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i don't want to get into an argument about monty, because i have before and it wasnt fun, but the way i understood it was that despite his faults, one of his greatest qualities lay in bolstering the morale of the men.

I'm afraid I'm only going with what I was told..
 
Chapter 174




17th October 1941


Discovery Bay, Jamaica


The run-down warehouse was actually a bit outside of town, but only just outside of direct view, mainly thanks to the low wall that surrounded it. It had once been a United Fruit storage house back when the resources of South America had still been exploited by the Americans instead of wandering into the coffins of the local corrupt leaders, but now it was officially empty. According to the clerk in Kingston where he had spent most of yesterday tracking down the return address from what little information he found. The letters had been posted in Discovery bay, but on Jamaica all mail first went into a sorting centre in Kingston, and from there to the recipients all over the Island and beyond. As a result, the censor's office was there, and Ian had spent seven hours going trying to track someone down who had previously censored letters that were going through only to find that only three letters had been sent to the Marine before the ones Ian had found, and of those only the first had contained a sender address: The warehouse he was standing in front of now. Before getting out of the car he re-checked the heavy revolver he had been given and then walked up to the warehouse. The ground was littered with leaves and refuse if all sorts, and Ian was happy he was no longer wearing his tropical uniform and instead civilian suit. The wall around the warehouse was broken only by a small gate and when Ian walked up to it, he could see that the lock closing it had recently been opened by force. He leaned down and picked up the remnants of a lock that had been opened with something that had a 9mm calibre and most likely a silencer. When he saw the cartridges lying on the read near the gate he drew his own gun and walked through the gate. Evidence was piling up that something was going on here. Ian wished he wasn't alone, but he was the only one here now, and if his hunch was right, then there was no time to be lost. When he walked inside the walls of the premesis, he saw that the warehouse was missing most of it's glass and plants were growing all around it, threatening to swallow it whole. Ian slowly walked through the waist-high grass around the warehouse, not finding anything special, before approaching the main gate that led inside. When he placed his hand on the door handle of the smaller door that was worked into the bigger gate, his instincts told him that he was walking into a trap.

He paused for a minute and thought about going back to town for reinforcements from the local police force, but it would take at least half an hour, and by then whoever was inside would be long gone. There was not a moment to loose. He pulled the handle down and opened the door. He had the revolver in his right hand and held the gun inside first to cover his approach. The next thing he felt was someone slamming down on his arm so that he let the gun fall to the ground. He screamed in pain and as someone grabbed his arm again and dragged him inside, there was nothing he could do, nothing to prevent from being knocked on the head with a piece of wood and passing out.

When he came to again he was tied to a chair in a basement of some sort. The smell and the constantly dropping water indicated that he was underground, and the light that came seeping in through a grill of some sort over his head indicated that not much time had passed, so he was most likely still in the warehouse, only in a cellar of some sort.

“Ah, we are awake.” a voice said. Ian tried to focus as the voice went on. “Now, who are you? Your possessions are wonderfully usual, saying nothing at all. A packet of cigarettes, a petrol lighter, pen and paper with nothing on it. The only thing that tells me you are up to something that I won't like is the fact that you are armed and that you were here, clearly knowing that there is something to look for. And now to satisfy my curiosity, who are you working for?” Then Ian could finally see clearly again and look in the direction the voice was coming from and he quickly appraised his captor. It was an unremarkable Caucasian male of medium height, dressed in the normal civilian clothing of the British part of the Jamaican population. Before he could appraise him any more, the man rose and hit Ian in the face with the but of the gun he was holding. “Who.are.you.working.for.” he was asked again. Ian spat the blood from his mouth to the ground and said: “I should ask you the same. After all, you clearly have something to hide or we wouldn't be talking.”

“ A tough one, are you? You are clearly not with the local police, that much is certain. These idiots would talk at the first opportunity.” The man walked around Ian's chair and continued to talk. “No, you are different. You are someone who is in the same line of work as I am, I am convinced of that.”

“And what line of work might that be?” Ian asked with contempt in his voice. “Let me see. The gun you are holding is, or rather once was known to you as a Smith&Wesson Military and Police Revolver, and since no one is producing these outside America and the gun seems to be new, I should think that you are get paid by someone from up north. Don't bother to deny.”


