The breakaway

Don Parick Kane alias Alex Garin (his SVR identity) alias Akim Tmirov (his CIA identiy) esscapes from a fatal mission, which he knows that it would endanger his own life

The breakaway

Identity Conflict

An excerpt

At the end of  the meal she filled their glasses again with rye, and looked up at him with a sudden alarmed glance.

'Oh the desert I've forgotten it completely.' Without waiting for his comment she rushed to the kitchen.

It solved his problem for he did not have to distract her attention in some silly question, and thus cause the opportunity to add the two sleeping pills into her drink.

When Irene came back carrying the two peach pie dessert dishes in her hands, the pills have dissolved already in her glass to Don's relief.

'I'm sure you'll enjoy it Don.' She said as she put the pie before him, and she sat down with a flushed face.

She's tipsy and extremely excited; she isn't used to drink so much alcohol. He thought while watching her attacking her peach pie zealously, as if she was famished.

'It's my favorite dish,' she declared raising her eyes from her empty plate.

'Oh it's delicious I've enjoyed it and the entire meal immensely Irene, and you got an exceptional good taste.' Don answered her and took the rye glass in his hand.

'Cheers Irene and thanks for an incredibly delicious dinner.' He said to her smiling, and watched her drink her glass up to its last drop.

'Well it's high time…' She muttered and stood up a bit unsteady. Don left his seat, approached her, and supported her up to the bedroom. He had to help her to change and to put on her night dress, another task that he had to fulfill was to help her to clamber upon the bed and lay down.

Hardly a few seconds passed and she was fast asleep.

He took her purse and her mobile; he switched off the bed room lights and moved quickly to the living room. After a short search he found all the money she possessed including the five hundred dollars, which he brought her, at their first meeting and put it in his wallet.

That's it, he told himself while trying hard to ease his excitement. He put on his overcoat and his warm fur hat, ready to leave the apartment and the sleeping Irene.

What else do I've to do? He thought with hesitation. The apartment keys he reminded himself with exigency, and he moved nimbly to the chest of drawers; and after a short search he found the keys, and pulled it out from the open drawer without bothering to close it.

It's my turn to lock her in; he thought amused and sneaked out stealthily to the corridor, and locked the entrance door. Down at ground floor of the building's entrance he turned to the trash cans corner, and threw the apartment keys and both mobiles hers and his own into three different trash cans.

He hurried out to the street and started to walk toward Van Ness Avenue looking for a cab.

A cab stopped next to him after hardly five a minutes' walk.

'Where to Mister?' The cabbie asked him.

'212 Folsom Street,' he ordered the cabbie as he settled on the rear seat, and took a breath of air into his lungs.

'Had dinner with friends and heading home now, aren't you?'

'That's right,' Don admitted with a forced smile, hoping this would satisfy the cabbie curiosity.

They rode on in silence and in a matter of ten minutes they crossed the greyhound terminal.

'Well here you're Mister.' The cabbie said, as he stopped the cab at 212 Folsom Street Don's destination.

Don paid him got off and entered the building's dark entrance and waited, after the cab left and was out of sight he came out and walked back towards the greyhound terminal.

© Haim Kadman 2016 �" all rights reserved.