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Friday, 6 April 2012

The Greatest 20th Century Spy


The first and chief rule of espionage is trust no one. Everyone has their own agenda and if you give someone the benefit of the doubt then they will almost certainly make you regret that decision. Away from the field this rule visibly translates into what people say and write. Nothing can be taken for granted and you most certainly cannot believe anything you read. The greatest example highlighting this necessity for care does not come from Russia, but rather was provided by the now infamous James Jesus Angleton. Jim Angleton was a forerunner in the CIA, and it's anti-Soviet department, right up until the 1960s. However, ruthless as he may have been in his later years, Maclean and Philby were able to work in his patch with little risk of capture. As a result Angleton spent the rest of his life dedicated to the scrupulous identification and capture of Soviet spies on American soil. When speaking after the 1963 defection, Angleton is said to have made self-serving remarks about the day Philby received his CBE. Claiming to have spoken to Philby, he reported that the spy had explained “…what this country needs is good dose of socialism…”[1] This piece of conversation was used by Angleton to highlight that he had been aware of Philby’s true nature long before his defection. If he had been successful then it would serve to show that Angleton did indeed have a nose for a traitor and that he had not been made to look ridiculous by the Cambridge spies. Unfortunately for Angleton, Philby had not been at the ceremony. In actual fact records show, like many other recipients, Philby was sent his CBE in the post because of the large numbers given out after the war. This was unfortunate for Angleton and highlights the point that everything that is written or said in the world of espionage must be proven before it can be believed.

Foreign Service officer S. J. Hamrick is an individual who has clearly embraced the importance of reliable and indisputable evidence in the work of the modern historian. “Deceiving the Deceivers” was written with the intention of looking at the story of the Cambridge spies from a new and very different angle. He based his thesis on the 1996 release of the Venona intercepts, 1942-1945. Over the course of 34 years the Americans and British worked together to decode thousands of Soviet messages sent between Moscow, London, and Washington. Within these messages there lay clues to the identity of a Soviet spy working in the American Foreign Office. We now know this agent was Donald Maclean but as Philby highlighted, until late 1950 there was “…still no basis for supposition…”[2] on where the leak was coming from.

According to official records the CIA ciphers at Arlington Hall did not make the link between the code name Homer and Maclean until just before his May 1951 flight with Guy Burgess. The accepted version of the story claims “…Kim set his escape plan in motion…”[3] used inside information to get notice to Maclean, and gave him the opportunity to escape from London before his imminent capture and arrest. This version of events has been told in almost every book relating to Philby written in the last 45 years. However, in his recent publication, it is the self designated duty of Hamrick to convince the reader that Maclean, Burgess, and Philby were in fact pawns in a much bigger CIA/SIS ploy. He claims that, rather than holding the key to a swift and timely exit, Philby’s “…career was on its last legs…”[4] and that the real deception had been on the part of the CIA and SIS. Hamrick has set his book out in a very formal manner and its appearance mirrors the transcripts on which much of the content rests. This is very much in keeping with his mechanical attempt to use concrete facts and figures to demythologise and rewrite the greatest spy case in history.

Hamrick’s argument relies on the assumption that “…M15 had identified Donald Maclean as a Soviet agent long before May 25, 1951…”[5] In reaction to this discovery, rather than arrest him immediately, the British and American agencies chose to use it to their advantage and root out further Soviet spies in their midst. Thus rather than being the saviour of Donald Maclean, Philby was instead a vehicle for disinformation intended to “…provoke the Soviet embassy into action…”[6] Hamrick goes a long way to highlight evidence of the British use of deception and double cross tactics throughout their military history but finds it very hard to back up his claims with anything more than circumstantial evidence.

Throughout the book Hamrick appears to pay particular attention to the activities of Philby in his Washington career. It is his intention to show that he was the main source of disinformation and that he was not as effectual as a Soviet spy as either he or his legend would have you believe. Throughout his publication there are many assertions from the author of the weakness of Kim Philby. “KGB files released in the 1990s indicate that Philby’s espionage output during the war years didn’t compare to that of this fellow Cambridge spies…”[7] and “…they might have concluded that Philby had given Moscow very little from 1947 until 1963.”[8] These are just two examples of the harsh attitude Hamrick adopts towards Philby and his legacy. It is in the wording of these claims however that we can see the chink in this white knight’s armour. The use of the phrases ‘might have’ and ‘indicated’ are all too common in this interpretation of the Philby story. They prove the existence of theories throughout the book and highlight the lack of fact or proven actualities. Rather than providing an improved and revised version of this complex time in modern history, ‘Deceiving the Deceivers’ continues to add to the ‘what if’ section of the espionage library, giving little concrete evidence while trying to convince you he has.

