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The death of a spy |
| Written by Darby | |
| Thursday, 10 April 2008 | |
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The car careened across the highway and smashed into the guard rail. The impact caused it to ride up on its side and slide back across the highway. It crashed into a mini van that was transporting the soccer team. The driver of the min-van lost control. It jumped the median and crashed into oncoming traffic. This caused a five car pileup as drivers scrambled to avoid the wreck. My father and I were in the first car. He was dead before he lost control. I made sure of that. The hypodermic in his arm made sure of that. A quick jab and I threw it as far as I could out the window. Ten people suffered minor injuries. Three will be lucky to survive. I knew there was a good chance I would die when I put this plan into motion. I didn’t care. I could see no way out. It started by mistake. I was visiting my parents for a few days. I had brought the cord to power up my cell phone and plugged it in next to my father’s phone. I was making myself a pot of coffee when my phone rang. Without paying a great deal of attention, I picked up the ringing phone. The voice on the other end was a monotone. “Pick up the phone at the corner of 13th and Pennsylvania N.W. at 10:00 am on Monday.” That was it. I always stare at the screen when my phone does something that confounds me. As if the little screen would have some useful information. This one did, it wasn’t my phone. I think if it had been a women’s voice I would have ignored it. My Dad’s getting on in years. If he found a way to have some fun, so be it provided my Mother didn’t find out. I’m not sure what kind of voice was on the other end of that phone but it certainly didn’t offer romance. I watch my share of TV. I know what it sounded like. It sounded like a spy meeting. But my Dad was no spy. He’s a bureaucrat. He works from nine to five and he uses a pocket protector. He is not the stuff that spies are made of. But the phone call wouldn’t leave my mind. “Dad, I answered your phone by mistake. I thought that my phone was ringing. The voice sounded kind of weird but you have some sort of date tomorrow at 10 at the corner of 13th and Penn.” “It’s a game, Peter. Some of the guys at work have started a fantasy game. You go to different spots and pick up clues. It’s all very hush-hush and rather silly for a man my age.” “What ever turns you on?” That would have been the end of it. It was a reasonably plausible explanation as long as you didn’t look at him when he was talking. He shrunk. He visibly got smaller as we were talking. I knew what I had to do. I followed him. There was my Dad at 10 in the morning on a work day carrying his brief case around town. My Dad usually carries only his lunch and his newspaper in his briefcase. He does not come out of the office at mid day. I was a good distance away so I would blend in with the crowd going to Starbucks. It was mid-morning in Washington. Everyone seemed to be either going to Starbucks or coming out of Starbucks. I could see him pick up the phone and then he took off. I practically had to skip to catch up. It didn’t matter that I made myself obvious. He wasn’t looking around. If he was playing a game it was a very serious one. His shoulders were hunched up as if he was prepared to tackle anyone that might get in his way. His eyes stared straight ahead as he crossed Pennsylvania Avenue and headed for the Mall. Not the Mall with the Gap and Banana Republic. This was our nation’s mall with the Capitol on one end and the Lincoln Monument on the other. It’s not as grand as it sounds, mostly sandy walking paths and benches. At lunch both sexes come out to jog or to watch others jog. It is not a place my Dad normally hangs out. He got to a bench but didn’t sit down. Underneath the bench there was a brief case that looked remarkably like my Dad’s. He switched them. I felt trapped in a 1950’s spy movie. I doubt that the modern spy uses the briefcase hand off any more. What ever was going on here it was way outside the realm of normal. So I grabbed the briefcase and high tailed it out of there. The police were not a possibility. Our lives would be over if Dad was arrested for treason. The contents of the brief case was hot. I’m a medical student and not a scientist but plans for thermonuclear warheads, and reentry vehicles were not typical game pieces. This information was on its way to China. My Dad must not be a pencil pusher. I don’t know what he really was but I know plans for warheads are not left around for the casual observer. I thought of just destroying the brief case and its contents. But I was very sure that my Dad knew how to zerox. I thought of telling my Mother but the thought was unbearable. I don’t think she could live with knowing he had committed treason even if was to prolong her life. So I asked the only person I could. I asked my Dad. “I have the briefcase Dad. I know what’s in it. But what I don’t know is why. This is treason. How could you? “Is it treason when your country has betrayed you? Every where you turn we are lied to by our government. American has lost it self. We are led by people who have no principles or morals. American is done with. It’s finished. China is growing. China is like America when America was young. I can see that you don’t believe me. You need to hear it like I did and then you will know. Come with me tomorrow and I’ll take you to talk with her.”“Her!” It wasn’t treason for the crazy noble reason to save my Mom. It wasn’t even crazy treason in a misguided attempt to save the world. It was just garden variety mid life crisis crazy treason. He had met her on the Metro. Between the Farragut West Metro Stop and the Huntington Metro in Virginia, a half hour ride at best, she hooked him and reeled him in. The next day she called him at work. He had not given her his number. A child could see that it was a set up but he never saw it. My Mom had been sick for a long time but that does not excuse what he did and what he was going to do if I didn’t stop him.
I decided to kill him. I planned it so it would be clear it was an accident. It had to be an accident so that no one would investigate his activities. The real victim here was my mother. An accident would be painful for her but treason would be a whole lot worse. I accepted what could happen to me and was grateful when I walked away unscathed. I would he there for my mother. “Nan, grab the paddles, this kid is coding. Again. Again. Its no use, time of death is at 10:14. I don’t want to be the one to tell his mother she lost him too.
Copyright 2008 Darby |
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| Last Updated ( Thursday, 10 April 2008 ) |
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