DRAKE WALKED ALONG the Left Bank of the Seine, squinting into the sun and feeling the light wind through the open collar of his shirt. He passed a small playground, where a woman was helping her toddler down the slide with some effort. He thought of his girlfriend, and what she went through.562Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡae0UAekma1
He checked his watch. It was twenty passed one. Mischa's flight would be boarding now. "Off you go, girl," he said.
He felt the vibration of his phone in his pants pocket.
He fished out the phone. The number was blocked, which meant it was his contact at Bordeaux-Merignac. Drake had asked him to call when Mischa got on board.
He took a look around him and then answered his cell.
"She left," said his contact over the phone.
Drake sighed. "Right."
"No, buddy, I mean---she left. She was at the gate as they were boarding and she just turned around and hightailed it out of the airport."562Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSMo3E56Kb3
Drake took a second to contain his reaction. He rolled his neck and clenched and unclenched his jaw.562Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnaPwtpL8Se
He'd given her a chance. And he'd given her a warning. She'd made her decision understanding the consequences.562Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNv2bbuAtdU
"Well, you dug your grave, Mischa," he mumbled to himself. He watched the children on the playground for another movement before he moved on.562Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdPDX2ZkkIy