This, however, need not be the case. For although the Philby story appears to be protected by a hall of mirrors, the coldest of Soviet shoulders, and a Britain reluctant to share the secrets of the infamous spy, it is possible to prove that Harold Adrian Russell Philby was indeed the greatest and most effective spy of the 20th Century. Beyond the traps and tricks that surround the Philby story, proof of his effectiveness throughout his ten year career at the top of SIS is available to those who want and know where to find it.

Firstly, the NKVD deployed Philby with various goals, and his aims and instructions differed as much as his MI6 title did. Obviously his missions would not end with the last minute destruction of a WMD or the defeat of a notorious villain; after all he was not James Bond. Instead we must look at Kim Philby’s career in terms of his contribution to the defence of the Soviet Union. When speaking in his only lecture to the KGB he explained that during his 1934 recruitment “…it seemed obvious to me that, for any true Communist…defence of the Soviet Union was the first priority…”[9] During his illustrious career Kim was head of the Iberian section when Spain and Portugal were important battle grounds for German, British and Russian spies, he was head of the anti-Soviet department of SIS for several years, and he was British liaison officer with the CIA and FBI in Washington. As a result he was constantly privy to information that would always be of interest to the KGB and allowed them to stay one step ahead of their superpower rivals. 

The ability of Philby to single-handedly protect the USSR was most evident when he was stationed in the United States of America. As liaison officer with the American intelligence services, his job was to represent Britain in the build up to any cross Atlantic operations. It would prove to be the peak of his service career; he had significant exposure to valuable information, and could exert a considerable amount of influence over decisions made by the CIA. It was thus not surprising that his two years in Washington led to a remarkable lack of success “…with the number of covert operation mounted in the late 1940s and early 1950s…”[10] Philby had passed every ounce of information back to his control officer through courier Guy Burgess. However, the USSR could only act on his messages once they had covered his tracks by duplicating it from other sources. These efforts were successful and the result was the eventual capture and, more often than not, execution of every Western force sent across the Iron Curtain. Astonishingly though, it would be 1967 before the “…betrayal is laid to Philby…”[11] and a further year before this would be confirmed in his autobiography. The actions Philby would have taken when dealing with possible infiltration are best highlighted in his treatment of “…one of the most extraordinary secrets of the cold war…”[12]

In what was known as the ‘Albanian Operation’, the allied intelligence services wanted to use rebel forces to provoke civil war in one of Russia’s satellite countries. They hoped that if the rebellion was successful then it would weaken the Soviet Union via a domino effect similar to the one that would appear later in South-East Asia. After much deliberation they chose Albania because it was the “…smallest and weakest of the socialist states…”[13] Marshal Tito had broken from the USSR in neighbouring Yugoslavia and reconstruction plans were struggling under the Communist government. With Kim Philby and James McCagar as joint commanders the allies set off to rearrange the face of Eastern Europe. When the Albanian émigrés left from their Maltese base they had no idea that they would be victims of one the most notorious betrayals of the Cold War. Newspapers claimed that of the 300 men sent in by SIS and the CIA 150 were either killed on landing or jailed and executed. The remaining 150 “…struggled back to Greece…”[14] The Albanian forces had been waiting for the arrival of the rebels and were dealt with swiftly. Obviously Philby could not be the only reason for this debacle; after all he was back in London and in exile of his own for the last two years of planning. He did however clearly “…betray the existence of an Albanian operation to the Russians.”[15] This was enough for the Albanians to infiltrate the rebels and lead them to their slaughter. Throughout Philby’s time in America there were similar attempts in satellites such as Latvia and Estonia, Poland, Armenia, and the Ukraine. As expected each of these covert operations resulted in similar levels of failure, much to the bemusement of the CIA and MI6.

Throughout the Cold War one of the biggest and most constant threats to the superpowers was the defection of agents to the other side. Paranoia and anxiety were prevalent in both Russia and the United States just from considering the possibility of a defection. They had every right to be worried. There were innumerable defections throughout the span of the Cold War and with each one there went the possibility of vital information being transferred to the enemy. For Kim Philby his experiences and run-ins with aspirant defectors presented the need for him to defend not only Soviet Union but his true identity as well.

