Spies on Bikes

by Dennis Forster

  ‘Yes, sir. If I may make so bold, sir, I’ll have a ham sandwich. I was at this very same Italian ice cream parlour this morning in pursuance of a domestic … nasty business … fight between an American gentleman and Gina, everyone knows Gina. She’d kicked him in the groin area, sir, if you takes my meaning. Wink. Wink. Some men never learn. So I knows the ham’s good. It’s off the bone, just the way my missus does it … and it’s a nice night, not too hot, not too cold, for sentry duty, if you takes my meaning, sir?’

  Sir Charles, Harry and the newspaper seller, with Moses on his lap, sat on form seats in a booth with a table.

  ‘My treat,’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘’You are going to take Moses off me, aren’t you?’ said the newspaper seller.

  ‘Moses is Jack’s pet,’ said Sir Charles. ‘It will be for him to decide. You have explained how he came into your possession. Without your involvement we might never have known that George and Jack were being held hostage; for that, I thank you and give you my hand.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Did the policeman who took the note off me get hurt? I’ve heard so many rumours.’

  ‘The shot killed him.’

  ‘That’s sad, sir; like me, sir, you’ll have seen too many dead. I recognised you, sir, soon as I saw you. You were an officer in my old regiment. Never thought I’d share a table with an officer.’

  ‘You led the singing when we marched.’

  ‘That’s right, sir. Now I sing Chron-ic-al.’

  ‘Are you coping?’

  ‘You mean the leg, sir, what I haven’t got?’

  ‘Yes, damned hard lines.’

  ‘The old lie,’ said Harry, taking his eyes off the menu to look at the newspaper seller’s wooden leg, ‘Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.’

  ‘What’ll you be having?’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘Not what the young man’s just said, sir. I’ve had enough of foreign to last me for the rest of my natural. If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll have an ice cream.’

  ‘What a good idea … and let’s ask to have that syrupy stuff squirted on the top like we had when we were children and knew nothing about war.’

  ‘I’ll have a Knickerbocker Glory, Uncle,’ said Harry.

  ‘Glory,’ said Sir Charles, ‘the glory of war, of fighting for a cause in which you believe … a load of rubbish.’

  ‘Amen to that, sir, there’s no glory in losing a leg … it’s bloody awful. You won’t believe this, sir, but it itches. How can something you don’t have itch?’

  ‘How do you scratch it?’ said Harry.

  ‘I shuts me eyes and pretends.’

  ‘Harry, be a good chap, go and order three Knickerbocker Glories, tea and a ham sandwich for my bodyguard and a tub of ice cream for Moses. He’s very well behaved for a ferret.’

  Harry did not think it quite the thing for him to be fetching and carrying for his social inferiors, but Uncle Charles was the boss and this newspaper seller chap, well, the poor chap was missing a leg. To add to his simmering sense of being put upon he couldn’t find a waitress. Was there a bell he could ring? He wondered how such places stayed open. They did not deserve business. It would never happen at his college.

  In search of someone who would take his order, he lifted a flap at the end of the counter and made for a door with a porthole window marked ‘Staff Only’.

  Looking through the porthole, before knocking, he saw a chap lying on his back with a woman riding him as if he was a horse and she was its jockey. The chap had his hands clasped behind his head, the way chaps do when, on a sunny day, they are lying on their backs on a grassy bank, watching clouds sail overhead.

  The woman had long black hair. When she moved up and down Harry saw she was not wearing knickers.

  ‘Is anyone serving?’ said Sir Charles. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Someone will be coming soon,’ said Harry.

  ‘And about time too. Moses is starving. He’s very well behaved for a ferret.’

  43

  To bring the meeting to order Sir Charles tapped a Knickerbocker Glory glass with a spoon.

  ‘My beautiful, beautiful Gina,’ said Mancini, blowing kisses to the buxom brunette polishing glasses behind the counter. ‘She loves me … ain’t I the lucky guy?’

  ‘I’m sure she does,’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘I know she does,’ said Harry.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Mario.

