Malik's Revenge

Chapter 3

The next day, after his morning run, Brodie headed to the Parque Comercial shopping centre in Mojácar in search of a couple of new shirts from his favourite clothes shop. He then made his way along the paseo, which ran the full length of Mojácar Playa to talk to Manuel about the bar in Puerto Ricos.

He arrived in Manuel’s bar finding himself the only customer as it was still early for lunchtime traffic. There was no sign of Manuel. He picked a few nuts out of a bowl on the bar and was chewing on these when a tall slim man wearing a light grey suit and pale blue open neck shirt walked out of the kitchen followed closely by Manuel. The two men shook hands and as the tall man walked round the bar he pointed at the table closest to the window and asked Manuel for a coffee and a tostada con tomate, a fairly typical Spanish breakfast choice. Manuel waved him to the table and turning to walk back to the kitchen, noticed his other customer.

“Hola, buenos dias mi amigo. How are you?”

“Hola, buenos dias mi amigo“I’m fine wee man, just wanted a refreshment and a chat”

“OK, two minutes, my friend,” Manuel replied, disappearing into the kitchen. True to his word, Manuel reappeared a couple of minutes later. “Coffee or beer?” he addressed Brodie.

“Cerveza, por favor”

“Cerveza, por favor”Manuel opened a chilled, dew-coated bottle of Corona and put it on the bar. “So, that’s the refreshment you wanted, what you want to talk about?”

“El Puerto, I’m interested in buying it, Manuel. I’ve looked at a couple of bars before, I need to find something to do out here and that just fits the bill. I have no idea how much you want for it or how to go about getting the licence but I thought if we could talk a deal, you might help me with what I need to do.”

Manuel looked over at the man sitting at the table, now with his coffee and tostada con tomate, then back at Brodie.

“If you’re serious, we agree a price, and you go to the Town Hall and apply for a licence. If the Mayor’s office gives you the licence you can run the bar, but the Mayor’s office might not give you the licence because you are an expat”

“There are loads of expats running bars, Manuel.”

“Ah, that’s the problem, too many.” Manuel’s eyes again flicked towards the man in the grey suit.

“OK, but surely it’s worth a try,” Brodie persisted.

“Sure, but don’t think it would be easy.”

“What about price then?”

“It’s on the market for 270,000 euros. For you, I would take 250,000 euros but a mortgage would be difficult for you, after the property crash.”

“I wouldn’t need a mortgage, Manuel, it would be a cash sale.”

“What, you a millionaire?” Manuel joked.

“Strangely enough, yeah. I sold my parents’ property in Scotland a wee while back, so I’m not short of a bob or two”

“What is a ‘bob or two’?”

Brodie laughed, “Sorry, Manuel, Scottish euphemism. Let’s just say I’ve got funds to buy the bar if you’ll sell it to me. You don’t seem keen. Maybe you think I can’t run it.”

“No, no, I just think it might take up too much of your time. I know you do all kinds of security work.”

“I’m getting too old for that. I left the forces to get away from all that. It’s about time I settled down, Manuel, found a good woman, bought a pair of slippers, traded the Mustang in and bought myself a little SEAT.”

“Hey, I watch you, you have plenty women, some good, some not so good, some bad maybe, you know that better than me,” Manuel laughed.

“Sounds as if you have a buyer for your bar in Puerto Ricos, my friend.”

The tall man in the grey suit was standing just behind them. “Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing,” he said as he placed his empty plate, cup and saucer on the bar. “I should go Manuel. Thank you for breakfast.”

He turned to leave just as a group of British holidaymakers came into the bar and Manuel went to greet them.

“Come down to the bar tomorrow night, early, before we get busy; we can talk more.”

“OK, I’ll do that. See you then.”