John waved to the blonde
manageress of the Lyons Corner House. “Mavis, this is Mr Bracken who works for the Prime Minister. Thank
you so much for our tea and fresh scones.” “Oh sir, anything I can do to
help,” the woman curtsied. “Mr Churchill is a wonderful man. My uncle in
Stepney died in the bombing. Mr Churchill, bless him, put his arm round my Mum
and said the whole of Britain was thinking of her. Meant so much to her.”
Friday 31 October 2014
Sowerbutt's Turncoat
“Down to business, you are
still concerned about the Ghost?” Bracken smiled.“Yes sir, I am. Gerard is former
Wehrmacht, proud of his skills and what he has achieved. He is used to
being in charge, takes the cause seriously and I think he’d be back to Jerry in
a flash if he could. His body is here, but I am not sure his mind is with us.
He is open about a Jerry win.” “Does
that go against him, John? Half the cowardly Commons think the same."
Sowerbutt's Tea Room
“You’ll be the ruin of me,
John. I’ve never been inside a Lyons Tea Room before and I won’t be repeating
the exercise. What’s the idea?” Brendan Bracken frowned.“Incognito sir,” the slight
military man beamed. “Corner House. This one in The Strand is called a Lyons
Corner House.” “And when the great unwashed
fill these surrounding tables? We’ll be overheard, man,” Bracken snapped. “All
booked, sir, for as long as we are here,” the slight military man said.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8Sowerbutt's Cigars
Madame Komarovski looked at his cigar. “I
shall come and talk to you one day, Mr Sorbay, about your cigars. The latest
research says they are not good for you. The girls and I want you to look after
yourself.”
Sowerbutt
grinned. “Very thoughtful, Madame Komarovski, thank you."http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8
Sowerbutt's Spy
“Sit down, John,
sit down,” Brendan Bracken smiled. Resting his boots on the Cabinet
table, he waved at a side table. “Drinks, cigars, help yourself.”“Did well with
the Ghost’s wireless message last week. Just had a signal from our
Admiral Andy - Cunningham - that the Eyetie ships went off in the
wrong direction and a couple of ours got through to Piraeus with vital supplies
for the brave Greek Army.”
Sowerbutt's Burial
“Why Weybourne
again?” Gerard asked. Sowerbutt
grinned. “We’re burying you. Thought you might like to be there.” Gerard laughed. “I knew I’d enjoy working for the Englishers.” “The theory is
that it’s a face-saving exercise that Hamburg will believe. They’d assume we
know something of your activities, but we can’t find you. So we’re pretending
you are dead. That confirms we don’t know about your wireless broadcasts which
in turn strengthens your position. The burial will be in the
local papers which will be in the neutral capitals within days”
Sowerbutt's Chat
Gerard grimaced: “I’m
not convinced you are going to win, Mr Sorbay. I know about a new life in
Canada or a farm here. But the many sympathisers
in the United States or here would hunt us down.” “Cross each
bridge as it comes, Lee,” Sowerbutt smiled. “A bloke was refusing to give me information. I told him his choice was to die then and that was a
certainty. I had a Smith & Wesson pointed at his head. Or cooperate and
take his chances with the bloke he was scared of in the future. He cooperated.”
Sowerbutt's Discovery
Churchill
growled: “A house in Whitechapel being used for drug parties and other sordid
matters was raided by Metropolitan Police officers this morning. Drugs and
a firearm were found and the occupants arrested. During the search,
Sire, the sergeant discovered these photographs and had the presence
of mind to keep them to himself. He handed them to
Commissioner Game who brought them immediately to No 10. I have issued instructions that the sergeant be promoted forthwith."
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8Sowerbutt's Evidence
Churchill opened a
buff folder containing two photographs and placed it in front of the
King. As if in a trance, the King gulped his brandy refilled his
glass. The colour rising in his face; the King was known for
his temper. “What in God’s name does the Duke of Kent think he is doing with this
American woman? Always these bloody Americans. Who is this other naked chap? Some Jerry spy, we
shouldn’t wonder.”
Tuesday 28 October 2014
Sowerbutt's Care
Sowerbutt was worried about
raising suspicions. In the present war fever, encouraged by the
authorities, people were reporting anybody who might be a German spy or
sympathiser. In Luton, the previous week, the wife of a councillor had
been arrested over a cycling holiday in Germany in 1935. The magistrate was
shown photographs of the then girl posing with uniformed members of the Hitler
Youth. The case was dismissed.
Sowerbutt's Deal
She whispered: “No sign of
the bastard, senor. Shall I cut our losses and get back to London. God only
knows where he has gone, I’ll gut the bastard if we find him.” The slight military man, dressed in a worn Gieves suit, smiled. “So glad you and your dear husband enjoyed the beans.
