World War Two Will Not Take Place Read Online Free Page A

detested spies and being spied on. This new-Germany regime would probably detest spies more than most, as Bilson had hinted, and would show it if they caught one, also as Bilson had hinted.
    Of course, Mount, also, spied. But for him it was a profession, and a fairly decent profession, with sterling people like SB running things, some of them medalled, and Cambridge double firsts as rankers: a sought-after, pensionable, classy career, hard to get into. But spying was not Toulmin’s profession or career. No. In fact, Toulmin actually spied on people in his profession and career: on foreign affairs deskmen who knew him as a colleague, not as Toulmin, an agent working to Mount. As Fallows had said not long ago, ‘One man’s agent is another man’s traitor.’ Toulmin’s behaviour would strike many as disgustingly corrupt and due no mercy if discovered. He’d be termed a renegade rather than a spy, although he spied for Mount. Toulmin had to live permanently among the people he spied on, bringing non-stop strain. On the other hand, Mount could go home now and then, resume normality, become simply and purely, for a time, Marcus Mount, known by friends and relatives as having ‘some tidy government job in London with a lot of travel’.
    Despite these contrasts, Mount often grew very nervy, too. He felt especially anxious now, even though the dark windows could be regarded – should be regarded – as simply a message board, and a message board that had been considerately kept up-to-date. Was his jumpiness stupid, perverse? He thought he might have been seriously pushed off-balance by SB’s seeming plunge into crazy haste. Projects built in that kind of rushed, gimcrack way often failed. Also, he felt he might have been idiotically casual, over-relaxed, in drifting off to the cinema tonight. He was here to do a job for Stephen Bilson, not to drool over Dietrich.
    Mount approached the apartment gingerly. Procedures for clandestine penetration of occupied premises had taken two full days in his training. Plentiful caution had been preached, and that stuck with him. But determination to get into the occupied premises regardless had also been part of the instruction. Normally, it would not be one’s own premises that were involved, but those of a target. The same conditions applied, though. He couldn’t be thoroughly sure lowered blinds accounted for the absence of light as he gazed up at the building. The windows might be dark because the room behind was. Why would Toulmin switch off, suppose it to be Toulmin? And, then, suppose not – who, for God’s sake?
    The wariness taught for clandestine penetration of occupied premises focused above all on doors and how to go through them. On the face of it, that’s what doors were for – to go through when open. But an open door into the wrong kind of area carried some perils. Standing in a doorway even for half a second meant you were nicely framed, a simple potshot for anyone inside and waiting for you. Techniques on how to manage doors and passing through them in these special conditions differed, depending on whether the officer had a firearm or not, and, if the officer did have a firearm, differed again depending on whether it was ‘ blatant ’ – that is, in the officer’s fist and visible – or ‘ latent ’ – that is, holstered, handbagged or waistbanded, and out of sight. Neither the blatant nor latent approach concerned Mount. He had no gun. To draw a weapon from the armoury would have required signatures and a proper record. SB didn’t regard the visit as that kind of operation. The Berlin jaunt was unofficial – unknown, except to Mount and Bilson, plus, illicitly, Fallows and Baillie. The Section had an unaudited and unauditable emergency cash store, which SB must have used for the flight costs and Mount’s spending wad. So, his ticket had been taken care of, and his