Debut for a Spy by Harry Currie

it's invariably about gardening, his real passion in life.
    When there are a dozen or so for lunch, as there were that particular Wednesday, it becomes a gala occasion, for the Commandant becomes engrossed with the two people nearest him. Everyone else has a wonderful time, for the food is excellent.
    Fortunately, I was seated at the opposite end of the table from the Commandant, and there was no possibility of being drawn into a discourse on rhododendrons and peonies. Marijke Templaars was not so lucky, however, and occasionally she would catch my eye and give me a look that spelled 'help' or 'rescue me', but I could only smile back with pity – there was no way I would have braved the Commandant's lecture on the cross-pollination of hybrid roses.
    Sitting opposite me was a flight lieutenant in Royal Air Force uniform, and the wings above his left breast pocket told me that we would have something to talk about.
    “Hello, I'm David Baird. What's a pilot doing in the midst of all these musicians?”
    “ Philip Rideout,” he responded, offering his hand. “No longer a pilot. And I've heard tales of your escapades from Archie.”
    “ Now I know I'm in trouble,” I grinned, “Archie is not always to be trusted when he talks about me.”
    “ I think you're pretty safe these days, David, but I'd love to hear the details of one or two of your pranks from your point of view. I'll bet Archie doesn't know the whole story.”
    “ Another time, Philip,” I whispered, “this is not the place.”
    I nodded toward the head of the table as we both chuckled.
    “How come you're not flying anymore?”
    “ These things,” he said, pointing to his horn-rimmed glasses. “I'd been with my squadron for over a year and then I caught measles, which I had never had as a child. I came out of it with impaired vision which got steadily worse, and I was grounded while they decided what to do with me. I didn't want to leave the air force, and since I had a strong musical background a few strings were pulled and I took the bandmaster's course. Now I hang on to a baton instead of the control column in a Hawker Hunter.”
    “ Do you miss flying?”
    His dark eyes flashed. “I did at first, but I've taken a civilian license and I fly a small Cessna, so I keep my hand in. But the other day all the old urges came back with a vengeance. I had my band in Dunsfold to play at a commemorative ceremony for Hawker Aircraft. One of my old chums from flying school days is now test flying for Hawker's, and he got permission to give me a close look at a project I would give anything to be involved in.”
    “ Tell me about it.”
    “ I don't see why not. Nothing I was shown is classified, and the public knows of the aircraft's existence. The design details are top secret, but I'm in the dark there, anyway.”
    Philip ran his hand through his thatch of unruly dark hair, obviously bursting to share what he had seen, and I was just as anxious to hear about it. But before I could encourage him to continue, he plunged on with a worried look.
    “Tell me to shut up if this is boring. I tend to forget that other people don't share my passion for flying.”
    “ Are you kidding, Philip? Archie obviously seated us together because he knows how much I like aircraft. I even wangled a flying course despite being an army director of music.”
    Philip beamed his pleasure.
    “A fellow pilot – that's a jolly good bit of luck. I had fears of aspidistras from his nibs down there. Well, have you followed the development of vertical take-off and landing aircraft to any extent?”
    “ Not much, I'm afraid. I know there've been some experiments with flying bedsteads and planes that sit on their tails, but that's about it. None seem to have been taken seriously.”
    “ That's not the case anymore. Hawker's have a VTOL that works. I've seen it fly, and it's fantastic!”
    For the next twenty minutes or so Philip spoke in admiration about this aircraft, the P1127. Still