I, Said the Spy by Derek Lambert

Author:Derek Lambert [Lambert, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2017-10-09T04:00:00+00:00

XV

A sunny spring Sunday in London and Pete Anello was bored. All morning he had walked the quiet streets, listening to the church bells, feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, riding a red double-decker bus, drinking his first pint of English beer and observing with awe other customers sinking pint after pint of the stuff, smiling at the nannies out with the children in the parks.

Central London was fine as it awoke slowly on a Sunday morning. But fully awake in the afternoon, it lost its dignity, even Park Lane where Claire Jerome owned an apartment. Street vendors selling Union Jacks and soft: pom, garbage outside elegant portals, whores assembling for the evening trade.

He walked to Hyde Park Comer to listen to the orators shouting, pleading, gesticulating, lecturing on anything: Rhodesia, Women’s Lib, the death penalty, the hazards of smoking.

‘ … without the Merchants of Death the world would be a safe and decent place for your children to grow up in ….’

The speaker was small and shabby and fanatic, standing on a soapbox addressing an audience of five. Anello joined them.

‘ … but we can still win battles, ladies and gentlemen. We can fight their guns and bombs with our own weapon – the might and wrath of God.’

A small girl asked her mother: ‘What’s he talking about?’

Her mother shook her head. ‘I don’t know, dear. Some film called the Merchants of Death.’

‘I think he’s barmy,’ said the girl.

The speaker thrust out his arms, a line of froth on his lips. ‘What about the concussion bomb?’

‘What about it?’ asked a thin youth eating potato crisps.

‘You, sir,’ pointing at Anello, ‘you look an intelligent human being. Do you know about the concussion bomb?’

Anello nodded. ‘Sure.’

‘Ah!’ The speaker was ecstatic. ‘An American. Am I right, sir?’

‘Sure, I’m American.’

‘And proud of it. So you should be.’

‘Why?’ asked the youth.

‘Because they banned the concussion bomb, that’s why. Am I right, sir?’

‘We banned its sale to foreign countries.’

The orator shook his head in wonderment, overcome by such shared knowledge. ‘I knew you were an intelligent man, sir. You’re absolutely right. And do you know what that bomb could do? It could crush bodies. Crush them!’ pounding one fist into the palm of his other hand.

The youth tossed away his empty crisp packet and said: ‘They might have banned it. They also made the sodding thing.’

‘But had the strength to cast it aside. There has to be a beginning. Now we have to unite our forces. President Carter gave the lead; it’s up to us to follow.’

Anello strolled away. He walked across Hyde Park and lay down beneath an oak tree, using his denim jacket as a pillow.

The sun reached him through the budding leaves of the tree; children played on the new grass; lovers lay entwined in each other’s arms.

Anello closed his eyes.

And the Viet Cong were stumbling out of the jungle, clothes blazing after the Napalm attack, and you could smell burning flesh and the young soldier beside him was screaming and running

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