Scorched Earth - Robert Muchamore Page 0,59

bladder got the better of him halfway through a second coffee. The waitress pointed him to a toilet up a narrow staircase and he followed his nose to a foul-smelling urinal. As PT came out, a bulky man with a ginger beard blocked his way down. He was one of the guys who’d been drinking with Robert.

‘Have you been earwigging us?’ he asked.

PT smirked, like the idea was mad. ‘Not many places sell real coffee,’ he said. ‘It was a nice cup, so I had another and took my time over both.’

‘Expensive though,’ the man said, as he ran beefy fingers through his beard. ‘And I saw you have lunch across the street. Did someone pay you to nose around?’

A door clicked at the top of the stairs and a stocky, well-spoken man came out.

‘Who’s this?’ he asked.

‘Young man drinking coffee, boss. Two coffees. Been sitting on his lonesome for over half an hour.’

‘Is that right?’ the boss asked.

PT looked over his shoulder at the boss. Even German officers had got shabby because of all the shortages, but this guy looked like the war never happened. He wore immaculate black leather shoes, a silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the eccentric touch of a gold watch on each wrist.

‘I’ll leave if you want me to,’ PT said, raising his hands. ‘If you don’t want people coming in you should put up a sign.’

‘You’re telling me how to run my business now?’ the boss said irritably.

‘There’s nothing going on,’ PT said.

‘Do I look that green?’ the boss asked.

‘What’s in your bag?’ the ginger fellow added.

‘Not much of anything,’ PT said.

The boss tapped the sheathed knife bulging under PT’s shirt. ‘That looks like something,’ he said. ‘I think we need a proper chat in my office.’

PT wondered how to get out of this as he reluctantly followed the boss upstairs. He hadn’t been patted down properly, so he still had the gun holstered under his shirt and there was no sign that anyone had heard what had happened to Robert’s family above the café.

The office was a proper villain’s lair, with thick red rugs and an ornate desk. PT’s eyes fixed on an alcove off to one side where an elderly man sat counting money and writing the amounts into a ledger.

‘Open your bag,’ the boss said.

PT put his backpack on the rug and undid two buckles. As the boss peered inside, PT reached across the desktop and grabbed a chunky marble desk lighter. He lashed out, smacking the boss in the eye socket. As he crumpled, PT slugged the ginger guy in the guts and reached for his gun as he backed out of the office.

PT took the stairs in three rapid leaps. The men sitting with Robert had stood up to see what was going on and PT shot one of them in the chest before they got a chance to see the gun. PT looked for his target as he moved into the restaurant, but Robert had stayed back at the table and PT couldn’t get a clear shot.

The waitress hurdled the bar gymnastically as PT grabbed Robert’s bike. The glass in the door shuddered as PT booted it open. After a running start, he swung his leg over the saddle and started pumping the pedals.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

‘Good to have you back!’ Marc said, eyes tearing over as he wrapped Paul in a tight hug.

As Paul got hugged by Edith, PT, Jae and a decidedly less enthusiastic Luc, Joel enjoyed a blurry-eyed reunion with younger brother Sam across the apartment’s living-room.

‘Thought I might never see you again,’ Sam said.

Joel laughed. ‘You think I’d get myself killed and leave you to fend for yourself?’

Henderson came out of the kitchen holding two magnums of champagne. ‘Picked these up a couple of weeks back,’ he said. ‘There’s no ice, so I hope you can stand it warm.’

‘I’ll stand for anything that has alcohol in,’ Joel said cheerfully.

The first cork sailed across the high-ceilinged room and Henderson drank from the foaming bottle before handing it across. Joel took three foamy gulps, then passed the bottle on to Paul as Henderson began untwisting the wire clamp that held the cork in the other magnum.

‘I’ve really come to admire and respect you boys,’ Henderson said, as he gave a nod to Edith. ‘And the odd girl, of course.’

Henderson paused, making a rare display of emotion as everyone looked his way.

‘Marc, you’ve been with me from the start,’ Henderson said. ‘You’re the one that taught