I WAS MONTY’S DOUBLE
Page 19
“Yes, the inside details of how MI 5 planned the whole thing.”
No one had ever asked me this question before. “I know nothing about the inner workings of MI5. I had nothing to do with the planning. I was only a pawn in the game.”
“Yes, but surely you knew something about what was happening behind the scenes?”
“Why are you so anxious to know?”
He was full of reasons why. The reading public were intensely interested in the Secret Service. If I could tell him something about the way they went to work it would make a good story. He promised to go fifty-fifty with me on the proceeds of his writings.
It seemed plausible enough, but I could tell him nothing for the very good reason that I didn’t know the answers. He continued to press me for details and at last I was thankful to get rid of him by giving him some notes of mine which really told him nothing.
A fortnight later there was a ring at the front door bell and there was Harris again without any warning of his coming. I didn’t see how to avoid inviting him in and presently he was asking me if I had considered his proposition.
“What proposition?” I asked bluntly.
“Well, I’ll put my cards on the table. If you will give me details of the planning, the full version of your assignment and the real names of the MI 5 people who briefed you—I’ll make it worth your while. You see, I have a connection with a group of American newspapers, and between you and me, money is no object to them.”
This certainly sounded an attractive offer and I admit that the thought crossed my mind that I might cash in on it. Naturally I couldn’t tell him the truth, even if I had known it, but I supposed that neither the American reading public nor the American editors would be any the worse for a little fiction provided it sounded plausible and no one discovered that it was fiction. But my dreams of easy money were shattered by the arrival of my doctor, Bob Graham, who in my rickety state of health was a constant visitor. As usual he was breezy and cheerful, but when I introduced him to Harris his manner changed.
“Haven’t we met before?” he asked.
I should mention that Bob had been in the Intelligence Service and had a keen memory for faces.
“No, I don’t think so,” Harris replied.
Bob shrugged his shoulders and begged to be excused while he wrote me a prescription. I was not aware that I needed any prescription, and when he handed it to me I began to put it in my pocket.
“Read it,” said Bob sharply.
In some surprise I glanced at it and read: “Get rid of this man at once. He’s dangerous.”
I think Harris must have guessed what was happening, for almost at once he left with an unconvincing promise to get in touch with me later.
When he had gone I asked Bob what he knew about him.
“Just one of those coincidences,” he replied. “I ran across him in Belgium. He was working for us then, and as we discovered later for the other side as well. I expect he’s still up to his tricks. What did he ask you?”
I dare say I shall be an object of mild interest to enemy agents until the end of my life.
THE END