I shall be picking another basket soon.” His whisper was insistent. “You’ll
stay where you are. This is a test to see whether we are pro-Jerry or English
stooges. He will come back and you must keep on about Adolf the
wonder boy. The English have had enough of the Blitz and would welcome some
sort of deal. Not just an easing of the bombing, we want a deal.”
Monday 27 October 2014
Sowerbutt's Deception
Sergeant Le Clay’s eyes
opened wide. “An outside gang, responsible for the big robbery? Birmingham or somewhere, do you
think?” Madame Komarovski smiled:
“You know the criminal world much better than I do, Sergeant. All I can say
is that there has been much talk about some of the foreigners who arrived here
after Dunkirk, French and Belgians. Tried to throw their weight around, I
gather. And some of the ladies who were smuggled over from France have been undercutting us. Not good for business.”
Sowerbutt's Burglary
Spaghetti flicked his cigar
butt into The River. “Perfect. The house is shut up, no staff on the premises.
No stoppers on the beat, no street lights and nobody about in Chelsea at this
time of night. Just a few flashes from the bombing down The River.” He glanced at his companion. “I’ll see you round the back, Missionary. Best to split up,
less conspicuous. I’ve parked our new van round the corner in
case there’s any big stuff to shift.”
Sowerbutt's Spy
Gerhard stood still, like a
gamekeeper’s dog; sniffing the wind, ears alert and eyes peering through the
darkness. Nothing, a whiff of manure and the sickly scent of rotting leaves.
Wind rustled through the trees, a dog barked in the distance. The former
soldier stiffened as a branch creaked in the nearby woodland. Silence.
He estimated he was three
miles from the cottage north of Lutterworth. It had
taken him an hour or so, stopping every few hundred yards to check he was not
being followed. The rucksack was heavy. He had padded the transmitter with rags to
avoid rubbing.
Sowerbutt's Robbery
“We’ve
read the report by Commissioner Game who has a talent to use many
words to say little. What progress are we making in catching these damned
robbers? Can’t have a b-breakdown of law and order in our capital, don’t
you know.” Churchill growled: “My
constitutional duty, Sire, is to furnish you with what information I have to
hand. I possess very little. Commissioner Game’s officers have questioned several witnesses with little
result and they have the two stolen motor vehicles in their possession. The
Metropolitan Police Force has failed to locate the van in which the robbers
fled or the stolen money, some £300,000."
Saturday 18 October 2014
Sowerbutt's Friend
Jo-Jo had worked for Polly
and her mother in the brothel for years but had made the mistake of breaking
the jaw and putting his boot between the legs of a visiting magistrate who had
got carried away with his cane. Not a word about the whereabouts of the crime was
mentioned at the Quarter Sessions, but the best the over-paid KC could
negotiate was two years.
Sowerbutt's News
Sowerbutt smiled: “My mate, the
superintendent, tells me they’re combing out the stoppers again. Need more army lads to make up for the Dunkirk losses. Stoppers go in as NCOs, screws as well. It’s come down from the Commissioner
to stop bothering with petty charges, just give the bad boys a clip round the
ear. The courts have been told to stop sending people down for short stretches. They’re also releasing a lot of lads
on the inside early if they join up.”
Sowerbutt's Enemy
Polly kissed
Sowerbutt on his stubbly cheek. “Nobody is blaming you, Jimmy. McGaskie is mad,
completely mad. Cocker was upset that he got away - jumped through a window. Idiot could have killed
himself. But it means that you can deal with him in your
own time. And word will get out on the street.”
Wednesday 8 October 2014
Sowerbutt's Query
Sergeant Le Clay sipped his
Old Bushmills. “Bit of a flap on about this robbery in the City which I’m
sure you have read about in the papers. Not really my area, but the
Commissioner is panicking. Under a lot of pressure, questions being asked in Parliament. Heard anything on the grapevine?” Madame Komarovski poured
herself some water from a flagon on the table. “As you know, we hear lots of things - men become talkative at certain times. And we always
pass on anything of interest to our important friends. But this robbery, nothing. Not a whisper, not a word.”
Sowerbutt's Surprise
“Got it,” whispered Missionary, who had
spotted a line of bent spine tops on the shelves. A hand had frequently pushed across them.
Missionary’s hand snaked in and there was a click; the two men pulling
the shelves out. Peering round into the darkness, they could make out a door. “Locked,”
said Spaghetti as he edged in and tried the handle. “Shine your torch over here.” He always carried his bunch of picks on nocturnal
excursions.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8
Sowerbutt's Painting
“A couple of watches, a string
of pearls under the bed and that painting you’ve got Spaghetti,” Missionary
grinned. “Hardly worth our while.” Spaghetti
shook his head; “Don’t you be so sure, son. This is a Reynolds, be worth a few
bob. Mr Sorbay has a list of keen collectors."
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