BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON by Prof S Ofer Draft TWO

07 Lady/Giles new assignments; 01 jun 52]

[NOVEMBER 8 OF 1942 is when Operation Torch begins]

LADY
By the time that Operation Torch was launched on November 8 of 1942 (the invasion of North Africa),
Thames House had been closed down for some time, at least insofar as serving as MI5 HQ. In Sept 39
[mcb est] MI5 HQ duties had been moved to Wormwood Scrubs Prison in West Kensington, but Lady had
continued to work out of Thames House. Then by January 1940 MI5 had given up its prison quarters and
divided itself, putting the Registry at Blenheim Palace, just North of Oxford, and Operations at Saint
James Street in Westminster. In 1945, MI5 HQ moved to Leconfield House, Curzon Street.

[Nov 1942]
When Lady returned to service after her hospitalization, she began arriving regularly at the Saint James
address' Service Entry on Bennett Street, the point of access for the Westminster address, where she
began preparing for her new assignment. After the success of her operation in Malta, she was organizing
the training section for a new Snoopers School at Beaulieu, in Hampshire.

[1943]
By 1943 the Allied Italian Campaign was underway, and interest was growing to shift the emphasis of
Lady's group from Snoopers to Escape and Evasion training. This was becoming a large job. It would be
a program to train all RAF pilots in the cultures over which they might be shot down. Currently of course,
their sights were set upon the normal Franco-Teutonic areas of occupation. But in long ranged planning
this role was expected to expanded greatly. Looking into possibilities after the War, it was fairly clear to
Foreign Office planners that the UK would be pitted against the USSR. As a small part of that planning,
Lady's new assignment would be to reorganize linguistic and cultural specialists to set up classes for
training agents who would then be dispersed into the field to teach air crewmen directly. In keeping with
this sort of post War planning, she was given areas of strategic importance for which to organize these
E&E classes.

Lady became completely absorbed in vetting all the specialists needed to plan and train agents in the field
for E&E work. She had no other interests and had little time to ponder her personal problems, or even the
ruined house in Malta. Immediately after returning to service she had purchased the destroyed site. The
owner, an Armenian, was elated to find someone foolish enough to take the ruins off his hands. After all,
he would have been faced with the expense of rebuilding or razing the property, along with the high taxes,
instead of enjoying the profit from an outright sale.

Lady did not care what it cost. She received title to the property and forgot about it -- that is, until she got
an order from the Malta Governor's Territorial Council to act forthwith or loose the property. It was
demanded, after several notifications had been tacked upon the ruins of her place, that she either repair,
rebuild or otherwise improve that property according to the standards required by the district, or the
Territorial Council would declare the property vagrant and sell it at public auction.

She sprang into action, for she certainly did not intend to loose that place. After contacting reliable
informants on the Island, she selected a lawyer to defend her interests and have the property cleaned up,
but not razed. The lawyer said he would do as she wished and then see if the improvements might satisfy
the Territorial Council's demands. After a month and a half the lawyer communicated back to Lady that the

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Territorial Council was pleased with Major Jimpson's response, but that it was insufficient to stop at that
point. Lady asked her lawyer to communicate to the Council that she intended to rebuild but could not
commence until the War had ended. The Territorial Council agreed that rebuilding would be a problem at
the time, and so they would put off further action until after the War. Being cleaned up, with larger pieces
of debris brought in and stacked neatly within the old building limits and the rest of the site completely
scoured, a sturdy fence was constructed around the property. It was no longer considered a menace or
hazard, and the district was pleased to wait for future construction plans. Lady felt the Council had done
well in their handling of the matter, and thanked them.

Being no longer possessed of the burning ambitions she had displayed in her earlier dealings with the
MI5 hierarchy, Lady became more amenable. She was less stressed and so she distressed those around
her less. This amelioration of her intense drive put her in line for several new positions – which no longer
seeming all that important to her, made her the perfect candidate. Being high up in the new E&E work
(which was expanding rapidly), she was placed upon a sub committee responsible for secret planning
initiatives. She was called upon to deal more and more with a variety of department heads outside of MI5
and eventually began to be one of the junior liaison between MI5 and the Foreign Office. In fact, Lady was
finding that she was spreading herself a bit thinly.

[1944]
As diminished enthusiasm began replacing earlier ambitions, her more relaxed persona increased her
appeal to those needing to fill higher positions; yet, without the old drive Lady was finding she had
reached her 'catch 22'. Already, there seemed to be more work than she could properly oversee. Her new
schedule was too demanding and it began creating a new type of tension. Before long she found that she,
who had not drunk a dozen glasses of wine in her life, enjoyed relaxing with a glass of wine nightly. Then
she began getting the special bottle of Sherry from some agent who had passed through Spain, or Ouzo
from someone's Greek islands trip. She also began developing a taste for the Rye Whiskey brought over
by some of the Americans within her sphere of contacts. By the time of Operation Overlord in June, 1944,
Lady had a well stocked liquor cabinet and a taste to go with it.

Of course it was not long before Lady was elevated to Colonel Jimpson, and there were serious
considerations given to admitting the ATA to the military ranks and making Lady a general. Clearly, Lady
moved easily in a man's world. In the high circles in which she operated, the eccentricities caused by her
increased drinking were easily overlooked. In fact, she found that at those levels, she was benefiting not
only from her good looks but from the 'good old boys' effect. Their abiding interest being to maintain the
status quo, they were perpetually on watch for threats from the outside. Lady was now on the inside and
enjoyed that protection.

