The Medic

Jane was greatly relieved when Peter interjected in an aside that they had caught the burglars and the whole gang behind them. The mercenaries from South Africa and East Germany had been at it for years. He said nothing about his interrogation methods, nor where and how long the mercenaries would stay in jail. He immediately broached another subject, he was very unhappy about Jane's smoking. Marijuana was, after all and all, illegal, even if users usually got off with a small fine. Jane was uncomfortable with the topic, she was already addicted after all. But she promised not to deal with it. Peter stressed several times that he had no competence to bail her out. And a criminal record for dealing would end her career, once and for all. Possibly Jack's future, too, but he didn't know that for sure. MI6 had nothing to do with drugs at the time. As lax as the authorities were about consumption, they were relentless in their pursuit of dealers. Jane knew that, and she really didn't deal, she said.

Jack also smoked one of Jane's roll‐ups now and then, and he liked marijuana, definitely. But he smoked much less often than Jane did; his studies took a toll on him and didn't forgive any weaknesses. Jane had rigorously reduced her workload, and they sat in the living room every evening as they used to, wine and port and holy smoke making the stress of the day fade away. Jane's need for sex had diminished considerably with the Marihuana smoking; Jack fucked Rose daily. He treated her respectfully, as she was always there for him and made him squirt out his seed comfortably and exultantly with ease. She really liked to be fucked through with pleasure, whether it took 2 minutes or 2 hours. She often reported to Master Jack that she did it 6 times in the evening as well. Her menopause had set in, her menstruation stuttered and stopped altogether.

Jack was now in his fifth and penultimate year of training. He usually managed to meet Sir Peter once a month at the gentlemen's club. With unexpected candor, Peter talked about the organization and operations of the service. He still did not say what he expected Jack to do. At one point Peter made a suggestion and Jack replied that he was fucking Rose, the housekeeper, daily. Peter was apparently satisfied and half‐quietly wondered if it absolutely had to be the staff. The subject of fucking settled, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Jack wasn't fucking his sister, not his princess. Jack clenched his jaw silently when Peter wondered half aloud who Jane was fucking. Peter had to find out for himself. Jack was grateful for Peter's candor; he was getting a good overview and deep insight into the organization. He listened to the operations and asked anything that seemed important, and Peter answered almost all the questions. If he changed the subject, it was usually because he didn't want to reveal the role of the large Royal Family and the Parliament. If you ever sit in my chair, was his standard line. Jack had heard it so many times that it no longer had any meaning for him.

Jack now had to do a three‐day shift almost every weekend, and he liked the primary admission with the emergency service. Gynecology sucked, but was necessary. He was sure he wasn't going to be a gynecologist. Neither was orthopedics, ENT, and surgery. Surgery was still somewhat interesting, although the surgeon treated him very condescendingly and said he would never be a good surgeon. He himself disagreed, but next semester he would be in the pediatric department, and he was really looking forward to that. The nights on three‐day duty were long and uneventful. It came as it had to come. He curiously fucked the young female doctors who, like him, were in training and came from various universities in the kingdom. He fucked for the first time with a Negress and a Chinese woman. He had expected whitey, but both the Negress and the Asian girl fucked just like the white girls, they just weren't as cocky. The pervasive racism made them appear more modest and submissive. The Negress had a beautiful body and beautiful, velvety skin, but she let herself be fucked quite passively and did nothing to contribute to the fucking. She was one of the many who masturbated after fucking, but she turned her back on him and didn't let him watch. Of course he was watching her, she was masturbating right in front of the big mirror after all, looking at herself. He fucked her only once. The young and delicate Chinese girl, Jin or Chin, captivated him, but he could never figure out what drew him to her so much. He fucked her as often as they could meet, and Chin exploded in her orgasm like fireworks. She wouldn't fuck any further after that, and he had to finish fucking and cuming in her mouth. Again and again he managed to cum in the middle of her orgasm. Then she became very quiet and introverted and whispered that she definitely didn't want to get pregnant now. She never wanted to give him a handjob, she closed her eyes while mouth fucking and only opened them again when she had swallowed his semen without any visible emotion. While mouth fucking she put her hands on his ass and set the pace, her hands gently and erotically teased his buttocks and so after a few moments she made him squirt, deep in her throat. She was and remained the only one who really wanted the mouth fucking. At some point she said that in her extended family it was quite natural to fuck the young girls in the mouth. It was quite normal.

There were also beautiful young nurses, but soon the older ones pushed their way in. Yes, they really wanted to fuck the pretty boy. These wanted every drop of semen and robbed it from him until he could barely stand on his feet. He told everything to Jane, of course, who praised him instead of reprimanding him. She liked to listen to his antics before being fucked and tenderly tickled his mop of hair when he lovingly hugged her and fucked her just a tiny bit. She didn't get any more orgasms and he didn't squirt either. They just fucked a little, the being together was the important thing, not the orgasm. He didn't push her and was only sad that the fire was only burning on the smallest flame. She had fallen into drinking and smoking weed and no longer masturbated daily. Jack felt Jane slowly drifting into an apathetic abyss. He wasn't going to take it without a fight.

