Copyright © 2010 by Cliff Ball
As Mary’s ten year old son was raising the pistol to shoot her, she saw the absolute hate in his eyes, something that a ten year should never have experienced, or even know. While she was not surprised that she was being disposed of, and really kind of wondered what took them so long, she was shocked that they were using her precious son to do it. She glanced at his handlers standing behind him, who had smug looks on their faces, and seemed to be pleased with their indoctrination of her son. She knew this was a cliché, but her life leading up to this point began flashing before her eyes. She began reflecting on why she took this path on the road to her destruction in the brief time she had left.
Twelve years earlier….
Mary O’Hara had run away from her home in Nebraska a month earlier and now found herself in New York City. She ran away because her father was verbally abusive, sometimes physically, and treated her and her mother like they were garbage. He had come back from Korea ten years earlier very different from the way he was when he left. From Mary’s perspective, it was like he was a whole other person, and he absolutely refused to talk about what had happened to him there. She was only seventeen, but felt that she was old enough to take care of herself without being told what to do. As some of her friends were fond of saying, it was all about freedom from the oppressive machinations of The Man, and those friends viewed the Soviet Union as the perfect society. So, now she was in the Big Apple, with any number of infinite possibilities open to her.
Mary was taking in the sights and sounds of New York City when she noticed that she had walked past the Soviet Union’s embassy. The Soviets had fascinated her and her friends, because they were all about order and making everyone equal. She thought it highly unfair that people like her psychotic father were allowed to go out into public. She stood there for a while, immersed in thought, not entirely sure whether or not she should go inside, when a man that was going inside the building, stopped and asked, “Are you ok?”
Mary shook her head, realizing how long she must’ve been standing there looking like she might be weird or something. She looked at the man, who looked very dour, and said, “Oh! I’m sorry for standing out here so long. I’ll move along.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. You seemed like you thought about going inside. Is there anything we can help you with?”
“You work for the Soviets?” she asked, wide-eyed.
I wonder how easy it would be to manipulate this girl? I’m sure I’ll soon find out, the man thought to himself, and then he said out loud, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do work for the Soviets, and you can call me Agent Jones. Would you like to come inside?”
“Really? You’d let me do that?”
“Of course. Are you interested in getting to know Soviet philosophy?”
“You bet. Lead the way.”
She has no idea what she’s getting herself into, he thought, as he showed her into the building.