The Diary of a Russian Spy

PROLOGUE

I was on the run for most of my life.
I never had a day of peace, never had the luxury to decorate a house to live in, because from the age of twenty-three, I never stayed in the same place for more than two or three weeks. I could not own a car for too long- it was a great risk as my car would get tracked, followed and targeted. The joy of a wedding was absent from my life, and the hastily drawn ceremony which I eventually managed to arrange was marred by the deadliest gun fire and mortal assault.
I never had the satisfaction of holding my own child, never enjoyed the sunset without worrying about an assassin waiting to shoot me from the fading horizon, never could bask in a private beach for a tan without worrying a drone would strike and kill me and those around me in an instant. I never kept the curtains open for sunlight and never knew what it felt like to walk in the street without having to hide my face and identity.
Never had I the privilege to eat in a nice restaurant without my food order being drugged or spiked with nerve agents by paid waiters and chefs. I could never use a public restroom without being terrified of the person who walked inside the bathroom behind me. And finally, I could never trust anyone I talked to without thinking they have been paid to harm me or were hired men sent to kill me.