[1945]
By the end of the War, Lady seemed no longer plagued by those huge intrusions of her mother's sorrow,
by such miserable weeping. But she was having nightmares filled with surrogate images of a child who
abandons her playmates, her parents, and somehow manages to abandon herself. However much this
new drinking may have caused her nightmares, it was becoming fairly clear to only the few that she was
less and less able to provide the innovative leadership she had become known for.

It was not for lack of need that Lady began to withdraw from many missions and meetings. MI5 was still
under no delusions about the next war. The Cold War had not commenced, but the planners were well
along on their preparations for it – no matter what it was to be called. The planners needed Lady more
than ever, so they were unwilling to do anything that might rock her boat. It was up to Lady herself to do
that. Since she had remained at Saint James Street when HQ moved to Leconfield House, Curzon Street,
she enjoyed a degree of protective autonomy which further reduced the chance of conflict with propriety

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types at HQ.

It was fortunate that Lady had made wise choices in setting up the administration of her small E&E
empire. Its duties were clearly spelled out and its needs and future potentials were about as apparent to
Parliament as to her masters in MI5. Successes in this realm served to remind everyone of Lady's own
potential, and growing power. It occurred to no one that Lady could not have cared less about these
things anymore. All she need do was to wear the face of firm control and all else tended to fall into place.

[1950]
Some of the problems which passed through Lady's committee work in the Foreign Office did pique her
interest. The Suez had always been seen as a huge priority. Thus, the Egyptian problem was never out of
sight, and growing tensions surrounding King Farouk's reign were constantly on MI5's boards, demanding
some attempted adjustment or another covert mission. In the 1950s the Egyptian problem was really
hotting up.

[1951]
The Egyptian Wafd had regained power the year before, and in October of 1951, Prime Minister Nahhas
obtained Egyptian Parliamentary decrees abrogating unilaterally the Anglo-Egyptian Treaty of 1936 and
proclaiming Farouk king of Egypt and Sudan. In spite of these public moves, widely proclaimed in the
Arab press, behind the scenes Farouk was seeking English help. One of his secret service colonels was
directed to meet with Lady to learn about setting up the old Spotter Cells in his country. The Egyptian
Army was plagued with Arab Nationalists and the King desperately needed help in tapping those cells.
The Arab colonel found himself spending a considerable amount of time under Lady's tutelage.

[June 1952]
The political climate in Cairo was fierce in May and June of 1952, and Col. Ibrahim Siraj al Din was
desperate to get Lady's cells inserted into army circles. He and Lady worked night after night in her office,
organizing their structure and coordinating the MI5 touts who would work with Farouk's army.

[01 June 1952]

The First of June had been an especially difficult day for Lady. She became cross with everyone. Nothing
was falling into place. Some one said she was being damned pissy. When Ibrahim returned one evening
from Cairo, Lady felt exhausted. He was full of sympathy for the great work she had done in his absence
and told her to relax, that he would pick up the slack. Lady was brought out of her funk by Ibrahim's
enthusiasm, and suggested, now that he was here, that they might both relax (for the moment) and take
up the reigns on the morrow. After all, Ibrahim was just landed from his very tiring trip from Cairo, and they
both needed a drink.

Lady lounged back on her large soft leather sofa and asked Ibrahim to open the hidden liquor cabinet and
pour her a tumbler of Rye 'on the rocks', as the Yanks say. Ibrahim was happy to do as she requested, for
he had himself developed a taste for Scotch. Together they lay back upon the deeply cushioned leather
sofa and sipped their drinks, speaking of Egyptian politics and the London set of mind. Occasionally their
hands touched; and their conversation became light. As they drank they laughingly wandered into silly
things, such as the effects of various liquors upon a person bathing in the Mediterranean at night.

Putting on a stack of records in the American big band style of dance music, Lady began showing Ibrahim
how to fox trot – especially, how thigh to thigh pressures were important in telegraphing the leading
partner's intentions. Lady was delighted at how quickly Ibrahim acquired this ability. They were both the
short in stature, so it was not long before cheek to cheek included other facial contacts. Breathing a bit
heavily in her cups, Lady broke off and quickly pushed the back of her sofa down. The seat easily slid out

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and the two pieces – the back and the seat – came together to form a conveniently horizontal bed sized
platform. Their touching therefore continued in a horizontal posture, and it was not long before all their
clothes were tossed away. At one point in their coupling, the two bodies ventured too far out on the
overhanging portion of the bed. It became just too much weight upon that short cantilever. Quite suddenly
the whole thing turned up and flipped both bodies onto the floor, whereupon the upraised back, for a
moment seemed to hand high into the air – before it came crashing down to the floor. It made quite a
huge vibrating slam. Lady burst out laughing at the spectacle they had created, but Ibrahim, laying in the
nude tangle of their arms and legs on the floor, was more conscious of the indignity to one of the King's
ministers. Perhaps, they should carry on their work at a later time, he huffed.

Ibrahim rose up solemnly and began putting on his clothes, while Lady lay on the floor pouting. Oh, you
have just not had enough Scotch, she complained, as she found her glass and drained off the melted
contents. As she dressed, Ibrahim started to leave, but Lady curtly stopped him: No, wait! It would be
better if I left first. You wait and check out I have gone.

