Vlad’s was hard to miss for anyone passing by. It was big, garishly decorated with red, white and blue neon signage with the name of the establishment prominently displayed. The thumping bass of the music from inside could be heard the minute the cars pulled up at the entrance to the club.
There was always a substantial Russian presence in and around Puerto Banús,, with many of the larger villas and luxury yachts in the ownership of Russian oligarchs, who with their entourages and employees, ensured that Vlad’s was rarely a quiet spot. It seemed that night was no exception.
There were two tall, muscular doormen in attendance. They greeted Romanov politely then picked up wands to scan Brodie and Malik while the others stood back on the pavement.
Brodie held out his arm to stop the scan,