  ‘Mario,’ said Sir Charles, ‘less than a three minute walk from here, two boys are in danger of losing their lives. I’ve explained to you what has been happening.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want your help.’

  ‘You Brits always want help … where’s my cheque book? Sorry, Charles, I’m behaving badly. What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to talk to O’Neil.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think you know why.’

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘I think you know why O’Neil came on this trip to The Hall.’

  ‘To further US-UK relations in the event of Mr Hitler doing something stupid.’

  ‘No. Do I have to spell it out?’

  ‘Yes. What is it I’m supposed to know and how do you know I’m supposed to know it? Love you, Gina.’

  Sir Charles sighed. ‘I don’t normally give away my sources, but do you know who Harry’s aunt is?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Tell him, Harry.’

  ‘She’s your aunt? There’s nothing happens in Washington that she doesn’t know about. She tipped you off, eh? Before I start talking I want to know how much you know.’

  ‘Do you know how he brought the money in?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you thought that’s what he might be doing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did it not occur to you that he was sticky with his golf bag?’

  ‘Some golfers love their clubs more than their wives. When golf gets into a guy’s tubes he goes kinda crazy.’

  ‘I have O’Neil’s golf bag.’

  ‘He won’t like that.’

  ‘He doesn’t know. The bag I sent to the Vicarage for examination … you look puzzled.’

  ‘The Vicarage?’

  ‘An old manse taken over by the army. It’s next door to our cottage hospital. As I was saying the golf bag I sent to the Vicarage is the one he brought with him from the States. His co-conspirators have provided him with a replacement. Bert’s sense of smell gave us the clue that a switch had taken place. Do you know who his accomplices are?’

  ‘The IRA.’

  ‘Just so. I have been informed that the original golf bag has a false bottom.’ Sir Charles produced an American twenty dollar note. ‘Do you know where this came from?’

  ‘The golf bag, I guess.’

  ‘The recipients of O’Neil’s largesse were so keen to get their hands on the booty that they left it behind. O’Neil is an IRA courier, isn’t he? He’s supplying them with money to buy arms?’

  ‘We suspected him.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘I think you know who the “we” is.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘You want to take my fingerprints?’

  ‘Not necessary, we are batting on the same side.’

  ‘I don’t play cricket.’

  ‘Captured spies are not usually treated to a Knickerbocker Glory. Come along, Mario, there’s a good chap, spill the beans.’

  ‘You knew I was here, didn’t you? It was not by chance that you picked this emporium to take refreshment.’

  ‘Mario, you have had a “eureka” moment.’

  ‘How’d you know I was here?’

  ‘I’ve already revealed to you one of my sources; to reveal another would be foolhardy. When you g
et back to The Hall you will have much to discuss with Marigold. You and she, I believe, are working on the same case.’

  ‘Charles, is there anything you don’t know?’

  ‘If it comes to war I don’t know if America will help England.’

  ‘Nor do I, and, you know what? I don’t think anybody does.’

  ‘How were you recruited?’

  ‘That’s a National Security issue, but I’ll tell you anyway. Marigold and I were in the right place at the right time, or, depending on your point of view, in the wrong place at the wrong time. When the CIA had suspicions about O’Neil and knew I was of the party visiting your good self, they asked me to help. My brief was to keep an eye on the guy and report back. They didn’t give me a shooter, just a notebook and a pencil.’

  ‘And Marigold?’

  ‘Our agents knew about Doyle’s contacts with high ranking Nazis. Marigold was coming to Newcastle and so was Doyle. She was told to book a passage on the Nord and, same as me, keep an eye on a guy.’

  ‘Only our agent almost got her killed.’

  ‘Did he blow her cover?’ said Harry.

  ‘She’s pretty certain Doyle had no idea she was spying on him. She was a dumb American blonde. Your guy wanted to use her as a carrier pigeon, that’s all.’

  ‘Marigold’s not dumb,’ said Harry, ‘she’s a professor of history.’

  ‘OK, so she knows in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue.’

  ‘It takes a lot more than that to be a history professor.’

