| Home I was an undercover Russian Spy ?? It all happenned back in 1970, as I walking along the street in my hometown here in British Columbia, Canada, a police car pulled up beside me, and ordered me to get in for questioning. They put me in the back seat and said they had been following me for some time, and wanted to interrogate me concerning my recent activities. They took me immediately to the policestation where, they put me in a closed room with a one-way mirror and started grilling me on my movements a year before. I was totally perplexed and intimidated. But just being a naive 20 year old, I tried to show respect and remain somewhat composed but what were they talking about. What was my crime? Why had they been stalking me for so long? What had I done that was so criminal? Well, their questioning took me back a year before when I was on the Canadain Basketball Team that went to the World Championships in Yugoslavia. They had found out I missed a team bus to the Basketball Arena and had the audacity to just walk on foot through Communist territory to the Arena. So why did I do this and what did I do along the way? Who did I rendezvous with? They suggested I had a quick affair with a beauitful Russian woman posing as a peasant girl? A seductress that would have agents take pictures of our illicit international union and then they were now black-mailing me for all my information now that I was back in Canada. Whoa's says I, " I missed the bus because I wasn't that interested in watching other teams play. I was down by the Agean blue waters taking pictures of the flowers and the sky and the wind and the beaches." I told them that I still had some of the pictures in my album. "Sure they said, likely story, and then you just walked to the Arena on your own when it's about four miles." Of course, I said. I'm used to walking and have good orientation because of my background in the outdoors. It's almost impossible for me to get lost." Ha, said they, we know your tricks. Admit it, you hooked up with a Russian hooker, and they are blackmailing you into sending them top secret documents." At this point it was getting to be rather humouress, in at least my eyes. Me, little old me, (or should I say big thin athletic me), I know top secret information that the Russians need to know. Sure I could give them our city map and tell them where all the best fishing lakes are, but what more could I provide them with. This finnally made them break, and they relented, also seeing the absolute stupidy of what they were insinuating. Ha, they even had a bit of a giggle themselves. And then attempted to cover their shame with ' We're just doing our job ...son '. So wisely, I didn't tell them a little undercover work or sight-seeing of Yugoslavian women might have been an interesting memory of the World Championships, and so they released me. For alas I had no such experiences. And alas, I am NOT an undercover spy for the Russians. In His (Real) Service Jay |