[11 Jun 1952]

Still, the indignity of the floor flop did not restrain this bouncing pair from having two or three more dancing
lessons. Then the Colonel was called back to Cairo. Upon his return a week later he told Lady that
several bones of contention had broken out in the army. Lady asked him to tell the details to one of her
underlings and passed them on to her Head of Operations.

With Egypt and Berlin spiraling out of control there were very few chances over the next succeeding
month to pick up the dancing lessons. Finally, what brought all that house-play to a screeching stop was
an uprising far more serious than their bed flop. On July 23. King Farouk was deposed and the Nationalist
Party instituted military rule accompanied in due time by the predictable purge. Ibrahim had already flown
off in a panic, leaving his family behind.
[23 July 1952]

.......

GILES:
[back to late 1949]
As for Giles, he had managed to stay on in the RAF until late in 1949, just after the lifting of the Berlin
Blockade. At that point there was an RAF cut back, and even though he still held his Flight Lieutenant's
rank, he chose not to convert to a reserve squadron. He just did not see himself as a career military man.
He signed his copy of the Official Secrets Act and took his discharge certificate at Norfolk with the rank of
Sergeant. Winter had already set in and he wanted to celebrate his first Christmas at home in a decade.

[1950]
He fell into domestic life more quickly and easily than he thought he might. His father was ill and was
delighted that Giles had shown up when he did. Giles knew the routine at the off-license pretty well.
Things had not changed during the war and even much of the same crowd was there. Everyone was
delighted to see Giles come back, and Giles knew full well how many of his RAF mates were walking the
streets looking for a job at that time.

[1951]
Early in January Duns was diagnosed with cancer, and by the end of the month they were told to expect
his funeral. They did. But the bar was doing quite well under Giles' management. In the difficult economic
times following the War, Giles' bar became one of the most successful small establishments in Ainwick.
Pretty soon he had hired four new people: One to replace his mothers food preparation duties, so that she

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could sit at the cash register and be off her feet; two extra waitresses; and a full time back barman and
dishwasher. The new hirings reflected how their food business had grown – largely due to the increasing
availability of unrationed foods.

Giles could see that his mother was tiring of the bar business. He tried to interest her in finding a place to
retire in the country. She laughed and said: Retire for what? Life? She refused to give up her work at the
bar. If that was her wish, then Giles did all he could to make it a comfortable decision for her. But the truth
is that his mother was dying. The doctors found nothing in particular wrong with her – not that she was the
picture of health. But there seemed to be nothing to put one's finger on.

[Nov 1951]
Finally, her only surviving family member, a sister, told Giles that she was tired of living, especially without
Duns. Giles sighed, but he was not surprised. One evening he sat and rocked by the fire, smoking a cigar
after his mother had gone to bed. Racking his brains for some way to revive his mum's sense for living,
he decided to take her on a trip.

Mrs. Angela Jimpson died that same night. The mourners were all from the bar, except for the sister, and
afterward everyone gathered in the bar to get drunk (on the house) and tell rude stories about Duns and
how much trouble he had getting Angela to marry him. When Giles ran out of beer, he said it was time to
close that chapter of his life, and he sent everyone home. Next day he put a sign in the window:
Establishment for Sale.

After a month, no one within sight of the sign seemed to be able to handle the purchase of a successful
establishment. So, he advertised in several county newspapers. After another month he began to put
adverts in two London newspapers. One day he got a letter from an Arab who was looking for
investments in the UK asked to meet with Giles.

[Jan 1952]
After spending a day or two in Ainwick watching closely the flow of traffic in Giles' pub, the Arab said he
was convinced that it was a sweet deal, even for the price Giles was asking. But Giles then told Memet
that he would not be successful in running the pub. The old patrons would not have an Arab at the bar.

That only made Memet seem more determined to purchase the pub for his Sheik investors in Saudi
Arabia. OK, OK, Giles said. And Giles began looking for a local person to run the pub for the Saudis. He
had an acquaintance who had lost an arm in the War, and who sometimes swept out the pub with his
good hand and did gofer jobs for a bit of change. Giles introduced him to the Arab and after a bit they got
together on a deal. Giles told the Arab that his sweeper would be willing to run the pub for a small salary
and 10% of proceeds. That was a handsome deal for the one armed manager and the Arab could see the
wisdom in it, so everyone was happy.

Along with some small savings left by his mother, Giles decided to put the money from the sale of the bar
into a bank in London, to then sit down and have a cigar, and decide what he wanted to do when he grew
up. After all, he was only 30 years old -- in spite of living a lifetime, maybe two, in love and in war.

[April 1952]
Giles determined that everything was working well in the change of management at the pub. So, he
cleaned out his parents old house. He put it with a realtor for rental and management, gave his few
material accumulations to the one armed manager. He then bid Ainwick good by.

There was a purpose in going to London. He moved into student housing on Tottenham Ct. Road, and

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spent an interesting Spring researching at the British Museum. For a week he sat in Karl Marx's old
booth, but decided he did not like the feel of it. He moved to a balcony desk above the Egyptian Room,
looking out upon the huge capitols of eight massive Egyptian columns growing up from the Museum floor
far below. His researches went off in many tangents but primarily he was looking for the best way to
invest his small inheritance, so that he could then aim his energies at just growing up; or maybe, learning
a trade; or whatever.

[Jun 1952]
His research paid off, and he decided to put half of his savings into a Building Society. It was not too long,
especially as the UK economy improved, before the results showed what an excellent choice he had
made.