  ‘You in love with her, Harry? Harry, you are going red. You want me to give you an introduction? I won’t charge. I’ll debit it to Anglo-American relations. Gina has a sister.’

  ‘Has she really?’

  ‘You like chocolate, Harry?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Sir Charles coughed.

  ‘That’s your uncle smacking my hand. Harry, stop leading me astray. I’m paying attention, Charles. What do you want me to do? But, remember, I’m a professor of economics, not a professional spy. I mean, hi, don’t ask me to shoot anyone. I’m more of an ice cream seller than a professional assassin. I’ve a PhD in Supply and Demand Theory. I know nothing about invisible ink. I believe you use lemon juice.’

  ‘You “supply” and Gina “demands”,’ said the newspaper seller.

  ‘You got it … hi, some of the smartest guys I know sell newspapers. Moses, eh. Does he bite? The guy who led the Jews out of Egypt. So, the boys used the ferret as a postman. Why don’t you use him to deliver a message to them? Quattro cappuccini, Gina.’

  ‘You know,’ said Sir Charles, ‘I think that’s a very good idea.’

  ‘You like cappuccino?’

  ‘I meant your idea of using Moses to send the boys a message.’

  ‘American know-how, Charles. No problem too big for an American to solve. Gina, go heavy with the chocolate. It’s going to be a long night. I don’t know about you, Charles, but making “love” makes me hungry. You find that, Harry? Sor-ry, I’m forgetting, you’re English. Chaps don’t talk about things like that. It’s bad form. Charles, as the African elephant said, I’m all ears, give me my marching orders.’

  Mario promised to be a good American boy, to toe the line, to follow Charles’s instructions to the letter. Sir Charles was sceptical. Why couldn’t the fellow behave like an Englishman? And all those kisses he kept throwing at Gina, really, it was too much, but, then again, he was an American.

  ‘So,’ said Mario, ‘you want me and Harry to go to this army base you call the Vicarage, collect the phoney golf bag and use it to spook O’Neil. I am to involve Marigold in the subterfuge?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘In a shoot,’ said Harry, ‘as you well know, sir, beaters are used to make the birds fly.’

  ‘And my job is to make O’Neil fly?’

  ‘If you can get him to confess he’s an IRA courier and knows Doyle, he might be prepared to talk some sense into the Irishman.’

  44

  The newspaper seller drained the dregs of the cappuccinos into a saucer for Moses.

  ‘It was like this in the trenches,’ said Sir Charles; ‘after a spell of leave your stomach churned when you had to go back.’

  ‘Mario, comma here,’ said Gina. ‘You are definitely not-a married a-man?’

  ‘Gina, if the sun is cold, I’m a married man but, if it is hot, I am not.’

  ‘You are a poet.’

  ‘And you, my beautiful Gina, are bella, bella.’

  ‘Mario, love of my life, you are not a poet you are a liar … that mark on your finger where the married a-man wears his wedding ring, it betrays you. It is the stigmata. Do you think Gina is stupid? But, I forgive you. You know why I forgive you?’ To Sir Charles, Harry and the newspaper seller, ‘Do you know why I forgive him? I forgive him because he satisfies me. He is a wonderful lover. Comma here, Mario, comma close to Gina … close your eyes.’ She tweaked his nose. ‘Kiss me.’

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Baby.’

  ‘Do I not get a kiss?’ said the newspaper seller.

  ‘I kiss you on the lips, why? Because you are a war hero. My kisses ease pain. They are better than the horse embrocation. Mario, this young man is a war hero, he gives his leg for his country. I love warriors. What did you give your country? When were you a soldier?’

  ‘I thought about it.’

  ‘You think before you make-a love? No, you do it. And stop a-rubbing your nose. When this a-business is finished you will need comforting. Gina will comfort you. My hero with one leg I give you free ice cream all the time but not a tutti-fruity. A tutti is too much. You spoil a-man you put ideas in his head.’

  45

  On their way back to the tramcar Sir Charles told the newspaper seller, ‘I want you on my staff. You are fond of Moses?’

  ‘I am, sir.’