He was still in surgery. The chief surgeon was a blasphemer, but he was letting Jack assist more and more often, even on complicated operations. He praised the other two trainee doctors effusively, but wouldn't let them touch anything delicate. For once, Jack agreed with the chief, they were bottles. The chief let him perform an appendectomy independently for the first time, assisting Jack and giving him instructions. When they were done, the chief grinned with satisfaction, finding fault only with the surgical knots. He couldn't afford to praise Jack, after all. But he kept entrusting Jack with challenging surgeries. Jack soon had a good feeling about operating and learned every minute, maybe he would become a surgeon one day. He memorized every clue the chief gave him; it would only benefit him later. He did everything he could to be proud of his accomplishments, at least in this specialty.

On those days he was glad to be at Rose's for just a moment to relieve his tensions in her mouth and then go upstairs to take the wine glass from the clammy fingers of Jane, who was asleep at her desk. He carried her in his arms to the bedroom and gently undressed her. When she was half awake and smiling, he fucked her lightly and gently, usually without squirting. Most of the time, however, she didn't want to be fucked, closed her eyes and tentatively played with her clit for a few moments before falling asleep. He had to sleep every minute now too, he needed the sleep. In the morning, he let Jane continue sleeping and ate breakfast alone. If there was still time, he relaxed by fucking Rose briefly and walked to the hospital, relaxed and refreshed. St.Anne's Hospital was affiliated with the Royal Academy and people had taken notice of the ambitious young man both at the hospital and at the Academy. It was not unusual for this or that boss to ask him where he was going after graduation? He always answered everyone the same, he would do the two years of residency at St.Anne's and then go to Spain for a few days on vacation. That's as far ahead as he planned.

At the long three‐day services, he gradually became aware that the many pretty young things did not give him as much pleasure as the older ones, who often had great experience. He longed for Rose, she fucked best of all. But he was not allowed to sneak home at night, his sense of responsibility as a doctor did not allow it. Yes, he stayed half‐dressed even when fucking the female doctors and nurses, to be ready to go at any time. He always asked beforehand if he could squirt in, but contraception was not his job. The girls had to take care of that, that was the social consensus at the time.

When he finally started his elective in the pediatric ward, it had many advantages for him. First, to his own amazement, he had a knack for children. Second, the workday ended on time, so he could have dinner with Jane and then have time with her to chat comfortably and drink wine. Third, he only had a three‐day shift once a month. This was both good and bad, because the pediatric wards were staffed by the horniest doctors and nurses in the entire hospital. Most were not beauty queens, but they all universally loved fucking and brought some experience to the table. Not a single one was passive or lame‐ass like those on the other wards, plus all it took was a friendly question about sex or an erotic wink and no laborious seduction. If one ever said No, I'd rather not today! it was in a friendly manner and with good reason. There was also a very amicable interaction, with the others gladly taking over the normal actions during the three‐day services and almost never interfering with them fucking. Jack felt right at home on these wards, both during the day treating the children and at night happily, passionately fucking the chubby, loving, tender women. Most of them were married, but that was no obstacle for them. Carpe Diem, was written above the entrance to the nurses' room, seize the day! Someone had scrawled in pencil next to it, + noctem! Yes, that was a meaningful addition, Jack thought.

In the evenings he sat in his comfortable fauteuil opposite Jane and drank one, at most two ports. Usually he skipped the second port and drank light tea. He poured Jane a cup of tea as well, unobtrusively reducing her wine intake. Jane allowed herself to be led without him having to preach a sermon. She was now sobering up more often in the evenings, participating very actively in the discussion, and at one point said it was doing her quite good not to get drunk night after night. He nodded in agreement, and that was the end of the alcohol issue. After two weeks, two glasses of white wine were enough for her, because she wanted to get away from boozing herself. He listened very attentively when she told him about the interpersonal problems at work. He had an unerring instinct and an excellent empathy for situations, contexts and people, even though he did not know them personally. He used this magic to spot the various snags and pitfalls and made them visible to Jane. Most of the time she picked up his thread and stretched it further. She was smart and clever enough to work out her own strategy. He just listened carefully and rarely had a different opinion.

With the marijuana, it was much more difficult. She admitted her addiction to herself, but he often had to voice his opinion. He again led by example. He rarely smoked more than one marijuana cigarette, inhaling with relish and enjoying the ease and relaxation. He argued that he preferred to be active during the day and not woozy at work. That was his own decision. The one marijuana cigarette in the evening was enough to relax him. If he smoked more, his body would demand more and more, the effect would be lost in habituation, and he would no longer do his job well.

Jane didn't jump at it right away, gradually reducing her daily consumption until she only smoked in the evenings. He was able to seduce her more often again and she enjoyed being fucked again. They made tender love like young lovers and could hardly keep their fingers off each other some evenings. The old joy of sex reawakened in her, and she reduced smoking even in the evening, after smoking only regular cigarettes during the day, and that was good for her sexuality. Peter, who still went to dinner with them separately, noticed Jane's new, alert eyes and her renewed vigor, but Jack would have no credit, saying dryly that only her own will could keep her from slipping into the abyss.

