Bartholomew – Severing Innocence
"Mommy, you got another book from Daddy." Sydney stood at the front door offering the brown wrapped package as if it were a crown of gold.
"Thank you darling." Irina took the package from her hands and kissed the top of her head. "Let's go see what story we got this time."
Sydney held her mother's hand as they walked into the house and through to the kitchen. Irina poured two glasses of lemonade, as was their habit, and carried them out to the patio. Sydney sat patiently on the wicker chair, her feet swinging but her hands still.
Irina took a drink of her lemonade and then began to remove the wrapping. Blue embossed leather blossomed from beneath the brown paper, gilded edges catching the sunlight. Sydney leaned over to ooh and ahh over the beautiful book.
"What is it, Mommy?"
"Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare."
"Tell me the story."
"It is a sad story about love, Sydney." Irina stood and held out her hand. "Let's go fix dinner for Daddy and I'll tell you the story before bed."
"But Mommy, I thought love stories were happy."
"Not all, sweetie. Not all of them."
*** 1957
Andrei Chenerev watched from his car as Maureen Nelson walked out of the doctor's office. She paused and placed one hand on the granite wall while her other hand massaged her lower back through the soft folds of her maternity shirt.
He continued to observe her as she slowly walked down the sidewalk and settled on the bench next to the bus stop. She wiggled about trying to find a comfortable position' eventually she stopped fidgeting and pushed herself back to a standing position. She leaned heavily on the back of the bench and Andrei could see her sigh from his location.
The number 10 bus pulled to the stop minutes later and the woman got on board. Andrei watched as she lowered herself into a seat near the front and he continued to stare as the bus pulled away. *** 1981
George Nelson jogged through Silver Spring Park completely unaware that he was being watched. He stayed along the crushed gravel path as it wound past the pond and along the edge of the woods. Occasionally he wiped at the sweat on his brow and began a second circuit.
Irina absently flipped the pages of the novel in her hand, rolling over onto her stomach. To the casual observer she was just another person enjoying the park on a beautiful day, but she was there to keep an eye on George. She took a sip from her soda can and watched as George slowed to a walk, making his way off the path and towards a picnic table. He grabbed a towel off the table and wiped down his limbs. Irina stood, her eyes never leaving George and folded up the blanket she had been lying on.
George picked up the duffle bag and walked to his car, stopping by a water fountain for a drink. Irina got into her rented c, following as he drove out of the park and to his apartment.
*** 1957
It was the middle of the night and the hospital nursery was nearly deserted except for a few of the new fathers. Andrei slipped into the hall from the stairwell and walked over to the viewing windows. Scanning the tags on the bassinets, he finally located the one marked "Baby Boy Nelson". A nurse came to the window and he pointed at the blue wrapped bundle and the nurse brought the sleeping baby to the window.
"Its all a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"
"What?" Andrei was startled by the other voice; looking to the right he saw a young man with the beginnings of a scruffy beard and wrinkled clothes.
"One minute you're waiting and the next moment you're a father. I'm not sure if I'll every get used to it. Is that your son?" the stranger asked.
"Um, yes, this is my son." Andrei turned again to look at the baby and watched as the nurse returned him to the bassinet.
"What is his name?" Andrei looked confused.
"Well, uh, we have not decided yet." Andrei looked around, trying to find a way to extract himself from this conversation. "I must go. Good luck with your child."
"Her name is Madeline and thank you. Good luck to you too." The man was too content by watching his sleeping daughter to notice as Andrei made his way back to the stairs.
*** 1981 (two weeks before)
"This agent is not a threat to Russia, why has he been targeted?" Irina stood up and grabbed a half full glass of water off the table.
"Irina, you should know that it is not your place to question who our superiors target."
"But he is barely a man. He's only been a field agent for six months. What kind of damage could he have done in six months?"
"I do not know why, only that you are to kill him."
