Free Assignment - Suicide by Edward S. Aarons Page B

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clicks, a long buzzing sound, then a steady tick-tick-tick that came with soft regularity, beating in the ear-piece. He knew at once that
the line was being tapped. He began to sweat. It was hot in the stolovaya. Then
he sensed a cool draft of air from the street door as it was opened again. A
second man had joined the big watcher in the doorway.
    It was Kronev.
    The squat MVD man looked around the big room with a swift
objective sweep of pale eyes that appraised the diners with split-second
accuracy. Valya stood up, gathering her gloves and began to walk toward Durell.
Durell saw Kronev’s eyes fix on her with bright satisfaction, then his pale
glance lumped to him. Their eyes met. Recognition flared in the MVD man’s
stare. "
    A man’s voice suddenly rattled in the telephone receiver.
    “Hello, Dart. Sam? I’m. sorry it took so long old man—”
    At that moment, Kronev started toward him.
     
    Chapter Seven
    SEVENTY FEET separated Durell and Valya from Kronev mid his
man in the doorway. Between them were the crowded, noisy tables occupied by the
Kazak clientele. Across the heads of the diners, Durell saw Kronev’s grinning
face shine with triumph. A loud burst of laughter came from the table nearest
the telephone alcove. Valya tugged at Durell’s sleeve.
    “There is a back way. Come. It may be guarded, too.”
    He followed the girl as she swung to the rear of the
restaurant, wondering how Kronev had tracked them to this exact spot. Perhaps
one of the watchers in the cordon around the Embassy had identified him;
or it could be Mikhail’s work, somehow. It didn‘t matter. He knew this was a
trap that would take a miracle to escape.
    There was a double-leafed back door that led into the
kitchens of the stolovaya where the
waitresses came and went. Durell slapped the doors open and plunged through,
pulling Valya with him. A dim shout was flung after him, audible above
the clatter of tableware and conversations. A huge red-faced man blocked
Durell’s way into the kitchen. His chin dripped sweat.
    “Citizen, it is not permitted—"
    “Get out of my way!"
    Durell straight-armed the giant into a steam table. A shrill
cry came from a Waitress nearby. From behind her came another shout of warning.
    “Come on,” he gasped to Valya.
    “The door—over there.”
    He plunged toward it and the girl kept pace with him. A chef
swung at him with a cleaver, and missed, the blade hissing behind his head. A
whistle skirled in the main dining room. Sudden silence fell in the kitchen as
Durell reached the back door.
    “Go ahead,” he snapped to the girl.
    She darted through. He looked back and saw Kronev slap aside
the double doors to the dining room. A gun crashed. He swung and dived down a
short flight of steps to the back street.
    Valya waited for him. Her face was stark and white.
    “This way—to the Metro.”
    The street behind the stolovaya was narrow and poorly lighted.   A car
blocked the far corner, and he halted, caught it the girl and ran the other
way. Kronev’s men had not been completely organized. The girl matched his pace
as they ran across the rough cobbles of the street. There was a lithe grace to
the way she ran. Behind them came the roar of a motor racing, and headlights
sliced through the gloom and pinned them against the dark brick wall they
followed. A gun crashed again. The bullet struck a spark from a piece of metal
in the brick wall. Valya suddenly staggered and Durell’s heart lurched, fearing
she was hit.
    “To the left," she gasped,
    “Are you all right?”
    She nodded, saving her breath. The car was almost upon them
when they reached the corner. There was traffic on the wide avenue and crowds
on the sidewalk. The blue-uniformed politseyski across the way was standing in puzzlement. the
whistle between his teeth. People jumped aside as they ran around the corner.
The car that pursued them screamed out of the alleyway and halted with a
screech of brakes in the middle of the thoroughfare,