“Quite right, Mister. Now since I personally made it I can recognize the plan I found in your pocket, and I also remember who I gave it to, so I wonder how you got your hands on it. Did you buy him over? Did you kill him?” Ian laughed angrily. “Not at all. That stupid fucking idiot killed himself when he saw he couldn't get away, set himself and the car he stole on fire before I could beat it out of him. The fucker shot at my boss.” The other man snorted sarcastically. “So you are either the personal pet of someone or a military Officer. Only one of this sort would subscribe to such old-fashioned models of authority without questioning it. Tell me, what have they promised you? A land grant somewhere in the African colonies?” Ian laughed again. “Now it's for sure you're an American, or at the very least working for them.” Ian was struggling to free himself from the ropes that bound him. At closer inspection he had found that the chair he was sitting on was made of wood, but one of the nails stuck out a bit, just enough for him to start working on his bindings. All he really needed was time, and to get said time, he was on his best way to start a pointless political discussion with his captor who seemed believing enough for the moment. “What makes you say that, oh dear lord?” Ian smirked. “See, that's exactly what I mean. It's a wonder no one has discovered you before them considering how you sprout red propaganda wherever you go.” “And what about you? How many times have you and your Empire tread on the rights of your colonial subjects?” Ian was inwardly jubilant. His opponent had taken the bait and now it was time to reel in the fish. “We may have done that in the past, I admit, but you of all people should value the possibility of change.” The other man didn't realize he was running full force into Ian's trap. “Like hell. You! You are the definition of Imperialism! You can never change. And one day we will tell them....”

Ian felt the ropes that tied his hands together snap and then went in for the kill.

“Oh please. What are you going to say? 'The evil British are oppressing you by giving you the vote!'? You are even more gullible and afar from reality than I thought. Congratulations, you just affirmed every stupid cliché about your lot.” The man ran at Ian and punched him in the stomach.

“SILENCE!” Ian looked up at him, grinned, and moved his arm forward and rammed his elbow into the face of his enemy. The man was totally surprised by this show of resistance and stumbled backwards. Ian jumped to his feet and ran over to the other man and held him down with the weight of his body. Ian hit him again, again and again, and finally the man went limp. Ian stepped back and decided to bind the man with some additional ropes and in a way with which he would not be able to free himself. Ian walked over to the table and gathered up his belongings. He placed his own gun in the band of his trousers and began to explore the cellar. There was a door that led upstairs, but when he opened it, he was staring at a brick wall. With a frown on his face he turned around and sat down to think. There had to be an exit somewhere, as he had gotten down here too. What had that man said? Plan? He pulled the drawn plan from his pocket and unfolded the paper. The light wasn't the best, but he could see enough and realized that this was a plan of this cellar, and according to this there was an exit after all. Knowing that he was in no near-term danger of starving, he decided that he had to search through this little hideout. He needed information. For one, the man bleeding onto the floor from his face had been warned, and secondly he had still no idea who had betrayed the conference he had been here to partake in. The table had a second level and when he looked, he found a book. He pulled it out and to his surprise found that it was the same as the Marine back at the villa had used.

“Of course! A bloody book code!” he exclaimed. He quickly went through the book, and found that certain letters were underlined, and decided to take it with him. When he passed the man he was about to wake up, and Ian punched him again for good measure. He followed the marked path through the maze under the warehouse and at last found another door. Much to his surprise it was unlocked and when he opened it, he saw a wide staircase that led upwards. After climbing the stairs he found himself at the surface, drinking in the sunlight. He looked around and found himself to stand at the opposite side of the warehouse's outer wall, an area where he could overlook the Caribbean Sea slapping against the shores of Jamaica.



Several hours, a shower and a hearty meal later he was going through the letters with both copies of the book at his side. After examining the book of the Marine much closer, he had discovered that the copy had tiny needle-marks below the letters that the spy, now sweating away in a cell, had underlined in his own book. Using this as a reference he was currently trying out every permutation and likely way to spend weeks on it... He suddenly had an idea.