Peter looked at him sharply, you're sleeping with Jane! Jack finished chewing the bite, not wanting to lie to Peter. Yes, he replied, holding Peter's gaze from the start. Peter said cuttingly, you lied about doing the housekeeper! Jack said that had been true at the time, things were not going well with Jane at the time and she had withdrawn sexually, so he was fucking Rose at the time, honestly. Peter lowered his eyes and muttered that he didn't want to discuss forbidden sisterly love now. Jack said, sort of in conclusion, he had only known Jane as a woman, never just as a sister. He loved her with all his heart and she was his wife. He recalled that Peter had wanted to strangle him if he caused Jane any harm. Peter smiled and nodded that all was well and the subject was over.

When he told Jane about it in the evening, she laughed and said, he asked me out before you, so he went to you well prepared. Typical Peter! But I stalled him for a long time. And then I told him, even about Rose. He widened his eyes and took some time to realize that we weren't hugging each other stupidly, that I knew about Rose and was okay with it. Jane poured more tea and commented on how smart Peter was to meet them separately and staggered so we wouldn't be able to talk off each other. It hit him pretty hard, though, she said. Maybe the subject would pop up later, but they both didn't want to have an incest debate with Peter, because there was a lot that played into it. Later, as they lay relaxing in bed, Jane retold the story with Peter, Nick and Naomi, then Peter with Naomi, and finally her own with Peter. Jack stroked her gently as she told it, then they fell asleep entwined.

Peter didn't stop him from studying; on the contrary, he urged Jack to step on the gas. He made hints that he wanted to get Jack into special education as soon as possible. He argued, to Jack's astonishment, his own age. He was now the eldest in a long line of predecessors stretching back to Queen Elizabeth the Virgin and Lord Walsingham. It would not be long before he would be retired. But he wanted to keep Jack's progress going until then, he said. My dear Jack, said Peter, my position will always be closed to you for various reasons, for example, you are not British and you have no aristocratic background, for whatever that is worth. But I've always wanted to put you in London Central, because you can often achieve more in the second line than at the top, where you would have to lick the boots of the nobility or royals in particular. He laughed softly to himself. I have it a lot easier than Dick, and Jack wasn't sure if Dick was to be understood in a derogatory sense as a dick, or if he meant the head of Section 6, Dick White. Jack followed Peter to a little table in a corner that Peter used for awkward conversations. He understood Peter very well by now, but he had doubts about whether he was up to it. However, Peter insisted. His studies had taught him many things that went far beyond being a doctor. And Jack had something that had no name and few people had. Of course, Peter didn't believe in hocus‐pocus, but this particular talent included something like mind‐reading, something seer‐like, and a profound empathy for other people. He had put Jack to the test many times, and each time he was amazed at how accurately the boy guessed, anticipated, or drew conclusions. A person with this gift had to work for the kingdom and the talent did not go to waste. Peter was impressed with how Jack reacted at the time to his mention that they had caught the whole gang of South African and GDR mercenaries. Jack was able to say they had been court‐martialed. Three or four main perpetrators had been convicted of some murders and were hanged. The others were sent to jail for many years, and the lowest ranks were let go. Peter listened spellbound, for it was all true. Three were hanged, the fourth pardoned at the very last minute to 35 years. Jack couldn't say how either, but he just knew. It was as simple as that.

So Jack came to special education in his senior year. It took up three days a week, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. It was compatible with his studies, he just unfortunately had to decide sometimes, studies or special training. The first part was about weaponry and shooting. It was easy for him, the western and eastern weapons and weapon systems were easy to distinguish and basically all worked the same. Load, pull the trigger, bang! These exercises were child's play, he could handle them well. He wasn't bad at shooting, but the instructor thought he was only mediocre. He was good, but certainly not a master. He got very good marks on the special weapon, the sniper rifle with scope. Jack was reminded of his father, but he kept it to himself. Trickier were explosives, bombs and mines. It was challenging to disarm them. Time and again, the instructor would break off, Boom! You're dead! He had no trouble intuitively guessing and recognizing the design and mechanism. His fingers were just too clumsy. Nevertheless, he passed the final exams satisfactorily. He concentrated on becoming a doctor. He worked on that ironcladly, the final exams were within his grasp.

The second part of his education was about information gathering, conclusions and evaluation. They took through actual cases, Operation Mincemeat and Jedburg. That was highly interesting, as was Operation Gold and the spectacular escape of George Blake. Jack was deeply immersed in that world; he felt as if his father was standing behind him, giving him tips. Without ever having experienced an espionage operation, he moved confidently and treadily on this terrain. He had to spend Friday and Saturday nights at the Operation Center. The task there was simple but tricky. For every girl in the OpCent he seduced during the two nights, there were good points. On the other hand, if he was seduced by a girl, she got the points. A competition in the bordello that took place two nights in the OpCent. Jack didn't play along. He let himself be seduced, did not collect a single point. The girls were delicious, to put it simply. They were female agents who had to conquer the opponent with their feminine charms and bring him down.

