Worlds Apart


City seems almost quiet tonight. Everything's subdued, damped down. The park especially was a sad place -- leaves falling, flowers failing.

Can't bear this time of year. 'S the time you review what's happened over the past months, what you've done...accomplished.

Whiskey's givin' me a thick head tonight.

Open the window.

Brr... 's cold, but fresher.

There's the scent of smoke in the air, and dampness. Reminds me of...years ago -- scout trips, camp fires, woods an' hills. Scarey for a city kid, but fun.

Innocent days.

Lights. Thousands of lights. Thousands of people out there. Half of 'em villains... No, tha's not quite fair. But... that's what if feels like tonight.

Another day, another dollar, as Murph would say. went a bit better today.

Glad I went to see Sid yesterday. Cheered me up, seeing him and his young family. Four youngsters now. An' a sergeant's stripes, he's doin' okay. Seems to be happy, too. Maybe I should've --

He wanted to know all about this mob. Couldn't tell him much, of course. Well, hardly anything, but I could tell he envied me the action and excitement, even though he's content with his regular hours and stable home life.

Couldn't tell him how I really felt.

Bloody Cowley.

If I have to write another bloody report before the end of the week, I'll --

It's busy around here all of a sudden, isn't it? who the hell are all they? Look a miserable lot. Let's find out wha's goin' on.

Well, that's a nice handful of ht potatoes. Hope Cowley's up to it.

They're all from the Eastern Bloc. Over here as tourists. Posing as tourists, that is. The silly sods've been caught doin' a bit of B&E - a lot of B&E'ing - in some very sensitive places. Busy little tourists, they 'ave.

All Russians, too, apparently. All except James Bond, there, sittin' by himself, in black from 'ead to toe. He's East German. Doesn't speak a word of English, they say. Not that the others are much better.

'S gonna make for a few day's fun - interpreters, mostly Embassy officials, the idiots from MI5 pokin' their inquisitive snouts in.

Ah, well, better get off on today's jolly. Nothin' like a pick-up. Days like this when I could do with a partner.

Where the hell's Cowley? The hours I kick my heels round these dingy corridors - Interrogating, maybe? Take a look.

Strewth, where's everyone gone? Nice to 'ave the place quiet again, though.

They must've dispatched the Ruskies back to their embassy. They'll be lucky if they don't get the firing squad. The reds don't like being embarrassed.

'Ang on. There's one left. 'S that kraut. Aah - all by 'imself, 'e is.

Do 'im good. Reflect on 'is misdemeanors.

God. Bin turned into a minder. Fancy makin' me look after that kraut.

Seems they've got more questions to ask him. Wonder what he knows the others didn't...

Well, 'e might no sprachen see Engleesh, but the face can certainly talk. Never seen such expressive eyes.

Nothin' in 'em except contempt - for me, this place, the food... Until, tat was, I brought him some magazines, an' he spotted the Mayfair. Homed in on it like yer typical, red-blooded, debauched Brit, 'e did. S'pose they don't have things like that behind the curtain. Not as corrupt as us. Oh, I dunno, though.

He knows a few words of English. Heard me yell out my order for Lucas's trip to the hot dog van. He came to life then. Enjoyed eatin' it, too.

He's got a sense of humour. Those two idiots, Lucas and Mack - fooling around with nothing to do - didn't need an interpreter to explain that joke to him. Roared, he did.

'Mazin how different he looks now. The mean and moody look's gone and there's a spark of interest there now. Must be a patient bloke. Doesn't even know what's gonna happen to him.

I've enjoyed the last week. Money for old rope, plain' games with prisoners. Nab - guests at Her Majesty's an' all that.

He learnt Mastermind an' a few others. Picked 'em up so quick I reckon he's played before. Had a real kid's delight in winning, too - was a sparkle in those blue eyes, an' that daft grin -

Bin tryin' to teach him some English. he'd been got at, though. Surprised me with some very vulgar words. I blame McCabe, myself.

'S time I was given another assignment. More than time, actually. But I don't mind - I've enjoyed babysittin' our kraut. Learnt somethin' else today, too - he might hail from East Berlin, but he's Hungarian born. Conjures visions, that. Famous for their horses, gypsies, lovers...

Bet he's got plenty of frauliens back home. Something about that angled' those funny eyebrows.

'S weird. In two short weeks I feel closer to him than any of be mob here.

Here he is at last. Been closeted practically all day with Cowley.

Like the way those dark eyes light up when they see a familiar face. My face -

So - he's asked for political asylum. Guessed that would come. 'S obvious he's got some info. Had a chequered career, my short-haired kraut, from what I can gather.

Tha's good. He'll be around a while longer.

Selfish, Doyle. Well, haven't had a good mate since school days. An' he's not a security risk now.

Cheeky sod.

In his broken English 'e's just told me how pretty I am. Sauce.

But, well, one tries, doesn't one... 'S only the curls that do it,' the silver chain.

Gawd blimey, what a day. All the way out to that obscure little airfield, hours waitin' for the consignment, only to find our villains had better info than us and knew about the diversion.

Give me HQ any day over a waste of time like that.

Was supposed to be supervisin' my kraut's move into another hotel-

Wait till I tell 'im about today's little debacle - laugh 'is socks off, 'e will.

We're communicating pretty well, now. Him in bits of English an' me in a few words of German. Wish I knew Hungarian - sounds attractive. Even so, can understand him a lot better than Cowley sometimes.

Hmm. Room's empty. Must've taken him somewhere else for a change. Or he's already in the hotel.

Find Ruth or Betty -

Why the Embassy?


'As 'e suddenly developed a yearning for the Fatherland, or has Cowley -

Oh, god -

That double-dealing, back-stabbin' tunnel visioned bastard - If he's got all he needs out of 'im, he's playin' one of his games. He's playin' a deal with the other side, trading 'im off for a more valuable favour.

Fuck this traffic.

Been gone half an hour. Deal'll be over.

Gotta stop it. They'll kill 'im. Know 'e'll've talked. Seen too many go back that way. End of the line.

Fuck that red light. And the speed limit.

Next road. Here. Car's still there.

Out of breath, soddit. Stupid. Only been drivin' the car. Fitter than that.

Gates are already shut. Locked.


Get off me, Cowley.


His face. Even from this distance, can see his expression - - no expression, turned to pain - and the eyes... No hope...

Those guards, bearing him on.


-- THE END --

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