The Vladimir Curse: A lost art, thriller (Fletch, Thriller Series Book 2) by Neil Howarth

Author:Neil Howarth [Howarth, Neil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

40

Fletch woke early. He had slept lightly on the sofa, but he had slept. It wasn’t the most comfortable night, but he had slept on worse. There was a showerhead above the bath in the tiny bathroom upstairs. The water was stone cold. The cold shower reminded him of Maidstone Prison. What was the old saying? — if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger. He dressed quickly, pondering the thought — until the next one.

He headed out and walked down the hill. It was still dark, but the light was on in the small shop at the bottom. He bought eggs, bacon, black bread, and a jar of instant coffee, then wandered back. After spending ten minutes trying to work out how to switch on the gas, he finally found the main stopcock in a small cupboard under the sink. He cooked the eggs and bacon on top of the iron stove in a frying pan he found in one of the cupboards and made a doorstep sandwich. It reminded him of Archie. He drank a mug of instant coffee and contemplated the shit mess he was in.

He was supposed to have given all this up. His life was about art. He traveled on expenses, made appraisals, wrote reports, and got paid in cash. Life was supposed to be uncomplicated. But he knew the reason he was here. And she was the part he really didn’t understand.

Daylight was appearing outside the window. He headed out the back door and out through the back gate. There was an alley running down behind the houses. He took a wander, familiarizing himself with his surroundings. Always have an exit strategy. He had learned that in the army — and in prison, though in prison exits were much more restricted.

He headed down the hill and took a walk along the waterfront. It was a chilly morning, but the sun was out in a bright blue sky. He stopped and took an outside table at a small cafe and called Katerina. Her voicemail told him she was teaching all day, and to leave a message. He hung up without leaving one.

He needed her to stay away, to stay safe. He wondered whether that was not the only reason,

The waiter brought him a black coffee, a real one. He was feeling a little rough after last night’s vodka, but the breakfast had helped. He would need to replace the bottle, having finished it off the night before. An image of Archie’s disapproving face reminded him he was supposed to be off the hard stuff. Then he remembered the reason why — Dina.

He seemed to be constantly one step behind her. But that was the story of their relationship. If they had one. She had saved his life back in Malta, more than once. But she was dangling him out as bait.

He knew pondering that one was a thankless task. He needed to focus on now. She was the one who could give him the answers to everything.

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