Len Deighton - Horse Under Water

Len Deighton

Harry Palmer 02 - Horse Under Water

Horse Under Water contains all the ingredients of a classic Deighton novel.

In an explosive story of blackmail, treachery, murder and drug-trafficking, the dead hand of a long-defeated Nazi Germany reaches out to Portugal , London and Marrakech and to all the neo-Nazis of today's Europe .

The detail is frightening, the action very violent and the story is as up to date as an M.I.5 file. The hero is insolent, fallible, captious and capricious - in other words, human. Perhaps you will find him less attractive than the men against whom he works. As he says, 'A lot depends upon which side of the despatch box you rest your feet!'

I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me. SCOTT

Perhaps the worst plight of a vessel is to be caught in a gale on a lee shore.

In this connection the following ... rules should be observed:

1. Never allow your vessel to be found in such a predicament...

CALLINGHAM,

Seamanship: Jottings for the Young Sailor

CENTRAL REGISTER.

The attached original document is No. lwk/649/1942 and is filed under the personal file of Smith Henry,

DO HOT DETACH

HOT COPY

NOT DESTROY

DO NOT TRANSFER

DO NOT CROSS REF. IN ANY OTHER DOCUMENT

This document requires a_______priority for removal from this file.

House of Commons.

London , S.W.

Sunday 26th January, 1941 .

Dear Walter,

I shall ask you to turn this the sonant you have read it. Tel K.E.F that he will too to supply anything from the factory in Lyon that you ask. Remind him that it wasn't the French Resistance that have paid his wages for the last ten months. I want the chimneys smoking again at the earliest possible moment or I will sell the whole plant.

Would your Wehmacht people be Interested in buying the place? Should you be interested I will appoint you as the agent at the usual rate. Surely a factory in the Vichy Free Zone could be useful in the light of this 'Trading with the Enemy Statutory list?'

I think these people here are beginning to realise which the wind has blown and already a little of the bravado has disappeared. You can mark my words that should your fellows actually come into the conflict with the Soviets we British will not be long in understanding that most be done.

Our plant In Latvia has gone down the drain now that they have been subverted by the Bolshies and I can only say how glad I am that the plans for the Bukovina place didn't materialize.

I am forming a 'Brains Trust' (as they say these days) of people who see eye to eye with me on these points so that when the country finally comes to ltd senses we will be in a position to do something about it.

You are right about Roosevelt 's crowds now that he's safely In for the third time they will foment the spiteful retaliatory attitude of the socialist mob here. However, Roosevelt isn't America you know, and as long as your people don't do anything foolish (like dropping: a bomb on New York ) only a small number will be willing to pick up a gun if it means putting down a cash register.

Burn this now, Yours, Henry

1 Sweet talk

Marrakech: Tuesday

Marrakech is just what the guide-books say it is. Marrakech is an ancient walled city surrounded with olive groves and palm trees. Behind it rise the mountains of the high Atlas and in the city the market place at Djemaa-el-Fna is alive with jugglers, dancers, magicians, story-tellers, snake-charmers and music. Marrakech is a fairy-tale city, but on this trip I didn't get to see much more of it than a fly-blown hotel room and the immobile faces of three Portuguese politicians.

My hotel was in the old city; the Medina . The rooms were finished hi brown and cream paint and the wall decorations were notices telling me not to do various things in French. From the next room came the sound of water , dripping into the stained bath tub and the call of an indefatigable cricket, while through the broken fly-screens in the window came the musical sound of an Arab city selling its wares.

I removed my tie and put it over the back of my chair. My shirt hung suddenly cold against the small of my back and I felt a dribble of sweat run gently down the side of my nose, hesitate and drop on to 'Sheet 128: Transfer of sterling assets of Government of Portugal held in United Kingdom, Mandates or Dependencies to successor Government'.

We sipped oversweet mint tea, munched almond, honey-sticky cakes, and I took comfort in the idea of being back in London inside twenty-four hours. This may be a millionaire's playground, but no self-respecting millionaire would be seen dead here in the summer. It was ten past four in the afternoon. The whole town was buzzing with flies and conversation; cafes, restaurants and brothels had standing room only; the pickpockets were working to rota. 'Very well,' I said, 'availability of thirty per cent of your sterling assets as soon as the British Ambassador in Lisbon is satisfied that you have a working control within the capital.' They agreed to that. They weren't delirious with joy but they agreed to that. They were hard bargainers, these revolutionaries.

2 Old solution

London : Thursday

The W.O.O.C(P) owned a small piece of grimy real estate on the unwashed side of

Charlotte Street . My office had an outlook like a Cruikshank illustration to David Copper-field, and subsidence provided an isosceles triangle under the door that made internal telephones unnecessary.

Dawlish was my chief. When I gave him the report on my negotiations in Marrakech he laid it on his desk like the foundation stone of the National Theatre and said, 'Foreign Office are going to introduce a couple of new ideas for tackling the talks with the Portuguese revolutionary party.'

'For us to tackle them,' I corrected.

'Top marks, my boy,' said Dawlish, 'you cottoned on to that aspect of their little scheme.'

'I'm covered in the scar tissue of O'Brien's good ideas.'

'Well, this one is better than most,' said Dawlish.

Dawlish was a tall, grey-haired civil servant with eyes like the far end of a long tunnel. Dawlish always tended to placate other departments when they asked us to do something difficult or stupid. I saw each job in terms of the people who would have to do the dirty work. That's the way I saw this job, but Dawlish was my master.

On the small, antique writing-desk that Dawlish had brought with him when he took over the department -W.O.O.C.(P) - was a bundle of papers tied with the pink ribbon of officialdom. He riffled quickly through them.

'This Portuguese revolutionary movement ...' Dawlish began; he paused.

'Vos nao vedes,' I supplied.

'Yes, V.N.V. - that's "they do not see", isn't it?'

' "Vos" is the same as "vous" in French,' I said; 'it's "you do not see".'

'Quite so,' said Dawlish, 'well this V.N.V. want the P.O. to put up quite a lump sum of money in advance.'

'Yes,' I said, 'that's the trouble with easy payment plans.'

Dawlish said, 'Suppose we could do it for nothing.' I didn't answer. He went on, 'Off the coast of Portugal there is a boat full of money. It's money that the Nazis counterfeited during the war. English and American paper money.'

I said, 'Then the idea is that the V.N.V. boys get the money from the sunken boat and use it to finance their revolution?'

'Not quite,' said Dawlish. He probed the hot pipe-embers with a match. 'The idea is that we get the money from the sunken boat for them.'

'Oh no!' I said. 'You surely haven't agreed to that. What do F.O. Intelligence Unit [Foreign Office Intelligence Unit, part of M.I.6.] get paid for?'

'I sometimes wonder,' agreed Dawlish, 'but I suppose the P.O. have their troubles too.'

'Don't tell me about them,' I said, 'it might break me up emotionally."

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