Len Deighton - Harry Palmer 01 - The Ipcress File
PROLOGUE
Copy to: no. 1. Copies 2
Action: W.O.O.C.(P).
Origin: Cabinet.
Authority: PH6.
Memoranda:
Please prepare summary of Dossier M/1993 /GH 222223
for Parliamentary Secretary to Minister of Defence.
THEY came through on the hot [permanently open] line at about half past two in the afternoon. The Minister didn't quite understand a couple of points in the summary. Perhaps I could see the Minister.
Perhaps.
The Minister's flat overlooked Trafalgar Square and was furnished like Oliver Messel did it for Oscar Wilde. He sat in the Sheraton, I sat in the Hepplewhite and we peeped at each other through the aspidistra plant.
'Just tell me the whole story in your own words, old chap. Smoke?'
I was wondering whose words I might otherwise have used as he skimmed the aspidistra with his slim gold cigarette case. I beat him to the draw with a crumpled packet of Gauloises; I didn't know where to begin.
'I don't know where to begin,' I said. 'The first document in the dossier...'
The Minister waved me down. 'Never mind the dossier, my dear chap, just tell me your personal version. Begin with your first meeting with this fellow...' he looked down to his small morocco bound notebook, 'Jay. Tell me about him.'
'Jay. His code-name is changed to Box Four,' I said.
'That's very confusing,' said the Minister, and wrote it down in his book.
'It's a confusing story,' I told him. 'I'm in a very confusing business.'
The Minister said, 'Quite,' a couple of times, and I let a quarter inch of ash away towards the blue Kashan rug.
'I was in Lederers about 12.55 on a Tuesday morning the first time I saw Jay,' I continued.
'Lederers?' said the Minister. 'What's that?'
'It's going to be very difficult for me if I have to answer questions as I go along,' I said. 'If it's all the same to you, Minister, I'd prefer you to make a note of the questions, and ask me afterwards.'
'My dear chap, not another word, I promise.'
And throughout the entire explanation he never again interrupted.
CHAPTER ONE
[Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 19) A difficult day. You will face varied problems. Meet friends and make visits. It may help you to be better organized.]
I DON'T care what you say, 18,000 pounds (sterling) is a lot of money. The British Government had instructed me to pay it to the man at the corner table who was now using knife and fork to commit ritual murder on a cream pastry.
Jay the Government called this man. He had small piggy eyes, a large moustache and handmade shoes which I knew were size ten. He walked with a slight limp and habitually stroked his eyebrow with his index finger. I knew him as well as I knew anyone, for I had seen film of him in a small, very private cinema in Charlotte Street, every day for a month.
Exactly one month previous I had never even heard of Jay. My three weeks' termination of engagement leave had sped to a close. I had spent it doing little or nothing unless you are prepared to consider sorting through my collection of military history books a job fit for a fully grown male. Not many of my friends were so prepared.
I woke up saying to myself 'today's the day' but I didn't feel much like getting out of bed just the same. I could hear the rain even before I drew the curtains back. December in London -the soot-covered tree outside was whipping itself into a frenzy. I closed the curtains quickly, danced across the icy-cold lino, scooped up the morning's post and sat down heavily to wait while the kettle boiled. I struggled into the dark worsted and my only establishment tie - that's the red and blue silk with the square design - but had to wait forty minutes for a cab. They hate to come south of the Thames you see.
It always had made me feel a little self-conscious saying, 'War Office' to cab drivers; at one time I had asked for the pub in Whitehall, or said 'I'll tell you when to stop,' just to avoid having to say it. When I got out the
PROLOGUE
Copy to: no. 1. Copies 2
Action: W.O.O.C.(P).
Origin: Cabinet.
Authority: PH6.
Memoranda:
Please prepare summary of Dossier M/1993 /GH 222223
for Parliamentary Secretary to Minister of Defence.
THEY came through on the hot [permanently open] line at about half past two in the afternoon. The Minister didn't quite understand a couple of points in the summary. Perhaps I could see the Minister.
Perhaps.
The Minister's flat overlooked Trafalgar Square and was furnished like Oliver Messel did it for Oscar Wilde. He sat in the Sheraton, I sat in the Hepplewhite and we peeped at each other through the aspidistra plant.
'Just tell me the whole story in your own words, old chap. Smoke?'
I was wondering whose words I might otherwise have used as he skimmed the aspidistra with his slim gold cigarette case. I beat him to the draw with a crumpled packet of Gauloises; I didn't know where to begin.
'I don't know where to begin,' I said. 'The first document in the dossier...'
The Minister waved me down. 'Never mind the dossier, my dear chap, just tell me your personal version. Begin with your first meeting with this fellow...' he looked down to his small morocco bound notebook, 'Jay. Tell me about him.'
'Jay. His code-name is changed to Box Four,' I said.
'That's very confusing,' said the Minister, and wrote it down in his book.
'It's a confusing story,' I told him. 'I'm in a very confusing business.'
The Minister said, 'Quite,' a couple of times, and I let a quarter inch of ash away towards the blue Kashan rug.
'I was in Lederers about 12.55 on a Tuesday morning the first time I saw Jay,' I continued.
'Lederers?' said the Minister. 'What's that?'
'It's going to be very difficult for me if I have to answer questions as I go along,' I said. 'If it's all the same to you, Minister, I'd prefer you to make a note of the questions, and ask me afterwards.'
'My dear chap, not another word, I promise.'
And throughout the entire explanation he never again interrupted.
CHAPTER ONE
[Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 19) A difficult day. You will face varied problems. Meet friends and make visits. It may help you to be better organized.]
I DON'T care what you say, 18,000 pounds (sterling) is a lot of money. The British Government had instructed me to pay it to the man at the corner table who was now using knife and fork to commit ritual murder on a cream pastry.
Jay the Government called this man. He had small piggy eyes, a large moustache and handmade shoes which I knew were size ten. He walked with a slight limp and habitually stroked his eyebrow with his index finger. I knew him as well as I knew anyone, for I had seen film of him in a small, very private cinema in Charlotte Street, every day for a month.
Exactly one month previous I had never even heard of Jay. My three weeks' termination of engagement leave had sped to a close. I had spent it doing little or nothing unless you are prepared to consider sorting through my collection of military history books a job fit for a fully grown male. Not many of my friends were so prepared.
I woke up saying to myself 'today's the day' but I didn't feel much like getting out of bed just the same. I could hear the rain even before I drew the curtains back. December in London -the soot-covered tree outside was whipping itself into a frenzy. I closed the curtains quickly, danced across the icy-cold lino, scooped up the morning's post and sat down heavily to wait while the kettle boiled. I struggled into the dark worsted and my only establishment tie - that's the red and blue silk with the square design - but had to wait forty minutes for a cab. They hate to come south of the Thames you see.
It always had made me feel a little self-conscious saying, 'War Office' to cab drivers; at one time I had asked for the pub in Whitehall, or said 'I'll tell you when to stop,' just to avoid having to say it. When I got out the
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