Jack allowed himself to be conquered, but the girls had to give it their all. He took his time and enjoyed the seduction, sitting back and letting the other guys pedal away and conquer the girls. His restraint and refusal to play tempted the prettiest and horniest girls to get the cool youngster into bed. Jack mostly left it to the girl to ride him until dawn. He challenged them, they had to earn their points with a lot of physical effort. They had beautiful and fragrant vulvas, their clits were precious jewels that he and they indulged equally. They had to strain every muscle of their battle‐hardened vaginas to make him squirt out the last drop of semen even after the x‐th time. Sunday he spent many hours in bed with Jane, telling her in great detail how he had let himself be conquered. She laughed gleefully and was pleased to see how he had turned the game in his favor. She was proud of him, he gave himself to the most beautiful daughters in England and made them sweat profusely. He would explain to the instructors at the end of this section of training why he had not scored. They would do well to understand the deeper meaning.

Peter had been seriously injured in a knife attack and remained in the military hospital for two months. Jane and Jack knew nothing about it, and he told them only afterward. His longtime driver had been killed and his bodyguard and he had been left critically injured. In the meantime his closest adviser staff cleared up the assassination without any gaps, a member of MI6 had been turned around and had organized the assassination. He and the two assassins were killed during the arrest. The defector's last words were: Fuck you, Robert Bruce! Jack winced as if under the lash of a whip and looked at Jane. Peter pricked up his ears and looked at him questioningly. He was my examiner years ago, Jack said, lowering his head. Peter nodded; he knew that. MI6 managed to keep Peter's name out of the papers and they only reported a stabbing among Albanian clans. Peter had to use a — naturally elegant — walking stick and now carried a small pistol in a holster. He had become even more wrinkled and serious, and so far had successfully resisted retirement. He had laughed out loud when he read the OpCent reports. He understood immediately and shook his head. That's pretty risky, son, he told Jack, you'll definitely be looked at negatively. He was perfectly aware of that and didn't care, Jack said, but he didn't want to be used as Romeo anyway, that wasn't his thing. And getting girls was not a problem.

At the beginning of the year, Sir Peter took him to Churchill's funeral in Bladon, where he met some relatives of the great hero. Jack was introduced for the first time to the Section 5 and 6 leadership, Peter letting everyone know through the grapevine that Jack was his protégé. On the way back to London, Peter lectured about each individual they had met. Jack took great pains to commit faces, names, functions, and Peter's references to memory. Peter encouraged him to meet with the lower batches once or twice. He named two gentlemen's clubs where he had registered Jack as a member and where he could pleasantly entertain these agents. In the weeks that followed, Jack had Peter's office give him the direct telephone numbers of some of these small agent bosses and invited them one by one to these clubs. He left the information in Peter's office so his mentor would know. Jack was not a subaltern, he was a team player, Peter knew that.

His initial shyness vanished instantly, he listened intently to these agents and let his charismatic character shine through. After all, he read the newspapers and watched the television news every day, so he knew exactly what they were reporting. In many news stories, he could read a little between the lines and surprise his interlocutors with ideas and conjectures. He drew cross‐references between news stories that would certainly not come up at any regular table. Immediately after these luncheons, he would return to the club unseen and record in key words the conversation in his notebook. He used a primitive cipher that posed no problems for an expert but left an ordinary reader unable to understand anything. He then composed a memo in cues and sent it to a post office box that led to Peter's office. When, after a few weeks, he wished to speak to the club manager and inquired how he could settle his account, the manager smiled benignly and said Lord Pembroke reserved that privilege. Peter smirked when Jack spoke to him about it, saying that sometimes it was to the Earl's advantage to be singled out. He brushed aside Jack's objections. After all, you work for the Crown without contract or pay, so these bills are the least they could do. He emphasized how pleased he was to read Jack's memos. That, he said, was a good start. Then he pivoted to the bordello and let Jack tell him what the female agents at the bordello were like. With his eyes closed, he listened to how the girls behaved when they fucked, what they were particularly good at, and what they liked themselves.

Jack had a full schedule, cramming for final exams and learning information gathering and analysis, which was highly interesting. He didn't mind at all if classmates grumbled because he asked so often. But he sensed that this was exactly what interested him. His fellow students wanted shooting, rope climbing, and house fighting. He was only marginally interested in that. When the others rushed to the shooting range, he engaged the lecturer in two‐hour conversations, about why, how, and why not. He sharpened his thinking, learned how to cross‐reference and when to use hooks to get to the target. He wanted to learn the best interrogation techniques, how to turn enemy agents, which political events mattered and which didn't. How to spot false, inaccurate or manipulated messages and how to proceed to get clarity. If his fellow students had known how much his questioning affected the class, they would have lynched him.

