The braggart

The braggart

A Story by Haim Kadman
"

Chapter 5 of the thriller "The Imperative U-turn".

"

The Imperative U-turn

Chapter 5

did you go out last night?’ His anonymous temporary operator asked him, as soon as they reached the latter’s car.

No, I stayed in my room,’ Ilayev answered him with a slight cough. Does he want me to believe that he does not have someone at the hotel, one of the reception clercks I guess, who checks whether I’m in or out. He isn’t a fool but he sure is a green horn. Ilayev concluded while watching his temporary operator’s face.

Okay Jake,’ his operator muttered smiling and pulled an American passport out of his jacket inner pocket. ‘That’s yours for the time being, and I want you to move to the Hamilton Hotel today; and sending his hand fourth he handed Ilayev the passport.

Is that all?’ Ilayev asked him with a note of frustration, he expected to hear a hint at least what he is supposed to do, and when.

Well just don’t leave the hotel’s precincts, until I’ll get in touch with you, that’s all.’ His temporary operator added rather dryly and went over to his car’s front door; he opened the door settled himself on the driver’s seat, switched on the engine and drove on.

The cursed braggart, couldn’t he tell me in general terms what am I supposed to do here? How long am I supposed to stay in this city, before I’ll be friefed about the job, which I’m supposed to do...?

While Ilayev was still buried in his thoughts, he suddenly heard the shrill sound of a car’s horm. A cab was parked at the entrance to the restaurant small parking lot. He crossed the few yard up to the cab, and as he bent down to the open cab’s window and met the driver’s eyes, he had no doubt who the driver must be.

Get in,’ the driver hissed to him in their mother tongue. Ilayev opened the cab’s rear door, entered and settled down on the rear bench without uttering a single word, there was no need to.

We’re driving to your hotel, I’ll wait for you at the hotel’s parking lot until you’ll pack your things and check our; and then we’ll drive to your next stop the Hamilton hotel.’ The driver briefed in Russian, as soon as were as his cab started to move.

In about eighteen minutes they reched the hotel. Ilayev went steight to lobby and told the current reception ckerks to prepare his bill, he went up to his room to pack his things, and asked reception to send a porter to take down his personal things, while he pays for his twenty four hours stay. With the checking out procedure done with, he retained hos passport he went to the waiting cab, accompanied by the hotel porter who carried his heavy suitcase. The cab driver his compatriot in fact was already standing next to the open trunk lid. He tipped the porter and opened the cab’s rear, and sat down ommitting a hardly audible sigh of relief. The trunk lid was shut quite gently and his compartiot returned to his seat, swithed on the cab’s engine and drove the cab towards the main road.

Give me your passport,’ his compatriot ordered him in their mother tongue

But why I might need it in a mater of a few days.’ Ilayev retorted angrily and hoping at the same time, to make his compatriot believe that he is supposed to return to their mother land in a rather short while.

these are the orders, you should carry only your American passport, in case you know...’

So it’s going to be some mission… Ilayev thought bothered. How long am I supposed to stay here and where? He kept on thinking while he pulled his Russian passport, and handed it to his compatriot the cab driver.

@ Haim Kadman 2020 �" all rights reserved.

© 2020 Haim Kadman


My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

34 Views
Added on November 26, 2020
Last Updated on November 26, 2020
Tags: suspence, espionage, intelligence, meeting, on, route, doubts

Author

Haim Kadman
Haim Kadman

Petach-Tikva, Israel



About
Profile: A few words about myself: being a native of a small country whose waist is seventeen kilometers wide in a certain area; and in seven to eight hours drive one can cross its length, I was amaze.. more..

Writing
Moscow Moscow

A Story by Haim Kadman


Back home Back home

A Story by Haim Kadman