Blind Mission: A Thrilling Espionage Novel Read Online Free Page A

With qualities like yours, and considering the range of our activities, there’s no such danger.”
    What arrogance, thought Greenberg to himself. “Thanks,” he said firmly. “It’s a flattering offer – but I think I’ll have to turn it down.”
    The face of the tall man remained frozen. No doubt he’s experienced in such things, thought Greenberg; if I didn’t know he was disappointed, I might have thought he was pleased. “All right,” the man said, standing up.
    He did not offer to shake hands. Instead, he bent over the desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Here,” he held it out to Greenberg, “in case you change your mind and want to reach me. This is the number. The name is Zvi.”
    Greenberg took the paper and glanced at it, before folding it and putting it into his shirt pocket. The tall man came out from behind the desk and walked him to the door.
    “Mr. Greenberg is leaving now,” he called into the waiting room as he opened the door. The driver rose from his chair.
    Greenberg head the door close behind him. He turned quickly, as if to say something more, but the driver took his arm and gently, but firmly, led him away. “Let’s go,” he said.

Chapter 3
    The sudden braking of the car jerked his head forward, and were it not for the seatbelt he would have been slammed into the windshield. The driver roughly pulled the opaque glasses from Greenberg’s face, then reached across him and threw the door open. He got out without a word.
    As he stood on the sidewalk, blinking in the abrupt glare of the harsh sunlight, the car peeled away with tires screeching. Greenberg stared around in a daze. The street looked familiar. He unconsciously began walking down its slope.
    A young mother pushing a baby carriage almost ran into him. He swerved aside at the last second, bumping his shoulder into an oncoming man. The sharp pain of the blow and the noise of the street jarred him back to reality. He now recognized where he was, and knew that his car was parked in the next street on the right. He approached the corner, reaching into the right front pocket of his slacks for his key ring.
    He rounded the corner and froze, startled, his mind refusing to absorb the scene of an empty space where he knew he had parked his car less than two hours before. Greenberg paced quickly up and down the sidewalk, his eyes searching the street. It can’t be, it just can’t be!  he repeated as he walked. He remembered the delicatessen with the neon sign and the hardware store next door, whose display window he had intended to look at. Everything remained the way it was, except the care he had parked there some 90 minutes before was no longer there. A spirited curse escaped his lips.
    Crossing the street, he asked the lottery ticket seller in his booth opposite if he had seen what happened to his car, but got only a wordless shrug of the shoulders in reply.
    Damn! He swore to himself, his anger bursting. Damn!
     
    *     *      *
     
    “Shut your mouth, bitch!” the man yelled, balling his fists. “I’ll kill you!”
    “You hear? You hear?” the woman asked the desk officer at the Dizengoff Street precinct. “Now he’s threatening me. Add that to the complaint!”
    The sergeant tried as best as he could to calm the couple standing before him with their angry red faces, waving their arms and yelling at each other oblivious to their surroundings.
    “Okay, okay,” the officer hollered, trying to make himself heard over their shouting. “What should I write down?”
    “That this whore…”
    “Whore?! He’s calling me a whore? You should see…”
    “Quiet!” the officer thundered. “This is a police station, not a market!”
    His efforts were in vain, for the two were totally involved in their quarrel and only shouted louder. A man in civilian clothes came out of an inner room, an angry scowl on his face. He took the couple aside and began speaking forcefully to them.
    Greenberg saw his