Earlier this year, my history teacher made us write short stories that revolved around the idea of World War I and the Cold War. While we were allowed to be as creative as wanted to be, we had to incorporate at least 15 facts into the story and be as historically accurate as possible... and this is what I came up with. Constructive criticism is appreciated :) 

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Lynette Henderson kept her eyes cast downwards as the pastor droned on and on about her husband's honorable qualities.The sun shone brightly over the vivid autumn colors, doing nothing to lighten the somber mood among the funeral goers. Lynette brushed a speck of dust off her black velvet dress, if only to keep herself from crying. She took in a shaky breath and tried to focus on something other than the group of people who had arrived to offer their condolences. "He was such an amazing man, I'm so sorry for your loss- he was so kind, so sweet." All she wanted to do was scream that nobody had known her husband the way she had known him and then go home and cry.

The rest of the funeral passed in a blur and finally, the last person left. Lynette looked upwards as dark clouds began to roll in, the dull October weather seemed to reflect the wrenching pain in her heart. "Ma'am," a rough voice called out, waking her from her ruminations, "are you Ms. Lynette Henderson?"

She focused on the speaker, a tall, slender man who appeared to be in his early 50s. "Y-yes?"

She wrapped her arms around her thin frame as a gust of wind blew past, causing her dress to flutter around her knees. She shivered involuntarily, goosebumps rising on the back of her arms.

"I'm Mr. Philip Agee. I need you to come with me."

Her hands felt clammy as she remembered that this was exactly how the news of her dead husband had reached her just a week ago. Her husband had been killed in action overseas and nobody would answer her questions as to what exactly had happened. She knew he had been involved in the Bay of Pigs Invasion that had occurred in the past year and she had an inkling that her husband had been killed because of his involvement. America had wanted to overthrow Fidel Castro because of his demand for Communism in his country. They had ultimately failed and her husband had been one of the lucky survivors. Nevertheless, she followed the man to his car and sat inside as he started the engine. He kept his eyes on the road, shifting his gaze towards her every couple minutes.

A flash of recognition went off in her eyes, "y-you're the one who sat in on my interview that day." She sighed inwardly as she leaned against the upholstered seat. Lynette had no doubt that this had to do with the threat of nuclear warfare which had loomed dangerously above them for weeks. Truman's Doctrine back in '47 tried to stop Soviet expansion, but had instead kicked off a chain of events that led to this war. The Cold War had gone on for so long, 15 years to be exact, that she had spent the months before her husband's death learning Russian and training to help the effort. She had been told not to tell anyone what she was doing, specifically the part where she had joined the Central Intelligence Agency. "Can... I... ask you exactly what I'm needed for?"

"Early this morning, the United States National Security Advisor, McGeorge Bundy, presented photographs to President Kennedy that prove Russia is sending offensive weapons to Cuba. We need to know what is going on."

Her heart fluttered quickly in her chest. "C-can't I get a day? My husband's funeral was today... I-I need more time," she croaked.

"There's no time, Ms. Henderson. We need you right now. Khrushchev and Kennedy need to reach an agreement or else war may become a reality."

Philip stopped the engine in front of her house.

"Listen, Ms. Henderson," he gestured towards her, "we need someone to infiltrate Swinoujscie Signal Intelligence base in Germany and we feel that you are the only one who can do this." He took off his fedora and smoothed his graying hair down, "please, Ms. Henderson. I understand that you've done some surveillance yourself. I know it must have been hard to keep it a secret from your husband, but we thank you for the names you've given us." He took a deep breath, "the truth is, we need someone who has been trained for this job and that person," he pointed a finger at her, "is you."

"But my husband..." she trailed off, "I-I can't. I need more time."

Philip took her hands into his own and stared at her with his soft brown eyes, "we'll keep you safe and we understand that you've gone through a terrible tragedy but we really can't afford to waste any more time."

Lynette observed her surroundings through the car window: the one story house with the drooping orange tree, the dead yellow grass in the front yard, the plastic toys littering her neighbor's front yard. Without her husband, she didn't have much left here.

"I'll be at the airport tonight." Regaining composure, she turned the door handle and turned away from him, "I'll do my best to help my country."

"Thank you, Ms. Henderson. That's very noble of you.'

-*-*-*-*-

My name is Leni Weber. My name is Leni Weber. I am Leni Weber. The words repeated themselves like a mantra inside her head as she approached the young blonde man, Chief Vladik Anchov, according to her files. He was a lot more handsome than the picture in the file made him out to be. She had been briefed early this morning at the compound with the rest of her team on her role. She was to be introduced as a translator who worked with Arman, a former Soviet turned US spy who had established rapport with this group. "Leni... Weber?" he questioned with a lilt in his accent.