Giles moved into the Goring Hotel 28 June, and after that, when he was in London he stayed at the
Goring. He had become friends with George Goring after saving his life, twice, during the War. They got
on quite well. A very convenient location, central to everything in Westminster, Giles found it a very
pleasant place to hang out. However, one time when he went to pay his bill, he found that he could not.
Giles was astounded! What do you mean?

Please, Mr. Jimpson. You do not understand. Mr. Goring has put in the book a permanent reservation for
you, whenever you want to exercise it. You have a room here as long as you live, with one stipulation: You
may NOT pay the bill. I am sorry sir, but those are the rules I must enforce.

Giles slapped his hand down loudly upon the checkout desk, and started laughing. He turned, still
chuckling, and left the hotel.

[July 1952]
One day upon returning to his new permanent suite, Giles found a two day old note from Memet who had
managed to locate Giles through his realtor. Memet wanted to tell Giles how delighted he was with the
purchase and wanted to meet with him to discuss some continuing business. For the life him Giles could
not imagine what he had in mind, but then, what else did he have to do?

SCENARIO A: Giles meets Blue Eyes 23 July 1952

Giles agreed to meet Memet at the Ritz. After all, that was where all the Arabs wanted to sit and be seen,
whether or not they stayed there. It was for tea, so Giles was led to the Palm Court, where Memet
enthusiastically received him. Giles was introduced around the table as the most clever fellow in the
business world and the one who was making Memet a ton of money. There were six other Arab types at
the table, all looking coolly at Giles, except for a pair of gentlemen in the corner in deep discussion. Giles
was guessing that Memet was playing on their jealousies, using Giles as a trumped up pawn in his game.
Giles smiled at the idea, and was happy to go along for the ride. As he was being introduced around the
table shaking hands one after the other, they came to the pair in conversation at the corner. When the first
chap was introduced to Giles, he finally looked up, irked at the interruption, and immediately turned back
to his conversation. Giles noticed him because he was so rude – that, and the strange blue eyes he
flashed glaringly at Giles before quickly returning to his conversation.

After a bit of gamesmanship, Memet took Giles away to the bar, where they discussed the 'deal'. Memet
was so truly pleased with the pub's purchase that he wanted Giles to help him buy more of these bars.
Memet's backers in Saudi Arabia were fascinated with the prospects and wanted Memet to concentrate
on such acquisitions. Giles said he thought that was strange because his understanding was that in Islam
in general, and in Saudi Arabia in particular, it was illegal to drink liquor. Of course, of course, old boy,

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Memet laughed. That is at home. Here, we are not so hidebound.

As they were talking, Giles thought he saw a familiar figure walking toward the table they had just left. The
room was full of people and Giles could not see her clearly, but the movement of an arm and a wave of
her black hair looked for all the world like Lady. But he lost sight of her in the crowd.

Giles agreed to meet Memet next week and discuss more seriously just how he might be of service. He
thanked him for the drink and left the hotel toward the Saint James Street side to avoid the crush of
people on Piccadilly. He made is way out the side entrance to Bennett Street, and since he was headed in
that direction, he decided to walk back to the Goring via Saint James Street, the Mall and Buckingham
Gate Road.

After stepping into the street, Giles found a niche between stanchions so he might light a cigar. As he was
carefully preparing his Churchill with a warming match, he heard someone close over his shoulder say,
You are not trying to hide from me, are you Sandy?

Oh, Saints preserve me, he was thinking. It was herself after all. Giles turned to confront the most
beautiful face in the world – well, it had been. Now it was showing a bit of strain, and in spite of its smile,
there was not a lot of warmth there anymore. No, his Lady no longer lived in that small but beautiful body.

Hi Lady, Giles said as he blew out a stream of smoke far to one side. Looking intently at the signs and
features of the face which he had known so well, and yet features which were not the same anymore, he
was startled to hear the same wonderful husky laugh he had heard from her that very first time they had
met, up in Nutts Corner. Indeed, it was for very nearly the same thing – his totally being absorbed in those
features, and her laugh of enjoyment over the study showing in his own face, reflecting the wonder he
was beholding.

He had to smile too at that. Where are you headed? he asked.

Oh, I work down the street and thought I should go back to pick up some things to take home tonight.

Giles, said: Should I walk you to your door – again? He was thinking of that evening in Gibraltar.

No, she said without much hesitation. Then she asked: Where are you going?

He was not too surprised at her question, though he had been at her 'no'. He said: I was just thinking I
should walk back to my hotel via the Mall and Grosvener Place.

Hm, she thought out loud. Then, Maybe I should accompany you to your door? Mind if I tag along? I need
the exercise.

It was Giles' turn to Hm. What about the company? he asked. There was a double-entendre in the short
question, since it referred to MI5 as The Company, but also to her being with him after she had so bitterly
rejected him at their last meeting. Lady simply ignored that sticky wicket, covering it with questions of her
own: Tell me; what are you doing in London? Spying?

Yes, Giles was thinking very cynically. Start the man talking about himself and pretty soon his is peeing at
your feet like a little puppy dog. Out loud he turned the answer into small talk, the sort of 'this and that'
answer.

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As Lady began walking with him, she was discovering that he was not the old pushover he used to be, but
then too, she sensed he was not entirely dedicated to anathematizing her. To warm him up a bit, as they
turned onto the Mall, she took his left arm in both her hands and walked along looking up at him, asking
how his father was doing?

