way she was leaning forward and interacting with the guy made me think they were a couple.
The guy looked up and frowned as I stood dripping in the doorway, the wind and the rain sweeping in from behind me. I closed the door against the breeze, then inclined my head toward Victoria, and he curled his lip and returned to his conversation.
Victoria was sitting at a table beside the rain-lashed window, staring at the lighted screen of her mobile phone. She had two drinks in front of her. A red Berliner Weisse mit Schuss for her—a kind of light beer with raspberry syrup, served in a shallow glass with two straws—and a sparkling mineral water for me. I peeled off my sodden mackintosh and hung it on a nearby stand, being careful to make sure my collection of picks and probes didn’t fall out onto the floor. Then I smoothed my wet hair away from my forehead, dried my hands on my trouser legs, and dropped into a chair across from Victoria.
“You’re an idiot,” she said, without looking up at me.
She was right. I was an idiot. I should have been long gone by now. Far away from the neighborhood. But I got the impression she was talking about something altogether different, and I didn’t have the energy for it.
I glanced outside through the sign that had been etched into the window glass. It had to be almost five minutes since I’d called the emergency services. Where were they?
I fumbled in my jeans pocket for my cigarette pack and flipped back the soggy lid with shaking hands. I stabbed a cigarette into the corner of my mouth, struck a flame from the book of matches in the ashtray on our table, and sucked hard.
“Did you hear me?” Victoria asked, still focused on her mobile. “I said that you’re an idiot.”
“I heard you,” I told her, and vented a weary lungful of smoke. “And believe me, I’m not in a position to argue.”
I took a sip from my water. Another rule. Don’t drink when you’re on the job . But the rule didn’t account for my nerves being on edge, so I scooped Victoria’s beer toward me.
“Hey!”
I slurped on one of the straws. Then I pulled a face. The beer was sour and the raspberry syrup was sweet. It wasn’t a combination that worked for me.
I nudged the glass away, drew raggedly on my cigarette, and looked out above the limbs of a nearby tree toward the offending apartment window. The closed blind was still illuminated from behind. I drummed my nails on the scarred wooden tabletop. It didn’t help in the slightest.
“Don’t you want to know why you’re an idiot?” Victoria asked me.
I checked my watch. Time was ticking on.
“Charlie.” Victoria kicked my shin under the table. “Will you pay attention to me?”
I coaxed some more fumes from my cigarette and scowled at her over the lit embers. I was still scowling when
“Oh, I can tell you now, I suppose.” He ambled toward me and I returned his bat and ball to him. “The truth, Charlie, is that I work for the British embassy in Berlin.”
A gust of air escaped my lips. “The British embassy? But wouldn’t that make your chief exec—”
“The ambassador? Yes, Charlie, I’m rather afraid it would.”
FIVE
So I was stealing on behalf of Her Majesty’s Government. And I was royally screwed. The first apartment on Freddy’s list had been worse than a dud. It had offered me a choice view of a murder. A murder I’d been drawn into. And so far as bad omens went, I didn’t think they could get much worse.
The atmosphere in the nearby café-bar where Victoria was waiting for me certainly didn’t help. The place was as quiet as a morgue. I guessed the rain had kept people away. Either that or the young guy behind the bar needed a radical new business plan. He was talking in a relaxed, companionable way to his only other customer—a woman who was sitting on a high stool at the counter. The way she was leaning forward and interacting with the guy made me think they were a couple.
The guy looked up and frowned as I stood dripping in the doorway, the wind and the rain sweeping in from behind me. I closed the door against the breeze, then inclined my head toward Victoria, and he curled his lip and returned to his conversation.
Victoria was sitting at a table beside the rain-lashed window, staring at the lighted screen of her mobile phone. She had two drinks in front of her. A red Berliner Weisse mit Schuss for her—a kind of light beer with raspberry syrup, served in a shallow glass with two straws—and a sparkling mineral water for me. I peeled off my sodden mackintosh and hung it on a nearby stand, being careful to make sure my collection of picks and probes didn’t fall out onto the floor. Then I smoothed my wet hair away from my forehead, dried my hands on my trouser legs, and dropped into a chair across from Victoria.
“You’re an idiot,” she said, without looking up at me.
She was right. I was an idiot. I should have been long gone by now. Far away from the neighborhood. But I got the impression she was talking about something altogether different, and I didn’t have the energy for it.
I glanced outside through the sign that had been etched into the window glass. It had to be almost five minutes since I’d called the emergency services. Where were they?
I fumbled in my jeans pocket for my cigarette pack and flipped back the soggy lid with shaking hands. I stabbed a cigarette into the corner of my mouth, struck a flame from the book of matches in the ashtray on our table, and sucked hard.
“Did you hear me?” Victoria asked, still focused on her mobile. “I said that you’re an idiot.”
“I heard you,” I told her, and vented a weary lungful of smoke. “And believe me, I’m not in a position to argue.”
I took a sip from my water. Another rule. Don’t drink when you’re on the job . But the rule didn’t account for my nerves being on edge, so I scooped Victoria’s beer toward me.
“Hey!”
I slurped on one of the straws. Then I pulled a face. The beer was sour and the raspberry syrup was sweet. It wasn’t a combination that worked for me.
I nudged the glass away, drew raggedly on my cigarette, and looked out above the limbs of a nearby tree toward the offending apartment window. The closed blind was still illuminated from behind. I drummed my nails on the scarred wooden tabletop. It didn’t help in the slightest.
“Don’t you want to know why you’re an idiot?” Victoria asked me.
I checked my watch. Time was ticking on.
“Charlie.” Victoria kicked my shin under the table. “Will you pay attention to me?”
I coaxed some more fumes from my cigarette and scowled at her over the lit embers. I was still scowling when
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