London Calling by D. N. J. Greaves

Author:D. N. J. Greaves [Greaves, D.N.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-908477-11-8
Publisher: Original Writing

57-58 St James Street 1100

‘Thanks for your help, Dick.’ Monckton beamed. He was elated. He’d taken the chance to nip out of his office and unofficially drop in and see an old friend, and the result had been spectacularly successful. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect to pick up the trail again so quickly. Menzies had been proven right. O’Malley had needed to get to a safe house, that much was obvious. And the combined efforts of MI5 and MI6 over the last few years had shut down or neutralised the entire Abwehr network in Britain. Almost certainly the same applied to SS counter-intelligence. It was highly unlikely that Schellenberg had any other assets, unless they were even more deeply hidden than Simms. He must have recruited this pharmacist before the war and kept him in reserve up until now. Thank God the head of MI5 had insisted on keeping tabs on any and all suspects. A laborious job, admittedly, but all that effort had undoubtedly produced results, and this was the latest dividend.

He’d known Richard Davies for the past four years. The two of them got on remarkably well, despite being in different intelligence agencies that were sometimes at odds with each other. But that was more a reflection on the occasionally prickly personalities at the top rather than the rank and file. It was always useful to have a friendly conduit to help, or to pass on information without necessarily having to go through official channels and endless paperwork. And besides, he wasn’t doing anything underhand in approaching one of the senior men in MI5- Menzies would be coming over later today to discuss a proposed joint operation. A little bit of advance warning on either side never went amiss.

‘Not at all, Charlie. It’s just sheer coincidence that I was looking through Reynolds’ report just before you arrived. We’ve had nothing of any real interest over the last few weeks, and his sighting yesterday was the only thing that looked a bit odd, a bit out of character, so to speak.’ Davies shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m still amazed that Reynolds was in the right place at the right time. A million to one odds, maybe, but every now and then you get a lucky break.’

‘Do I take it he’s not one of your most enthusiastic field agents, then?’

‘He’s alright, but I think he likes the ladies rather more than the job. And a few beers, too.’ He laughed. ‘Can’t say I blame him really, but then he’s had a rather boring routine to adhere to.’

Monckton nodded. The public had a false idea of the nature of intelligence work. Little did they realise that the vast majority of the work involved in counter-espionage, surveillance and intelligence gathering was in many ways mind-numbingly boring, a steady routine of mundane and unvarying activity. It was a far cry from images of dashing heroes using fancy new weapons to defeat the enemy, or suavely working undercover in a dinner jacket,

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