"Yes, sir." She stared into his piercing hazel eyes.

"Well, seems as though you're quite the genius." He said, flipping through the papers in his hand, "Akademiya, military, and perfect English? Arman seems to trust you and he's one of my best." He grinned at her, "I hope you give me a reason to trust you too."

He barked a few other indistinguishable phrases in Russian and the other men and women in the room approached. He clapped his hands once, assuming order.

"Kennedy is threatening war on us if we continue supplying missiles to Cuba. Now, this is a problem because Cuba needs our help." He scratched the stubble on his jaw, "Don't you remember the Bay of Pigs invasion last year? We cannot afford something like that to happen to us or to Cuba." Lynette's chest constricted as the invasion was mentioned, her husband's phantom caresses flashing through her mind.

"We know we have the upper hand here, we detonated Tsar Bomba last year and it was the greatest nuclear weapon the world has ever seen. If the war begins, we will win."

Arman piped up from beside the chief, making eye contact with Lynette and nodding his oblong-shaped face at her, "Kennedy has not informed the Americans of what is going on. They're saying he's ill to excuse why he hasn't appeared in public. It is in our best interests to keep war from becoming a reality." Lynette frowned, this was not what they had discussed earlier in the compound, but Arman had been here for years and it was in her best interest to trust him.

"But if the US cannot reach an agreement with us, we shall have to launch an attack against them. We have missiles and other weapons stored. Our people in the labs are working to find another formula to make a new kind of bomb," Vladik said. Lynette shuddered, this was the kind of information Philip needed from her, she just needed the documents to prove it. "The US has members of NATO on their side who will ally with them if we attack. We don't want this war which has been cold for so long to become a reality"

She began to formulate a plan in her mind; she would infiltrate the storage facility on the upper level of this building which, according to her files, housed blueprints and documents for weapons of destruction. She took a deep breath and silently promised herself that she would carry out her plan, even as fear coursed through her.

-*-*-*-*-

The compound was a small gray concrete building that blended in with the dozens of other partially constructed structures. She looked around nervously in the dark and tapped the door with her foot. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance as a soft breeze blew through the shrubbery. An owl hooted as it flew past and she shivered, rubbing her hands over her bare arms. Her legs ached from climbing through the tight vents to gain access to the files that lay snugly under the fabric of her shirt. It had taken her days to acquire the documents, mostly because Vladik never seemed to leave the base, but tonight, she had seen an opportunity and taken it. Arman opened the door, "nobody followed you." It wasn't a question.

She nodded hesitantly and walked through the doorway, her tattered boots clacking against the tiled floor. She noticed the ripple of his muscular arm as he raised it and made 3 deliberate knocks on the second door. The door opened with a bang which jolted her senses. "Lynette," the man behind the door gestured towards her. Dr. Hisham Aboud was a handsome man with curly black hair and a moustache that curled upwards, "what have you got for us?"

Lynette pulled the files out from underneath her shirt, "they were easy enough to get," she offered him the thin folder and squeezed past him and Arman to get inside the small, rectangular room. The files had been quite easy to access, but the adrenaline from breaking into the locked room still pumped through her veins. Sarah Robert's voice reverberated throughout the room as she nodded in acknowledgement of the newcomers and continued on with what she was saying to the small gathering of people in front of her.

"-Kennedy and his advisors are debating whether or not to to launch an airstrike on the Soviet weapons in Cuba. For right now, they've ordered a quarantine on the island. Sarah toyed with an object in her hands, "Kennedy secretly recorded his meetings with ExComm and we have access to one here."

As Sarah turned on the recorder, the grainy voice of an ExComm member filled the room, "Our legal problem was that their action wasn't illegal." The members of ExComm were specially chosen aides who were helping Kennedy with the crisis and according to this, it seemed as if they were having second thoughts about declaring a quarantine. Lynette felt uneasy as the tape continued, making note of the circular disk jutting from beneath Arman's shirt. That wasn't right, what was Arman doing?

"Lynette seems to have found some information that could be useful in our negotiations with Nikita Khrushchev." Dr. Aboud handed the red-haired woman Lynette's documents. Lynette held her breath as the woman flipped through the pages. Sarah's blue eyes widened as she got to the bottom of the second page.

"DARPA's new program allows us to communicate with each other very quickly and the information will be with Kennedy in just a matter of minutes."