Giles wasn't taken in, but still he enjoyed her efforts to warm him up. Still, he was wondering why she
bothered? That was the question.

Nevertheless, as they walked Giles told her of his parents and his fling at the pub business. He tried to
find out what she had been up to, but she slid out from under all those questions and adroitly tossed the
ball back into this court. From this Giles was thinking that she must still be with MI5, for she had long ago
learned to divert discussions on that topic.

It was a bit of a walk, and soon Lady, holding on to his suit coat, bent over and pulled off her high heeled
shoes. At one time he would have carried the shoes for her, perhaps thrown his coat over her shoulders.
Not now. Nevertheless, he had to admit that the time passed quickly. When they got to the front of the
Goring, Giles stopped, turned to her and said, Well, this is where I live – knowing that they both were
recalling that first time that she, standing on the top step to her apartment, had used the same words.

She said, will you hail me a cab?

It surprised her when Giles actually did as she had asked. He stepped over to ask the doorman to whistle
down a cab. She looked at him with the old intensity back in her eyes. For a second, she seemed to be
coming at him straight out of the past. Then she smiled, Oh Giles, that is so rude of you. I walk you all this
way and you don't even offer me a drink.

Giles hardly looked at her, but told the doorman to belay the cab. Well, lets get something to eat then. He
said to her. They turned into the hotel and went to the dining room after she slipped back into her pumps.
I just love to sit in the lounge here for tea, she said.

Giles asked, How do you like the tea at the Ritz?

Oh, I never go to tea there. That is so crass and so Arab.

Really? He said: I thought you might have been coming from there when you caught up with me, back on
Bennett Street?

No no. I had been to a little shop on Piccadilly. Then she changed the subject to Giles again and about his
final days in the RAF. As they talked Lady asked Giles to order her a vodka martini. He got himself a
Macallen. Meanwhile they got around to eating their Dover sole, his being lightly floured in Panco crumbs,
hers covered with a hollandaise. There was no question of ordering a wine because by then Lady was on
her third vodka martini.

Giles asked her when she had started drinking so much, not much caring if it hurt her feelings. But that
didn't bother her. She just said, Oh I still don't drink. I hate liquor -- as she downed the last of her martini
and ate the large saturated olive.

They said no to desert, and went to sit in the large front Lounge. Lets sit in front of the big window to see
if we can catch a falling star, was Lady's proposal. Then, as the Lounge waiter, the old man who had been
there more than 30 years, came by, Lady said, Would you please bring me an Armagnac?

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Ungallantly, Giles said he was going to have to pour her into her taxi.

Lady giggled at the thought. She was apparently impervious to insults now. After about half of her
Armagnac, she said she must be excused. Point out which way to the crapper, please?

Not waiting for an answer, she stood up – more or less – and started wandering away, and very much not
in a straight line. Giles quickly jumped up to guide her and walked her toward the lobby. As they began
passing the elevators, Lady, who was already draped over Giles like a wilted leaf of lettuce, fainted dead
away. Giles held her under her arms against himself, her head on his shoulder, as he pushed the elevator
button. The operator knew Giles' floor and said nothing. As Giles swung Lady into the hallway, carrying
her straight up, but about two inches from touching the floor, he got out his key, and then slipped his key
arm behind her knees and lifted her up completely, as long ago he had done in her apartment.

With his key hand from under her knees, he managed the door open. Inside, he kicked it shut and went
through the small but sufficient living room to his bed. He laid Lady upon the bed and took off her shoes,
and then got her out of her dress. Leaving her in her chemise, he put her under the sheet and went out of
the bedroom, closing the door. He then took off his suit coat, undid his cravat, and ordered a bottle of
Macallan from room service. Turning on the radio, Giles tuned it to dance music. Benny Goodman, it was.

The bell hop brought his bottle and two glasses. Giles poured about three fingers and sat down in the
overstuffed arm chair to listen to Benny Goodman, then Arty Shaw. Interesting, Giles thought. Arty Shaw
plays better clarinet than Goodman. What an amazing revelation. To come all this way and find out that
the god of swing was not as wonderful as .... as..... Giles nodded off.

Giles was dreaming that a tiger was sitting on his chest, and it smelled like Lady. He worked with that
notion for awhile, and then awoke to find that the tiger was Lady. As of old, she was lying asleep in this
lap, except now she had no clothes on. But she still smelled exactly as did the small body which carried
all his love so many eons ago.

Giles was a pushover, and Lady knew it. Maybe Giles wanted to be pushed over? Who knows. It wasn't
long before Giles had taken her back to bed, but of course this time he lay down beside her. They were
both pretty tight – she perhaps not as tight as she seemed, he perhaps a little more than he should have
been – but when they made love Giles could imagine that it was just like the early days of their marriage.
They could just as well have been in the Mediterranean this night. Maybe that is what liquor does for you.
In any case, they both seemed to enjoy it hugely.
......................................

END SCENARIO A :: accepted

SUCCEEDING SCENARIO 10
combined w SCENARIO 20 (re <07.0 outline>) accepted
......................................
24 July 1952
Giles did not awaken until nearly 10 o'clock in the morning, and he was a bit surprised that Lady did not
wake him before she left. Maybe she had a better head for this sort of drinking than did he. She surely
had no trouble handling him last night. He had to admit that he did not mind her taking advantage of him.

