The Ka of Gifford Hillary

by Dennis Wheatley

  The first time I found her out I was frantic with rage, jealousy and grief. But she did not express the least contrition and even laughed about it. She told me then that I was a long way from having been the first with her and certainly would not be the last. Unless I could reconcile myself to that I had better take steps to divorce her; but she hoped that I wouldn’t because she loved me and didn’t give a button for the other fellow—he had meant no more to her than trying out a new car.

  I was still desperately in love with her; so, of course, I forgave her, and tried to regard as nervous braggadocio what she had said about being unfaithful to me again in the future. But a few months later, when I joined her in the south of France for a short spell before bringing her home after she had spent six weeks there, I found good reason to suppose that she had been. When I charged her with it she adopted the same attitude as before, and, moreover, flatly refused to give up going abroad for holidays for much longer than I could take time off to accompany her; so I could no longer shirk the issue.

  Had I been younger I don’t think I could possibly have brought myself to go on with her under those conditions; but age teaches one to control anger, the repetition of an offence dulls resentment of it, and the longer one lives the more tolerant one becomes of the faults of others. On a third occasion when I remonstrated with her she said that she was driven to her lapses by an insatiable curiosity to know whether other men who interested her could fulfil their apparent promise as lovers; but I incline to the belief that some maladjustment of her glands made her by nature almost a nymphomaniac, and that only her sense of values restrained her from becoming a real tramp.

  However that may be, she handled her illicit affairs with great discretion, and never gave me the least cause to reproach her during the greater part of each year while we were living together. That she never ceased to love me, after her own fashion, I am convinced, as time and again she could have left me for some much richer or more distinguished man, but never even hinted at any desire to do so. Her physical attractions apart, she had many very lovable qualities, and I have never met a woman who was capable of giving more in the way of intelligent and charming companionship.

  After each of our brief separations she invariably returned to me brimming over with happiness to be back, as if I were the only person in the world with whom she had ever wanted to be. So I can honestly say that, however much pain she caused me during the early years of our marriage, she brought me far more joy than sorrow in the long run; and I do not believe there is the least reason to suppose that our marriage would ever have broken up, had it not been for a terrible misunderstanding that bore its evil fruit the weekend following that on which Martin Emsworth came over to Longshot.

  Mentioning his name brings home to me that I have made far too long a digression about Ankaret; but I shall have plenty more to say about her later. After another drink and some mildly amusing chit-chat Martin left us, and I have not seen him since; but I duly kept the secret appointment he had made for me.

  3

  The Evening of Wednesday 7th September

  Being by nature a methodical and punctual chap, it was nine o’clock precisely when I pressed the front door bell of Martin Emsworth’s flat on the Wednesday evening. A few blocks away Big Ben was still pounding out the hour as Sir Charles himself let me in.

  Actually we are much of a height, but close up he seemed even taller than myself; probably because he holds his spare figure very upright. Undoubtedly that, and his invariably well-groomed appearance, are both legacies from the years he spent in the Army, although one is apt to forget that he reached the rank of Major before he went into politics. In spite of his prematurely-white hair he looks much younger than his age and remarkably fit for a man who can’t get much time to be out in the open air. His wide mouth broke into a friendly grin and he said:

  ‘Good of you to come, Hillary. Sorry about all this mystery, but you’ll see the point of it before you’re much older. Martin has got rid of his man for the evening and discreetly taken himself off to his Club, leaving me to play host to you. Come along inside.’

  In the centre of the big sitting-room there stood a large table. On it were Sir Charles’s brief-case and a number of papers upon which he had evidently been working before I arrived. Along one side of the table a comfortable sofa faced the grate, in which a bright fire was burning. Motioning me to sit down, he walked over to a drink cabinet and asked me what I’d have. I chose brandy, so he poured two good rations into small balloon glasses, handed me one, gave me a cigar, and settled himself at the other end of the sofa. For a few minutes we talked about Martin, and a few other acquaintances we had in common, then he opened up as follows:

  ‘I don’t know if you saw the last White Paper on armaments, but during the past two years I’m sure you must have read any number of articles in the press dealing with the same subject. I mean, of course, the fundamental change in methods of warfare which must be considered as a result of the introduction of nuclear weapons. It is that which I want to talk to you about.

  ‘One result has been extremely severe cuts in the Army Estimates, and the scrapping or conversion to new purposes of numerous formations. But such measures are really only begging the question; and the controversy is still raging. Some people maintain that we should bank entirely on the incredibly terrible devastation which could be wrought by H-bombs, and scrap practically everything else. Others hold the view that, whether thermo-nuclear weapons are used or not, we would still run an unacceptable risk of defeat unless we maintained our present strength in the types of weapon with which the last world war was waged. For simplification, when we are discussing armaments we now speak of these two schools of thought as the protagonists of either the New Look or the Old Look.

  ‘Our difficulty is, of course, that we cannot possibly afford to have it both ways. The colossal cost of producing nuclear weapons is known to everyone and since 1913 the cost per annum of maintaining our fighting services with their conventional weapons has increased from seventy-four millions to over one thousand three hundred millions. In relation to the increased cost of living that means that our bill for men and arms has more than quadrupled; so it is already a grievous burden on the people, and to create a New Look alongside the Old Look would break the nation’s financial back.

