Read The Enemy for Free Online

vacuum cleaner. He stopped speaking before the punchline as Victor came into view. Of the two, he was obviously the muscle, six-four and around two-twenty or -thirty. An even layer of stubble covered his head, chin and cheeks.
    A woman stood close to the muscle. She was in her forties, five-nine, average build, lank black hair hanging over her ears. Her weighty duffel coat was buttoned all the way up. Victor smelled cigarette smoke and felt his mouth water. Four stubs lay crushed out by their feet.
    The shutters clattered open. Victor stepped out, surveyed the level. Fewer boxes and crates than the ground floor, more open spaces. Empty metal shelving units, metal pillars. Old cement sacks lay in one corner, a stack of dust-covered plastic sheeting near the woman. The air was damp.
    Three banks of fluorescent strip lights, of which only the middle bank was switched on, hung at regular intervals from the ceiling. There were no covers, just bare tubes, some burned out. Just enough light to illuminate the centre of the warehouse level. The floor to Victor’s left and right faded into darkness except where the arched windows were set.
    Victor noted the ways in and out. On the wall on the far side of the woman and the muscle, a sign above a half-open metal door denoted it as a fire exit. Along the same wall, near to a stained stainless-steel sink, another opening led through to an adjoining room. Sickly green and flaking paint covered the far wall. Dirt and grease smeared the bricks and filled the gaps between them. In places long cracks cut through the mortar.
    The guide stood near the elevator. Victor walked forward. The flooringwas narrow planks of wood. Some were cracked, loose, warped or missing entirely. Victor felt soft, rotting boards under his shoes and took a step to more solid footing. He positioned himself so he could keep the guide within his peripheral vision while he faced the woman.
    For a long moment no one spoke. Victor assessed the woman and her hulking friend, as he knew he was likewise assessed. What they made of him, he didn’t know. Victor was careful with his body language and facial expression to convey no threat while projecting no weakness.
    ‘You must be the buyer,’ the woman said eventually.
    Her voice betrayed a measure of surprise. Whatever the woman had been expecting, Victor knew he wasn’t it.
    He nodded. ‘And you must be Georg.’
    ‘Not my real name, of course.’
    ‘Of course,’ Victor echoed.
    Georg said, ‘You’re not what I was expecting.’
    ‘I know.’
    The overhead lighting created deep shadows under Georg’s cheekbones, nose, bottom lip. Her eyes were almost invisible in the darkness of their sockets.
    ‘Are you carrying any weapons?’ she asked.
    ‘Not unless you count my coffee.’
    Georg’s thin lips stretched outwards slightly. ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘But I have to say I’m more concerned about firearms than I am hot beverages.’
    ‘I have no gun.’
    ‘You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.’ She raised a gloved hand, motioning to the muscle while her gaze stayed locked on Victor. ‘Make sure he’s telling the truth.’
    The huge guy next to Georg strode towards Victor, eyes narrowed, thick jaw clenched, elbows bent outwards as though he was so laden with muscle he couldn’t walk any other way. The effort to intimidate was basic at best, especially when as he got closer it became apparent that a quarter of the bulk was made up of fat. Victor kept the observation to himself.
    He stood still as large hands patted him down around the legs, armsand torso. He noticed the muscle had a .45 calibre Colt tucked into his jeans, hidden but not well enough. He gestured for Victor to raise his arms, and he did. When the search had finished, the muscle walked back over to Georg.
    ‘He’s clean.’
    ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Georg said to Victor. ‘It would have been very bad for you had we found anything.’
    ‘I can