“I got it!” He quickly de-coded the letters and then went over to the Admiral's room.

“Sir, I know who the traitor is and why they did it.


[Notes: Short, but I felt that there was the best spot to end this particular chapter.]
 
No United Fruit?! But what about Sam The Banana Man and his successors? Without them the world may well be denied the phrase Banana Republic, how will the world cope without such a stereotype?

Anyway it appears Germany being liberated from the tyranny of the Grand Coalition and the frankly wonderful looking Free Democrats becoming the major coalition partner has inspired you to keep up your frantic update pace. I can't blame you, I too would be inspired by a tax cutting, small government party doing so well. :D
 
I'm afraid I'm only going with what I was told..

far be it from me to discredit your ancestor's views. he was, after all, there at the time. :)

as for trek, you seem to be getting all agatha christie on us. i think what pip said makes sense, to be honest i have rather skim-read the last few updates due to time constraints. i have to admire Ian's capacity to remain calm even in situations like that one.
 
You are updating so fast that I can barely read in detail. :p

Anyways, Ian is doing great. He reminds me of a friend of mine that happens to be named Ian too. ;)

Oh yeah, BritishImperial, I'm still the #1 commentAAR of this AAR. :p
 
This is unquestionably the most evil thing you've ever done to me trekkie.. Here I'm going away for a week and I have to leave at that cliffhanger..
I throw curses in your general directions I do.. And lots of them too..

;)

As always, you get me hooked with Ian-Action. He may be the father of Bond, but in the AAO-verse critics will probably claim (and who can blame them) that the first book, at least, is nothing more than a glorified autobiography.. As if that's supposed to be a bad thing.. ;)

I love the plot and the update.. And as I've said before: It's far better imho to keep an update short and dealing with just one subject, thus heightening the focus on it, rather than risk having a particular subject lost amidst the flood of others.. And no, that was not a critical comment on your other posts.. :D

C'ya in a week
 
I throw curses in your general directions I do.. And lots of them too..

Haha, if you're French you can fart in his general directions... :D
 
Danish as a matter of fact.. And although it would be cool, I'm afraid we've moved along somewhat, since the time were I would simply gather up my village and raid his hometown.. ;)

That said, our national past-time is complaining, so I'm trying to uphold the tradition as best I can.. :D
 
El Pip United Fruit tried to soldier on after the revolution, but lack of support from Washington doomed them. The term "Banana Republics" already exists at this time.


Oh and btw, I voted for the other guys, because in Germany the most disastrious nationalizations were done under conservative administrations. :D

BritishImperial Ian remains calm because of the shit he has seen and done, compared to that some two-bit wanabe spymaster is a joke.

Doge Robert Well, I can't help it.... As for the Bond Series... Ian will have a greater influence on the films, helping to keep the ridiculousness at bay.

gaiasabre11 :D
 
Aren't disastrous nationalizations a good thing? :D
 
I'll take that as a yes...
 
Now I'm totally confused, but I'll leave it. :D
 
Chapter 175

“How come?” the Admiral asked. “Well, they used a simple book-code. You see, date at the top of the letter indicates the chapter, page and so on. This had me fooled for a bit, but then I realized that you have to replace the first letter of the words from the line indicated by the month on out. It's simple, not very safe and allows only minimal messages, but it's enough to fool anyone who is not knowing what he is looking for. Now I have de-coded the messages and it's mainly routine traffic, concerning orders and so on, and it contains little that let's us track down the perpetrator of this whole affair, except for the one lead I could find. Three weeks ago our moonlighting Marine was ordered to report to a certain address in Kingston.” “Any idea on why?”

“None, Sir. However I presume that it was to make sure that our Marine was on the guard detail for this conference and knew what he was looking for. It's a crude and far too dangerous method, which suggests that it is an operation that is either executed by someone who hasn't really been trained in this trade or uses local muscle to make sure that it can't be traced back to him.” “Any more proof that the bloke whose nose you broke twice was really working for the Americans?” “None except for the kit he used which was partially American make. But even if he has American guns and equipment that proves nothing much. I've been talking with the local Chief of Police and he says that the black market is swarming with American kit that was made when the US collapsed. But who else? The Gerries and the Soviets are too far away, and the Banana Republics have nothing to gain by knowing what our own Intelligence Chiefs are saying and by annoying us even further.”

