Okay now. This is one of these updates I only write because I have to, i.e. in order to create plotlines or plotdevices.
September 16th, 1939, 12:34 PM
Leiter Residence, Southwark, United Kingdom
The Leiters, plus their temporary addition were sitting around the big table in the living room. Ian was very much enjoying himself, despite the quips he had gotten in the beginning from the old Leiter. But by now he was comfortable, because once Jonathan Leiter had noticed that behind the sometimes juvenile humour stuck a man who was not only competent at what he did, but who was also a masterpiece of integrity and loyalty, and Jonathan was glad to know that his son was in good company. “So tell me, Commander,” Jonathan said while refilling the glasses the men had in front of them, “what will the Hun do next?” Ian smirked and took a sip from what could very well be the last true Kentucky Whiskey in his life, and answered in a hushed conspirational tone: “Don't tell anyone I said this, but we think that Jerry will invade France next.” Jonathan grinned in return. “So basically you don't really know? You are working in intelligence, you know?” Ian hesitated to answer. Admiral Edwards had been quite clear on how much his people were allowed to tell their relations, and he had already told much. “Not that kind of Intelligence, Mr. Leiter. We work counter-intelligence, the lads going behind the lines to count tents are a different department I am afraid.” “I see.” Jonathan's reply was doubtful, but he knew better than to press on. From what he had heard from his son Commander Fleming was not to violate security, and Jonathan was going to respect that. “But I am sure you can tell me how the war is going, at least beyond what the papers say.” Ian leaned back in his chair to grab the newspaper that was lying on a small table in the corner of the room. He quickly studied the headlines and shook his head. The papers were all hailing the heroic last stand of Fortress Warsaw, the efforts of the Royal Navy in the North Sea and the Royal Air Force over eastern France, at the same time asking more and more pointedly why the Allied Armies were still inactive, waiting for the Germans to come west instead of going east, and why the twelve Divisions of the BEF was still assembling in Southern England. He tossed it back onto the stack with an annoyed grunt and answered Jonathan's question. “Once again Fleet Street seems to be unable to grasp the realities of War. I can't tell you too much, but from what I have heard it is simply a matter of troops. Much of it is secret of course, but I you know of course that twelve or eighteen Divisions are not enough to conquer Germany, especially when they are aided by Ivan and we have... well, the French.”
A year ago Jonathan would have attributed the last remark to typical Anglo-French rivalries, but the time he had spent in Britain and on the fringe of the military establishment these last months told him that it was a rather different matter. However, this was not the time nor place to dwell on such things, so he simply ignored it. He was startled when Ian continued. “But what I can tell you is that the Navy is out there, just like it always has been. We....” He was interrupted by the Air-Raid siren going off with the wailing sound that was to become achingly familiar to the entire population of the British Isles. While they rushed towards the next Tube Station Ian asked Jonathan: “What about the others?” “Oh, they'll meet us there I hope. In any case, there is a shelter not too far from the shop, under the train station.” Overhead, almost fading away against the siren, they could hear the distinctive roar of a squadron of Spitfires, obviously off to intercept the enemy somewhere to the south of London. Upon arriving at the shelter both were relieved to see the rest of the Leiter clan already entering the station. When they ran down to the tunnels Ian caught up to Felix and his sister. “Did you see them?” he asked, while guiding Sandra down the stairs. “No, but judging from the roar we heard they are hitting the industrial district a few miles from here.” Felix answered, deciding to ignore what was going on beside him. “I saw a couple of Spits, probably from Biggin Hill, so at least we weren't completely surprised.” Little did they know that the Chain-Home system was getting it's first real test, and that the ongoing feud in Fighter Command between the schools of “Big Wing” and “Small Wing” was to go into another round. However when they reached the tunnel where the trains usually went through they could hear the dull thumps of Bombs hitting the industrial sectors. Ian, always the British who kept up the standard under all circumstances proceeded to light his pipe, using up some of his shrinking stash of Jamaican Tobacco that his cousin had given him as a gift last Christmas. He made a mental note to enquire where his cousin was now, as he missed him terribly. He sat down on one of the benches and was surprised to notice that both the Leiter twins sitting down beside him. They chatted animatedly, and Ian was so engrossed in the conversation that he did not notice the strange looks Felix was giving him. Felix on the other hand could see what was going on between the two, and he was not yet sure what to think about it. Ah well, he was sure that Ian wouldn't do anything stupid just yet, he would however have a talk with him someday.
