Storm Clouds Over Byland Crescent by Bill Kitson

Author:Bill Kitson [Kitson, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books historical romance and sagas
Published: 2022-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

‘Look at that white gallant,

Look at his wasted flesh,

It’s the moon that’s dancing

In the Courtyard of the Dead

Look at his wasted flesh

Black with twilight and wolves

Mother: The moon dances

In the Courtyard of the Dead’

Federico Garcia Lorca (1898–1936)

Excerpt from Dance of the Santiago Moon

Chapter Twenty-five

Joshua Jones required neither coaxing nor cajoling to join Edrith Pointon’s small band of emissaries. Deeply unhappy and unwilling to return to university, Josh leapt at the chance of a fresh challenge. He was ready for adventure, restless and discontented. Pointon needed to exercise only a modicum of his charm and persuasive manner to convince Josh that working in Europe for His Majesty’s Government would provide the outlet for his vague, unfulfilled ambitions.

Earlier, Edrith had allayed Simon and Naomi’s remaining fears over possible repercussions from her past. ‘When Josh comes to work for us,’ he told the couple, ‘the protection accorded him will also be extended to his family. Whatever Hildegard Cabrinova-Schwarz did all those years ago will be entombed in our archives. Even if some researcher was resourceful or lucky enough to discover all or part of the truth they would find themselves up against the provisions of the Official Secrets Act, the most powerful instrument at our disposal. In other words,’ he smiled at Naomi, ‘you are now as well protected as His Majesty the King, the Prime Minister or any member of the government.’

In early 1935, Josh travelled to London. He attended the small offices occupied by Pointon’s department for completion of, in Pointon’s words, ‘a few boring but necessary formalities’.

Josh’s first view of the building left him singularly unimpressed. If his imagination had pictured a large, smart, modern edifice, the two-storey Victorian building in an unfashionable suburb was somewhat of a let-down. It was rundown to the extent of neglect, this careworn appearance being carried through to the interior. An unprepossessing rabbit warren of anonymous offices, some little bigger than cubby holes, did little to fire the imagination of the department’s newest recruit. Pointon, who watched the slightly crestfallen expression on Josh’s face with quiet amusement, explained, and in so doing gave the younger man his first lesson in the art of espionage.

‘I see by the look on your face you’re beginning to wonder what you’ve let yourself in for. Possibly you were expecting something a little more imposing.’ He could see he had interpreted Josh’s thoughts correctly and continued, ‘The object of our work is to remain undetected. It is of little use attempting to operate in secret if everyone knows the location of our premises. That’s why we picked this place. It’s far enough from the centre of London to be free from association with governmental activity. If you were searching for this department, would you give this building a second glance?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Josh replied, his tone emphatic.

‘No. And our hope is that others would think the same. So whatever pre-conceived notions you might have about our operation, dismiss them from your mind completely and permanently. The objective of espionage is to remain undiscovered by friend and foe alike.

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