Fifty metres ahead and across the street, Rado finally saw the BMW i8, the same kind of green he’d seen on his phone. He crossed over ul. Solunska.
“Hey Radi! You forgot to keep in touch!”
Rado turned to see Nadejda walking the other way across the street towards Bulevard Vitosha. She was dressed in jeans and a T shirt.
“Nadejda!” he called back.
“Rado!”
“What you up to?”
“Nothing.”
“Meet you round the corner in twenty minutes.”
Walking up to the BMW, Rado pulled out a key from his pocket and opened the driver door. He got in and cranked up the engine.
Every engine had its own sound. This one was brilliant and mournful at the same time. He pulled out and drove off in a westerly direction.
Sure enough, half an hour later, Nadejda was sitting at her seat drinking god knows what. It wasn’t even possible to know what Nadejda was drinking. They kissed either cheek and Rado pulled up a stool, grumbling as if it were an effort.
“Heard you got pulled in,” he said.
“Since when did you hear that?”
“Since this morning.”
“Shit. You got ears.”
“I got ears,” Rado agreed. “Eagle ears.” A ginger haired barman ventured close enough for Rado to wave him away. Although not overly tall, Rado was built like he could squash a waiter in one hand.
“Guess you’re not drinking then,” said Nadejda.
“I got a Porsche to go. But why am I telling you this?”
Nadejda said nothing.
“Oh yeah,” Rado sighed to himself.
“So what else do you know, Radi? I mean about my comings and goings.”
“Cops shot some guy. They killed some guy at The Grand.”
“That was me. I was there.”
“That’s what I heard. Crap.”
“He was a nice enough guy.”
“Too bad.”
“Today’s my day off.”
“I should fucking hope so.”
“And now I know so many cops.”
“What does that mean?”
“I got friendly with some cops.”
“Speak in the Irish.”
“I fucked a cop, ok?”
Rado went silent for about two seconds. “I suppose, one day, we might have to thank you for that.”
After a while, Valentina turned up and Rado had to go.
For a madame, Valentina had a singular calmness and tidiness to her manner that said all was well. Fret not. Policemen were human beings. Some of the best. She once knew a very bad man who got locked up. He was a pimp.
Valentina also laughed like a trooper. She did a lot of things that only half covered the truth. It wasn’t seemly to punish the whole truth. Even the very cold hard truth needed the odd slant of sunlight and a breath of fresh air. A walk round the exercise yard.
“Poor Maria,” she said. “There’s a first for everything. I feel for her. She’ll be right as rain. I told her so myself.”
“Maria’s a foosball.”
“Nadejda! That girl has talent, don’t mistake. Native talent. Exactly so, I believe. Dortmund. Liverpool. A year. Maybe two.”
“Oklahoma Thunder.”
“Now there’s a very good name.”
“Shall we eat?”
“Let’s go outside.”
Outside was a small courtyard with umbrellas. Under an umbrella Valentina looked like another person.
Nadejda pulled out a cigarette. “You are so beautiful,” she said.
Valentina smiled.
