Третья мировая война 1946 - Красная волна - Сталин атак впервые - Альтернативная история

Третья мировая война 1946 - Красная волна - Сталин атак впервые - Альтернативная история
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Friday, June 1, 2012

One Down (How Many to Go?) by Tallthinkev


His Target, A had just left the college.
He had been watching his target for a couple of days now. It seemed that he had kept the same routine, His old college. Arriving at nine thirty and at one a clock went for lunch at The British Restaurant. He then walked to other places though out Cambridge.

This was where things got a little more difficult to follow him. A knew the town much better than him, having spent nearly four years at Cambridge. This time he did go the route he had taken the previous day. Along the river, stopping to look at the gasworks and the pumping station.

Then further along when he took a left into Garlic Row towards Newmarket Road. From there it was the less than a mile to the Airport.

Instead of going to the airport he spent some time at the cemetery looking a graves, especially the graves from the last two World Wars. But mostly eyeing the aircraft that came in and out of Marshall's.

If A did see him it would not be the end of the world, their paths had crossed a number of times in the war against Germany,when they had both worked for the intelligence services, abet different branches.

The A did see him this time, or the first time he had noticed that he had. And he was not the only one watching the A, he was sure.
He had no option but to walk over and say hello.

'Hello' said A 'been following me, I see. For the last five hours at least.' Longer?' 'Why?'
'Afternoon' he replied 'yes I have been following you. Or should I say following you so I can find the other man who has been tailing you. I thing that is the American expression.'
'And which man would this be?' asked A
'We are not sure yet. Would care to enlighten me?'
With that A punched the man in the stomach doubling him over.

By time the man had stood up A was fifty yards away racing to the gate way and out of the cemetery. His hat went flying as he took off in pursuit. A was now over a hundred yards away now. He had to catch him, and catch him as soon as possible.

Then a little piece of luck, a little Austin van clipped A as he tried to cross the road. However he was on his feet in seconds and run faster than ever. The van stopped and the passenger door open straight into him. He had now been winded twice in as many minutes.

A young man got out of the van and helped him to his feet. He pushed him aside, spilling Tom to the ground. An older man was half out of the drivers side door.

'What the bloody hell is going on here' shouted Jack
'Get out of the van now.' the man shouted
'Bugger off' s houted back Jack
He had now pulled out his revolver pointing at Jack's chest. 'This is government business
out of the way now'
'How do I know you're not a Red?'
'Because if I was you would be dead already. Now get in and drive, I have to catch him.'
Turning around was easier said than done. A convoy of army lorries blocked the way. Jack had to reverse and then overtake them.

A was nowhere to been seen. They continued along Newmarket Road and over Barnwell bridge.
Still no sign.

Then just passed Abbey Road they saw him. He had got a bicycle from somewhere and was now getting nearer the centre of town. Jack was only ten yards behind him now. Suddenly a fast right hand turn.
Auckland Road, a dead end, for cars anyway.
A left hand turn.
The entrance to The Star Brewery.
No way out for A.

'Which way did he go?'
'Towards the boiler room. Who is he?' said Reg Markham
'A commie spy' He and Jack said together.
'Come one boys! We've got a Red in the boiler room' Shouted Reg waving other workers over.
There were now a dozen men out side the boiler room.
'I'll go in alone' said The man 'he knows me.'
Reg asked 'Is that a good idea sir?'
'I wouldn't think he is armed, but I am, and I don't want him hurt. We must have him alive. Is there a back way out?'
'No, just these doors' said Reg
'Right you lot, if he runs for it, stop him but don't hurt, if you can help it.'
Some of the men grinned at this.
'I mean it. Do not hurt him' ordered the man.

A entered the the boiler house.
'Come on.' no answer.
'We can talk this over. No need to run any more, you can't get out. You know that don't you?' Still no answer. The man fired a shot into the air.
A scream of pain, from the back of the room.
'I couldn't have hit him' thought the man.
A came into view, both hands in the air. 'What happens now?'
'I don't know.' was the answer. 'But I do know you will need that hand looking at.'

As they came out of the boiler house a number of the man outside came forward, shouting and cursing.
'No need for any of that' said the man quietly 'Have you got any bandages? He needs help.'
'It would be better if you take him to my house. The wife's there, she'll know what to do, as long as he behaves himself that is.' said Reg.

His house was only fifty yards for the brewery. Half an hour later both A and the man were gone.

Life in wartime was back to normal.

By the next day A had told the services what they already knew and whom they had suspected.

He was an idealist, he was convinced what he was doing was right. Communism was the right way to go. Now Stalin had destroyed everything A had believed in. He now knew his country came first and not his politics.
'What happens now?'

'If you are lucky you be hung' said the nameless interrogator
'And if not?'

No answer was forthcoming.
The man passed the room when the interrogator came out. 'Hows it going? Asked the man.

'Better than we had hoped. He told us a lot more than we expected. He is a middle ranking man, he knows who is below him and who is above him. But no others, quite a good system really. You did a good job there, even though you didn't think you had to come back. Jamaica is nice, I am told.'
'Yes it is sir.'
'One more thing commander keep up the good work.'
'I'll try my best sir.'
With that Fleming strode out of the doors into the garden and into the countryside. Bedfordshire was nice this time of year.

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