Granger, O
By: ncisnewbie
Owen Granger sat on the bed in a sterile extended-stay hotel. “This place isn’t bad,” he thought. “More decorated than my studio back in DC.” He stared at his day planner, doodling one last time on the number 29. Seven months he’d been staring at this day, covering, covering the entry for the twenty-ninth of July. If he had his way, July would simply skip from twenty-eighth to thirtieth, but if need be, there would be a day called ‘Box of July’ just to keep things balanced. The day came anyhow, like it had thirty times before, and the way he marked it never changed.
He poured his Scotch, then went to the wall safe and extracted a lock-box. From the lock-box he extracted a small pile of photos. From the top photo, a smiling couple looked back at him. The man looked like a younger version of himself: close-cropped black hair, a forehead prematurely barren. The nose, that was the difference: Then it was carved, sturdy and angular, like some 1950’s-era movie star; now it was bulbous and whiskey-swollen. The woman was petite and beautiful. Blazing red hair with a slender, bony frame: 160 cm high, and 48 kg of pure muscle, he remembered. The couple was framed by, of all things, a bear and its trainer. Young Owen stood next to the bear, which wore a flashy red costume and a muzzle. His love stood next to the trainer who held a motorcycle in his other hand. All the tumult of the famed Moscow Circus gamboled behind them.
The second photo showed the same woman, all in white, precisely posed en pointe, her red hair glossed and formed into an intricate swan-winged bun, topped with a feather hairpiece. A cygnet, he remembered. Swan Lake choreography that traced back ninety years. The part had been, she said, the best in her career. His finger traced along her form. “How, Marina? How could they take you away?” He rubbed her cheek; he slid his finger up along her arm, as if to offer what little support he could in that precarious pose.
* 0 *
Henrietta Lange ambled into the armory and initiated the security procedures for her wall safe. When it opened, she gathered a pile of CIA Top Secret files, and from it selected one for review. “MARINA BARZAKOVA / OWEN GRANGER, 8/27/84”
In the folder, a picture, taken with a long-focus lens, showed the happy couple sitting in the bleachers at the Moscow Circus. The photo only partially covered a yellowed, typewritten document, which Hetty extracted for review.
Report of H. LANGE 7/30/84, Chief, Station Elmer:
On 7/27, I was approached by Agent E. DAVID, Mossad, as I crossed Red Square, Moscow. We arranged to meet again in a mutually-acceptable secure location. There, Agent DAVID provided photographic evidence of a romantic entanglement between Agent O. GRANGER, also with the company, and USSR National, MARINA BARZAKOVA, 23. At the time, BARZAKOVA was a soloist with the USSR National Ballet Company, the Bolshoi Ballet. Originally from Baku, Azerbaijan SSR, she rose to prominence with the Bolshoi due both to her skill and to the sponsorship of DMITRI AGAMALI, 67,Chair, Azerbaijan People’s Committee. …
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