Blind Mission: A Thrilling Espionage Novel by Avichai Schmidt

night; he must have slept a long time, not just an afternoon nap. But he now felt considerably relaxed. Shivering slightly from cold, he slowly stood and rubbed his shoulders to warm them. He walked into the bathroom and opened the hot water tap, letting the water run hot, then washed his face. Now he was awake.
    Thoughts began to race once more through his mind. For the time being, he believed, he could continue hiding here in this empty apartment for sale. For the next four days, the realtor would have no reason to try to sell the property to someone else – certainly not after such a meticulous customer had asked him so many questions, had shown a willingness to pay a price that was even a little bit above the market price…On second thought, he only had the apartment for three more days. At the very latest, by the morning of the fourth day had to be gone. In any event, he had no intention of remaining in a chilly apartment for much longer. Someone on the run should never stay put too long.
    He put the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and began to improvise a late supper for himself, and as he did so he tried to organize his thoughts. Yesterday morning he had become someone’s quarry; by evening he had also become a wanted man – and not just wanted: wanted for murder. Just thinking the word “murder” was enough to make him shudder. In his mind the charge was more accurately manslaughter. He was bothered by the fact that his identify was known to those who were chasing him, and that “they” had come after him even before the tragedy at the plant nursery, why? And if they didn’t want him to be identified, as the altering of the police sketch proved, this must mean that they did not really want to capture him; but just to frighten him, to make him do something they wanted him to. But what – what was it?

Chapter 6
    Greenberg breathed in and out rhythmically. He could feel his arm muscles tightening and an almost painful tension in his thighs. A sharp burning sensation filled his chest with each lungful of air. Beads of sweat dropped from his forehead into the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision.
    Forty-seven…48…49… One more push with his whole body, straightening his elbows – 50. With one motion he collapsed forward onto his stomach and lay there. The effort had cost him all his strength. For the past two days, three times a day, he had repeated a strenuous series of calisthenics. He wanted to get back in shape, knowing he was likely to need to be fit. Anyway, what else could he do but think, work out, and rest?
    It was a few minutes before 11 p.m. As Greenberg began to make his bed ready, he reached out and turned on his cell phone’s built-in radio. The sign-off music replaced with a string of commercials leading up to the news. While he waited for the news to come on, Greenberg removed his shoes and socks and was about to take off his slacks, when something made him alert – something connected with his radio receiver, or with the commercial that was on just then, about a pension savings plan sponsored by one of the big banks. It wasn’t the contents of the commercial that had caught his attention, however, but the voice; the voice making the appeal to the pensioners. He recognized the voice; but where had he heard it before? Where the hell had he heard it? He focused his entire attention on the voice as it read the end of the sentence: “…and for further details, please contact any of our investment counselors.”
    Then Greenberg identified the voice and caught his breath. Yes; there was no doubt it was him. The more he recalled the tone of voice, the quality, the accent, and the diction, the more he was convinced. But how could it be?! He now remembered that, even at the time, he had had a glimmer of suspicion, but had pushed it out of his mind. His face went pale, and he sat heavily on the mattress.
    He remained awake nearly all night, planning his moves for the next day. His mind