In September 1945 First Secretary of the Soviet embassy in Istanbul, Konstantin Volkov, approached the British embassy to propose a defection deal. As it turned out Mr Volkov was employed by the NKVD and had been preparing for his defection for quite some time. In return for safe passage to Cyprus with his wife and £27,500 he offered a doorway to Russia’s secret service at home and abroad. In return for his requests Volkov promised “…data on three Soviet agents…one in the administration of the British counter-intelligence…”[16] and “…addresses of NKVD buildings in Moscow, the burglar alarm systems, key impressions, guard schedules, and a list of all agents in the Middle East…”[17] For Philby and Russia this was a dangerous proposition. The success of Volkov to defect would have meant the outing of three of the Soviet Union’s most important spies and the possible ransacking and bugging of their headquarters in Moscow. For MI6 it was a fantastic proposition, they had the opportunity to embrace the upper hand over the NKVD and potentially keep it forever. Naturally “C” immediately “…decided to give this delicate matter to one of its most talented administrators…”[18] As fate would have it that talented agent was Kim Philby. This was the first of several strokes of luck that would shape the course of the ‘Volkov Affair’ and give Kim hope that it could be resolved in his favour. His luck proved to hold but a satisfactory resolution could not have been found without substantial skill on the part of our Masterspy.

Upon his approach the embassy in Istanbul told Volkov that he would have to ask London for assistance. He knew that some British ciphers had been broken and so insisted that his request be posted in a secure diplomatic bag. When the bag arrived on Philby’s desk a week had passed. Thinking on his feet, Kim proposed that MI6 take the offer seriously and that he should go straight to Turkey and deal with it. This would allow him to remain in control for the entirety of the proceedings and dispel any suggestions that he may be culpable for the failure of the transaction. Unfortunately for Kim, Sir Stewart Menzies had another agent in mind for the cross continent journey. However, suffering from a fear of flying, Brigadier Douglas Roberts explained that he would have to reject the offer as he only travelled long distances by boat. Lady luck had shone on the double agent once more. Philby now had a window to contact his control officer and get the news to the NKVD. By the time he began his flight to Istanbul via Cairo three more days had already passed. By the time he arrived in Istanbul, via an unexpected stop in Tunis and having stalled and perverted the cause of justice as much as possible, three weeks had passed. Accounts vary on why he was chosen for the assignment and the details of his behaviour preceding his arrival in Turkey, but this is inconsequential. No matter how events are dressed up the essential facts remain the same. Volkov had disappeared by the time Philby tried to contact him in Istanbul and some time later “…at Lubyanka Volkov confessed and was shot…”[19] What is important is that one KGB file indicates Philby “…quickly informed his Soviet control officer in London…”[20] Without Philby’s quick thinking and well developed plan he would surely have been revealed and the security of the NKVD would have been under immediate threat.

The ‘Volkov Affair’ is only one of the many highlighted cases of defectors who threatened his position in MI6. Years earlier Walter Krivitsky and Igor Gouzenko had posed individual but equally as serious threats to his career and the Russian secret service. Nonetheless, the events of August and September 1945 highlight the ability of Philby to grab victory from the jaws of defeat. His impeccable skill and talent for the role of double agent served him well for the entirety of his career. Even when he was exiled to Beirut MI6 remained cautious of him and his motives for not immediately fleeing to Russia. That being said, even though he housed the ability to deal with threats using impeccable foresight and skill, this didn’t prevent him being unable to“…ever feel safe again until 1963 when he was home in Moscow…”[21] How ironic that it would be his friendship and incriminating link to the paranoid and bungling Guy Burgess that would seal his premature decline in MI6.

Throughout his career he was able to see off any challenges to his position and extract the maximum amount of information from his British employers to give to his Russian masters. When he first went to America he apparently wanted to impress Bedell Smith by memorising a 20 plus page document for his scrutiny and comment. Bedell Smith read it once and then had an extensive discussion with Philby referring to individual numbered paragraphs. What Philby didn’t tell anyone was that the document “…was a detailed account of how SIS and CIA would cooperate in the event of war with the Soviet Union…”[22] Moments like these contribute to the clear evidence that shows Harold Adrian Russell Philby to be the greatest spy ever to grace the twentieth century. As has been shown, his skill and finesse were to the advantage of the NKVD and KGB from the very beginning of his career in the early 1930s. The value of his information from three highly important positions in MI6 cannot be brought into question and it is only a matter of time before the documents held by the Official Secrets Act quell any alternative suggestions.   