As always, he tried not to think about Lady during that day, but again as always, it was impossible to lose

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the smell of her, the feel of her of breasts, the sound of her voice – not to mention the smashing images of
the two of them – it was impossible to stop all these perceptions from parading though his head, again
and again. He knew from experience that they would do this until they were just worn out. It took about
three weeks before the mental parade ground to a halt.

26 July 1952
Two days later Giles was helping himself to the sideboard for a late breakfast at the Goring when a
gentleman behind him with a mechanical smile asked whether he should have the kippers or the bacon?
Giles glanced at him and decided that he probably was not a poof, although there was something here on
his radar -- like when the gull flew over him on the packet boat. Giles in a not unfriendly way, but definitely
in a non-inviting way, said: Try them both; next time you will know which is best.

Giles sat down to his kippers and was scanning the Times, as the indecisive gentleman asked if he might
join him? Giles was not surprised, and did not look up from his article although he quietly pointed to have
a seat if he cared to. The lack of friendliness failed to dampen the spirits of the new comer and he soon
carried on the predictable preliminary empty phrases, talking to the top of Giles' head.

Finally, Giles looked up and directly into the eyes of the stranger, while he was lifting his coffee cup. His
eyes never left the stranger (he had learned that from Lady). Giles was beginning to sense the connection
here, since it was now only a couple of days from their last meeting. Giles, very bluntly said: You are from
the Company, are you not?

The stranger did not blink either as he said, To which Company are you referring?

Giles did not bother answering. Instead he said: Did Col. Jimpson encourage you to come see me?

It was the Stranger's turn to ignore the question. Instead he thought a bit, for he had failed to anticipate
such an immediately candid turn of the conversation. Then the stranger decided to forgo the normal
conversational dance and meet Giles on his more candid turf. He said: No, I have not spoken to the
Colonel. But it has been suggested that I make contact with you. My name is Edward.

Giles said: Somehow I expected as much. And I also suspect that you are prepared to make me an offer.
Right?

Yes. May I do so?

Please, do NOT. That was Giles' unequivocal response. Also: Please pass word that I appreciate the time
the Company has taken on my behalf and I appreciate their more than generous offer, but my rejection of
it is final. I have no intention of working near or under my wife in the Company. I have no intention of
being enlisted in any capacity whatsoever, as long as my wife is with the Company.

Then Giles added: Nepotism, you know.

Giles convinced Edward that no offer from the Company would be appreciated. Edward felt he had done
his duty, even though all along he had been against this offer. He was pleased at Giles' rejection, and thus
bid him Good Day.

Lady was hurt, just a bit, that Giles was reported to be so intractable, but she certainly was not surprised.
The main thing had been accomplished: That they had had such good sex the other night. The next thing
was that he knew she had tried to to help him. She had carried out the plan perfectly, which she had so

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quickly formulated as, in almost disbelief, she saw Giles turn into the niche on Bennett to light his cigar.
She was pleased with herself for such amazingly quick thinking and such excellent execution. Lady
decided that so much cleverness should be rewarded with another Armagnac now, as she poured over
the selection process spread out across her desk. After all, she never did get to finish the one at the
Goring.

[Wed 30jul52]
Before the week was out Giles got a message in his box from Memet. Could they please meet again as
soon as possible at the Palm Room? Giles put in a call to him and got a secretary. He said to tell Memet
that he could meet with him that afternoon, at the same time. Giles said he would be at the bar in case
Memet could make it, and if not, no problem.

When Giles arrived, he saw that Memet was already with his group of friends at their apparently regular
table. However, Giles did not go over to the table but rather stayed at the bar as he had promised. He
ordered Macallan and stood looking into the mirror. Before long, he could see that Memet had recognized
Giles from the rear and rushed over.

They took a different table and discussed Memet's proposal. The point seemed to be that Memet wished
to put Giles on retainer for helping him to appraise various pub properties and otherwise be Memet's
guide in the purchase and organization of those properties. Giles said, as long as there is no contract and
I may back out of this deal whenever I choose, then I will agree to help you.

Wonderful! Memet was genuinely pleased – perhaps just a little too much. He said, Now we shake hands,
right? Giles shook hands with him.

First thing, please. I have also purchased a pub in Norwich which had been bombed and needed much
repairs. But it had wonderful equipment in it: Floor tiles, wood paneling, bar equipment, mirrors and glass,
much of which was in perfect condition. I am shipping the parts of this pub to Turkey where my backers
are going to reconstruct it: A truly English Pub there in Istanbul. Is that not Great! Memet's enthusiasm
seemed uncontainable.

I have hired a crew to pack the parts, and they are sitting in Norwich now, at this address. I want you to
hurry there and arrange to ship it all to Istanbul. The people I have in Norwich have no sense for these
things and cannot do the complicated stuff. OK?

Here is your first retainer, 500lbs. Here is all the shipping information. This is the billing address, and if
you have any expense, please keep the receipts and I will reimburse you. Is that clear? Is it OK?

Giles took the two sheets of information, read them, and said that they were clear. When did Memet want
him to go to Norwich?

Soon as possible, Memet replied. Right now! Can you go?

Yes, no problem. Please give me your phone number and address here in case I need to contact you.

Memet gave Giles a business card and wrote and number on its back. But, Memet said: Do not use this
address on your lading bills. Please use the Norwich address on the papers I gave you.