In early March, Peter instructed him to take time off immediately for 3 or 4 days, at Jane's, the Academy, etc. Peter had a carriage take him to Morrison Manor House south of London. At ground level and on the floors, it was an ordinary manor house, such as there were thousands of in the kingdom. But he was escorted to the lift and taken down. Even the elevator boy carried a pistol concealed in his holster. Once downstairs, his name was entered into a list, and he denied the question of whether he was armed. Then they went through winding corridors to a huge underground hall. Jack was left breathless. Men and women worked at dozens of desks, telegraphs clacked, typewriters ticked, and telephone calls filled the air with a deafening cacophony. On two sides of the hall, men and women worked at huge blackboards as if in a betting shop or stock exchange.

Jack found Peter in one of the partitioned sections. Peter was on the phone and speaking into a microphone, waving Jack over and pointing to a chair. Jack sat down and pricked up his ears. Peter talked on the phone in French, spoke Italian into the microphone, and made his notes in English. He passed notes in between to a mute assistant, who ran off with them and returned at a run, with or without such notes, and placed the notes on Peter's desk. Rarely did the slip of paper remain in front of Peter; most were arranged by the assistant in the long rows of slips of paper on the desk. Peter ended the call and turned off the mike, skimmed the new slips of paper and nodded with satisfaction.

He greeted Jack with a handshake and said, Operation Nefertiti. We are in Italy, Rome. It is for the safety of the deposed King Faruq of Egypt. Our opponent the Egyptian service, they want to eliminate Faruq. Our friends, Italian and French services, cooperative but little engaged. We were protective power of Egypt, so we interfere. Mia Girotti will guide you, just soak up all the information and send your opinion directly to me. Oh, the phone! Take care, Jack! Peter spoke on the phone in Italian and turned away. Jack tried to understand Peter's Italian, but he could only make out a few snatches. It was about some hotel and boutique on Via Veneto. Jack looked up and a young girl he recognized immediately beckoned him to follow. She led him to a workstation within sight of Peter, pulled up a second chair and they sat down. Shaking hands, she said her name, Mia Girotti, and he said his. He added, we know each other from OpCent, from the Bordello. She nodded, I recognized you, but I couldn't place you. She smiled. This is not a bordello, we are to protect Faruq and lead our people. My place, my rules. How good is your Italian? she asked and he replied, Niente. Nothing.

She immediately decided, I'll do the phone, you do the map. There is a big map of Rome, the red pins are ours, the yellow ones are our armed commandos. The green ones are the Italians, the white ones are French. The black ones are Egyptians and their partners. When I'm on the phone, I dictate keywords to you. You write in block letters, English. When I point, you raise a hand with the paper and let the aide pick it up. You concentrate on the large card and report to me the change on this small card. When I ask, you show me the change with the tip of the pencil. And don't screw up the card for me, I was just able to grab one when I learned to get an aide. He grimaced. Ohh, pencil only and no lipstick! Mia laughed briefly, then said Go! because her phone was blinking. Jack looked at the large map and noted exactly when a pin was moved. With a wave of his hand, the offset was repeated again, just once. He listened for Mia's rapid Italian and did not miss any of her short English spoken cues and phrases. The work demanded full concentration, but was not difficult. The notes that were supposed to be signed with Mia G., he drew with Mia + Jack. He stuck out his tongue when Mia made a comment. She was cheerful despite the concentration and liked to laugh, even on the phone.

Mia said in one of the short breaks, Faruq had only one vice. Eating, drinking and young girls. Jack grinned and shrugged, so an ex‐king with pocket money. She looked at him fixedly. He understood young to mean those from 12 to 16, they must not be older. He became serious. I don't eat green apples, he said with a grin, I can wait until they are ripe, red and juicy. And have nice breasts! He looked demonstratively at Mia's big breasts. She thanked him with a tiny smile for the compliment, but the phone blinked. Then, after long hours, a beep. Mia murmured to Jack, relieve me! and continued to talk on the phone. There was movement all around, the relief went off unspectacularly. Jack glanced at Peter, but he seemed to continue. Jack wrote a final note with Mia's cues and drew Mia + Jack, Over and Out. Mia gave the young beardless a few cues and pointed her finger at a number on the phone list. Jack waited, standing, until she finished.

Mia walked ahead through quiet concrete corridors until they were in a small dining room. The silence really hurt his ears after the noise. It was like the dining hall at university, only the food was classes better. He passed the beer and wine and took a bottle of water, Mia took a small jug of red wine. He walked to one of the smaller tables with his tray, which had half a roast chicken with sauce and rice on it. Mia followed, she had chosen a large salad bowl and yogurt. We have exactly 8 hours off, she said, sleep, brush teeth and eat breakfast in exactly — she glanced at her sinfully expensive wristwatch — 7 hours 45 minutes. At the signal, we must be at the door to the operating room.

They ate chatting, he told a little of his background and that he would be a doctor in six months and then work at St. Anne's for two years on probation. She said that her family made Italian furniture near London, 350 employees. Her two older brothers had studied economics and management and would soon take over the factory from her father. She could have lived as a jet‐setting‐princess, according to her parents, but she preferred to study Italian literature and even took her interpreting diploma. Two years ago she had come to the OpCent because of a stupid thing and was trained as an agent there. He smiled. The stupid thing was probably a wrongful arrest for alleged prostitution? he interjected questioningly and she blanched, visibly shaken. How did...? He lied, "page 78 in the training manual. How to make a girl an agent." He'd made that up, but it was that intuition that Peter envied.