Irina paced around the room, silent, but it was evident that she was forming elaborate arguments and theories in her mind. Khasinau sat back in the chair and lit another cigarette. He knew that there was no need to argue with Irina now; she was doing all the work for him.
Both swung around, startled by a knock at the door and became still and quiet. Khasinau motioned for her to step into the bathroom while he checked the peephole. Irina poised a gun in her outstretched hands. Khasinau leaned in towards the door, turning back to Irina and subtly shook his head. She lowered her gun slightly as Khasinau opened the door just a crack. Moments passed and he opened the door a bit more and stuck his head out, checking the hall in both directions.
A hand from the outside pushed in and Cuvee swept into the room, staring down the barrel of Irina's gun and met her hard eyes.
"Hello to you, too, darling," he cooed.
Irina raised the gun an inch or two more, narrowing her eyes. Seconds ticked by and she finally lowered her weapon. She swept passed him into the main room and went to stand by the sliding glass door. She turned as if looking out the door, but only enough to keep from making eye contact with Cuvee. Tension filled the air as it were smoke. Khasinau was looking very warily at their superior, wondering why Cuvee had decided to come to this meeting in particular.
Cuvee pulled a file from underneath his sweater and flopped it down on the bed. He pulled out several pictures and spread them out on the bedspread.
"As you know, Irina, this is your mark, George Nelson," he pointed to a photograph of the young man walking out of the CIA office downtown.
"Yes Gerard. I would like to know why he is a mark, though? How could this young man be a threat?" Irina looked at the photograph briefly and then looked away trying to look nonchalant, not wanting to make eye contact with Cuvee. The question alone would set his temper flaming and she didn't want to appear to challenge him.
"Ah, yes, that age old question. I'm surprised you ask it any more my dear. You lost your innocence long ago in this business. Why do you care if he's a threat or not?"
Khasinau tried to fade into the surroundings not wanting to be any part of the ensuing power struggle between these two. Irina refused to speak and just shrugged her shoulders.
"In any case, this is Andrei Chenerev and Maureen Nelson. They are the boy's parents. Andrei was an operative in the United States during the late 50's and early 60's who unfortunately had a relationship that produced offspring. Mrs. Nelson died about a year ago leaving all of her personal affects to her only child George."
"What happened to Andrei?" Khasinau asked, starting the other two who had seemingly forgot he was in the room.
"Poor fool. He tried to get in contact with the Nelsons after he was recalled to the Motherland. For that he spent several years in Siberia and met an untimely death in 1972. We began to get concerned about the boy when we found he was joining the CIA. It was never discovered how much Andrei confided in his lover about his life and mission. Now that the lover is dead, we are afraid that she passed on any knowledge to her son."
"Surely that information would be worthless now, it is over 20 years old."
"Yet we still scour 500 year old documents from some madman named Rambaldi." Cuvee shrugged and sat in the chair next to the desk.
"Before you kill the young George, you need to search the house, banking records, safety deposit boxes to find any stray information that might hint at Andrei and his ties to Russia."
Irina looked out the sliding glass door and slowly nodded. He head was whipped around and she stood staring into Cuvee's hard eyes.
"Nonetheless, my dear, you will kill him. Is that understood?" She returned the hard glare without moving an inch or acknowledging his statement. He looked deeply in her eyes and roughly pulled her chin so that his face was only inches from hers.
"Yes, I think it would be very wise of you to follow all your orders. You never know if when you'll be recalled," he whispered.
Cuvee picked up the photographs and file from the bed and swept out of the room without another word. Irina and Khasinau looked at each other, their facings saying everything their voices were not.
***
Irina watched as George Nelson drove away and once his car was out of sight, she slipped into his house via the sliding glass door. Surveillance from the past few days had revealed that he had no pets to contend with and that he left for work promptly at 7:15 am and didn't arrive home until after 7 pm. She would have plenty of time to methodically sift through his belongings.
