The Bell Hotel, Sandwich

English spies in my time, beyond and before, have been broadly in two groups, the Arabist’s, the traditional branch and those who made their career and reputation in Ireland. In the 1970’s through the next decade, the trouble Belfast way was of more importance, latterly, our last decade this wheel has turned again. The novels and the popular films have preferred to make a plot from Russians but this enemy has been more of a concern to the Great Power. We like spying with Russians, it is a British game, not a great game but one with rules we both accept and get pensioned from. The perceived threats of the last decade plus a year have not been accessible to the old or young white men, to get that tradable stuff you need a Jasmin.

R when last we had dinner in Town had in a rare direct statement has said, dry lipped sheen over the edge of a wine glass, "Need to know in most cases means knows nothing at all. That is especially true of street men who have a tendency to drink more than recommended."  I smiled, very pleased that we had slept together many years ago. I certainly would be nervous now, R is now the type to have never been twenty four.

She mailed to say I will phone you at six. I sat there looking at the phone which duly blinked. "Hows the cash flow?" Not enough. "Here is one for you, you can sit in the pub all day"  I do not sit in the pub all day "Excellent, glad to hear it. This is the evening,  a Saturday evening and you have taken to liking the Owen."

I was a thrown a bit, looked around since I was taking the phone call in the Owen. But an  evening in the festival sitting in the pub I could do. "Love to" I said, "Jolly good" said R.

The Owen is a good place to watch the entrance to the Bell Hotel since the view out is direct and the view in  obscure. It was more difficult to make the beer last longer than usual and easy to believe that my ability would not be much affected by just one more. The job sounded easy too, so much so that I already doubted it was the real matter. "Try to drop one chip inside the car, the other in her handbag- but if it is too difficult or you think you have been spotted withdraw. Don't bother with a second attempt"

The Owen stayed full all afternoon and evening because of the festival. I was properly anonymous, a big bellied old English man is a very common species. It was dark, some rain in the summer air, when they arrived at the Bell Hotlel. R had predicted the event with great accuracy:

"German car, sports, BMW like mine but a bigger version, left hand drive. They will most likely drive up to the door, stop there, right on the yellow lines. The man will be driving, I expect she, the mark, will go first to check the reservation- especially if they are late. Late is after dark"

 And so it exactly it was. I was concentrating  hard when the car pulled up, though I was still a little startled and left too abruptly the conversation.

She walked quickly to reception, tight quick steps through the swing doors. There was a crowd on the pavement, the swing doors revolved. The man looked alert and anxious, looking all around, fixing on individuals in the crowd, assessing and moving to the next. I went through the door and across the inconvenient emptiness of the foyer. She stood at reception, talking quickly, her hand bag was open, she fiddled with her purse, there would be a moment, whilst they checked her credit card. But when I got close it was too risky and worse when a vice behind said "Can I help you Sir", "Gosh, well, I was looking for the public bar. Must have got the wrong space."  Born yesterday the concierge said with a glance. The woman turned and looked, I waved my arms and made big eyes, ah yes, its over there through that door. Too risky now, I left to try the car drop.

I waited in the streets it was easier to be lost. The woman came back through the doors, gestured to the man  that all was fine, he got out and moved towards the open boot to help with the luggage. I got up to the open window, the chip was in my fingers when he turned, his crowd scan fixed on me, our eyes met, the woman followed his gaze and clocked me as well. I was spotted for sure. I turned the three quarter view and went back to the Owen, it was best to be a bit drunk looking now, then to disappear before they came a looking again. Andy said "Where did you go, what was that about?" I needed air.

That was a real mess up I thought, R wont think much of that! But then she would be used to my blundering so not to worry the new glass of wine said to me. Then, (afterwards I said I always knew it)  I saw the Jasmin, pass by the window of the Owen- and it was for me to spot else she would not have come that way-  I watched her but briefly pass over the old toll bridge to where I surmised her driver would be waiting. "

"Michael you were just a big lumbering fat bear of a decoy"

The money came through though: BACs transfer from Living Learning English, based in Bristol.