~
Control had taken an immediate liking to Gunter, if not an
immediate trust. Gunter was tall and
squarely built with a strong jaw and prominent cheek bones. His appearance was impressive. Moreover, he spoke Russian fluently and
without so much as a German accent which was also impressive, as well as
necessary. And his piercing blue eyes
were always appraising any given situation, his calculating brain examining one
possibility after another.
‘Bloody good coup, our Gunter’, Control had confided in
Williams, one night, over a few too many gins at his North
London apartment. ‘With
more men like him we might actually start winning the intelligence war’. ‘Those Ruskis won’t know what’s hit them and
where the leak is’.
~
And so it proved. Gunter,
who also possessed an uncanny ability to fade into a crowd, or slip into the
shadows unseen, had been integral in gleaning Top Secret information about ‘Red
Rover’, the Russian plan to infiltrate British Telecoms with operatives of
their own, and the whole initiative had been stifled quickly and efficiently.
Nevertheless, there were those among the Secret Service who
disapproved of Gunter’s methods, and Control’s apparent willingness in the wake
of ‘Red Rover’ to continue using him.
‘Our approach is too American!’, complained Pangham, ‘too
American, I say!!’. ‘You can’t go around
using force like that..’. Control
reached for a glass of water on the table in front of him. ‘It’s not our way!’. ‘Isn’t..doesn’t this fellow Gunter
understand?’.
Williams was listening, and chose his time to
interject. ‘Pangham’, he began, clearing
his throat, and flipping open his cigarette case, ‘I think you’ll find Gunter’s
record withstands any kind of
scrutiny, whatsoever’. And at this,
Control nodded his approval.
Gunter was their man, regardless of Pangham’s blustering
jingoism.
~
To Gunter’s surprise, he found the door to the building
ajar. Unhooking his revolver with a
gloved hand from his waistband, concealed underneath the folds of his overcoat,
he slid through the open door into a drab hallway across which there was a dimly
lit stairwell. Perhaps they are expecting you.
Gunter paused and listened for a few short moments, his breathing
suspended. There was nothing but
stillness.
~
The problem Pangham had with Gunter was not just to do with
Gunter’s propensity to use force, it also stemmed from Pangham’s belief in the principle
of ‘fair play’. The former Oxford
graduate would rather have settled his scores in a duel, than silently and
stealthily when his opponent was either asleep, caught unawares or
incapacitated. Control had long since
given up on Eton Rules, and it seemed to him Pangham would be more at home on a
Fives team than on the front line of counter espionage.
Williams also despised Pangham, but his was rather more
than a professional distaste. For Williams
the words Pangham and imbecile, or Pangham and snobbery fitted very snugly into
the same sentence. During the drinking
sessions he enjoyed with Control – ever since he learned Control was contemplating
retirement – Williams took great pleasure in assassinating Pangham’s
character. The young are so unforgiving!
Control would think to himself, wryly amused.
~
Thank God for my
cushioned soles.
Gunter moved silently up the spiral staircase, taking care
to keep to the inside and retain the element of surprise should an adversary
come upon him, his revolver was safely in his hand – there were seven targets, eight
chambers were loaded.
In this game the odds were reasonable enough.
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