Andy, can I ask you to stop messing with me, can you give me that name please,”
“Why are you not being patient? You said you’d be patient until I had all the information checked,” the truth was I had the information on the notepaper in Karen’s knicker draw, it was double-checked and confirmed, I was always going to give it to Jenny, but I needed to see how desperate she wanted it . . . so to speak.
We walked back to Karen in the bedroom together. I placed the coffee cups beside the bed and climbed in next to Karen. As I turned to face the room, Jenny was looking in my back pocket for the note.
“Jesus Jenny!” I moaned at her “You can’t wait can you,” now Jenny was showing signs of impatience, I had pushed her enough. “It’s in that drawer,”, pointing toward where the paper was hidden. Jenny now moving fast still naked to take the paper out of the drawer, read the contents regarding the Nazi Joachim Peiper, I’m not sure if she knew who he was but it didn’t matter. She shouted a thank you and left the room.
“Wow,” Karen said, “She was desperate for that,” I should have replied, “What the sex or the piece of paper?” but I didn’t.
We slowly drank our coffee and wondered why Jenny needed that information so badly. “So did you accomplish what you needed to with Jenny? Karen asked
“Now we wait,” I said
“Wait for what?” Karen came back
“Well it's simple, I’m either right or wrong about Jenny, if I’m right then I expect something will happen, and if I’m wrong well I suspect life will go on as normal,” “What do you think will happen?” Karen was unsure what game I was playing now.
“We wait that’s all we do, say nothing to her out of the ordinary and wait,”
“How long do we wait?” asked Karen
“Well, could be a while but my hunch says soon,”
“I don’t know how you are so sure about my best friend, so we will see, and if you are wrong there will be a penance to pay,” she giggled.
“And what will the penance be?” I enquired. With that, she pushed my head below the sheets down passed her breasts, over her belly to the sweet spot between her legs. After at least four hours of sex during the night, it wasn’t a pleasant place to be, but I managed to satisfy the imposed penance. After Karen finished, it was announced to me that it would be my job to make brunch with more coffee.
Jenny in the meantime had showered dressed and shouted goodbye as she left the apartment. She didn’t say where she was going but I had an idea. Ideally, I should have had her followed, but this was an unofficial job, and it was all just a hunch for now anyway.
Karen and I spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday together, it was the only time in all my years working at MI6 we spent a weekend as lovers do, I wished it could be more often. Sunday afternoon I went home ready to go back to work Monday morning.
The following Wednesday Karen was at Century House and I was at my Dad’s business, I received a call from Karen again.
“Andy, you’ve been summoned to a meeting, you are to talk to HR (Human Resources) and it sounds like trouble,”
“What kind of trouble?” I enquired
“I have no idea, they wouldn’t tell me. Tomorrow at 11am at the In and Out Club, Piccadilly,” this was an ironic location, a private members club properly named the Naval and Military Club, The club came to be known as the "In and Out", from the prominent traffic-directing signs on its entrance and exit gates. Members included T. E. Lawrence and Ian Fleming. Not only was it a recruiting venue for MI5 and MI6, but this address was also used in correspondence found on a dead British officer who was deliberately dropped into seas off Spain by MI6 during the Second World War. This deception operation, Operation Mincemeat, tricked the Nazis into believing the Normandy invasion force would land elsewhere. I wondered for a moment if someone knew what I was working on in my spare time.
The next day I arrived in Piccadilly and found the club on the eastern side of Saint James’s Square. At the front door, feeling a little out of place, as this club was mostly for the military. I was redirected to the rear entrance in Babmaes Street, just off Jermyn Street. It is less formal this side of the building and is the entrance to the business centre. On entering I was ushered to a private room where I found a lady sitting at a table looking very stern indeed. A notetaker was to one side of the table, this was going to be some kind of disciplinary meeting I realised. As I entered she stood and introduced herself as Barbara Busch-Rash, head of HR. I barely stifled my laughter, poor woman. She only introduced the other lady as the note-taker, which I thought a bit rude. I asked if she was ok to sit, it seemed this was a sense of humour deficit area, and a cold wind was blowing from the north, it may have been better blowing south, it may have eased her discomfort. She didn’t get the joke, I struggled to see how I was going to take this as seriously as her face and her rash suggested I should. I guessed she was in her sixties and if she wasn’t in this job she would have to be a headmistress from an old fifties film, dowdily dressed, with rimless glasses clinging to the end of her nose she peered over the top whenever she looked at me.
She had my file and under it, I assume Karen’s too. She began
“It has come to our attention that a rule is being broken, you are aware that relationships are not permitted between staff within the service,” I guessed right away what this was going to be about, but my sense of humour refused to take this seriously.
“Well, that’s why I’m not dating you,” I replied, I was no longer a schoolchild and took umbrage at being talked at as if I was. I was supposed to be an adult.
“No need to be flippant, this is serious,” she tried to take charge but I was having none of it.
“As serious as the rash?” I tested flippancy to the max.
“What rash?” she asked as she rubbed a hand over her arm as if to search for one. Where did this woman come from for goodness sake?
“Strange,” I replied
“What is?” she questioned
“Your name, Barbara means strange, it’s Greek for strange,” I knew this fact as my mother’s given name is Barbara and suits her well too.
“Could you not say anything for a moment while I explain why we are here today,” she continued to headmistress me. I drew a zip across my mouth signifying I would now remain quiet. She explained the procedure of the disciplinary and began,
“It has come to our attention that you and your secretary Miss Middleton have been having, well . . . relations. Do you not understand the security implications?” and she just droned on for what seemed ages about policy, security and morals. I finally got a chance to speak, when she asked if I had anything to say.
“I am well aware of the security aspect of everything I do, and if I had the slightest inkling that Miss Middleton was anything but trustworthy I’d refuse to work with her. I take your accusation seriously Miss Nappy-Rash,”
“Busch-Rash,” she corrected me still not showing any sign of a sense of humour.
“Miss Busch-Fire, I have a very good working relationship with my secretary, the work she does for me is exemplary and professional,
