Espionage Speaks in French

On a cold, snowy night in the eastern most part of Russia, nationless spy Codename: Odysseus is asleep on a cot at the end of a queen sized bed in an apartment of the lively port town of Anadyr, Russia, awaiting a phone call from his favorite person in the world. And eventually he receives this phone call. However, not for any flirtatious reason, the cost of the call is to Odysseus’ misfortune as he is startled by the ring of his burner and slips from the well-meaning cot unto the cold, unforgiving floor; roused from his sought after sleep.

Odysseus, coming to, after expressing his dismay through groaning, whining, and the empty threat to quit if these conditions kept up, paired with very choice words, reached out for the burner and slipped back onto the floor, flipping the phone open and pressing it to his face, eagerly waiting.

Through sounds of buzzing and the soft whine of white noise, he listened carefully, reaching for some familiar sound; desperately listening and ecstatic to hear through the burner a familiar voice saying, “The Snow is White- Stars through Moons.”

Systematically and without hesitation or pause, he chimed back with his own verse, “The Sun is neither Bright- No Rings nor Satellite.”

This was easily the favorite simple pleasure his line of work provided him. There were plenty of grand instances of bliss, excitement, euphoria. Working for Atlas Corp.^TM had spectacular moments, but they were all buried in a sea of difficult, dangerous, and sometimes dull work that just wasn’t engaging anymore. But not this; this was poetry to him. He would do the grunt work forever it meant these beautiful interactions could persist. Something as routine and procedural as the language of espionage; he somehow saw the beauty in.

In 1964, a French film titled Band of Outsiders saw its release and, subsequently, two years later, American film critic Pauline Kael says the following in regards to the movie, “It’s as if a French poet took an ordinary banal American crime novel and told it to us in terms of the romance and beauty he read between the lines…” From this praise of a crime movie from the mid-60s, aspiring filmmaker Quentin Tarantino would realize his own aesthetic and what he would aspire to create- The Poetry Between the Lines. Codename: Odysseus was lucky enough to stumble across Tarantino’s dissection of his own signature style in an interview. And unbeknownst to him, it planted deep inside of his mind a love and admiration and longing for the poetry between the lines of his own life.

Attentively listening past the humming on the other side of the phone, the voice opposite to him replied, “Mission delayed for rain, stand by for orders.”

How disappointing. Seven months of mind numbing recon in Moscow to lead him here, two weeks waiting for an all clear to begin what could be done in two hours easy. Masking frustration, he jests to her, “Words cannot begin to describe the anguish this news brings me, Sarah.”

Robotically, she replies, “Sorry to disappoint. The mission statement said “weather permitting”. I’ll get you out there as soon as I can.”

“Don’t tell me you actually believe I’m upset.” He said this jokingly but, in all honesty, he would be genuinely heart-broken if she did.

Shocked by this remark, having spent the whole day barking coded messages to grumpy agents scattered across the motherland, she scrambled to reply and laughing, said, “Odysseus? I’m so sorry. You wanna know who I thought you were?

“More than anything.” He meant it too. He was bored beyond belief..

“I thought it was Codename: Eros.”

He was glad to know that she hadn’t forgotten him. “The nerve of you. The nap you just woke me up from was at least forty-three minutes in the making, on what is easily the most meh couch I’ve ever had the luxury of breaking my back on. I was only asleep for like twelve minutes and because of your little weather report I’ll never sleep again. And then you have the nerve to misidentify the likes of me!”

She was excited to hear from him again. “I extend to you my deepest and most sincere apologies.”

“Whatever, you know I’m just kidding.” He loved talking to Sarah; easily his favorite handler to date. “Do you know when I’ll actually get out there or if I’ll have to wait long?”

“Not really. You pretty much have until the “rain lets up” and it honestly looks like the rest of the night and if that’s the case it’ll just get rescheduled till the next window of opportunity.”

“Copy. What’ll you be up to till then?”

“I’ve got a couple of statements to correct and then I’m gonna fix an old report. What about you?”

