Churchill growled: “Sire, I
have mobilised every resource at my command to track this wicked blackmailer
down.” The King nodded. “Now we know
who this degenerate youth is, we remember his father. Another
wastrel, dead now we hear. Thrown out of the Naval College after being caught
with a scullery maid. Naked over the Commander’s desk with the poor girl
birching him. We were a cadet at the time, don’t you know. Terrible scandal,
hushed up, of course."
Sunday 30 November 2014
Sowerbutt's Despair
“Our brother is a
fool, Prime Minister," the King said. "I don’t know what Papa would have said. First, David lets the family down, now the dear
Duke of Kent. We all knew about his liaisons, of course, but this. Another
American woman, don’t you know, and with a taste for cocaine of all things."
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 Enemy
Hess fixed his piercing eyes
on Gerard. “Speak to the Duke of Kent, telephone him, find time after Coventry. Tell him we
have the photographs. He must declare his hand, order his brother to go. We must have a clean
sweep in England, then we can pursue our destiny on the steppes of Russia. It
is written in the stars, they do not lie.”
Friday 28 November 2014
Sowerbutt's Zoo
“So senor, you come all the
way to what you call the wilds of Norfolk to drink the wine,” Rosetta snapped,
her eyes blazing. “You come to mock me, is that it? Apart from a breath of fresh air in your
Norwich, I am still stuck in this, this windmill. It is a cage in your Norfolk
zoo. You’ve come to watch the animals, is that it? Prod me with a stick or
throw me some food?”
Sowerbutt's Caning
“Come in, Missionary. What’s
happening?” Sowerbutt said. The young man looked awkward.
“The Honourable Algernon. He’s a spoilt rich boy, nasty piece of
work. Don’t know where he gets his money from, guv, but he’s got a lot of it,
according to Sal. He’s given her a couple of quid, trying to draw her in.” “What’s he after, apart from
the obvious?” Sowerbutt said, sipping his tea. “Said he’d give her good money for him to cane
her. He tried it on with one of the village girls and had to hand a handful of
notes over to her Dad to avoid a good thumping.”
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8Sowerbutt's Scones
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 blonde 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. It meant so much to her.”
Monday 24 November 2014
Sowerbutt's Message
“Did well with
the Ghost’s wireless message last week, John. 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,” Bracken said. “Thank you, sir,”
the slight military man smiled. “Tricky game, keeping the enemy fooled. Can’t
burn your bridges on one operation, no matter how important, or you’ll
jeopardise the next.”
Sowerbutt's Scandal
The King slammed his hand on the desk. “Our b-brothers. Cannot keep it buttoned up, don’t you know. David
with his married women and George with any available lady. Socialites,
charladies, even a damn master’s wife at Osborne. What is it, Winston, the
curse of the House of Windsor. After David’s fun and games, another public
scandal could bring down our throne.”
Sowerbutt's Photographs
The King put his
head in his hands. “Dear David. What has our b-brother done now? We thought he
was safe on the other side of the Atlantic.” Churchill shook
his head. “No Sire, not the Duke of Windsor. His Royal Highness, the
Duke of Kent.” He opened a
buff folder containing two photographs. Eyes widening in amazement, the King got to his feet. As if in a trance,
he gulped his brandy and refilled his
glass. “What in God’s name does George think he is doing with this
American woman? Always these bloody Americans. What’s her damn name, Preston,
Kiki Preston, isn’t it. Who is this other naked chap? Some Jerry spy, we
should n’t wonder.”
Sunday 23 November 2014
Sowerbutt's Set-Up
"Nero and I made it over to Whitechapel just in
time. Lot of stoppers and reservists there. Some went round the back and Sergeant Le Clay kicked the front door in. Lot of shouting and a right kerfuffle. We waited for
half an hour or so. Then McGaskie and the old couple who
live in the house - pair of
long-time Reds - were brought
out in handcuffs and pushed into a police van. One stopper brought out a gun - Nagant, we saw it in his bedroom. Another stopper came out carrying a kitchen tray, would you believe. A
small paper bag and a pill box on it; that’s what we left the white stuff in."
Sowerbutt's Bracelet
Sowerbutt pulled a small box from his jacket pocket, he had
visited his jeweller friend in Paddington before just making the train at Kings
Cross. Polly’s eyes
widened. “A silver filigree and mesh bracelet, Jimmy? And
these are real diamonds. It must have cost you an absolute fortune.” Polly stood in
the middle of the lounge room, tears running down
her cheeks. Sowerbutt would never understand women. “You like it, you don’t like it. I
can change it.” “Of course, I like it, you
big oaf. I love it,” Polly beamed through her tears.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8Sowerbutt's Gift
The double bedroom overlooking the street was obviously occupied by the
couple who owned the house with male and female garments strewn across the bed. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Sowerbutt slipped a small square of brown paper containing white powder under
a painted china replica of the Eiffel Tower on a side table. Along the
corridor, a bookcase full of books by Marx and Engels gave the clue to the
occupier of the smaller bedroom.
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 Street
The street was
silent, barely a light peeped through the blackout curtains. None of the street
lights were on with the blackout, save one down at the T-junction with
Whitechapel Road. It was quarter-strength at best. An old soldier with his
matches tray stood next to it. With the bombing, day workers were already home,
ready for another night in the bomb shelter. Few people went out or socialised at night. Dedicated drinkers were already settled in their
pub, still a few hours before the rush home at closing time.
Sowerbutt's Education
The anonymous street ran 90-degrees to Whitechapel Road, with a slight bend about halfway along. The
Victorian property developer may have wanted to make his housing estate
more interesting; more likely, the street followed the line of a medieval track
or the edge of an ancient field. Sowerbutt and his two companions neither knew nor would
have cared that Roman centurions camped centuries earlier near where
they were walking. In years to come, two 3rd century Roman coins would be found across the street in the mud of a bomb
site where council flats were being erected.
Sowerbutt's War
“So you are going
to win the war, John? One small island against almost the whole of Europe?”
Gerhard smiled, enjoying a Player‘s cigarette. The Brigadier nodded: “With the Dutchman back in the White House, the lanky Yanks will come in.
More supplies for us, then they’ll be over here. Same as the last lot, old
boy.” Gerhard looked
up: “I’ll counter your white Yankee king with a black Bushido knight. Tokyo
will gobble up your Asian colonies with their rubber and petrol. As for the
Soviets - Uncle Joe is
perched on top of a rotten edifice. Spoils for us once the Commies
crumble.”
Monday 17 November 2014
Sowerbutt's Shadow
Nero glided along the country
lane, barely leaving a mark. He slowed to a standstill when Gerhard stopped and
he accelerated when the former soldier got on his way again. Nero had never tracked anyone
cross-country before. His experience was the streets of East London,
fading into the shadows, slipping into an alleyway or deserted shop or these
days a bomb site. But the principles were the same; merging with the
background, absolute silence and an instinct for what the other
person was going to do next.
Sowerbutt's Eyes
A human chameleon, Sowerbutt
once called Nero, always fading into the background. Nobody ever saw him whether
it was stoppers getting ready for a raid or servants in a West End house before
the robbery.
Sowerbutt's Opponent
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.
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