[1] John Ranelagh, The Agency, 1986, P.127
[4] S.J. Hamrick, Deceiving the Deceivers, 2004, P.5
[9] Rufina Philby, The Private Life of Kim Philby: Unpublished Memoirs, 1999, P.248
[10] Phillip Knightley, KGB Masterspy, 1988, P.158
[14] New York Times, October 1967
[15] Phillip Knightley, KGB Masterspy, 1988, P.161
[16] Genrikh Borovik, The Philby Files, 1994, P.238

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

A Great Double Agent?


By the time Donald Maclean and Guy Burgess took flight to Moscow in May 1951 Kim Philby had already made a rapid ascent up “…the service staircase…” In only eleven years as an employee of His Majesty’s Secret Service, Philby had risen from the lower echelons of Section D under “…Colonel Lawrence Grand…” to the respected pedestal of MI6’s Liaison Officer in America with the CIA and FBI. Guy Burgess, personal problems aside, had been in the service much longer and did not show any signs of making such strides to prominence in the world’s premier secret service. To his American counterparts it must have appeared odd that a man so much younger than his British peers, and who had spent a relatively short time in the defence sector, could rise to the upper tiers so quickly. To those who knew Philby though it was no surprise. As “…one of the few wartime recruits asked to stay on in SIS…” he clearly possessed the qualities necessary for a life of espionage and a career in MI6. Unfortunately for his British employers, these skills were especially suited to best serve the work he had been assigned by his Russian masters.

It is well documented that Philby was not the brightest or most intellectual of his peers at either Cambridge or Caxton Street±. At Cambridge he had been “…altogether unremarkable…" However, in the world of the mid-twentieth century spy intellect only mattered when applied for maximum benefit. If intelligence had been the key to success in intelligence then the brilliantly academic Burgess, who was “…at once the most witty, most beautiful, most clever undergraduate to come to Cambridge since Lord Byron…” could possibly be the source of widespread interest that Philby is today. The fact is that Kim set himself apart from his peers, not with flamboyancy, but through hard work and modest application of the most natural of talents.

Like the characters of Le Carre and Fleming novels, Kim Philby possessed an ability to think quickly and act coolly under pressure. He frequently exhibited these qualities throughout his career, and may not have lived to see the inside of Whitehall had he not been able to call on them when necessary. When Kim was working in the south of Spain in 1937 he was presented with an opportunity to prove his pedigree. Upon deciding to attend a bull fight in Cordoba he was informed by the Capitania in Seville that a pass for travel would not be required. Somewhere along the line signals became confused as the Capitania in Cordoba sent two armed guards to summon the sleeping reporter from his hotel room. At this time his instructions were regularly printed on a substance similar to rice paper, which he kept in his trouser ticket pocket. Needless to say if Franco’s forces were to find this incriminating material the consequences for his career and possibly his mortality would have been disastrous. As the Capitania interrogated Philby about his presence in Cordoba and the guards searched his luggage he found “…brain was beginning to work and he began to see possibilities…"  Any man who failed to act in this situation would be spared judgement for freezing in such intimidating circumstances. For his career it was a pivotal moment and Philby acted on the Sergeants orders for him to empty his pockets. As he recalled in his autobiography, he took his wallet and threw it onto the table “…giving it at the last moment a flick of the wrist…As he had hoped all three men made a dive at it…I scooped the scrap of paper out of my trousers, a crunch and a swallow, and it was gone."

The ability to look down the barrel of a gun, think quickly, then react, served Philby well throughout his career and allowed him to continue working long past his sell by date. Had he not been able to then the unexpected flight of Burgess in 1951 and the interrogations that followed may have panned out very differently indeed.

