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Authors: Christopher Bartlett
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blackmailed.’
‘Apart from Celia,’
replied Holt, ‘the only person I have not met is the psychiatrist. B something. What’s he like?’
The two of them scowled.
‘Name’s Blackwell. Tricky
bastard,’ replied Mike.
‘Sticks his nose in
everyone’s business – especially where sex is concerned,’ added the other. ‘Gets
you to reveal your sex life or that of colleagues. He exploits the info while
finding it titillating. Watch out. No one has succeeded in scoring a point over
him, and anyone who did would probably live to regret it. We call him the Snake.
Maybe you should try being the mongoose, though I don’t give much for your
chances.’
Holt returned to his tiny
apartment that night feeling the future looked bright. His qualms about working
in the secret world had been assuaged by his colleagues having trusted him
enough to confide in him about the Snake. All was not so black and white.
Chapter 6
Miss Innocent and Dr Blackwell
The
next morning dragged, and it was not until eleven thirty that Peter finally called him to his office
‘Celia’s here with me
now, Jeremy. Come right away. She came back for a few minutes specially to see
you. She’s still on a job, so don’t dawdle.’
Holt was at his boss’s
door along the corridor in moments. He knocked and, on being told to come in,
opened the door and stepped inside with a poker face, steeling himself so as
not to hurt the poor woman by looking disappointed.
‘Celia, Jeremy. Jeremy,
Celia,’ said Peter as the two of them stepped towards each other to shake
hands. They could hardly embrace in an office setting, though Holt would have
liked to have done so, for never had he met a grown woman with such angelic
features. One so pure.
In the face of such innocence, playing at
goody-goody brother and sister or chaste couple would not be difficult. Surely,
the famous saying by Benjamin Franklin that innocence is its own defence would be
particularly apt in her case.
He returned to his office in almost a state
of shock and sat at his desk thinking of what might lie ahead until it was time
to go for his session with the house psychiatrist-cum-doctor.
The warnings from his two colleagues were not
the sole reason for his disquiet as he sat in the psychiatrist’s office. A
French friend who claimed he had unjustly been accused of date rape had told
him how he had been obliged to attend sessions with a shrink who showed scant interest
in him personally but would spring to life invariably at some point, saying, ‘Let’s
go through the “rape” again, step by step. Describe her reactions. Say how you
felt, and above all, describe how you think she felt. Her twitches, her orgasms,
if any.’
Holt knew that as a
qualified general medical practitioner, Blackwell was empowered to perform physical
exams as well as psychiatric ones, so he was not at all surprised when the
doctor started his session by saying he would pose some questions to pigeonhole
him before physically examining him.
‘Do you pigeonhole
everyone?’ asked Holt, wondering whether he could brag later that he had indeed
played the mongoose and outmanoeuvred the Snake.
‘Invariably. I’m pretty
good at it.’
‘I see,’ was all Holt
could think of saying.
The next question,
designed to throw recruits and especially females off balance, was one of
Blackwell’s favourites.
‘When did you lose
it – your virginity, I mean?’
‘How,’ parried Holt,
‘is that relevant?’
Blackwell had his
well-prepared excuse for posing the question.
‘American intelligence
officers triaging defeated Germans at the end of World War II found the
earlier a man lost his virginity, the more likely he would prove to be
democratic as opposed to fascist. Besides giving me a lead in to the person’s political
views on the democratic – fascist axis, I find that
question opens up a Pandora’s box.’
‘I would think that in
today’s society, where sexual relations at a young
‘Apart from Celia,’
replied Holt, ‘the only person I have not met is the psychiatrist. B something. What’s he like?’
The two of them scowled.
‘Name’s Blackwell. Tricky
bastard,’ replied Mike.
‘Sticks his nose in
everyone’s business – especially where sex is concerned,’ added the other. ‘Gets
you to reveal your sex life or that of colleagues. He exploits the info while
finding it titillating. Watch out. No one has succeeded in scoring a point over
him, and anyone who did would probably live to regret it. We call him the Snake.
Maybe you should try being the mongoose, though I don’t give much for your
chances.’
Holt returned to his tiny
apartment that night feeling the future looked bright. His qualms about working
in the secret world had been assuaged by his colleagues having trusted him
enough to confide in him about the Snake. All was not so black and white.
Chapter 6
Miss Innocent and Dr Blackwell
The
next morning dragged, and it was not until eleven thirty that Peter finally called him to his office
‘Celia’s here with me
now, Jeremy. Come right away. She came back for a few minutes specially to see
you. She’s still on a job, so don’t dawdle.’
Holt was at his boss’s
door along the corridor in moments. He knocked and, on being told to come in,
opened the door and stepped inside with a poker face, steeling himself so as
not to hurt the poor woman by looking disappointed.
‘Celia, Jeremy. Jeremy,
Celia,’ said Peter as the two of them stepped towards each other to shake
hands. They could hardly embrace in an office setting, though Holt would have
liked to have done so, for never had he met a grown woman with such angelic
features. One so pure.
In the face of such innocence, playing at
goody-goody brother and sister or chaste couple would not be difficult. Surely,
the famous saying by Benjamin Franklin that innocence is its own defence would be
particularly apt in her case.
He returned to his office in almost a state
of shock and sat at his desk thinking of what might lie ahead until it was time
to go for his session with the house psychiatrist-cum-doctor.
The warnings from his two colleagues were not
the sole reason for his disquiet as he sat in the psychiatrist’s office. A
French friend who claimed he had unjustly been accused of date rape had told
him how he had been obliged to attend sessions with a shrink who showed scant interest
in him personally but would spring to life invariably at some point, saying, ‘Let’s
go through the “rape” again, step by step. Describe her reactions. Say how you
felt, and above all, describe how you think she felt. Her twitches, her orgasms,
if any.’
Holt knew that as a
qualified general medical practitioner, Blackwell was empowered to perform physical
exams as well as psychiatric ones, so he was not at all surprised when the
doctor started his session by saying he would pose some questions to pigeonhole
him before physically examining him.
‘Do you pigeonhole
everyone?’ asked Holt, wondering whether he could brag later that he had indeed
played the mongoose and outmanoeuvred the Snake.
‘Invariably. I’m pretty
good at it.’
‘I see,’ was all Holt
could think of saying.
The next question,
designed to throw recruits and especially females off balance, was one of
Blackwell’s favourites.
‘When did you lose
it – your virginity, I mean?’
‘How,’ parried Holt,
‘is that relevant?’
Blackwell had his
well-prepared excuse for posing the question.
‘American intelligence
officers triaging defeated Germans at the end of World War II found the
earlier a man lost his virginity, the more likely he would prove to be
democratic as opposed to fascist. Besides giving me a lead in to the person’s political
views on the democratic – fascist axis, I find that
question opens up a Pandora’s box.’
‘I would think that in
today’s society, where sexual relations at a young
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