Bridge of Spies

The weather was getting treacherous every passing moment as the snowfall became severe. The Glienicke Bridge had never looked so dreary as if a betrayal was on the offing. It was dark and it was time. Both sides were present at the respective ends of the bridge with an exchange of spies on the cards. No one present there could still fathom how this deal was actually happening at the peak of the cold war. How on earth could the Americans and the Russians agree to a deal? These men were certainly no ordinary spies. Something pivotal was at stake which the rest of the world was myopic to.

The two spies started their long walk to freedom. Bogdon and Peter had been subjected to severe degrees of torture as the respective Police departments tried their best to get any information about the status of nuclear programs. They had been beaten, sliced and butchered but none of them had revealed anything like true patriots. Bogdon was hopeful that he would certainly be rewarded by the Soviet for his unrelenting loyalty. Peter was thoughtless. They had made a stone out of him. He could hardly feel any nerve.

As they crossed each other, Bogdon glanced sideways at Peter but he could only see the scares. There was nothing in his eyes. It was as if a walking dead going back to Uncle Sam. Bogdon now was half past the bridge. His steps were getting bigger and his pace faster. He was hopeful for normalcy. Peter kept the same pace. As if he knew what beckons on home turf. When a spy returns to his home country, there is this one little problem. How do they ensure, he is still “their” spy?

But Bogdon had a better picture in mind nothing less than a knight, shinning bright. He had been successful at his mission. He had revealed no information. And he had been successful in sending loads of information back home. But to his surprise, he was arrested as soon as he stepped into his country. Soviet intelligence had doubts over his integrity. Was Bogdon with the Americans now? There was no way to find out. He was kept in custody for all these years and no intimation was given to his family. To them, he was already a martyr.

Bogdon had lost his composure by now. He shouted out loud his innocence which only fell on deaf ears. They wouldn’t risk anything for the security reasons. What was his fault anyway? He gave up everything to go live anonymously in a foreign land risking whatever he had with him. He gave up his family, his loving wife Maria and his little boy Konstantine. They didn’t even know that he was alive and decaying in their own country. Slowly he gave up hope.  He remained in that dark cell forever. No one knows what happened to him.

And, on the other continent, no one knows what happened to Peter!