Her research had indicated that this was George's childhood home, which he now owned after his mother. George had a modest checking and savings account and had no safety deposit boxes registered in his or his mother's name in any of the local banks. The last thing she was required to do was to go through his belongings before she must carry out the ultimate mission.
She started upstairs, in his bedroom, knowing that most important papers were probably stored there. She rifled through his files, the books on his shelves and the junk in the nightstand. Shoeboxes were emptied and the mattresses were overturned and still Irina found nothing. She found no papers indicating George's father. Even his birth certificate listed John Smith as the father. There were no pictures of George or Maureen with Andrei; she didn't find any security box keys amongst his things. She was certain that she had searched everywhere possible.
With a sigh she resigned herself to the last portion of her task. Irina checked the time and found it to be nearly 5:30. She had promised that she would call home from her conference at dinnertime. Irina headed out the sliding door and to her waiting car, driving to the nearest gas station with a payphone.
"Hello darling."
"Yes, I'm having a good time at the conference. How was your day at school, Sydney?"
"Really? We'll have to go buy Tammy a present to take to the party. Do you know what'd you like to get her?"
"Is Daddy making dinner tonight?"
"Oh, what is he making?"
"I love you and miss you sweetie. Can you put Dad on the phone?"
"Hi Jack. So its spaghetti tonight?"
"When do you leave for your trip?"
"Oh."
"I'm having a good time. The lecturer on interpreting themes in medieval poetry was very interesting. I really enjoyed his discussion session afterwards."
"The group is trying to decide where to go for dinner."
"Yes darling, I miss you too."
"I should be home tomorrow night around seven."
"Jack."
"I love you. I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up the phone and wiped the tear from her eye.
Back at George's house, she waited silently in the closet, screwing the silencer onto her gun.
Irina stiffened when she heard the front door open and someone walk into the house. Footsteps traced through the living room into the kitchen. She heard someone open the refrigerator. The TV came on, startling her and she steadier herself as the footsteps passed by her closet and up the stairs.
Minutes later the foot steps came back down the stairs and she heard the couch moan as someone settle onto the couch. She breathed deeply and focused her mind on the task ahead. Slowly she opened the door of the closet and congratulates herself remembering to put some oil on the hinges so they wouldn't squeak. Her socked feet made no noise as she gingerly tiptoed to get a view of the person on the couch, confirming that it was her mark.
She raised her gun and fired, the bullet making its target without hindrance. George's body slumped slightly and the TV sounds filling the room.
Smells of gasoline wafted through the house, followed by the smell of smoke.
No one saw the figure slip out of the sliding door.
No one saw the car on the next block over drive away.
No one saw the flames until the house was engulfed.
The neighbors blamed themselves for not noticing in time, thinking that their lack of attention may have saved their neighbor's life. But no one could have saved his, not even his parents.
And no one ever claimed the security box at the National City Bank under the name of Mary Ellen Ferguson, which happened to be Maureen Nelson's mother's name.
***
"She's back again, Charlie."
"I see that. I wonder who she's here to see?" The guards at Langley began speculating about the woman in black.
She had become a bit of a legend, as most people came once during the ceremony of remembrance and never returned. She was the only one who actually came back. No one could really remember when she first started to show up, but she always seemed to gain attention.
She stood there for about 15 minutes and turned and walked out the door.
At the bottom of the stairs, Irina felt a hand on her arm.
"Do not be alarmed and just keep walking. Cuvee sent me." She glanced to her right to see the man next to her. She smiled as if she knew the man and continued to walk along with him.
"My name is Calder and we have much in common."
"Pleased to meet you. I am surprised at Gerard would have you get in touch with me."
"Our missions have been similar."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. And I am under the impression that both of our assignments will soon be over."
"I have not received information that would support that belief."
"Ah." Calder stopped and looked at her. "Then I believe we should talk in more detail. I believe it is time for lunch. Are you hungry?"
"I am in the mood for Chinese."
"So be it."
