Marzine, Shanghai and J. Edgar Hoover.

She arrived in Shanghai late in the evening, 1960.

She exited the cargo plane, a ride secured by an importer of Maltese falcon statuettes in Greenwich Village, and into the foggy air. The mist off the streets smelled of fish, fear and opium.

She was escorted into the basement of a warehouse, where she was placed on a cot and given a white tablet to help her sleep. Unbeknownst to her, the pill contained a potent combination of Opium and Tarot root. And while she slept that night, she had vivid dreams of her husband's murder, after which she dreamed she woke up and spoke to a bearded Chinamen, who smoked opium out of a large hukka three meters above the floorboards, which teemed with bubbling blood. He reached out his hand to Marzine, whose torso was by now covered by the rising blood tide and in his grasp passed on the knowledge of love that Hershel was proud of her, no matter what had happened, she felt the love like a rug burn course through her arms and into her chest, as she opened her mouth wide and breathed in the smoke from the hukka.

A large crash was heard, and she awoke in the basement, where an elderly woman dabbed a damp towel over Marzine's forehead, as light from the oncoming day passed over the front window. She was burning up with fever, tossed and turned and fell in and out of sleep for the next few days. When she did awake, paralyzed with fear, her cot, soaked with sweat, she'd tremble at the thought of where she was and what had happened. She was having trouble discerning what had really happened that afternoon in Greenwich village or whether or not the whole thing was spun by the same yarn that created the majority of her songbook.

She slowly became dependent on Opium, as it helped her sleep and keep her mind off the dirty blood of her husband. She relived that moment, with shattered glass and Ed's body lying still, a hole in his head , where his mind had once been, a penetrating mind that could single handedly breakdown the McCarthy Hearings, could have broken down the Committee for Unamerican Activities, and her ransformation from patriotic American to concerned communist had begun.

If she was going to be outraged, she would associate herself with the party whose involvement had led to the death of her husband. She hadn't been a communist before, but goddamned it, she'd be one now. It was ironic, she'd been a leftist, but not a communist. But this senseless paranoid act, and the lily-livered fear that sheepsih cowered behind it lead her to China, Opium and burning ideals to recreate her husband as an ideology. She'd write a whole new batch of songs, propping up her husband as legend, the way she had for her father all those years ago.

Word of her songs traveled across the communist country, where she would become a hero, a martyr for the Communist party. She'd work at night, working on the right slogan, and logo for her husband. Banners of her husband that would eventually appear in public squares all across Shanghai.

It was the US Justice Department who discovered the banner on a routine spy mission a few weeks later. When word traveled back to J. Edgar Hoover, he fumed with an all- encompassing rage that shook the entire office. He sent 4 hitmen to Shanghai later on that year, to flush out Marzine, the worst Communist, he'd ever known.