Prologue
Foxstone Park isn't much of one. The long, narrow stretch of Northern Virginia
woods is in reality a fourteen-acre floodplain that forms small lakes each time
it rains. Casual strollers have to step gingerly at those times or risk
returning home with wet feet. And today, February 18, 2001, Foxstone is not just
a sea of puddles and ponds. It is in total disarray.
Broken branches are strewn over the black asphalt path that runs northwesterly
nearly two miles from the corner of East Street and Ayr Hill Avenue. At the end
it culminates in a small basketball court and a tot lot of swings and slides.
Midway, the park is broken up by Creek Crossing Road, which one has to cross if
walking Foxstone's full length. But traffic is light on this suburban
thoroughfare. Mothers and children out for a Sunday stroll have rarely had
problems traversing its two narrow lanes.
To the left of the asphalt path is a small stream some twenty feet wide. On
February 18 it is littered with raggedy strands of indestructible plastic, blue
and gold cans of cheap beer labeled Busch Bavarian and Milwaukee's Best ... read full excerpt from: The Spy Who Stayed Out in the Cold ebook