The two hailed a taxi and got in.
"Mommy, you got another book from Daddy." Sydney stood at the front door offering the brown wrapped package as if it were a crown of gold.
"Thank you darling." Irina took the package from her hands and kissed the top of her head. "Let's go see what story we got this time."
Sydney held her mother's hand as they walked into the house and through to the kitchen. Irina poured two glasses of lemonade, as was their habit, and carried them out to the patio. Sydney sat patiently on the wicker chair, her feet swinging but her hands still.
Irina took a drink of her lemonade and then began to remove the wrapping. Blue embossed leather blossomed from beneath the brown paper, gilded edges catching the sunlight. Sydney leaned over to ooh and ahh over the beautiful book.
"What is it, Mommy?"
"Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare."
"Tell me the story."
"It is a sad story about love, Sydney." Irina stood and held out her hand. "Let's go fix dinner for Daddy and I'll tell you the story before bed."
"But Mommy, I thought love stories were happy."
"Not all, sweetie. Not all of them."
*** 1957
Andrei Chenerev watched from his car as Maureen Nelson walked out of the doctor's office. She paused and placed one hand on the granite wall while her other hand massaged her lower back through the soft folds of her maternity shirt.
He continued to observe her as she slowly walked down the sidewalk and settled on the bench next to the bus stop. She wiggled about trying to find a comfortable position' eventually she stopped fidgeting and pushed herself back to a standing position. She leaned heavily on the back of the bench and Andrei could see her sigh from his location.
The number 10 bus pulled to the stop minutes later and the woman got on board. Andrei watched as she lowered herself into a seat near the front and he continued to stare as the bus pulled away. *** 1981
George Nelson jogged through Silver Spring Park completely unaware that he was being watched. He stayed along the crushed gravel path as it wound past the pond and along the edge of the woods. Occasionally he wiped at the sweat on his brow and began a second circuit.
Irina absently flipped the pages of the novel in her hand, rolling over onto her stomach. To the casual observer she was just another person enjoying the park on a beautiful day, but she was there to keep an eye on George. She took a sip from her soda can and watched as George slowed to a walk, making his way off the path and towards a picnic table. He grabbed a towel off the table and wiped down his limbs. Irina stood, her eyes never leaving George and folded up the blanket she had been lying on.
George picked up the duffle bag and walked to his car, stopping by a water fountain for a drink. Irina got into her rented c, following as he drove out of the park and to his apartment.
*** 1957
It was the middle of the night and the hospital nursery was nearly deserted except for a few of the new fathers. Andrei slipped into the hall from the stairwell and walked over to the viewing windows. Scanning the tags on the bassinets, he finally located the one marked "Baby Boy Nelson". A nurse came to the window and he pointed at the blue wrapped bundle and the nurse brought the sleeping baby to the window.
"Its all a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"
"What?" Andrei was startled by the other voice; looking to the right he saw a young man with the beginnings of a scruffy beard and wrinkled clothes.
"One minute you're waiting and the next moment you're a father. I'm not sure if I'll every get used to it. Is that your son?" the stranger asked.
"Um, yes, this is my son." Andrei turned again to look at the baby and watched as the nurse returned him to the bassinet.
"What is his name?" Andrei looked confused.
"Well, uh, we have not decided yet." Andrei looked around, trying to find a way to extract himself from this conversation. "I must go. Good luck with your child."
"Her name is Madeline and thank you. Good luck to you too." The man was too content by watching his sleeping daughter to notice as Andrei made his way back to the stairs.
*** 1981 (two weeks before)
"This agent is not a threat to Russia, why has he been targeted?" Irina stood up and grabbed a half full glass of water off the table.
"Irina, you should know that it is not your place to question who our superiors target."
"But he is barely a man. He's only been a field agent for six months. What kind of damage could he have done in six months?"
"I do not know why, only that you are to kill him."
