Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

5. Moscow

September 27, 1956

Red Square

Moscow, Soviet Union

I leaned down to see a better angle out the car window. Colorful buildings zipped by as we drove down the cobblestone street. Our Russian driver virtually had the road all to himself.

The increasing tensions with the Soviet Union made it very difficult to enter the country. The US ambassador to Russia sat beside me, explaining the latest political rhetoric out of the Kremlin. It was enough to make my head spin.

Russia himself had not responded to my multiple and varied attempts to contact him. In the end, I decided to show up unannounced. The ambassador and I summoned courage in the safety of the car before stepping out to meet our counterparts.

"Vyacheslav, good to see you," Thompson greeted warmly, exchanging a handshake. "I'm very pleased to introduce my assistant, Mary Donovan."

His eyes sparked in recognition of my code name. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Mikhailov?" he asked perceptively.

"I do not."

"Oh."

He gestured to one of his associates as he issued an instruction in Russian. Before I knew it, an aide was ushering me away from my concerned companion.

As we walked through an office wing, I struggled to read the Cyrillic letters on the frosted glass doors. Luckily, the one we entered also had English letters. "Aleksandr Mikhailov, Foreign Affairs." The aide transferred me to a secretary, who deposited me in an empty office and told me to wait.

I sat on a cold leather sofa. Locking my fingers together, I listened to a phonograph in the corner play soft, grainy orchestral music. My eyes wandered across the cluttered bookshelves around the room, full of titles I couldn't read.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Russia was already frowning before he even laid eyes on me.

"Russia," I greeted with a smile. "Good to finally see you."

He coldly shook my hand. His brown eyes scanned my face as if I had come to murder him. "USA," he said.

I bristled at his icy greeting. "Did you happen to receive...any of my messages?"

He nodded tolerantly. "Yes."

My confidence wavered. Expecting him to invite me over to the desk, I drifted in that direction. He remained rooted in place, staring at me.

"Turn around, please," he suddenly said.

Surprise rippled through me. "E—Excuse me?"

"Turn around," he repeated slowly, "please."

I hesitantly complied. When I sensed him invade my personal space from behind, my regret was instantaneous. His hand slid into the pocket of my trench coat, and I froze in shock. He even dared to graze his hand over the front pocket of my skirt. Halfway through this violation, I looked over my shoulder at him.

"I could have you reprimanded for this," I murmured.

His apathy revealed just how hollow my threat really was.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. He dropped my old train ticket into a trash can on his way to the desk. As he casually sat, I crossed my arms and cradled the small gun strapped under my armpit.

Thank God...

"Why are you here?" he asked briskly.

I released a short, incredulous sigh. "I wanted to speak with you...candidly," I managed. "But now...I'm not so sure."

His attention was focused on some papers on his desk. "Da, speak."

The moment perfectly captured our lack of mutual respect. His blatant rudeness brought my simmering anger to a boil. I crossed the room and stood in front of his desk with one hand on my hip.

He slowly lifted his gaze.

"Let's talk about Germany."

He laced his fingers and set them on the desk. "GDR is doing well."

"'Well'?" I repeated. "Have you been to West Germany?"

"Have you been to GDR?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

I refused to concede his point. I didn't have to visit East Germany to know that their Western counterparts were living much more comfortable lives.

"That's irrelevant," I stated. "At the end of the day, Germany has the right to self-determination, just like you and me."

He shook his head. "USA, you are...how do you say it? Naive." I blinked in surprise. "This 'self-determination' is good for you only when it's aligning with your desires. Your values."

I vehemently shook my head. "That's not true."

He answered with a blank stare

I suddenly realized he was referring to the war in Korea. "No system, especially not communism, that is...that is forced on people, will survive."

His expression was unperturbed. "People need guidance, purpose," he said matter-of-factly.

I planted my knuckles on the desk and leaned forward. "People need freedom."

His eyes narrowed. Reaching blindly to his left, he pressed a call button built into his desk. I heard it softly buzz.

"Freedom from self is true freedom," he stated calmly. "Your freedom is slavery to self."

I laughed at his propaganda-style statement. "If you want a competition, I'll give you a competition," I retorted. "East and West Germany will show the world exactly what works and what doesn't."

He raised an eyebrow as his secretary came to extract me.

"We shall see, da?"

~

A/N: Getting kinda cold in here... Please comment/vote <3