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      He stands in the customs line waiting anxiously like all those around him. He is clad with a light gray silk button-up shirt and dark brown trousers. He has fair hair, light brown eyes and a chiseled face. He has a cold, serious face that expresses animosity towards the world. He is fluent in 6 different languages and carries no accent. The documents he holds in his hands are fake. If asked about his business in Moscow he will merely state that he has come to meet an old friend who lives there. Truthfully, he has no girlfriend, family, friends or acquaintances in Moscow or anywhere really. This man has no identity. He has made sure of that. This man is a spy. He is anything but normal. He takes note of everything in the room. The policeman in the corner is left-handed. The man in front of him weighs 167 pounds. There is one set of doors out and a hallway that leads back to the terminal. This man carries with him unsurrpassed precision and intelligence. He leaves absolutely zero room for error. He watches as families, businessmen and couples hand over their passports. The Russian officials leerily  eye them all with the same degree of suspicion as if they are criminals. Finally, he is asked for his passport and papers. The Russian official looks over the documents with pessimism. He questions him and soon enough he is forced to acquiesce, he stamps the passport and directs the man to a set of doors.

The man rents a 2003 Audi A4. He arrives late morning at the Ritz-Carlton Moscow. He removes and opens the manila envelope from his suitcase and lets the contents slide onto the hotel bed. He peruses over the papers with scrutiny for the millionth time to reiterate what he already knew. There is a knock at the door. He opens the door to reveal a young woman in her late twenties who has in her hands a navy blue duffle bag. No words are exchanged just a quick meeting of eyes, a passing of the bag, and then the door is closed. The man removes a Glock 19 pistol, a suppressor, a map of the Lubyanka building, and a Barret M107 sniper rifle.

He leaves the hotel just as the sun sets. He arrives at Lubyanka square but continues to drive past two blocks where he parks his car. He enters an old apartment building and ascends the steps to the roof. He looks out at the Lubyanka building, the Russian intelligence (KGB) headquarters. He assembles the rifle and lays down for good position. He sights in the scope to reveal the guards redundantly going about their usual security business. Three shots echo through the square and three bodies fall limply to the ground. The fiasco that follows is quite the sight to see. More guards from the building flood to the scene. People start to exit the building rampantly afraid for their lives. Police sirens wailing.

It is exactly as planned. Through all the commotion no one notices the man slide through the doors. He gets to work going up the three flights of stairs. The corridor is quiet. He walks briskly to the set of doors that reveals another long corridor. A guard emerges from a door. Just as he tries to ask for ID two shots are silently fired into his chest. He topples over with barely a sound. He removes the guards card key and continues down the hall. He swipes the card at the wide metal door. The door slides open quickly to reveal yet another guard. Alarmed the guard reaches for his gun. Too slow. A single shot between the eyes and he falls limply to the floor. The man then makes his way down through a row of offices and swipes his card at one of the doors. He removes a rug in the office to reveal a safe. He enters the 9-digit code, inserts his card, and hears the welcoming “click” as the door pops open. The man removes the file and makes his way back down the corridors and stair ways he came but this time deviates and exits at a different door at the side of the building. As he exits he hears a yell and turns to find a policeman with a gun already drawn and pointed at his chest. He puts his hands up. Drops the papers to the floor. And turns to face the man.

The policeman’s eyes fall to the papers on the ground. An action just long enough for the man to draw his pistol and shoot the policeman three times in the head. The body tumbles to the ground. The man collects the papers and as if nothing had happened and begins to walk briskly down the alleyway. He turns down another street and reaches his car. He lays his bag and papers on the passenger seat and rides away. In the hotel lobby he meets the same young woman. He hands over his bag with his sniper and pistol. As they lock eyes he realizes that he has overlooked how attractive she is. However, any relationships could lead to the discovery of his work and his identity. He turns back out and climbs back into his car. He makes the short trip back to the airport and after security and customs he is on a flight to Vienna.

He leaves the plane and by now it is early morning in Vienna. The city is bustling with people leaving for work and taxis. It is a beautiful summers day. The man flags one down and climbs in. “Praterstern square please” the man asks politely in perfect German. “Yes sir” says the taxi driver. When they arrive he pays for the ride and walks out into the  square. A white Land Rover LR4 with tinted windows sits on the corner opposite him. He walks briskly over. He opens the door, climbs in and closes it. He hands the papers to an old man in the front seat. The old man takes a minute to look them over to ensure that they were real. Once satiated he hands a small duffel bag to the man in the back. He opens it to reveal €50,000 in banknotes. Satisfied he leaves the car and walks back out into the square. He walks two blocks to a cafe where he purchases a coffee. He then walks to a nearby park where he sits down to enjoy his coffee.

He sees children playing in the grass. Couples holding hands walking and enjoying their morning. He sees joggers and people walking their dogs. He sits pensive with his thoughts. He suddenly feels a pang of jealousy towards all of them. Why must he live like this? With no friends, relationships, or emotion. He asks himself why he must seclude himself from the world. Abruptly he stands up and walks over to a nearby trash can. Being a spy is an aspiration for some children but as for him he was done with the covert and elusive  life with no emotion or happiness being ostracized from the world. He is sick of the accolade he receives for his dirty work.  He pours the contents of his suitcase in. The fake documents, multiple passports, cell phones, and other materials. He smiles to himself.  He then becomes cognizant of a rather attractive young woman sitting on a park bench a little ways away. He had only ever dreamt of being normal but he knew it was time. He walks over to the bench sits down and merely says “Hello my name is Lucas.” She beams with a perfect smile and says”Hello I am Anna.” Lucas grins to himself amazed at his own bravery. The two stand up and walk off together. They begin a meaningless conversation. And as they walk and chat, if you were to be in earshot you would have heard Lucas’s first laugh in a long time.


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