  ‘That, of course, is just what our enemies would like to see. Whether they will ever challenge the N.A.T.O. nations in an all-out hot war I have no more idea than the next man; but it is quite certain that any measure which tends to undermine our economy, and so cause depression, discontent and dissatisfaction with the Government, suits their book. By the devious means of which they are past masters they will bring influence to bear on all sorts of well-meaning people and bodies to press us to continue with a “middle of the road” policy, knowing that it must inevitably result in increased taxation without either the New Look or the Old being developed to its maximum efficiency. But we—and in this instance I am speaking of the Prime Minister and the Cabinet—are determined not to fall into that trap. And the time has come when we must take a definite decision one way or the other.

  ‘Which ever way we do decide there is going to be the most frightful outcry from the side our verdict goes against. Either the scientists and New Lookers, or the warriors of the Old School, are certain to raise Cain. They’ll write to every newspaper and shout from every roof top that we are betraying the nation. The Government may well have to face a vote of confidence in the House with the unhappy knowledge that many of its staunchest supporters will be against it; although, of course, as an offset to that one can be certain that a proportion of the Opposition will be in favour of whichever decision is adopted. The issue is a non-party one, but it is bound to split the nation; and it is in the belief that, if you will, you could be of great assistance in carrying the ship of Government over these dangerous rocks on a spate of public opinion that I asked you to come here tonight.’

  I made no comment. There was noth
ing new to me about the problem. Like most other people who habitually scan a few of the more serious papers, I had read dozens of so-called ‘informed’ articles on it by every type of expert both scientific and military. In what way Sir Charles thought that I could materially influence public opinion I had not the faintest idea; so there seemed nothing useful that I could say. After sipping his brandy he went on:

  ‘I need hardly add that I shall not ask you to do anything which would be contrary to your own convictions; neither have I any intention of endeavouring to influence your judgement. I propose only to lay a variety of opinions before you. Should you form the same conclusion from them as I have, I shall then tell you what I have in mind. If not, that will be the end of the matter, and I shall only request that you will not divulge any information which you may have acquired during the course of this evening.’

  ‘That’s fair enough,’ I agreed. ‘Naturally I haven’t a notion what you have in mind; but if we do see eye to eye in this I’ll willingly give you such help as I can.’

  He nodded, and smiled at me like a wise white owl through his thick-lensed glasses, with the heavy tortoise-shell rims. Then he asked: ‘Do you know anything about the workings of my Ministry?’

  ‘Not much,’ I replied, ‘except that the majority of its staff are hand-picked bright boys on about Colonel’s level from all three Services, with a few Foreign Office types, scientists and economic experts thrown in. I only know that much because a nephew of mine has recently been posted to it.’

  ‘Really! What’s his name?’

  ‘Johnny Norton. He put up a pretty good show in the war and in Malaya and has since passed out near the top from the Air Staff College; but he’s only a very junior Wing Commander so he thinks it quite a feather in his cap to have been selected for the Joint Planning Staff.’

  ‘And he’s right, of course, because we do skim the cream. I haven’t met him yet; but in due course he is sure to have to sit in for his G. One at one of the bigger conferences, and I shall then. Has he told you of the system by which we get the answers to our riddles?’

  ‘Gracious me, no. Johnny is much too security minded even to drop a hint about the nature of his work.’

  Before proceeding further with this account I feel it only right to state that the details of my secret conference with Sir Charles have no bearing on my personal tragedy. It was the action which I took as a result of it which later had such disastrous consequences, and I am recording the details only because they explain that action. In consequence any reader of this document who is uninterested in future strategy and our measures for countering the threat of Soviet aggression will lose nothing by omitting the next few thousand words and resuming this account in Chapter 4

  Sir Charles’ friendly grin came again and his pale blue eyes smiled through the pebble lenses as he proceeded to enlighten me. ‘The Joint Planning Staff, which forms the backbone of my Ministry, is the only equivalent that Britain has ever had to the German General Staff, but it is infinitely smaller. It had its modest beginnings in Palestine in 1937 with a single team of a Lieutenant Commander, a Major and a Squadron Leader. Even during the war it was never expanded beyond six teams of three each with the addition of a few civilian specialists. It is divided into two sections, the STRATS, or Strategic Planners, who deal with more immediate problems, and the FOPS, or Future Planners, who tackle questions of long-term policy. Every single problem concerning any theatre of war, or possible theatre of war, or redistribution of forces, or creation of new bases, or undertakings to the N.A.T.O. countries, or terms of reference for special inquiries, or directives to force commanders, or important innovations in any of the Services, is submitted to one or other of these two sections. In addition they are expected to think for themselves, and on any matter which they may decide requires attention draw that of their superiors to it by writing papers which begin: “In anticipation of the wishes of the Chiefs of Staff.”’

  ‘Then they must have their plates full,’ I said with a smile.

