Churchill growled into the telephone: "Our brothel-keeper and his
men will take care of the IRA, you say. Any difficulties and we can release the
story of a gang turf war or an IRA shoot-out. Yes, yes, I approve.
“The brothel-keeper’s well-equipped, is he? Where does he get
his supplies from, I’d like to know? Should we lend him to the Beaver to get
supplies flowing for our Hurries and Spitfires? Probably selling the Beaver
materials already, you say. I don’t wish to know any more, Brendan.“We may well say Mr Sorbay is the man who saved London. Inform me about your next round of talks at your earliest convenience, dear boy. Promise our guest anything to save London. If the little corporal can lie through his teeth, so can we.”
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