“Sounds logical, Commander. But whoever they are working for, they must be shut down. We can't allow a network of spies near one of our most important base in the West Indies.” “Exactly my view, Sir.” Edwards nodded. “Good. Talk to the Commissioner, I feel that he will be very willing to cooperate.” “Aye-aye, Admiral.” With a salute Ian retreated from the room and as he walked down the stairs, he that oh-so-familiar rush of excitement that he hadn't felt since....he paused and thought for a second. He hadn't felt like this since Felix had died, and he smiled when he walked down the stairs.

Before he could leave the house, he was halted by the Canadian CIS. “Where do you think you are going, Commander?” “Rounding up the spies, at the orders of Admiral Edwards.” “The hell you are. Who do you think you are, hopping around playing soldier? You haven't spent a day in the field since back then and...” “You are mistaken, Sir. However if I were to tell you what I did in-between Philby and just now, I would have to kill you, so would you please excuse me, I have work to do.” The Canadian CIS was standing dumbfounded when Ian stalked off and began to talk with the commander of the Marine detail. He watched as Ian began to order them around, and as they mounted a lorry, Ian climbed into the seat near the driver and moved off. The Canadian CIS remained behind and decided that no one talked to him like that, but something in the eyes of this man had told him that it may be wise not to get into his way if he was determined.

Ian meanwhile was sitting beside the driver and checked the Thompson Machine Carbine he had taken from the Marine Armoury, and then just waited. The two lorry stopped two blocks away from the address and the men disembarked. The Captain in command of the Marines directed three of them to seal of the rear access to the building. It was a relatively poor neighbourhood, one of the disctricts where the local population lived, and the houses were more huts. As a result, it was easy to isolate the hut where the suspected spy lived, and the British Marines approached from three sides. Ian watched as they approached and as one kicked in the door. Inside the commotion died down and soon the all-clear was given. Ian walked over and entered the two-room hut. In the middle of the bigger room a man was sitting on a chair surrounded by Marines and with an eye that was already swelling shut. “Have you found anything already?” he asked. “Nothing, Commander.” Ian began to search through the hut but couldn't find anything except the usual utensils of a minor clerk at one of the Government bureaus. “So, who are you working for?” he asked the prisoner. “G...Government House, the telephone exchange.” “Ehh.. I don't think so. You see, we have a known spy in custody, and he had evidence in his pockets that pointed right towards you, so forgive me for not believing you.” Ian kneled down in front of the prisoner and said: “So don't bother trying to fool me. The punishment for treason hasn't been changed yet.” The man swallowed nervously but still refused to talk. “Take him outside. Let's not make too much work for the courts.” The Marines grabbed the man and began to drag him out the back door. Before they had crossed it, the man broke and began to talk, and everyone listened.


“He pays me for giving him information now and then and sometimes to deliver packets and information to somewhere or give it to people that come here. He usually contacts me through a line at work.” For the next hour the one-sided conversation consisted of code-words, dead drops and minor details. When the man had become accustomed to talking, Ian went in for the prize.

“Now, who is it? Who is your contact?” The man hesitated but then divulged the name. “He is the chief secretary of the Governor General.”

“You have got to be kidding me....” Ian said silently when he heard who it was, or rather where the man was working. The Marine Captain agreed. “This sounds like it's coming from a cheap novel, Commander.” “True, but think about it, most people would overlook or ignore that bloke for this very reason, an he has access to to the most secret information, and in the long run this set-up is genius for a relative backwater like Jamaica, no offence meant.” “None taken, Sir.” “Anyway, if this is true there is not a moment to loose. We should get moving immediately.” “Are you sure, Commander?” “Indeed I am, Captain.” “Aye-Aye. Jones, Harrington, you stay here and wait for reinforcements.” So they went off again. Ian was getting tired of this paper chase and all that came with it, but he had a job to do, and the Admiral had been right. Even one spy ring less might make a huge difference later on. They were headed towards Kingston where the person behind it all was hiding out.