Irina paced around the room, silent, but it was evident that she was forming elaborate arguments and theories in her mind. Khasinau sat back in the chair and lit another cigarette. He knew that there was no need to argue with Irina now; she was doing all the work for him.
Both swung around, startled by a knock at the door and became still and quiet. Khasinau motioned for her to step into the bathroom while he checked the peephole. Irina poised a gun in her outstretched hands. Khasinau leaned in towards the door, turning back to Irina and subtly shook his head. She lowered her gun slightly as Khasinau opened the door just a crack. Moments passed and he opened the door a bit more and stuck his head out, checking the hall in both directions.
A hand from the outside pushed in and Cuvee swept into the room, staring down the barrel of Irina's gun and met her hard eyes.
"Hello to you, too, darling," he cooed.
Irina raised the gun an inch or two more, narrowing her eyes. Seconds ticked by and she finally lowered her weapon. She swept passed him into the main room and went to stand by the sliding glass door. She turned as if looking out the door, but only enough to keep from making eye contact with Cuvee. Tension filled the air as it were smoke. Khasinau was looking very warily at their superior, wondering why Cuvee had decided to come to this meeting in particular.
Cuvee pulled a file from underneath his sweater and flopped it down on the bed. He pulled out several pictures and spread them out on the bedspread.
"As you know, Irina, this is your mark, George Nelson," he pointed to a photograph of the young man walking out of the CIA office downtown.
"Yes Gerard. I would like to know why he is a mark, though? How could this young man be a threat?" Irina looked at the photograph briefly and then looked away trying to look nonchalant, not wanting to make eye contact with Cuvee. The question alone would set his temper flaming and she didn't want to appear to challenge him.
"Ah, yes, that age old question. I'm surprised you ask it any more my dear. You lost your innocence long ago in this business. Why do you care if he's a threat or not?"
Khasinau tried to fade into the surroundings not wanting to be any part of the ensuing power struggle between these two. Irina refused to speak and just shrugged her shoulders.
"In any case, this is Andrei Chenerev and Maureen Nelson. They are the boy's parents. Andrei was an operative in the United States during the late 50's and early 60's who unfortunately had a relationship that produced offspring. Mrs. Nelson died about a year ago leaving all of her personal affects to her only child George."
"What happened to Andrei?" Khasinau asked, starting the other two who had seemingly forgot he was in the room.
"Poor fool. He tried to get in contact with the Nelsons after he was recalled to the Motherland. For that he spent several years in Siberia and met an untimely death in 1972. We began to get concerned about the boy when we found he was joining the CIA. It was never discovered how much Andrei confided in his lover about his life and mission. Now that the lover is dead, we are afraid that she passed on any knowledge to her son."
"Surely that information would be worthless now, it is over 20 years old."
"Yet we still scour 500 year old documents from some madman named Rambaldi." Cuvee shrugged and sat in the chair next to the desk.
"Before you kill the young George, you need to search the house, banking records, safety deposit boxes to find any stray information that might hint at Andrei and his ties to Russia."
Irina looked out the sliding glass door and slowly nodded. He head was whipped around and she stood staring into Cuvee's hard eyes.
"Nonetheless, my dear, you will kill him. Is that understood?" She returned the hard glare without moving an inch or acknowledging his statement. He looked deeply in her eyes and roughly pulled her chin so that his face was only inches from hers.
"Yes, I think it would be very wise of you to follow all your orders. You never know if when you'll be recalled," he whispered.
Cuvee picked up the photographs and file from the bed and swept out of the room without another word. Irina and Khasinau looked at each other, their facings saying everything their voices were not.
***
Irina watched as George Nelson drove away and once his car was out of sight, she slipped into his house via the sliding glass door. Surveillance from the past few days had revealed that he had no pets to contend with and that he left for work promptly at 7:15 am and didn't arrive home until after 7 pm. She would have plenty of time to methodically sift through his belongings.