Fine, Giles said. Understood. They shook hands again and Giles departed to the Bennett Street exit
again. Memet returned to his table with a great smile on his face.

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As Giles reached the street he looked up and down, wondering if his luck with Lady might still hold. But it
did not. Instead, he took out the sheets Memet had left and read the them again. He made a call to
Norwich and asked information for the number to the address he was given. After a bit the operator said
that they did have that address but no telephone for it. Had it been a bar? he asked. The operator could
not say. On her list no name or phone number was assigned to that address. He thanked her for her help,
and then looked up another number he had.

He had the number of a friend, an ex pilot, who was now with SIS. He called the number, and it rang a bit
and then was shifted to a different answerer. The Duty Officer came on the line and asked what Giles
wanted. Giles told him he was calling his friend to check up on an Arab with whom Giles was doing
business. The D.O. said just a moment, please. After a bit another person came on, gave Giles some
name, and asked if he could help Giles since his friend was not available for the next few days. Giles, a
bit foolishly, asked if he could check up on Memet. Check up how? was the return question. Giles said he
was not sure, but just wondered if Memet was a legitimate business man.

Just a moment.

After about ten minutes the fellow returned and asked if they could speak to Giles in person. Giles told
them where he was and they suggested that they meet at a coffee shop on Piccadilly. Right now? Giles
asked. Yes. They would be there in ten minutes. OK. said Giles.

Giles found the shop, and looked around. No one seemed interested in him, so he ordered an espresso
double. He sat down and looked out the window at the passers by. In about ten minutes a man from a
table to his side got up, put his newspaper under his arm, and passing by Giles, quietly asked him to
follow. Giles quickly finished his coffee, and followed about eight paces behind. The leader turned a
corner and as Giles rounded it, he saw car with door standing open at the curb, but not his leader. Giles
looked in and he was immediately asked to sit down. The man said nothing during the drive, so Giles
remained silent.

They crossed over the Vauxhall Bridge and turned right into Saint Lambert Road, crossed above the
tracks in Perry Street and then turned off to the Thames level to drive under the Vauxhall Bridge. They
drove to the back of a huge white building (which Giles had heard called, Bagdad on Thames), entered an
interior drive – after their badges were checked three times. Inside the building, Giles go out and was
asked to go this way. The quiet man led him down corridors and up elevators, finally to a suite of offices
and a conference room with a view over the Thames.

They both stood for a short spell and a thin, slightly stooped man breezed in and asked Giles to sit with
him at a coffee table with a perfect view of London – from the wrong side. They shook hands before sitting
and the breezy man said he was Beasely. Could he see Giles discharge card. Yes. Beasely handed it to
the quiet man who was still standing. Now please, Sergeant Jimpson – Giles interrupted – just Mister, if
you don't mind – Yes, of course. Mr. Jimpson, could you please tell me what you were saying over the
phone?

Giles told Beasely of selling Memet the pub and of their new arrangement. Beasely said: May I see the
sheets of information? Beasely then handed those to the quiet man, who disappeared with them. He soon
came back and returned the papers along with Giles' identity card.

Beasely said that Giles might be in a bit of trouble. They were checking on Memet. Could they depend
upon Giles to help them if need be?

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Of course, he said. What should I do now?

Beasely said to do just whatever he had planned. He said that they were talking with Norwich at this
moment and that end will be apprised of these events. If it is necessary, they will contact you in Norwich.
Otherwise, simply do what you are expected to do, according to your arrangements.

He was thanked, and given a new number to call at SIS, which was listed as Empire Exporters. (Not very
original), Giles was thinking as he turned down the offer of a ride back to Piccadilly Road. Its not that far,
and I would enjoy the walk. Giles was shown out of the building so that he could best connect up with the
walkway on the Vauxhall Bridge and left the world of intrigue.

Back at the Goring, Giles asked the desk to reserve a first class return bedroom to Norwich. He put some
clean underwear and his shaving gear in a briefcase which he had used for his research papers at the
British Museum, and went downstairs to the writing library. He wrote a note to Lady and told her he was
going to Norwich on business, and to give him a call in about five days. If she had any trouble reaching
him, Giles gave her the Empire Exporters number to call. Giles addressed the envelope to the number on
Saint James Road which would reach Lady without her name being attached. He got a stamp from the
concierge and hailed a cab to the Liverpool Street Station.

At a mail drop box in the Station, Giles put in his letter to Lady and went to the ticket booths to pick up his
tickets. He found that it would be two hours before the train departed, so he got a Times to work the
crossword, a cup of tea, and a scone. He failed to notice after he dropped his letter, that a gentleman in
plain clothes walked up to the same box, opened it, and leafed through the small stack of letters. He then
put them back – all save one. The man then dropped out of sight.

Thur 01 May 1952

Giles got into Norwich Station at about six in the morning. He ate breakfast in the station then caught a
cab to Blofield, where the ruins of the bar were located. He could not raise anyone at the site, and had to
wait for an hour until one of Memet's people showed up. Giles introduced himself. The surly Arab said he
knew who he was. Well, then, Giles said, you know that I want to see the shipment. Surly Man said
nothing more but led Giles to the back of the old pub. Giles looked around and noted that not much
seemed to have been stripped from this pub. Even the pump handles were still in place, along with the
paneling – which indeed was nice, but it was still in place.