He was calmly finishing his chicken, she had pushed the salad bowl aside and was drinking the red wine. She was smoking and he could tell she was seething with anger inside. The accusation of prostitution was shit, of course, Mia said pressedly. I never fucked for money, honest! she paused for a long time and added, I only took jewels and jewelry, the judge didn't know that, of course. She thought for a moment. The OpCent was just right for me, the training is highly interesting and we don't screw for money, only for points. They both had to laugh, and the eaters around them looked disapproving. She lowered her voice. Don't know why I didn't target you, she said musingly. He meant, you must have noticed that I wasn't throwing myself at the girls like stupid, some must have thought I was gay. I'm not, I just wanted to get the points to the girls. I didn't need points, I just wanted the girls. I got them, every time.

Mia smiled as he spoke. So, did you get tricked into prostitution too? she asked and Jack shook his head. It is very complicated, he said, chewing the chicken meat, just this much, already my father was in Lord Walsingham's service. He enlightened her, Walsingham founded the secret service under Queen Elizabeth I, Elizabeth the Virgin Queen. All this around he started 450 years ago. We're not here because we love King Faruq. We're here for the kingdom, for the Queen. And, because Walsingham realized there had to be a secret service. And, because the Queen realized perfectly well that Walsingham was the right man for the job. Jack was glad that he had cleverly dodged her questions about his prostitute status. He had finished dinner, or was it lunch? and they were taking the dishes to the rack.

Once again, Mia led the way, through the concrete corridors. She'd been here 11 days, she said, and he noted he had to leave so quickly that he hadn't packed a suitcase. She said that he could find fresh linen in the room, also a second pillow and blankets. With us girls, all this is in the left closet. The toothbrushes are original, I honestly don't know about the toothpaste. Soap and towel you can find even without instructions. Next to the bed is an alarm clock, set it! They had arrived, she pointed to a door with a dark flower. Your room, she pointed to the room opposite, with a white flower on the door, mine. She looked at him from the side. I don't need to set the alarm if you set it for us! He had seen it coming, she had been flirting with him all along. Just give me 5 minutes, he said, so I can wash my face and cock. She smiled brightly, and if you spot the shower behind the right closet, you can even shower. I need a shower now, definitely!

Jack showered in no time. He sat naked on the simple military bed and waited with his heart beating with joy. She knocked and scurried in, covered only with a towel. She dropped the towel as he rose. They hugged and kissed, eventually falling onto the bed. She checked the alarm clock and shook her head frantically, oh you men! and set the alarm. Mia was very slim, this showed off her large firm breasts well. She had shaved her dark pubic hair off to the side, Jack had heard that was called a landing strip. Her pubic area looked like a young girl's, neither clit nor labia minora were visible.

Jack stroked and caressed her until her breathing was shallow. As they fucked with pleasure, she whispered, after 11 nights of heavy masturbating I just needed it! They fucked for quite a long time until he felt the squirt rising. I need to squirt now, he gasped and she nodded, Yes, okay, you can squirt! and grabbed her clit. She quickly and skillfully brought herself to orgasm and let him thrust and squirt into her orgasm. They lay close together and he asked how old she was. Twenty‐six, in two months. She didn't count the men, she replied, there must have been hundreds by now, but she wouldn't care. She probably didn't go into marriage a virgin, she grinned. She preferred to live by the motto Carpe Diem and Jack, shot like a pistol, et noctem! They were still laughing softly when there was a knock. Quick‐witted, Jack pulled the blanket over Mia and immediately recognized Peter's lion's mane as the door opened. Peter stopped, puzzled. Mia got off the bed and gave Peter plenty of time to look at her beautiful body, then picked up the towel and left. Jack recognized the bodyguard, who stood motionless with his back to the door, watching.

Peter grabbed the stool and sat down. All in the green, so far the Egyptians have kept quiet. But they would not leave Faruq alone. They discussed some details and Jack expressed his suspicion that the Egyptians were still preparing and not yet executing. Peter asked. Well, Jack said, there are just under 20 black needles. They are about evenly distributed in the extended perimeter of downtown. They form groups of 2 and three. They go to cafes, shopping, movies. Only one group was meant for execution, the others are on standby for emergencies and to keep us busy. The black needles, who were in charge of execution, we probably don't even have on the map yet. Jack was silent, Peter was silent. How do we find the missing ones? Peter asked and Jack shrugged, he had no idea. One thing must be clear to us, Jack said, we won't recognize the assassination until the very last moment. Some black needles will go to Termini central train station, others to Fiumicino airport. In this time it goes: bang!

