09-09-2009 Their paths crossed in a strange Darwinian twist of fate, the retelling of which deserved the gravity of tales told during the greatest ages of literature, a story more akin to the romantic classics of those bygone days, ages ago, than to the hyper speed 5 second attention span media overload that was the world of 2009.
The accused KGB spy who was living alone, lonely and heartbroken, trying to cope with a life that had been shattered, struggling to right the wrongs meted out on him by an overzealous agency that had been hell bent on justifying their own existence by proving there were spies to be had and ones to be caught and not caring if the innocent were made into the guilty or whether hundreds of lives were destroyed in the process, sat and thought. Or had it been something more sinister? Was the director of MI-5 herself a plant? Was she an agent groomed from the very day of her recruitment in the hot humid climes of India during the waning days of British Empire, planted in order to get to the position of director, with access to the real secrets of the crown? Secrets she would give to her controllers, ideologically holding views akin to hers on the fairness and equality of women, and who convinced her with the very unarguable justice and equality behind their ideology that it was the right thing to do. The Chilean illegal, had been put on ice in the vineyards of Northern Chile since her last mission and had lost hope of being recalled, becoming a lush in the process of trying to forget the disaster that had been her last mission, was now in England, hiding in the bushes waiting for the signal that meant it was time to go, to activate, to execute plan G, it would be soon now, thought the little Chilean with a penchant for forbidden grapes, very soon….. http://www.jar2.com/