The Cummings Report by Hodder-Williams Christopher

Author:Hodder-Williams, Christopher [Hodder-Williams, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2016-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

IN former times, before the word ‘ideology’ became so prominent upon the pages of current events, traitors were, traditionally, men and women who were out to make money. Thus they were prepared to work for either side (or both at once) according to the prices offered. They were professionals, and therefore their methods were fairly set. If you knew their methods you could detect them.

Then a great change came. Thinking men, instead of feeling a close bond with the country that nurtured them, began to wonder what was theoretically the best way to run the human race. Ways of life that were new to them and which sounded magnificent when discussed in the abstract, fired their imaginations.

Mostly, these thinking men were not politicians or sociologists. They had little or no practical knowledge of what would happen to the State, or for that matter, the human mind, when such ideas were put into actual practice. But being men of high intellect, and many of them of a very high personal integrity, they pictured these social systems as they would have practised them themselves. They saw the light. And rather than contribute to the improvement of their own native social systems, they took the short cut and assisted the favoured regime at the expense of their own. The end justified the means. Even though the democracies to which they belonged might be temporarily — even mortally — wounded, the world would benefit in the end tenfold as a direct result of their own political foresight. Thus they were not, in their own eyes, traitors, but rather prophets of the better world to come.

Unfortunately, they were also in ideal positions, many of them, to do their countries injury, for they possessed secrets; and secrets are the master-keys to power. Power to destroy, and power through which men of ability suddenly became merely cranks and amateurs, fumbling about in the murky depths of ideological hogwash. Thus they destroyed themselves also.

Naturally, the older type of traitor, the cynic who was in the racket for the cash, did not entirely die out. Rather he thrived; and his meat and drink were the political dupes whose aims were as noble as their actions were ignominious. Thus the two varieties worked in grim harmony, each despising the other.

They had their meeting points, these two tribes who both ate the missionaries for different reasons.

One such place was a room over an all-night café, situated in the heart of Brooklyn. In that dirty little bolt-hole, with its stained wallpaper and creaking floorboards, was the unprepossessing headquarters of an astoundingly efficient organization.

Let’s take an imaginary walk up that crumby little street, not far from the subway station. We will call it Noll Street, but that is not its real name. Its real name has made banner headlines since all this took place, and it is time it was allowed to drop back into obscurity so that its honest inhabitants may be allowed to resume their unobtrusive life once again.

*

A hundred yards or so along the road we can see a bright patch of light flooding the entire road.

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