  ‘Yes. The hours they work would make every shop-steward in the country faint; they get no overtime for it either. It seems that there are just as many urgent problems to be dealt with in the cold war as in a hot one; so it’s not at all unusual for the STRATS to be still at it at two o’clock in the morning preparing final briefs for the Chiefs-of-Staff’s daily meeting eight hours later. Most of them work on Sundays too, although there is no meeting of the Chiefs. It gives them a chance to catch up.

  ‘But to go on with what I was saying. Each problem is first argued out by a team of G. Two’s. They state the object of the paper, set out the arguments for or against this and that, and give their conclusions. It then goes to a team of G. One’s who reargue it, redraft it and pass it on to the Directors of Plans of the three Services. The Directors of Plans argue the pros and cons in their turn, amend it as they think fit and submit it to the Chiefs of Staff. The Chiefs, who in the meantime have been separately briefed by their own personal staffs in their respective Ministries, then discuss it. If they are not satisfied that the recommendation is the best answer to the problem they refer it back with their comments to the J.P. for further consideration. If they are satisfied they pass it, and copies are sent for action to whatever departments may be concerned. That is the drill with regard to all bread-and-butter Service matters. But all questions of major importance, or ones in which the Foreign Office, or other Ministries, may be concerned, are placed before me; and on issues of the highest import, such as this business of the New Look, I, of course, have to consult the Cabinet.

  ‘I’m telling you all this because I want to impress upon you that the papers they produce are not just cock-shies at a subject setting forth the views of a few clever but possibly prejudiced people. Initiated by promising young officers who are full of enthusiasm, and who sometimes have most revolutionary ideas, they go up stage by stage till they receive the well-balanced scrutiny of the men who have had greater experience of such problems than any others in their profession. So in their final form these papers embody the consolidated opinion reached by a majority among a selection of men all of whose brains are well above par and some, probably, as fine as any in the country.’

  Reaching a long arm over the back of the sofa, Sir Charles picked up some sheets of foolscap clipped together at the top, handed them to me and said: ‘This is a paper got out some months ago on the New Look. I want you to read it and tell me what you think of it.’

  The first page of the paper had a printed heading with TOP SECRET in inch-high letters above a red line; the rest of it was stencilled. Great skill and experience had evidently been used in drafting it, as it did not contain a single redundant word and the whole subject had been reduced to the barest essentials. It was only three pages in length and consisted of a number of neat paragraphs each with a separate sub-heading.

  In effect, it stated that while we could not afford to fall behind our potential enemies in the development of thermonuclear weapons, it was essential that we should retain a sufficiency of orthodox formations to enable us to meet aggression in cases where it was unlikely that either side would resort to nuclear warfare—such as that which had taken place in Korea.

  It referred to our undertaking to keep four divisions on the Continent, to our commitments elsewhere, and to the vital necessity for adequate convoy protection to keep Britain’s sea communications open in the event of a major war.

  In conclusion it stressed the danger we should run if we were caught changing horses while crossing the stream; and expressed the opinion that no further major reduction of forces would as yet be acceptable to any of the three Services.

  When I had finished it I glanced across at Sir Charles and said: ‘This doesn’t seem to get you very far, does it?’

  Again the boyish grin, that contrasted so strongly with his thatch of white hair, flashed out. ‘It doesn’t get us anywhere. Mind you, normally there is a great deal of give and take between the three Services, but that cou
ld hardly be expected where the New Look is concerned. The airmen feel that in any major war they, practically alone, will be called on to hold the baby. The soldiers fear a still greater reduction in their numbers unless they can make a case for taking over a big share of the airmen’s responsibilities, and the sailors know that they are fighting for their very existence. It is not surprising that their views are entirely irreconcilable.

  ‘Realising that, as a next move, I asked the three Chiefs of Staff to have the officers of their own Services in my Ministry in consultation with the Planners in theirs, to prepare separate papers on the subject: The results were very interesting.’

  Standing up, Sir Charles gave me three more papers, all considerably longer than the first, and said: ‘Now while you read these I’m sure you won’t mind if I do a little work.’ Then he moved round to the other side of the table while I got down to reading.

  The Admiralty paper was the shortest. It opened by taking the bull by the horns and stating somewhat bellicosely that Britain owed her rise to greatness and her security through the centuries to sea-power; so any suggestion that the Royal Navy should be reduced to an inferior status was unthinkable.

  There followed paragraphs to the effect that: The employment of atomic weapons could not alter the fact that the country would become incapable of continuing to wage any form of war at all if, for more than a few weeks, its sea communications were severed. That the Russians were building great numbers of ocean-going submarines; so it was more important than ever before that we should increase to the maximum possible extent our building of submarine-killing craft of the latest design. That whereas airfields and rocket-launching sites presented fixed targets for nuclear missiles, aircraft carriers possessed the advantage of mobility; therefore, should all land establishments be wiped out, the Fleet carriers might still survive as a means of retaliation, and guided missiles from them prove a last trump card which could give us victory. That the Royal Navy had ever adapted itself to changing conditions and had taken to the air simultaneously with the Army, developing in the Fleet Air Arm a weapon of proved value which could be operated with maximum efficiency only under the direction of naval officers; and that logically Coastal Command should form a section of that Arm instead of being the responsibility of the R.A.F.