The Surely One said the express company should be arriving soon to pick up the crates. Giles looked at
the lading, and compared it to his information. Only one address needed to be added, and Giles said it
looked OK.

Still, you must wait for the express company, the Surly One said. So, Giles waited.

About noon the express lorry arrived. The Surly One began loading the crates and the driver asked him a
question. The Surly One pointed to Giles and came to him for the sending address. Giles said to use this
address of the pub. The driver said he could not. He had to have a signature from the sending address
and no one lived at this address. Giles said he did, and signed the lading. The driver shrugged and left
with his load.

Giles walked a couple of blocks and found a phone to get a cab. He registered his return ticket at the
station and rode back to London. He arrived at Liverpool Station at about 3 o'clock in the morning and
was rather glad to see that the small contingent from SIS was waiting for him – none of whom did he

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recognize.

[Fri 02 May 1952]

He was not surprised when no one spoke nor that he was again taken to the white elephant, as he though
of it. He was received into a different room this time, but still one amidst the same suite as before. But this
one rather austere room was equipped with several large microphones and a movie camera at one end.
This meeting was beginning to look more serious.

Eventually, Beasely came in, looked sternly at Giles for moment, then told him to sit at the table around
the corner from his own chair. Bright lights came on, and while Giles was blinking, Beasely spoke into his
microphone: This is case number so and so, identified as so and so, with person of interest ex Sergeant
Giles Darwin Jimpson, at such and such a time. A movie clip board was put to the side of Giles' head and
when the camera man had the correct distance, the board man loudly clicked his board.

Beasely began with something like, Ex Sergeant Jimpson, please tell us what your involvement is with
these arms merchants.

Giles began with his ignorance of any arms deals, and reiterated his dealings with Memet. He also
recalled the first meeting with Beasely and his instructions to carry on with Memet's instructions.

OK OK, thats enough, Beasely said, and cut the lights and stopped the camera.

Beasely, in a more civil tone, asked if Giles had had breakfast. No, Giles replied, but he was famished.
They went to Beasely's office this time, a large room with another magnificent view of London. Beasely
leaned over his desk and spoke in the phone, then turned to Giles and asked what would be his pleasure
for breakfast?

Giles asked for the normal bacon and eggs routine, with plenty of good, fresh coffee. They then sat down
with the dramatic view as backdrop, and Beasely told Giles the scoop. It seems SIS had been watching
Memet's arms dealing for a year and a half. The pub parts were just a front, explaining why the Norwich
bar was still intact. However, they, the SIS, did not know of the Norwich operation. Beasely had never
gone there in person and they had no record of him calling there. Perhaps, that is why he wanted Giles'
help, since he could trust Giles.

Giles asked if the arms crates were intercepted?

Of course, Beasely said, And we found your signature on them. He was silent then, staring at Giles.

At first Giles waited for the rest of the story, and then began to realize that there was a clinker here.
Finally, Giles said, You are not trying to implicate me in this are you? Beasely shrugged, innocently.

Then Beasely really surprised Giles by asking why he was communicating this secret operation to MI5?
Sergeant Jimpson, we want to know your involvement with MI5! A bell went off, reminding Giles that
someone had said how badly MI5 and MI6 hated each other. Apparently, it was not simply that they fought
each other for the same funds. There seemed to be a serious professional disliking between them.

Giles was probably more open than was good for his case. He said that his wife was indeed Col. Jimpson
of MI5 and that The Company had recently tried to recruit him. Giles said he refused to work for them.
That was all there was to it. He said, You can't prosecute me because my wife is MI5.

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Beasely laughed. He said maybe we can't make it stick, but we can make it very uncomfortable for you if
we choose.

Why in the world would you want to do that? Giles asked. Then Giles was becoming irate: What would
you do? Beat me up?

Stop being foolish, Sargent. You are no 'head up the arse idealist'. You know how these things work. Let
me bring it home to you. Tell me, Beasely continued in a bit more kindly manner: How long would your
small Building Society equities hold out if you were paying the Solicitor twelve months out of the year to
fight us in Lincolns Inn Fields (Courts)?

Giles was being nave. He was beginning to get the picture. Modern intelligence had taken up the awful
tactics of corporate America. Cloak and dagger was still there, he guessed, but that was not where the big
battles were waged. They were as much in the court room as the board room.

Anyway, Giles was not against helping SIS in this matter. He just resented being pushed around. But he
was seeing that he was pretty lucky if that were the worst they should do to him. He said with little
expression, Alright. What would I have to do?

Fine Laddy, Beasely said: Now we are getting somewhere.

And he began laying out the operation. They had not intercepted the arms shipment yet because they did
not want the Saudi smugglers to know that SIS was aware of the Norwich connection. Beasely said he
knew that Giles was cool enough to pull it off, and wanted him to play along and find out other
connections if possible.

Over his hard won breakfast, Giles was instructed in some rudimentary trade craft in using a drop box and
he was assigned a handler. After breakfast Giles was taken to a secretary and asked to fill out many
many pages of forms, and then given little choice in signing away his life.

At about noon,this time he accepted the driver's offer of a ride. He had them take him up Vauxhall to his
hotel. They never did tell him that his note to Lady had not been delivered, but they did tell him not to
send notes to anyone about this operation and his part in it. His only communication was to be with his
handler.

As he lay down, Giles was thinking he could still smell Lady in his bed. He slept for about 14 hours, until
sunrise the next morning.
[Fri 02 May 1952]

o o o

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