Berlin Is Never Berlin
Page 6
Half an hour before their descent into Keflavik, he called Sal Scuderi from the onboard phone. “We’re on our way back,” he said when Sal answered. “Two-hour layover, then four more hours. She’ll be home by dinner.”
“How’s my girl?”
“She’s doing all right,” Khan said. “Still shaken. It’ll take a while.”
“I can’t even tell you what kinda state I’ve been in the last few days. You dropped the fucking ball, my friend. I mean, I’m happy you got her back. But you let them take her to begin with.”
Khan sighed heavily. “How much do you owe them?”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“The Georgians. They told Natalie that you owe them a shitload of money. Said they’d send her back in little pieces if you didn’t pay up.”
“You know that’s bullshit tough guy talk. You don’t damage the valuable goods.”
“Sal,” Khan said. “Cut the crap. How much?”
There was silence on the line for a few moments. Then Sal Scuderi let out a shaky breath. It sounded like the remaining air escaping from a flaccid old balloon. “Twenty mil.”
“You borrowed twenty mil from the Georgian mob? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“They were about to get it back,” Sal said. “It would have been okay. If only…”
“If only what?”
It took a few seconds for Khan to understand, and when he did, he felt his anger welling up again. “You took a policy out on her. A high-risk one.”
“Geez, Khan. The kid has had a policy on her since the day she was born. It’s what I do. I got a policy on the wife too. And the fucking dog. What kind of asshole do you take me for?”
Khan looked over at Natalie, who was curled up in her seat, looking like someone who needed about two weeks of uninterrupted sleep.
“The kind of asshole who’d try and pay off his debt with his kid’s life insurance policy,” he said. “I knew you were shit, Sal. I just didn’t know you had no fucking soul left.”
“You’re one to talk. How many people have you killed for guys like me?”
“Too many,” Khan conceded.
There was another long pause. Then Sal cleared his throat.
“You have a rep. You get paid well because you do what you’re told. You want to see any of your fee, you keep your mouth shut about this. In front of Natalie, or the media, or the cops. You fuck me over, and I’ll make sure you never get another job in this town again.”
“Don’t ever fucking threaten me,” Khan said. He could have growled into the phone for emphasis, but right now he was too tired for theatrics. Instead, he just ended the call and turned off his phone.
Across the cabin, Natalie was watching him with concern on her face. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and she returned it.
He got up from his seat in the back of the plane and moved past the entourage to the Learjet’s bar. He uncorked the Scotch decanter and poured two fingers’ worth of whisky into a glass, then repeated the process. Then he walked over to Natalie and held out one of the glasses.
“Got a minute to talk?”
She looked at him in surprise. Then she nodded and got to her feet.
“Sure. Let’s go in the back.”
He let her walk ahead. Before he followed, he picked up the remote from the lounge table and turned on the TV.
“Turn it up as loud as you want,” he told Melissa and the boys.
On the way to the back, he glanced out of the window. Outside, a steel-blue sky flecked with clouds was meeting a restless ocean, sunshine glittering on waves.
Fuck the fee, he thought, and went to talk to Natalie.
About the Author
MARKO KLOOS was born in Germany and raised in and around the city of Münster. In the past, he was a soldier, bookseller, freight dock worker, and corporate IT administrator before he became a novelist and got ruined for most other forms of work. He’s the author of the bestselling Frontlines series of military science fiction and a member of George R.R. Martin’s Wild Cards consortium. Marko lives in New Hampshire with his wife, two children, and roving pack of voracious dachshunds. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Begin Reading
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 by Marko Kloos
Art copyright © 2020 by Micah Epstein