The Good Thief's Guide to Berlin by Chris Ewan Read Free Book Online

umbrella into my toe. “As if you don’t bloody know.”
    “Ow.” I leaped out of her range and clenched my foot in my hand. Bad idea. Now my hand was covered in rainwater and soggy dirt. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” I said, massaging my toe with my thumb.
    “Oh, really.” She waved the umbrella in my face, like an old lady cursing me with a walking stick. “Well, Charlie, allow me to enlighten you. The fact is that all three editors live in Berlin. And it seems that every one of them was burgled while they were out of town at the Frankfurt Book Fair.”
    The train eased to a stop at Unter den Linden. Victoria lowered the umbrella. A young, skinny man with a bicycle boarded our carriage. He was wearing leggings, a luminous jacket, and a cycling helmet. The doors closed and the train started up again.
    “My, that is a coincidence,” I said.
    “It’s not a sodding coincidence. I can see it in your face. You ripped them off!”
    “Moi?” I batted my eyelids. Pressed my hand to my heart. “I think you must have me confused with somebody else.”
    “Oh? And did that somebody else have access to my business folder before I went to Frankfurt? Were they able to check the names of the three Berlin-based editors I’d be meeting? Honestly, Charlie, you used that information without my permission. You used me.”
    “Actually,” I said, holding up a finger, “your information was kind of patchy. It didn’t include their home addresses. I had to find those for myself.”
    “You moron .” Vic tried to stab me in my other toe. I jumped clear, parting my legs, and in that instant, I could see that she was tempted to swipe the brolly up and inflict a far more grievous injury. I backed away, waving my hands. The cyclist seemed to find it very amusing.
    Victoria’s eyes narrowed, and she lifted her umbrella until the point was aimed toward my belly button.
    “Now, now,” I said.
    “But using me wasn’t even the worst of it,” she told me, stiff-jawed. “Publishing is a small world, Charlie. At some point, these editors are going to talk to one another. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not in the next few days. But trust me, sometime, someplace, they’re going to get around to chatting about how much one of them paid for your stupid manuscript. And then they’re going to mention the strange coincidence that led them to try and buy the thing in the first place. And do you know what they’re going to discover?”
    “That they missed out on a surefire hit?”
    “No,” she hissed. “They’re going to discover that all three of them were burgled while they were in Frankfurt. And then they’re going to put two and two together.”
    “Or even three and three?”
    “And then they’ll send the police after you. And how funny will you find that? Hmm?”
    “Oh, relax,” I told her. “You worry too much.”
    Victoria glowered at me as the train pulled into Potsdamer Platz. She kept glowering in silence all the way to Anhalter Bahnhof. I pressed the button to open our doors and ushered Vic off onto the platform, catching the eye of the smirking cyclist as we left.
    “Good luck, comrade,” he muttered to me in German, and I responded with a casual salute as the doors closed behind us and the train began to glide away.
    “What did he say?” Victoria snapped.
    “No idea,” I told her. “But I know what I want to say.”
    “And is that sorry, by any chance?”
    I shook my head. “Actually, I wanted to ask if I could borrow your phone.”

 
    SEVEN
    The rain had stopped by the time we emerged from below ground. Water dripped from the trees and the streetlights and the green lollipop sign for the S-Bahn station. It ticked off the metal bollards and the parked cars and the many bicycles that were locked to the nearby racks and railings. The gray concrete office building of Der Tagesspiegel, the German broadsheet, towered above us. To our left, a shabby Turkish restaurant marked the corner of Schöneberger