Her research had indicated that this was George's childhood home, which he now owned after his mother. George had a modest checking and savings account and had no safety deposit boxes registered in his or his mother's name in any of the local banks. The last thing she was required to do was to go through his belongings before she must carry out the ultimate mission.
She started upstairs, in his bedroom, knowing that most important papers were probably stored there. She rifled through his files, the books on his shelves and the junk in the nightstand. Shoeboxes were emptied and the mattresses were overturned and still Irina found nothing. She found no papers indicating George's father. Even his birth certificate listed John Smith as the father. There were no pictures of George or Maureen with Andrei; she didn't find any security box keys amongst his things. She was certain that she had searched everywhere possible.
With a sigh she resigned herself to the last portion of her task. Irina checked the time and found it to be nearly 5:30. She had promised that she would call home from her conference at dinnertime. Irina headed out the sliding door and to her waiting car, driving to the nearest gas station with a payphone.
"Hello darling."
"Yes, I'm having a good time at the conference. How was your day at school, Sydney?"
"Really? We'll have to go buy Tammy a present to take to the party. Do you know what'd you like to get her?"
"Is Daddy making dinner tonight?"
"Oh, what is he making?"
"I love you and miss you sweetie. Can you put Dad on the phone?"
"Hi Jack. So its spaghetti tonight?"
"When do you leave for your trip?"
"Oh."
"I'm having a good time. The lecturer on interpreting themes in medieval poetry was very interesting. I really enjoyed his discussion session afterwards."
"The group is trying to decide where to go for dinner."
"Yes darling, I miss you too."
"I should be home tomorrow night around seven."
"Jack."
"I love you. I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up the phone and wiped the tear from her eye.
Back at George's house, she waited silently in the closet, screwing the silencer onto her gun.
Irina stiffened when she heard the front door open and someone walk into the house. Footsteps traced through the living room into the kitchen. She heard someone open the refrigerator. The TV came on, startling her and she steadier herself as the footsteps passed by her closet and up the stairs.
Minutes later the foot steps came back down the stairs and she heard the couch moan as someone settle onto the couch. She breathed deeply and focused her mind on the task ahead. Slowly she opened the door of the closet and congratulates herself remembering to put some oil on the hinges so they wouldn't squeak. Her socked feet made no noise as she gingerly tiptoed to get a view of the person on the couch, confirming that it was her mark.
She raised her gun and fired, the bullet making its target without hindrance. George's body slumped slightly and the TV sounds filling the room.
Smells of gasoline wafted through the house, followed by the smell of smoke.
No one saw the figure slip out of the sliding door.
No one saw the car on the next block over drive away.
No one saw the flames until the house was engulfed.
The neighbors blamed themselves for not noticing in time, thinking that their lack of attention may have saved their neighbor's life. But no one could have saved his, not even his parents.
And no one ever claimed the security box at the National City Bank under the name of Mary Ellen Ferguson, which happened to be Maureen Nelson's mother's name.
***
"She's back again, Charlie."
"I see that. I wonder who she's here to see?" The guards at Langley began speculating about the woman in black.
She had become a bit of a legend, as most people came once during the ceremony of remembrance and never returned. She was the only one who actually came back. No one could really remember when she first started to show up, but she always seemed to gain attention.
She stood there for about 15 minutes and turned and walked out the door.
At the bottom of the stairs, Irina felt a hand on her arm.
"Do not be alarmed and just keep walking. Cuvee sent me." She glanced to her right to see the man next to her. She smiled as if she knew the man and continued to walk along with him.
"My name is Calder and we have much in common."
"Pleased to meet you. I am surprised at Gerard would have you get in touch with me."
"Our missions have been similar."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. And I am under the impression that both of our assignments will soon be over."
"I have not received information that would support that belief."
"Ah." Calder stopped and looked at her. "Then I believe we should talk in more detail. I believe it is time for lunch. Are you hungry?"
"I am in the mood for Chinese."
"So be it."
The two hailed a taxi and got in.