“Nothing planned really. You wanna hang out?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. Why not? How many times are we gonna be this close again? No one knows where we are or what we’re doing. And if you’re off soon, why not? I have all night it seems and it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

They’d never met one another. Odysseus had only been her asset for barely seven months and he was sending any Intel from Moscow directly through her in Anadyr. It was only by coincidence that his tail brought him here now.

“You are absolutely right. I gotta get my files and shit then I’ll be up.”

“Ok bring snacks.” He was desperately trying to be charming and make her laugh because, in truth, Sarah was the only friend he’d made in years, especially since joining Atlas Corp.^TM

Odysseus snapped his burner phone in half and threw it unto the small fireplace in the front of the room. He returned to the cot and closed his eyes again.

When he opened them, Sarah was there, knocking on the door. Much more gracefully this time, he arose from the cot and approached the door, gun in hand. Pointing it toward the door, he spied through the peep hole. A girl, snacks in hand raised up beside her face, smiled on the other end- exciting times.  

Odysseus opened the door and welcomed his handler inside. “Oh my, I wasn’t expecting guests, I would’ve cleaned up if only I’d only known, gesturing to the untouched room with his weapon.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Odysseus.”

“And you. I’m glad you came. I have no friends and I’m terribly lonely always. It never stops really.” He had made her laugh.

The night continued on. Both seemed unphased by any of the social ticks that would send most spiraling in discomfort. They ate the snacks Sarah had brought with her, chips, granola, nuts among other things, and conversed.

Food in his mouth, Odysseus asked himself, “Hey. Can it even rain in Russia?”

“What a-” she laughed at the question, “curious question,” “How long you been sleeping on that one?”

“Yes thank you. I was just thinking about-“

“Ooo, thinking?,” winced Sarah jokingly. “That’s not what you get paid for though is it.”

“Oh my god right-yes of course so sorry ma’am won’t happen again.”

“Damn straight. How ‘bout you stick to the espionage and leave the thinking to me.”

They both laughed but Odysseus squinted and prodded again. “But like, does it rain.”

She kicked him a little as she did it but she responded, “Yes, it rains in Russia.”

He glanced between the fireplace and her, “Well how could I have known for sure? It’s cold.”

“Private military super spy Codename: Odysseus doesn’t know if it rains.”

“Hey. We’ve all got gaps.” They both comedically and semi-aggressively nodded in agreement.

Sarcastically, Sarah whispered out loud, “Word.”

“But why don’t we adjust codes like that for climate though?”

“Oh god, I don’t know. I just read the book, dude.”

“Are you to tell me that such an experienced handler such as yourself doesn’t have every code, regulation, and bylaw memorized?” “Frankly I’m disgusted.”

“You wanna memorize every potential alternative?”

“God no. I’ll stick to my bimonthly memorization of your poetic Challenge replies.” He struggled to get the words out clearly through his own laughter.

“I love those.”

“Yes thank you! You pick the ones we do, right?”

Mimicking a curtsy, Sarah giggled back, “I do, thank you kindly. You like?”

Laughter gone from his voice, Odysseus, poignantly, remarked to Sarah, “I love them. So very much. One of the few joys of espionage I still love.”

The tone of the room was still upbeat, but more serious. Still smiling, Sarah asked Odysseus, “Have you considered retirement?”

“I have. Didn’t like the thought.”

“Then what’ll you do? Die doing this? Something you’re not even sure you still like?” She took the air out of the room. She veered her gaze from his, embarrassed.

The room stayed quiet for a little bit; both listening to the crackle of the fireplace. Sarah looked back at Odysseus. He was staring long past the fireplace, though there was nothing to see there.

“I have mulled it over, Sarah. And I think I am prepared to spend the rest of my career, maybe even my life, reciting the poetry that is your code. Perhaps somber, but-” He paused and looked away from her. Odysseus looked back to Sarah and, through a smile, replied to his one friend left in the world, “I don’t think I could find something that I love more.”