Later that day Ian was back in the villa, sitting on the upper balcony and staring at the stars in the sky. The spy had let himself be arrested without resistance, but when they had gone through the rooms, Ian and the Marines had found materials that clearly implicated the man. As it turned out the man had been the chairman of the banned Communist Party of the West Indies that had been banned along with the rest of the communist parties back in 1939. They had apparently been reporting Fleet movements since before the war, all in all ten diehards that were being rounded up at this very moment. Once again Ian was amazed how great lengths people would go for clearly faulty ideologies, and how easily more were convinced. He felt that the injustices that the communists so like to exploit and decry were truly things that needed to be fixed, but how could it be that so many still believed that trading the rule of the law and democracy, of if not equality then prosperity for all those that were willing to give up all that had been gained and would be gained.... Democracy might not be perfect, and the Empire would always have it's faults, but a Democratic system would never have to use force to keep it's people in. In Washington and Moscow alike, the two communist branches claimed to be the one and only towards the radiant future of humanity, but wouldn't the equality of the people they supposedly held so dear also extend towards political and religious beliefs, whatever they might be? Washington liked to claim that they were different from Moscow and their new chums in Berlin, but to Ian it were all different sides of the same coin, because whatever your colours were, dictatorship was dictatorship. Nazism or Communism, all the same.

With that he rose from his chair and went to bed. Tomorrow he would do what he had tried to do when he had had the brush with the burning car whilst they were waiting for the next plane back to Britain. The weather was better this time too, and as he approached the southern shore of Jamaica early on the next day, he decided that this was a good place to live. Behind him the car was waiting. When he went back to the car, he noticed his writing pad on the seat and decided that this was a good way to spend some time surrounded by nature. He sat down and began to write, using a copy of the book around which the entire affair had circled. He had placed the pad on the backside and as he lay with his back in the sand, holding the pad and book on his knees. A keen observer could have seen the title of the book: Birds of the West Indies.



JamaicaBeach1.jpg



[Notes: Last counter-espionage mission for a while. We will see Ian again soon of course, but I have to decide where to take him, since these kind of missions get slightly repetitive in my opinion. So when he returns, it will be for something massive, promised. I simply feel I have nothing to contribute to the spy hunting genre at the moment, and this is also why this is so short. So, and since the second semester of University doesn't start until friday, expect a good combat update next.]
 
Yay, combat update! But to be honest I've written too many combat updates myself, so it better be something more or less unexpected. :p

I've virtually no breaks since start of uni for me a little more than 1 year ago. (blame me since I tooked summer courses on my own will :p) And my course load keeps increasing since I'm taking higher and higher level courses. Expect yourself to be forced to devote more and more time to schoolwork. ;)
 
I do hope somebody out in the West Indies gets a kick up the arse for giving the chairman of the communist party such a sensitive job. Haven't they heard of security vetting? :eek:

Good update, but I confess I'm looking forward to the combat update. As you say counter-espionage updates do tend to always end the same way ("And then they caught the spy") so a bit of unpredictable combat will be a good contrast.
 
Suddenly I have a suggestion for future updates:
As I happen to be designing a submarine, will any future updates include something regarding the u-boats (or some British subs)?
 
gaiasabre11 This time I will have to study much more than last year, so updates will be fewer once 2010 rolls around.


El Pip That goes without saying. Since Ian can't be everywhere, counter-intelligence is bound to suffer somewhere. That said, since I wrote the above I've had some very good Ideas for him...

gaiasabre11 Next naval action will include HM Carrier Forces.
 
gaiasabre11 This time I will have to study much more than last year, so updates will be fewer once 2010 rolls around.

Same here, trek. Since I'm in the fields of computer science I probably have more course load than you. ;)

El Pip That goes without saying. Since Ian can't be everywhere, counter-intelligence is bound to suffer somewhere. That said, since I wrote the above I've had some very good Ideas for him...

Does those ideas include activities involving subs? I mean if you check this babe you might get some ideas... :D

gaiasabre11 Next naval action will include HM Carrier Forces.

Perhaps I miss this somewhere, but are there CVLs built for the RN?