Peter nodded, he had come that far too. He had ordered to tie a tight cordon around Termini and Fiumicino. Jack nodded, but wanted to know two things. How many were directly on Faruq, and how many on the people feeding the girls to Faruq? 8 to 10 around Faruq, the white slavers had been security checked by the Italians before Faruq arrived. Could we put more people around Faruq and watch the girl traffickers every step of the way, Jack asked. We don't know the missing black needles, but if the extra men and women around Faruq keep their eyes open, they will spot them. Maybe. One crow recognizes another among many flamingos, doves and sparrows. As for the white slavers, if I were them, I'd tackle it there. They have no morals, only cash counts there. Not about the kitchen, not about the security guards, not about the service staff. Also, check what official appearances Faruq was scheduled to make. Sniper. Did we check, none, Peter said, scribbling something in his notebook. The night is short, he said getting up, I need a cap of sleep. He pointed his chin toward Mia's door. Do what you have to do, but do it soon. Jack waited a few minutes before opening Mia's room door in his Adam costume.

When the bedside lamp was turned on, he immediately realized that she was not Mia. This woman was decidedly twice his age and smiled kindly at him, the way women smile when a naked man with an erection unexpectedly stands in the bedroom. She slowly pulled the blanket aside and shifted a bit. He didn't get a word out and turned to leave, but she made a negating sound and plodded with the flat of her hand on the sheet. Here, my boy! she signalized. A woman in her mid‐fifties with an inviting body. He didn't need a second to think, then he climbed into bed with her. She bent over his cock without a word and made it stiff with her mouth and hand in no time. She gave him nice French kisses while pulling him on top of her and between her open legs. They fucked wordlessly and she rubbed her clit as they fucked. She orgasmed within no time and kept rubbing to the next. It took him 20 minutes to cum. She noticed and stopped masturbating. He gasped, I'm about to cum and she stroked his head, go ahead and cum, my boy, go ahead and cum! She motherly stroked his hair and whispered all the time, just squirt, keep squirting and don't stop squirting. Her vagina greedily sucked up his semen and with one hand on his ass she pressed it deep and rhythmically inside her. One finger pressed deep into his asshole and made him squirt again. After that she embraced his cock and rubbed the last drops into her vagina with her hand for minutes. She gasped with greed and horniness and rubbed his cock vigorously until it was completely flaccid. They lay side by side in silence for a few more minutes, then he stood up. He looked at her naked body, which was very womanly and inviting. He already knew her densely hairy pubic, her breasts were not lush and hung down sadly. He opened his mouth to say something nice, but her friendly smile rested on his cock. He smiled back and nodded appreciatively, then went to sleep. They had not exchanged a single word.

After breakfast, he went to the op room and waited for the sign. Mia was already in her seat, talking on the phone. He waited for the signal and went to her, stroking the back of her hand in greeting and looking at the board. He recognized the cordons around the main station and the road to the airport. The white flag marking Faruq's location was now loosely surrounded by 20, 24, no 26 red pins. A yellow one marked that an armed commando was near or in the basement of Faruq's hotel. The Italians and French were in a heap, apparently still eating breakfast. The English were on their own. Mia ended the conversation and they finally greeted each other. Mia said the French were gathering at the meeting place, coordinating the day's schedule with the Italians. Over brioches and coffee, Jack said with a grin, staring at the map. He couldn't look Mia in the eye, not after that night. Little was happening and time was passing slowly. The signal sounded, they were relieved. They went to the dining hall, ate comfortably, and Jack laid out his theories and conjectures before Mia. She was one of the brightest women he had yet met at OpCent. She had almost as broad an education as Jane and understood his ideas immediately. They continued their quietly conducted debate in his room. Mia said this 8‐hour rotation would continue until the end of the operation; they needed every minute of sleep. They showered, and Jack noted that unseen servants had cleaned the room and restocked the laundry.

It was nice fucking Mia. Again, she masturbated only just before he squirted and let him thrust and squirt into her orgasm. She said that was her thing, that was best for her. Unfortunately, many men were offended when she wanted to masturbate while fucking, she said. She usually kicked these men out instantly. She wanted to know why Sir Peter had shown up yesterday, he was the boss of the whole operation. He remained vague, saying that he was one of his instructors and wanted to hear his theory, which he had explained to Mia at lunch. Dinner, she corrected, there is only dinner, sleep, breakfast and work here, in 8‐hour‐cycles. The fucking, not to mention, he jokingly interjected. She nodded and stroked his cock, but he still needed time to regenerate, he said.

He told her about the adventure afterwards. Mia laughed at the top of her lungs, good Lilly got an extra‐service! Mia was not jealous for a moment and reported that she had heard fucking noises in the middle of the night, but had not paid any attention to it, it was horny, but not sooo horny. Lilly worked in the telephone exchange and was also a wiretap specialist. She was already over fifty, but had obviously taken care of her figure. She was married to an older inside agent and had three grown children. And, Mia asked, how was she in bed? Jack readily told of the fucking, that she masturbated throughout and had made several nice orgasms. How she had encouraged him to squirt and had stroked him motherly and gently while he squirted. That she apparently must be a frugal housewife because she had milked the last drops into her vagina very vigorously for minutes. Summa summarum, he summed up, Lilly was very good in bed, but she rarely got fucked lately. Intuition, he said, just a guess. He fucked Mia again, the girl was really an excellent partner in fucking. They slept close together until the alarm rattled.