-*-*-*-*-

"They know! Somebody told them," Vladik roared, "Kennedy will not agree to our terms until we come clean. Arman, secure the entries. Nobody comes in and nobody leaves. Lower level operators will be questioned. Every person in this room will be interrogated. I suggest giving yourself up before you're questioned."

The lights bounced off the squeaky linoleum floors of the interrogation room. She sat on a rickety plastic chair across a tattooed man who smiled menacingly at her. "Leni Weber," he said with a thick accent, "you've been here for 12 days and already you've gained his trust."

She said nothing, silently fingering the fist-sized pit in the wooden table. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest. The CIA had taught her how to get through interrogations and she was planning on getting out of this one alive. Her eyes landed on the plastic cup that had been offered to her when she first walked in. She felt the discomfort from the circular disk jammed in the toe of her boot. Lynette had been searched, ordered to take off her jacket and gloves, and yet they hadn't bothered to check her shoes. She felt like maniacally laughing, she was being interrogated by Russians at a base in Germany and her husband was dead. Had she gone mad? Thousands had died in the Korean War and yet she was still here. America and Russia were at the brink of war and yet she was still here. She took a sip of water from the cup- wait, hadn't that been the first thing they told her not to do?

The door banged open, revealing three men with guns holstered to their waists just as she lost consciousness, swimming through the memories that injured her mind.

-*-*-*-*-

Lynette blinked in the darkness. She pressed her clammy hands to the side of the truck; feeling squeamish as she felt something slimy beneath her fingers. The truck lurched forwards and came to a sudden stop. She felt her legs buckle underneath her and fell down, her legs splayed. The doors of the truck opened suddenly, allowing sunlight to stream into the darkness for the first time in hours. A rough hand clamped onto her elbow and dragged her out of the truck. He pushed her around and forcefully tied her hands behind her back. Broken whispers reached her ears as he pushed her forwards. She stumbled over a rock embedded in the dirt. She heard the crunch of leaves underneath her swollen bare feet. The smell of rotting flesh revived her senses and she looked around wildly, struggling to get out of his grasp.

"You're the rat," the tattooed man from earlier spit out, "and here we were, thinking you were just some innocent translator that Arman brought here." she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck, "and Arman? He sold you out. That's right, tyolka, he was working for us this entire time."

"Also," he seethed, "Kennedy agreed. We're retrieving our missiles from Cuba because he agreed to withdraw his weapons from Turkey." He pulled out the circular disk and held it to what little light that permeated the thick shrubbery. "What is so important about this?" She groaned as he kicked the back of her leg, the meaning of his words suddenly dawning on her. So her hunch about Arman had been right.

"You will never find out," she answered through gritted teeth.

He kicked her leg again, "wrong answer."

The noise was deafening, a sudden single gunshot from somewhere over the ledge. Lynette screamed and looked shocked as she registered the blood seeping from her chest. Her subduer had pushed her aside, knowing that the bullet was meant for him, and rolled onto the floor. Her knees collapsed and she fell onto her back, her shirt rising a few inches to reveal the milky white skin of her stomach which was marred by cuts and bruises. Lynette lay on the dirty forest floor, laboring as she struggled to breathe, her hands still zip-tied behind her back. Her brown hair was matted around her head and the white of her shirt was dyed red from the blood. She saw her husband's gentle face behind her flickering eyelids. "Kip," she gasped "...I-I'm coming."

"Leni!" Vladik screamed from inside the truck and ran towards the fallen woman. He clutched his revolver tightly in his hands and aimed for the ledge, shooting until there were no more bullets left. He dropped the gun and kneeled beside her, "What did you do?"

"N-not Leni. My name's... L-Lynette," A peaceful smile overtook her features as she closed her green eyes for the very last time and her body went still.

-*-*-*-*-

Mr. Philip Agee placed a single red rose on top of the freshly dug grave. He hadn't been able to fulfill his promise to her but he would forever remember the petite woman who had pleaded to join the CIA. At first, they had laughed, but the woman had gone through all the necessary training and more to become an agent. Philip recalled how she had stared him down with those green eyes of her as she had sat in the car the day of her husband's funeral- the day that started the Cuban Missile Crisis- the day he had doomed her to her death. It had taken some negotiation on his part but he had ultimately received what was left of her. He thought she would have liked to be buried next to her husband. He scanned her tombstone; Lynette Henderson: Wife, Daughter, Fighter. What a woman, he thought and shook his head in wonder, what a woman.