This ability, however, was not isolated and Philby was well served by the capacity to view his work and actions from many different perspectives. He possessed an almost panoramic view of his world, and as a double agent dealing in counter intelligence it was paramount that he could do so. When faced with an investigation into his “extra-curricular” activities, Philby was backed into a corner by the pressure of soon infamous spy catcher, James Jesus Angleton, and the reluctance of the British to argue with their growing American counterparts. By all rights June 1951 should have signalled the end of Philby’s career. Donald Maclean by now was in poor mental form from the toll of his double life. It is well documented that “…he had grown weary of the underground struggle and was uncertain whether the ideology still rang true enough …"  He evidently craved an escape from his self imposed mental torture. If it had been Maclean summonsed back to England on the 11th of June it is not hard to conceive that he would have sung any tune the secret service asked of him.

Philby, however, displayed a much greater dedication to his chosen cause and a tough mental exterior. Backed into a corner, Philby used his panoramic mind’s eye to transform the situation into a chess game. From the off he seized the upper hand with a few words to Sir Stewart Menzies: “…I’m no good to you now and never will be again…I’ll put in my resignation…" The first round was Philby’s because he had not been sacked he had resigned. If all went well his service career would not be entirely over, and he had portrayed himself as the self-deprecating servant who put the service ahead of himself. These were shrewd tactics from the supposed victim of M16 scrutiny. Philby had honed this ability throughout his career and had given himself the best opportunity to come out of the episode unscathed. Using his knowledge of counterespionage he scientifically dissected each piece of evidence that Helenus Milmo threw at him and created his own theses on the escape of Burgess and Maclean. The evidence gathered gave no need for a third man as Maclean would have noticed “…top secret papers being withheld from him…" and come to his own conclusion. Philby could see this and made every effort to show that he was still as dedicated to finding the truth as his interrogators.

The ability to act calmly and precisely, to have all eventualities covered, and to use impeccable foresight are not uncommon personality traits. Many businessmen and leaders have relied on such skills to become successful throughout history. What was unusual was the situation. Philby gave a decade of dedicated service to a hidden master right under the nose of the grand old man of the intelligence world, and played by his own rules. He made the most of the talents he had and applied them with a dogged work ethic.  Shakespeare told us not to fear greatness, that “Some men are born into greatness and others have greatness thrust upon them" In relation to Philby both of these statements hold great truth. The path his life took thrust him into a position of great importance in twentieth century history, but had he not been born with the necessary traits to achieve excellence then his life may have been as obscure as the next man’s.

Tuesday, 27 March 2012

Kim Philby, Traitor?


To many onlookers Kim Philby appears the very definition of a traitor. He is often portrayed as a man who spent his life dedicated to the “betrayal of his sovereign and country…” to the advantage of his adopted Russian masters. He chose an unappreciated life of self-sacrifice that resulted only in hurt for those he encountered both personally and professionally. He committed the ultimate sin and survives in immortality as a result of Cold War one-upmanship. His destiny it seems was to join a long list of Englishmen punishable for treason against a country they felt no affinity for. It is no secret that since 1963 the British Establishment has hoped this would be reason enough for the survival of the legend that intrigues so many around the world. Unfortunately for M16 and the CIA no such Utopia exists, and in the current period of relative goodwill between east and western powers the explanation for interest in Philby lies in the controversy that surrounds his actions over half a century ago. There is no one accepted interpretation of the Philby saga. Both his effectiveness as a soviet spy and the justification of his actions are frequently debated to this day.

It is evident that no conclusion on the life of Kim Philby can be drawn without an evaluation of treason. It was Philby’s sin of commission, and it is a crime that defines many aspects of human nature. For centuries it was regarded as the crime of crimes, easily out-ranking murder, rape, or paedophilia. Punishable by death until 1998, only the desperate, greedy, and deeply committed could conceivably have had aspirations of treason. In Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’ the ninth, and most horrific, circle of hell is reserved for those found guilty of treason in the mortal world. Each group of traitors is encased in ice to a different depth, ranging from only the waist down to complete immersion. Those who have been found guilty of treason against their country find themselves immersed to the top of the neck, unable to bend or move at all. The fact that only Lucifer suffers more in the inferno, bonded, whipped, and chewing on the bodies of Brutus, Cassius, and Judas, shows the philosophical approach to treason that has spanned the ages. If we follow the common interpretation of Philby’s life we surely must assume that he is destined to join Judas Escariot, Guy Fawkes, and Dafydd ap Gruffydd in the deepest echelons of ‘Dante’s Inferno’.

This interpretation, however, is conceited and single-minded. To call Kim Philby a traitor is not only misguided, but conforms to the modern tradition of hyperbole and exaggeration. It is at a great loss that the last one hundred years has witnessed the gradual dilution of the English language. For centuries the use of the written word was to be admired and revered. Now it only serves to condemn and exacerbate events around the world. In Philby’s case the word traitor has been used with little consideration for its actual meaning or consequences.

