40
Fine Dining
How did the bastard know? He always seemed to be one step ahead.
As I backed off, Nathan spotted me. He tapped his stooge on the arm and they gave chase, picking their way across the busy road. I doubled back to the Brandenburg Gate and merged with the sea of sightseers outside. I ran between the tall, looming columns and on to the wide expanse of space the other side, which gradually funnelled into the Unter den Linden, a long, straight boulevard lined by picture-postcard trees, with a busy four-lane road either side. It was plushville. A world away from the spit ’n’ litter streets of central Manchester. With horse-drawn carriages and bicycle taxis waiting in line for their next customer, people posed for snaps and selfies in front of the gate. One couple were newly marr