Leiter residence, an hour later
“So tell me Ian, what are your intentions with my Sister?” Despite the seriousness of the Situation Ian's reaction to the question was so comical that Felix had to fight to keep himself from laughing. Ian on the other hand did a rather good imitation of a fish, wide eyes and gaping mouth, the newspaper he had reading completely forgotten, despite the headlines about the recent Chinese surrender. His face betraying no emotion Felix simply raised his right eyebrow and stared at Ian with a questioning gaze. Felix knew that starting this conversation in front of their Bosses Office in the Admiralty wasn't the best idea, but it was increasingly hard to catch Ian off-guard, and he had decided to seize this opportunity. They knew that the others would not be back for another hour at least, and so Felix took the time to study Ian whom he had never seen this unguarded. Not that he complained, Ian was a good man, but this was his sister, and as her big brother it was his duty to make sure she was looked after, even when it was his best friend. After watching this amusing display for a few minutes he decided to let his friend of the hook. “Listen Ian, you are both responsible adults, but rest assured that I will watch you, understood?” The 'hurt her and die' was not outspoken but could be heard anyway, and despite the difference in rank and the fact that any fight between the two would still vastly be in Fleming's favour Ian gulped, somehow knowing that Felix was dead serious. “Felix, I....” Ian was desperately searching for words, and failed to come up with something appropriate. “Rest assured that I would never do that under my own power and... I don't know.. we will have to wait and see....” Felix interrupted him with a raised hand. “That I know, my dear Ian, but what I said stands. Besides, she could do worse.” He looked back up at Ian and added: “Not much, but there's a war on, you know.” With this the tension dissolved and Ian leaned back, grabbing his newspaper and sporting a broad grin. No more words were exchanged between the two, as they both knew where the other stood on the matter. Another twenty minutes later they could see the others come back, and they settled in for another pleasant evening, barring any more air-raids.
[Game Notes: Now that was really hard to write. I totally suck at certain sorts of subplots, so I will keep it minimal. And NO he won't get inspiration for “Licence to kill”. I sort of liked the idea of seeing Ian Fleming speechless for a change, and that alone was worth it. ]
Chapter 66
September 16th, 1939, 12:34 PM
Leiter Residence, Southwark, United Kingdom
The Leiters, plus their temporary addition were sitting around the big table in the living room. Ian was very much enjoying himself, despite the quips he had gotten in the beginning from the old Leiter. But by now he was comfortable, because once Jonathan Leiter had noticed that behind the sometimes juvenile humour stuck a man who was not only competent at what he did, but who was also a masterpiece of integrity and loyalty, and Jonathan was glad to know that his son was in good company. “So tell me, Commander,” Jonathan said while refilling the glasses the men had in front of them, “what will the Hun do next?” Ian smirked and took a sip from what could very well be the last true Kentucky Whiskey in his life, and answered in a hushed conspirational tone: “Don't tell anyone I said this, but we think that Jerry will invade France next.” Jonathan grinned in return. “So basically you don't really know? You are working in intelligence, you know?” Ian hesitated to answer. Admiral Edwards had been quite clear on how much his people were allowed to tell their relations, and he had already told much. “Not that kind of Intelligence, Mr. Leiter. We work counter-intelligence, the lads going behind the lines to count tents are a different department I am afraid.” “I see.” Jonathan's reply was doubtful, but he knew better than to press on. From what he had heard from his son Commander Fleming was not to violate security, and Jonathan was going to respect that. “But I am sure you can tell me how the war is going, at least beyond what the papers say.” Ian leaned back in his chair to grab the newspaper that was lying on a small table in the corner of the room. He quickly studied the headlines and shook his head. The papers were all hailing the heroic last stand of Fortress Warsaw, the efforts of the Royal Navy in the North Sea and the Royal Air Force over eastern France, at the same time asking more and more pointedly why the Allied Armies were still inactive, waiting for the Germans to come west instead of going east, and why the twelve Divisions of the BEF was still assembling in Southern England. He tossed it back onto the stack with an annoyed grunt and answered Jonathan's question. “Once again Fleet Street seems to be unable to grasp the realities of War. I can't tell you too much, but from what I have heard it is simply a matter of troops. Much of it is secret of course, but I you know of course that twelve or eighteen Divisions are not enough to conquer Germany, especially when they are aided by Ivan and we have... well, the French.”