Although trivial it must be noted that Harold Adrian Russell Philby was not even born in Europe, let alone the United Kingdom. If the traditional standards are to be applied surely Philby’s loyalty should have lain in India rather than England. At the very least he should have had a choice whether to align himself with India’s British occupiers or those in the struggle for a form of independence. The intention here is not to ignore the unavoidable truth that he was raised and schooled in Britain. On the contrary the intention is to draw contrast with the current political climate in Britain. Are we to consider the proclamations of Abu Uzair and Abu Izadeen treasonous, even though they have been raised in an ideological world completely separate from our own? Through the use of this analysis it is evident that Kim Philby cannot be associated with the term traitor. As Philby himself pointed out, “to betray you have first to belong, I never belonged.”

The nature of the educated man is not to blindly follow, but to examine and evaluate everything he is exposed to. If he did not then authoritarian rule would be easy to uphold and democracy would have no place in the world. The fact that all major developed countries employ some form of democracy highlights the necessity for man to exert his opinion on the world. It is thus unjust for any man to remove Philby’s right “to thought, conscience, and religion…”through the use of the term traitor.

The decisions Philby made are more easily understood when they are put into context by an understanding of where and when he made them. The Europe of the 1930s was a very different place from the one we know today. Countries existed that have since perished, nations were yet to be born, and political unrest was sweeping across an entire continent. The ideals and conflicts that had unintentionally exploded out of Russia in 1917 took hold of everyone, from the minnows to the world powers. The left was rising, inspired by the Bolsheviks, the right was counter-attacking, and anyone in the middle ground found themselves swallowed up by extremism. This is the Europe that Kim Philby unknowingly ventured into during the summer of 1932.

He and his Oxford companion Tim Milne took a tour of Germany, Hungary, and Austria, in search of political enlightenment. Stories of uprising and unrest were not enough. Only first hand experience would suffice for the future spy. Indeed there are many historians who would be jealous of the positioning of Philby during the most historic of times. Shortly after the Reichstag fire in March 1933 Philby is said to have witnessed “uniformed Nazis blocking the entrances to Jewish shops and painting Jude on the doors…” One record claims that Philby is said to have explained to passers-by that such events were unknown in England, only to be told to “clear off”. Already the young impressionable Philby was making life changing decisions, even if he did not realise at the time. It would be inconceivable to expect a young educated mind to witness such timeless events and turn a blind eye. Today the recollection of Nazi Germany evokes emotions such as fear, anger, distress, resentment. What must it have been like for Philby?

Like millions of others Kim found himself looking for an answer to the problem of the right wing in Europe. Like so many of those millions he found solace in Communism. In the summer of 1933 he won a college prize of £14 and spent it “entirely on Marx”. This was a firm indication that Kim had crossed the line from observer to participant. He had chosen a path in life that was neither predetermined nor predictable. It was a path he felt he wanted to travel, a path he could commit to. With hindsight the decision Kim made as a young adult would dominate every aspect of his life until his eventual death in 1988. Looking at the evidence it appears nothing but unjust that he should be referenced as a traitor. Treason is not a crime Kim Philby should be eternally convicted of. Many deaths may have occurred as a result of his decisions and it would be naive to believe that they would not have happened had Philby not been active. Kim Philby made a rational decision based on fact and his interpretation of the changing face of 1930s Europe. For decades he suffered as a result of his decision, but it was his preference not to “become one of those whining ex-communists like Malcolm Muggeridge going around complaining that their ideal had betrayed them.” In the face of alcoholism, depression, and isolation Philby remained loyal to Communism to the end. Such perseverance and dedication is rarely found in ordinary men. This is not treason.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Short and Curly Part II


The blow had been designed to maim, not subdue. Thus, a second followed swiftly across the lower regions of his expansive back, causing him to spit feverishly amidst a flurry of curses and expletives. Feeling his hair wrenched back by a gloved hand, Short’s face contorted upwards, tauntingly defiant and devoid of all emotion.

    “You know who you’re fucking with mate? Any clue where you are sunshine?”

    “More than you think Detective Inspector, but you’ll soon find out you vile waste of swank,” replied a chillingly composed voice.

