Page 13 of Maxim

“Sadly, no, but he will be if he ever comes back,” I smirk.

She visibly relaxes. “Good.”

It finally occurs to me to ask her why she’s here, in Karim’s restaurant all alone.

“I had a date. He left just before you arrived.” From the way her plump lips flatten into a line, the date was not a success.

Which is fortunate for him. The thought of her on a fucking date with some other man makes my teeth clench so hard my jaw almost cracks. “And how was the date?” I manage to grit out.

She sighs and fiddles with her clutch. “It was OK, I guess. No chemistry.”

Good. She won’t be seeing him again. That’s one less person I need to add to my kill list.

“Why are you here?” she asks curiously, looking over my shoulder to check whether I’m alone.

I pick up a menu and cast an eye over the specials. Not that I care what Karim is serving. He usually tells me what I should try and I trust his judgment.

“The food.”

Once again her eyes narrow as if she doesn’t believe me, but this is a restaurant and the food is good, so she can’t accuse me of lying.

“Maxim!” a familiar voice yells. I look up to see Karim striding out of the kitchen in his chef’s coat, sauce splattered over his big belly, a wide smile on his face. “Hannah only just told me you were here, my friend!”

My malyshka shrinks away as he hustles in our direction.

“I have to go,” she mutters, and before I have a chance to say a word, she ducks under my arm and practically runs to the entrance.

“You must try the sea bass this evening!” Karim is jubilant as always. The guy adores food. This restaurant truly is a labor of love for him. “And the chocolate hazelnut creme brulee is to die for, even if I do say so myself.” He chuckles, oblivious to my irritation that the woman I’m apparently obsessed with has run away from me. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Karim says eventually when he finally notices I’m not listening. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No.” I sigh. There’s no point chasing after her. She’ll be long gone by now. And besides. I’m leaving tomorrow.

“The sea bass sounds good, Karim. I’ll take a bottle of your best wine, too.” Karim slaps me on the back.

“Good man. Your usual table is waiting.” The couple who occupied it ten minutes ago have left. Presumably they were paid to leave, with their food packed up in a box.

I take a seat and listen as Karim tells me all about the new baby his daughter gave birth to last month. He’s a good man and normally I enjoy the small slice of normal I get when I come here, but tonight, all I can think about is her.

Chapter ten

Nat

To the general public, the hard-working citizens of this city, Mayor Kolanski is a benevolent man. He has been responsible for many good deeds, such as funding several shelters for abused women, setting up a scheme to help homeless kids get off the streets, and introducing programs to rehabilitate drug addicts.

It all sounds wonderful on paper.

The mayor is a kind, generous man, people say.

He wants what’s best for this city.

If I hadn’t met Marie, I might believe the spin that comes out of the mayor’s office, courtesy of his talented PR department. But Marie’s story showed me a different side of the man in charge of this city. And the emails I’ve been trawling through for the last week tell me things are far worse than I thought.

I’ve read messages between him and someone called Anatoly Uriov, where they discuss shipments from the Baltic states. Most of the messages are fairly ambiguous, but reading between the lines, it isn’t difficult to see that our jovial mayor is up to his neck in criminal activities.

I’m not sure who Anatoly Uriov is. Google came up with dozens of suggestions, which were no help whatsoever, and I don’t have the tech skills to start rooting around on the Dark Net. But I know a guy who does.

***

Micky is a classic example of a male who doesn’t get out much. His basement apartment smells of pizza, unwashed socks, and stale farts.

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