Page 2 of Lash
Georg exits the garage and sets us on a course back across town to my next meeting—a location-scouting endeavor with my advance team.
There's no sign of the tail, so I let myself put it out of my mind, trusting Georg to keep watch as I go over the specs and details of the location we're touring today.
It's an old church in Low Town that's been remodeled into different businesses multiple times over the years; the latest endeavor fell apart when Covid hit, and now it’s been sitting empty. It’s at the heart of an up-and-coming neighborhood, so a pop-up there now is ideal. We just have to hope it’s in good enough shape that we can flip it without excessive overhead—that’s part of my business model: we rent in the more expensive areas, but when we do a cluster in an area with lower real estate values, we buy a property, flip it, host the pop-up, and then lease it out, so we make money on the actual pop-up and then again on the property lease; it was tough to get that aspect off the ground, requiring me to put a ton of my capital back into purchasing real estate, which was a huge gamble. Tata advised against it, but it’s paid off, as I now own several million euros worth of real estate throughout Europe.
Georg pulls the BMW to a stop in front of the prospective location. It's quiet, a mostly residential area with narrow,winding streets. The church is from the nineteenth century, red brick with twin spires at the front and lovely stained-glass windows that have somehow survived the last hundred-and-some years. There's a decent amount of parking in the area, and a vacant lot next to the church has been fenced off with a chain link, a weather-faded sign advertising that it’s been for sale for a very long time.
Ana and Katya, my location-scouting team, are already here, walking around the exterior of the church with their tablets and headsets, styluses scribbling notes, and taking photos.
Georg, who is also my bodyguard, follows me at a precise distance, his gaze restlessly roving the area.
Ana and Katya spot my approach and bustle toward me. "So, ladies. What do we think?" I ask, reaching for Ana's tablet. I scan her notes and photos, and then head for the entrance—the agent gave me the code for the lockbox, which I open and let us inside.
"It's prime, Tati," Ana says, taking her table back. "Our research indicates this neighborhood will see a boom over the next few years—the median age of the residents has gone down significantly over the last five years, and early investors are already seeing growth. I think we should snap it up while we can—the agent has offers in, but they're all low-ball. We can come in high and still turn a profit."
"Do you have any initial thoughts on what we'll do with the space?” I ask.
It's open, with exposed brick walls and newly redone floors. The roof was redone in the latest remodel in 2019, along with the plumbing and electrical. It has a ton of natural light, and several back rooms as well as a sizeable basement.
Katya answers my questions. "We were thinking a restaurant. There aren't many in this immediate area. We've been in preliminary talks with a potential restaurateur who might be interested in the space after we're done.
"It seems like it's in pretty good shape,” I say, scanning the ceiling for water spots, checking the walls and flooring, testing light switches, and peeking into the back rooms and basement.
"We'll have Jakov do a thorough inspection before we put in an offer, but it looks great to us," Ana says.
"Excellent," I say. "Let's move on it. Pending a green light from Jakov, put in an offer ten percent over the highest current bid, and see if you can nail down the restaurateur. I'd like to have a lease in place the moment the pop-up is over."
We all exit together and I lock the key back in the lockbox. Georg is in the corner of my eye by the BMW, so I address him without looking.
"Well, we're ahead of schedule, Georg, so perhaps we'll have time to grab some lunch before my next meeting. Fancy anything in particular?"
I finish locking the box and give it a tug, and then spin the tumblers. Georg doesn't answer.
Ana and Katya are conspicuously silent—usually, they chatter my ear off in unison every moment I’m within ten feet of them.
"Georg? Did you hear—"
Ana's face is pale and shocked, her lips trembling. Katya looks as if she's about to puke.
"Girls? What’s—?”
Georg is slumped over the hood of my car, blood sprayed across the white hood and streaming down, dripping onto the concrete.
There's no one in sight, however—no cars. No threatening male figures waiting to snatch me.
I step in front of Katya and Ana, pushing them together behind me. I reach into my purse and withdraw the little Sig Sauer Tata gave me for my last birthday and forced me to practice with at the range until he felt I was proficient.
I edge the three of us into the corner of the covered entry of the church and instruct the AI voice assistant of my cell phone to call my father. He answers on the first ring.
"Tati, darling. How are you?"
"Georg is dead, Tata."
"What?How?"
"I'm in Low Town scouting a location. I went in to look and when I came out he was dead. Someone shot him. I didn't hear anything. There was a car following us earlier, but Georg lost them."
"Stay where you are. I have someone in Low Town right now. Send me a pin." He waits until he receives the pin I send him. "Stay on the line, darling. I'll be right back."