A year ago Jonathan would have attributed the last remark to typical Anglo-French rivalries, but the time he had spent in Britain and on the fringe of the military establishment these last months told him that it was a rather different matter. However, this was not the time nor place to dwell on such things, so he simply ignored it. He was startled when Ian continued. “But what I can tell you is that the Navy is out there, just like it always has been. We....” He was interrupted by the Air-Raid siren going off with the wailing sound that was to become achingly familiar to the entire population of the British Isles. While they rushed towards the next Tube Station Ian asked Jonathan: “What about the others?” “Oh, they'll meet us there I hope. In any case, there is a shelter not too far from the shop, under the train station.” Overhead, almost fading away against the siren, they could hear the distinctive roar of a squadron of Spitfires, obviously off to intercept the enemy somewhere to the south of London. Upon arriving at the shelter both were relieved to see the rest of the Leiter clan already entering the station. When they ran down to the tunnels Ian caught up to Felix and his sister. “Did you see them?” he asked, while guiding Sandra down the stairs. “No, but judging from the roar we heard they are hitting the industrial district a few miles from here.” Felix answered, deciding to ignore what was going on beside him. “I saw a couple of Spits, probably from Biggin Hill, so at least we weren't completely surprised.” Little did they know that the Chain-Home system was getting it's first real test, and that the ongoing feud in Fighter Command between the schools of “Big Wing” and “Small Wing” was to go into another round. However when they reached the tunnel where the trains usually went through they could hear the dull thumps of Bombs hitting the industrial sectors. Ian, always the British who kept up the standard under all circumstances proceeded to light his pipe, using up some of his shrinking stash of Jamaican Tobacco that his cousin had given him as a gift last Christmas. He made a mental note to enquire where his cousin was now, as he missed him terribly. He sat down on one of the benches and was surprised to notice that both the Leiter twins sitting down beside him. They chatted animatedly, and Ian was so engrossed in the conversation that he did not notice the strange looks Felix was giving him. Felix on the other hand could see what was going on between the two, and he was not yet sure what to think about it. Ah well, he was sure that Ian wouldn't do anything stupid just yet, he would however have a talk with him someday.
Leiter residence, an hour later
“So tell me Ian, what are your intentions with my Sister?” Despite the seriousness of the Situation Ian's reaction to the question was so comical that Felix had to fight to keep himself from laughing. Ian on the other hand did a rather good imitation of a fish, wide eyes and gaping mouth, the newspaper he had reading completely forgotten, despite the headlines about the recent Chinese surrender. His face betraying no emotion Felix simply raised his right eyebrow and stared at Ian with a questioning gaze. Felix knew that starting this conversation in front of their Bosses Office in the Admiralty wasn't the best idea, but it was increasingly hard to catch Ian off-guard, and he had decided to seize this opportunity. They knew that the others would not be back for another hour at least, and so Felix took the time to study Ian whom he had never seen this unguarded. Not that he complained, Ian was a good man, but this was his sister, and as her big brother it was his duty to make sure she was looked after, even when it was his best friend. After watching this amusing display for a few minutes he decided to let his friend of the hook. “Listen Ian, you are both responsible adults, but rest assured that I will watch you, understood?” The 'hurt her and die' was not outspoken but could be heard anyway, and despite the difference in rank and the fact that any fight between the two would still vastly be in Fleming's favour Ian gulped, somehow knowing that Felix was dead serious. “Felix, I....” Ian was desperately searching for words, and failed to come up with something appropriate. “Rest assured that I would never do that under my own power and... I don't know.. we will have to wait and see....” Felix interrupted him with a raised hand. “That I know, my dear Ian, but what I said stands. Besides, she could do worse.” He looked back up at Ian and added: “Not much, but there's a war on, you know.” With this the tension dissolved and Ian leaned back, grabbing his newspaper and sporting a broad grin. No more words were exchanged between the two, as they both knew where the other stood on the matter. Another twenty minutes later they could see the others come back, and they settled in for another pleasant evening, barring any more air-raids.
[Game Notes: Now that was really hard to write. I totally suck at certain sorts of subplots, so I will keep it minimal. And NO he won't get inspiration for “Licence to kill”. I sort of liked the idea of seeing Ian Fleming speechless for a change, and that alone was worth it. ]