    “It’s about time you got your just deserts, although by the looks of things you’ve had yours and the rest of the departments for quite some time! Marie Antoinette fan I assume? The only reason you’re conscious is because I’m not fucking carrying you!”

    Clasping handcuffs around the already perspiration soaked wrists of Short; the assailant jerked the DI to his feet and pushed him in the direction of an inauspicious red van.

    “Where are you taking me? You’ll never last a day in my town you son of a hoor!”

    “Calm down son, you’re gonna need to conserve that energy of yours. Why don’t you have a nap?”
   
    Finishing his remark as he slammed Short’s head straight onto the floor of the van, the unidentified violent object heaved the deadweight lump into the van, tapped the side, and made his way to the aforementioned BMW. With a single drive of his elbow glass splattered over the passenger seat, instantly allowing the man access to a most splendid example of Bavarian efficiency. With almost identical ease the car had been hotwired and was soon following the newly plated van holding the slumbering James Short.
    Having been thrown through a set of double doors, Short soon found himself sprawled across the floor of a room that’s stench wreaked of desperation. This in reality was an unapologetic cocktail of rotting meat and perspiration. Using the strength of his one good hand to push his enormous weight upwards, Short felt his very consciousness drifting until the moment he saw the disfigurement that lay slumped across the grey steel of the abattoir’s bench.

    “This is what you made me do you bollocks!”

 “L...L...LARRY! WHAT? NO.NO. WHY? FUCKINGMOTHEROFCHRIST!!”

Monday, 6 February 2012

"Short and Curly Part I"


    “Entirely satisfied Detective, it sounds like we’re in for a good night. ‘Toner set you up with all that gear or did you head down to Belfast?” the rasping voice chuckled.
    “Aye Shorty, ‘Toner’s going away for a while so he gave me a fair whack of his stash. Can we go to your place? Mine’s a tip.”
    Detective Inspector James Short contemplated the request. Would he rather spend his night in a cesspit of debauchery or turn his lovely home into a den of inequity? The decision was difficult but inevitable.
    “Sure we’ll start off at yours. We’ll hardly know where we are come half nine, who gives a shit what your gaff is like!”
    “All right but I’m warning ya, it’s been a state since Lyndsey left ma. Cant be arsed to do anything round here anymore.”
    “Not to worry, you can tidy it up before I get round. I’m leaving the office in 30 minutes so I’ll be with you before eight!”
    “Nice one.”
    Terminating the call, Inspector Short began to punch a new set of digits into his phone. He had just over an hour before he needed to arrive at O’Callaghan’s, “plenty of time”, to do his business and get another smash down well and truly underway.
    “Straight to voicemail again? Fuckin’ gip!”
    Shorty had been trying to phone the number for the best part of and hour with no success. As the latest in a series of failed attempts came to an end he decided that enough was enough and a house call was in order. He had been a patient man and, in his own humble opinion, unquestionably more compassionate than his reputation suggested. Respect was given where due, status earned, and in order to preserve his own he must now act accordingly.
    Locking his office door, and taking five flights of sullen graffiti flecked stairs, with the intention of avoiding hoards plebs and drooling imbeciles, took little to no time. This was undeniably a chore he had endured many times before, always necessary, always vindicated, always exhausting for a man of considerable size. In fairness, who actually knew what anally retentive moron potentially lay in wait, desperately waiting for the opportunity to strike with a budget update or pig swill designed in a similar vein. Created and nurtured it seemed with the sole intention of sucking the life and soul straight from his already saturated body and replacing it with numbers, figures, charts and horseshit.
    The fire escape, disarmed in advance, resisted until a swift boot to the bottom left corner of one door allowed the hinges to unleash their full potential and swing the blue streaked metal into submission. Eyeing vigilantly the most direct route to a delightfully lustrous Z4, James Short reached for his mobile once more. This time, however, he would not so much as grace the plastic with his finger tips. Overwhelmed from the rear, DI Short’s knees could only submit under the demand of skillfully applied pressure from a claret stained baseball bat.

Monday, 30 January 2012

"Dirty Larry" Part II


“Outta my face before I lock you up for the night you waster,” responded O’Callaghan, flashing his badge and an ice cold stare at the vagrant.
    “Awl right, chill mate, leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone.”
    Larry watched Thompson turn the corner back onto the main road and out of the alley way. The uneasy feeling hadn’t shifted. He gave a glance back down the alley, to his left, then right, but as he turned towards his house he could only watch as a baseball bat swung at his temple. There was pain, and then there was darkness.

