The Defector

The short story of a defector in Cold War Eastern Europe

It was raining. It came as no surprise, it had been raining since September. Mr White buttoned his raincoat all the way to the top, pulling the collar, still damp from yesterday, up over his neck. He lit a cheap Czechoslovakian cigarette with a match and took a long pull. What started out as a counter espionage technique had become part of his daily routine. A packet of Marlboro's would attract the keen eye of a KGB operative, now the burning sensation of cheap tobacco was as much a routine as the shot of vodka he took before his morning coffee. The time of year kept the vodka cold, the inadequate plumbing did the same for his coffee. The pre-coffee vodka started as a coping mechanism, now it was merely a reason to get up in the morning. He didn't even get that sickly warm sensation anymore, it just levelled his head now. A bottle used to last a week and a half, now he found himself replacing it every three days. He emptied his lungs, and realised the smoke was almost transparent. He questioned how long he kept the smoke inside as he took another pull. He didn't waste time with umbrellas anymore. When the rain falls so hard it soaks from the bottom up as quick as it does from above, why bother. He was stood in the doorway of his apartment block and already his black brogues were letting water creep between his toes. It was just another unpleasant feeling that had become so routine he classed it as normal. The door across the street opened and Mr Blue stepped out. Punctual as always. Opening his umbrella he hurriedly made his way down the street. The heavy raindrops splashed into Mr Whites eyes as he descended onto the pavement and made his way down the street.

Mr Blue was a field agents dream. So insanely paranoid he was being followed, he spent so much time looking over his shoulder he paid no attention to the opposite side of the street. He knew the KGB had him under surveillance. He had taken to carrying a pistol in his pocket everywhere he went. As a lead technician in one of the Soviet Union's foremost military design bureaus, he had knowledge the west wanted, and Moscow would not allow him to share. The CIA had gotten him so far, he had crossed the Russian border, he was now awaiting the day they could get him over the Berlin Wall, with it's razor wire and armed guards. It was Mr White's job to keep a constant eye on him. Mr Blue was walking at a hurried pace but with his short stature and large waist there was only so fast he could move. Mr White, with his substantial height could keep pace with the smaller man while only striding normally.

Mr Blue was so preoccupied by the ghosts he imagined behind him he nearly walked straight into the man stood in front of him. He wore a perfectly tailored houndstooth suit beneath his black raincoat. His trilby hat kept his horn rimmed glasses from being obstructed by raindrops. Mr White observed casually as the two men conversed, stopping in a doorway under the guise of lighting another cigarette. He couldn't make out the language the two men spoke in, the torrential rain created a constant white noise effect, while at the same time making lip reading impossible by filling the air with a heavy grey mist. Mr White knew the case file verbatim. The two men must be speaking either English or Russian, Mr Blue knew no other languages. He knew Mr Blue was due to meet the CIA case agent tasked with his extraction on this day, and was confident Mr Blue was to make his escape over the Wall to the West, and to freedom, within the next twenty four hours. He watched the two men shake hands, and saw through the rain the visible relief on Mr Blue's face. The meeting had taken place, Mr White's objective was complete. He had surveilled the Russian for weeks now, and finally he had seen Mr Blue shake hands with the CIA agent.

Mr Blue's pace had visibly slowed, he was more relaxed. The park he would often sit in was around the corner, Mr White smiled as he saw Mr Blue walk casually into the park and approach his favourite bench. The transaction was complete, the CIA were now in the motions of arranging the details of immediately transferring Mr Blue to the West, the information he held was vital. He was to be transferred by car overnight to the Berlin Wall, where American Special forces units would ensure his defection was swift and clean, Mr Blue would be on a flight to the United Stated before Moscow even learned of his defection. The KGB would be left shaking their heads as a major asset made his way into the hands of the American Government where he could be debriefed and the West could obtain vital knowledge into the Soviet Unions most secret weapons programmes.

Mr Blue let out a sigh of relief as he relaxed onto his favourite bench. The rain was still assaulting the city meaning the park was empty. Mr White lit another cigarette but the rain immediately dampened it. He threw it to the ground, watching the rain break it apart and disperse the tobacco, running into a nearby gutter. His eyes moved upwards from the tobacco, now spreading like a firework in the puddles to meet the icy glare of a large man wearing a black leather jacket. The two men locked eyes in a tense stand off before Mr White nodded to the man.

The rain that had previously been such a burden washed over Mr Blue's face like a clean morning wash. He was so relaxed and happy he didn't pay any heed to the large man in the leather jacket who sat down beside him. A strange feeling washed over him as his eyes began to water. He looked down at his feet as the rain created swirls as blood mixed in with the cold water. He gasped as the knife entered his body a second time. He looked up to see the large man walk away. He breathed in but no air entered his punctured lungs. His head dropped slightly forward as he breathed his last breath.

Mr White lit his cigarette and took a long pull. The flight to Moscow was not for another hour. He exhaled the smoke as he decided he had time for a vodka and a coffee.

Author's Note

My first piece, please be critical!