  ‘And he is fond of you?’

  ‘He is, sir. I’d not be overstating the case, sir, to say, sir, that on both sides, it was love at first sight.’

  ‘Your job will be to look after him.’

  ‘Am I back in the army, sir?’

  ‘Yes. By the by, what’s your name?’

  ‘Me pals call me Chronicle, sir.’

  Everyone in the tramcar made a fuss of Moses.

  ‘Don’t get him excited,’ said Chronicle, ‘he’s on active service. Before a chap goes over the top he needs time to reflect.’

  ‘Anything happened?’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘All quiet, sir,’ said the Eavesdropper.

  ‘A cup of tea, I think, before you, my dear Harry and Mario, drive back to The Hall. You will take the Rolls. It’s parked in the police station. Tea, Sergeant Small?’

  ‘There’s always a brew on, sir.’

  ‘I’ve just had a cappuccino,’ said Mario.

  ‘Among other things,’ said Harry.

  ‘Mario, my dear chap,’ said Sir Charles, ‘this is England. Our HGVs run on diesel, our cars on petrol and ourselves on tea. What would Assam do with its tea if we English were to turn our backs on the leaf?’

  Sir Charles cupped his mug. Its utilitarian enamel made him smile. It reminded him of Elizabeth’s attempt to protect The Hall’s bone china. In this situation enamel mugs were appropriate. A flare of anger made him swear that when the bombs started falling he’d drink out of The Hall’s finest Worcester all the time. Hitler was not going to destroy his way of life.

  ‘Why won’t this Doyle talk to you?’ said Mario.

  ‘He’s a fanatic; fanatics see things in black and white. There’s no room for compromise.’

  ‘Football fans are like that,’ said Chronicle. ‘Newcastle’s colours are black and white. The toon’s fans are fanatics. It makes them not see things what other people see, like fouls. In the back lane wh
ere I used to live there was this girl; she turned men into fanatics. She had big front teeth, one eye and Apache Head; at least that’s what some of the lads called it. The poor lass had bald patches. In the cowboy pictures the Apaches always scalped the white man. You’re an American, Mr Mario – is that true?’

  ‘Chronicle, I’m from Boston, I’ve never seen a Red Indian in my life.’

  ‘Anyway, this girl always had lots of boyfriends.’

  ‘Maybe she was like the sweet shop owner who, when his scales showed the correct weight, always dropped another sweet into the bag,’ said Sir Charles, ‘if you take my meaning.’

  ‘I do, sir, I do.’

  ‘Very delicately put, Charles,’ said Mario.

  ‘I am a diplomat. Now, gentlemen, finish your tea and, as they said in times of yore, let battle commence. Mario, the golf bag with the false bottom is your secret weapon; collect it from the Vicarage; use it to scare the living daylights out of O’Neil.

  ‘Harry, tell the Intelligence chaps at the Vicarage I want to know why Crozier does not know his port from his starboard. Damn it, I can’t believe the fellow might not be a full shilling. He’s poked obscene instruments up my backside. How more trusting of a chap can one be?

  ‘Tell Marigold everything; tell your aunt as much as she needs to know. I do not want her worrying. The boys are in terrible danger. Thanks to Mario, we have a plan. Moses led the Jews out of Egypt – can our Moses help us rescue Jack and George? Mike, hand over the keys to the Rolls. Put your foot down, Harry. Drive like Mike.’

  Sunday 3rd of September 1939

  1

  For those involved in the siege, Sir Charles arranged a watch system of two hours on and two hours off.

  In the redoubt the photographer and the marksman spun a coin to decide who should be first to go without sleep. When the Photographer lost, he tried to bribe the marksman.

  ‘You let me get some shut-eye and I’ll give you some samples.’

  ‘What of?’

  ‘“What the Butler Saw.”’

  ‘Those machines you put a penny in on the ends of piers and turn a handle while you look through a viewer and someone picks your back pocket? I’ll have my shut-eye if you don’t mind, thank you very much. You lost, mate. It was a fair toss. You watch until two. I sleep until two.’