are the British government. I’ve heard that he still works part-time for MI6. Astonishing.’
The Cambridge spy ring – Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean, allegedly Philby and at least two others who were still undercover – was the reason why London was the only US Embassy in the world that had FBI agents in permanent residence. The Burgess-Maclean spy scandal was a running sore that showed no signs of healing. On matters of high security, like nuclear weapons, US officials would never trust their British counterparts again – and the FBI was there to make sure of it.
The Secretary of State leaned forward with a grave face, the loose folds of flesh about his throat quivered as he spoke. ‘Is Philby a pederast, a sodomite?’
To Kit’s ear, the biblical expressions seemed echoes from the paternal pulpit of the Dulles childhood. ‘Philby,’ he replied, ‘is definitely not homosexual. Who knows what he does in bed with his wife and girlfriends – I’m not sure it’s relevant.’
The Secretary of State didn’t seem satisfied. ‘They are, you must admit, a strange bunch.’
Kit wondered whether if by ‘they’ he meant the spies, the sodomites or the British in general. He decided not to comment.
‘Listen,’ said Allen, ‘we’ve got to have lunch with the Foreign Secretary. But before we go, can you tell my brother about that party you went to in New York last year?’
Kit touched his ear and mouthed, ‘Bugs.’
‘Don’t worry. Go on, tell us the whole story and don’t leave anything out.’
Kit could see that Allen Dulles wanted to make mischief. The Director knew that their conversation was being recorded by the FBI and he wanted to create a little havoc. Kit didn’t like playing the court jester, but this was part of the job too. ‘I’ve got a classmate who’s a lawyer married to an extremely wealthy heiress . They have a penthouse on the Upper East Side where they throw some wild parties. If I’m in town, I get invited. The people you meet at these parties are always rich, always glamorous – and usually beautiful. I feel like an intruder, but I like watching what goes on.’ Kit whispered to Allen, ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Go on, Kit, back to the party.’
‘It was a good party, but I sensed something in the air – a hint of something sordid. As I implied, these parties often have an edge. I’m not a puritan, but …’
The Director nodded.
‘I could tell there was something there that made me uneasy – and I don’t just mean cannabis, cocaine or furtive fellatio in a cloakroom. These things are, in their own way, normal.’
‘Not in the US Embassy, I hope,’ said the Secretary of State.
‘Not to my knowledge, sir.’
‘Let him finish, Foster.’
‘There were two young men there that didn’t seem to belong – eighteen, maybe younger. They both had fine blond hair and bad teeth. I couldn’t tell where they came from: they spoke only to each other, but there was something in their manner that was coarse. They kept to themselves in the shadows – and after a while I forgot they were there. I didn’t like the atmosphere and thought about leaving, but then Porfirio Rubirosa turned up. I guessed it was him when I saw the Hispanic caterers begin to chop their knees with the sides of their hands.’
‘Why were they doing that?’ said Foster.
Allen sighed, ‘You are one of life’s innocents, Foster. It’s Spanish sign language for someone with an enormous cock – in this case, Ambassador Rubirosa.’
‘I see.’
In any case, Porfirio came over to say hello and we chatted amicably – in French, of course, to stop the caterers eavesdropping . We talked about racing cars and Trujillo, mostly racing cars. Trujillo, by the way, is developing a urine incontinence problem. Then Rubi was dragged away to meet the ladies – the women would have lynched me had I detained him any longer. So I was left all on my lonesome – and that’s when I saw her.’ Kit
The Cambridge spy ring – Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean, allegedly Philby and at least two others who were still undercover – was the reason why London was the only US Embassy in the world that had FBI agents in permanent residence. The Burgess-Maclean spy scandal was a running sore that showed no signs of healing. On matters of high security, like nuclear weapons, US officials would never trust their British counterparts again – and the FBI was there to make sure of it.
The Secretary of State leaned forward with a grave face, the loose folds of flesh about his throat quivered as he spoke. ‘Is Philby a pederast, a sodomite?’
To Kit’s ear, the biblical expressions seemed echoes from the paternal pulpit of the Dulles childhood. ‘Philby,’ he replied, ‘is definitely not homosexual. Who knows what he does in bed with his wife and girlfriends – I’m not sure it’s relevant.’
The Secretary of State didn’t seem satisfied. ‘They are, you must admit, a strange bunch.’
Kit wondered whether if by ‘they’ he meant the spies, the sodomites or the British in general. He decided not to comment.
‘Listen,’ said Allen, ‘we’ve got to have lunch with the Foreign Secretary. But before we go, can you tell my brother about that party you went to in New York last year?’
Kit touched his ear and mouthed, ‘Bugs.’
‘Don’t worry. Go on, tell us the whole story and don’t leave anything out.’
Kit could see that Allen Dulles wanted to make mischief. The Director knew that their conversation was being recorded by the FBI and he wanted to create a little havoc. Kit didn’t like playing the court jester, but this was part of the job too. ‘I’ve got a classmate who’s a lawyer married to an extremely wealthy heiress . They have a penthouse on the Upper East Side where they throw some wild parties. If I’m in town, I get invited. The people you meet at these parties are always rich, always glamorous – and usually beautiful. I feel like an intruder, but I like watching what goes on.’ Kit whispered to Allen, ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Go on, Kit, back to the party.’
‘It was a good party, but I sensed something in the air – a hint of something sordid. As I implied, these parties often have an edge. I’m not a puritan, but …’
The Director nodded.
‘I could tell there was something there that made me uneasy – and I don’t just mean cannabis, cocaine or furtive fellatio in a cloakroom. These things are, in their own way, normal.’
‘Not in the US Embassy, I hope,’ said the Secretary of State.
‘Not to my knowledge, sir.’
‘Let him finish, Foster.’
‘There were two young men there that didn’t seem to belong – eighteen, maybe younger. They both had fine blond hair and bad teeth. I couldn’t tell where they came from: they spoke only to each other, but there was something in their manner that was coarse. They kept to themselves in the shadows – and after a while I forgot they were there. I didn’t like the atmosphere and thought about leaving, but then Porfirio Rubirosa turned up. I guessed it was him when I saw the Hispanic caterers begin to chop their knees with the sides of their hands.’
‘Why were they doing that?’ said Foster.
Allen sighed, ‘You are one of life’s innocents, Foster. It’s Spanish sign language for someone with an enormous cock – in this case, Ambassador Rubirosa.’
‘I see.’
In any case, Porfirio came over to say hello and we chatted amicably – in French, of course, to stop the caterers eavesdropping . We talked about racing cars and Trujillo, mostly racing cars. Trujillo, by the way, is developing a urine incontinence problem. Then Rubi was dragged away to meet the ladies – the women would have lynched me had I detained him any longer. So I was left all on my lonesome – and that’s when I saw her.’ Kit
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