    As he awoke, feeling and sensitivity to Larry’s body returned in stages. At first a searing pain tore through his chest. As unidentifiable an ache as it was, it was entirely there and excruciatingly raw. A sensation of openness tore through his torso in waves, something quite unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The second sensation was one of confinement. His arms had been bound at the wrist, feet at the ankles, legs spread, and arms spanned. His limbs were burning where they had been bound, his shoulders and knees aching simultaneously. A point of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. Then, as he began to rouse to a more vivid state of consciousness, Larry realised that his head was covered in a coarse, translucent material and bound tightly around the throat. His mouth, now devoid of teeth which had been considerately replaced by lacerations, began to spurt blood as he attempted to speak. Realising the futility of his plight he lay there, bound to dog knows what by dog knows whom! Ah fuck!   

    Doing all he could, mustering every last drop energy and clinging to the wisdom of his Royal Ulster Constabulary training, Larry listened. There was silence to begin. His senses dulled and orientation extracted, Larry had no concept of time and space. This having been his original intention earlier in the evening, one would be forgiven for appreciating the irony of his predicament. As he peered with his ears into the silence he identified what he believed to be muffled groans. Or perhaps they were sputtered expletives. Maybe they were thuds and further groans. He hadn’t a fucking notion. It took the rest of his energy not to cry. Then, as if tapped of all his resources, the darkness came once more.

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Dirty Larry - Part I


    “Tell me again Detective O’Callaghan, indulge my curiosity please,” rasped a voice on the end of a dodgy mobile phone connection.
    “We’ve been through this; I don’t believe it is necessary Inspector. We shouldn’t be wasting time like this,” was the response of Detective Lawrence O’Callaghan.
    “Indulge me,” the rasp insisted.
    O’Callaghan cast another glance around the dank and decrepit living room. A patch of sunlight glimmered through the venetian blinds while an irrepressible odour made no attempt to hide the fact the room hadn’t been cleaned for weeks. Beer cans strewn across the floor, burns on the carpet, ash and dust settled an inch thick on any available surface. “Could do with a woman’s touch, or win the Turner prize hands down,” O’Callaghan chuckled to himself. Then he heard the sound of restlessness on the other end of the line. 
     “All right, for the record; we have three bags of regretamine, beer in the fridge, and half a ten glass of vodka that appears to have been sitting for a while. Intent to supply is out of the question, appears to be for personal use only,” he recited. “Satisfied?” he added.
    There was a pause on the line, static spluttered as the signal held on for dear life, O’Callaghan growing evermore impatient himself. A moment passed. No more than a moment and the silence was broken once more.
    “Entirely satisfied Detective, it sounds like we’re in for a good night. ‘Toner set you up with all that gear or did you head down to Belfast?” the rasping voice chuckled.
    “Aye Shorty, ‘Toner’s going away for a while so he gave me a fair whack of his stash. Can we go to your place? Mine’s a tip.”
    Detective Inspector James Short contemplated the request. Would he rather spend his night in a cesspit of debauchery or turn his lovely home into a den of inequity? The decision was difficult but inevitable.
    “Sure we’ll start off at yours. We’ll hardly know where we are come half nine, who gives a shit what your gaff is like!”
    “All right but I’m warning ya, it’s been a state since Lyndsey left ma. Cant be arsed to do anything round here anymore.”
    “Not to worry, you can tidy it up before I get round. I’m leaving the office in 30 minutes so I’ll be with you before eight!”
    “Nice one.”
    Terminating the call, Larry walked through his kitchen, grabbed some bin bags and began collecting the assortment of rubbish spread around the dwelling. It would be a cosmetic and entirely superficial clean, but it would have to do. There was less than an hour before Shorty was due round and he hadn’t been fed or showered yet. With the majority of clutter bagged and a few surfaces polished, the room was closer to scratch than not, but the stench, growing thick, was unlikely to dissipate any time soon.
    Throwing the last of the bags in a royal blue council bin in an alley adjacent to his home, O’Callaghan sensed a presence close by. Turning around he spotted a wino staggering by. “Fucking nerves are shot, that aul hoor Thompson giving me the jitters, sort yourself out Larry!”
    “Gee-us a pound mate. Locka loo?”