The next five shifts went the same way as this one. English and Egyptian leered at each other and there were no significant changes. At dinner, Mia told him she wanted to sleep alone tonight. The surgery had thrown off her pill's rhythm and she didn't want to risk anything. He nodded and she leaned over to whisper in his ear that he should go to Lilly! He nodded and calmly ate his Indian style chicken. The kitchen was unique and served differently prepared chicken every 8 hours. He would try the beef next time, although he knew the English didn't understand beef any more than Scandinavians understood pizza. They went to their rooms, saying goodbye with fierce French kisses. Jack showered extensively and sat down on the bed. He could go over to Mia, but he had no idea if she liked handjobs or mouth fucking. He decided to go with Lilly.

He knocked softly and entered her room, closing the door. Lilly awoke and turned on the small light. Her broad smile revealed that he was welcome. He slipped into bed with her and the fucking went the same as before. They smoked and he said he knew her, Lilly from the switchboard, his name was Jack and he worked as a trainee doctor at St. Anne's. He questioned her curiously and she confirmed she hadn't screwed in at least ten or twelve years, until just now. She thought highly of the marriage vows, but they were at war now. She was a lecturer at Kings College in civilian life and taught four languages. She was fluent in French, Spanish, Italian, and Arabic, and listened to 8 hours of Rome conversations per shift. We are at war, Jack, the Egyptians are preparing for a bloody attack, although she had not been able to learn any details so far.

He brought the language back to sex. She emphasized that she usually respected the marriage vows, after all she masturbated often every evening and when needed she also rubbed her husband, because he only wanted to be made to squirt with her hand. Even for the conception of her children, she had maneuvered his cock into her vagina and made him squirt with her hand. Before that she was often in the field and in the war, there were other men. She blushed gracefully when he asked her. There must have been 10 in the war and in the field, she whispered, or more. But before marriage there were only two or three, she had started screwing very early, at 19. Finally, he wanted to know what her favorite position was when fucking. I don't know, she said, red in the face, maybe the dog position and you use your finger in my asshole. She looked at him very shyly and he kissed her intimately. Let's do it like this then, he decided. She took his cock in her mouth and made it stiff rubbing.

Somewhat unsteadily she got on all fours and he penetrated her vagina from behind. His index finger quickly found her asshole and he fucked her as she had said. She propped herself up on her elbow and had one hand free. She masturbated from start to finish and had countless orgasms, moaning with horniness, greed and lust. He fucked very long and gasped, I have to squirt! She lay down on her back in a flash and said cooing, just squirt, my love, squirt as much as you can! She inserted his cock into her vagina and rubbed it vigorously. Go ahead and squirt, my boy, go ahead and squirt, she gasped. For minutes she rubbed his cock with slow, energetic movements to get every last drop. He continued to fuck her in this position with his flagging cock, watching very closely as she masturbated. Her clit was very small like Veronika's and she masturbated in the same way. He felt the violent working of her vagina in orgasm. They kissed for a long time and he replied, Yes, maybe tomorrow too, then he went to his room.

How surprised he was, however, that Mia was sleeping on his bed. He lay down with her, his chest pressed against her back. Drowsy, she begged him to tell. He told everything, every detail, and Mia reached between her legs in the side position. She masturbated slowly and pleasurably with her legs closed, listening to him half asleep. She kept her legs closed until the end and had her rubbing hand trapped between her legs. When he had finished, she rubbed herself very quickly, making her ass wiggle, and Jack penetrated her vagina from behind. He didn't move, enjoying her rubbing and her gentle orgasm. He kissed her on the neck and turned out the light.

For several more cycles this repeated itself. Lilly got wonderful orgasms in the doggy position, lying on her back to let him squirt inside her vagina and rubbing him as he squirted. Go ahead and squirt, my boy, she breathed in his ear, squirt deep inside me! She rubbed him while he squirted and then continued to do so until his cock had gone completely limp. A little later, he whispered all the details and teasing into Mia's ear as she masturbated herself to sleep.

A few shifts later, it was March 18, 1965, Jack would never forget that date. No sooner had Mia and he relieved the others than he grabbed Mia's arm and pointed to the board. Those relieved must have been asleep! He already had a piece of paper in his hand and wrote NOW!!! on it in big letters. He waved the note until Peter noticed and sent a runner to him. While the runner was still running, Jack pointed to the board, indicated movement to the main train station and the airport, and stood up. Peter immediately made two phone calls, called several people, and looked at Jack shaking his head. He pointed to the phone and called Mia's number. Peter said all the bases reported NOTHING. Not a single Egyptian even close to the hotel. Jack was desperate. The movements of the black needles were so distinct, he could have screamed! He waved goodbye to Peter and ended the call. The shift ended unchanged, he ate dinner with Mia and rushed to his room with her. He was very agitated and needed immediate relaxation. They fucked fast and furious, twice in a row. He could, he wanted it a third time, Mia looked at him critically but didn't say a word to the berserker fucking.

In the middle of the act there was a knock and Peter entered. Jack took a few seconds and stopped fucking. They disengaged from each other and covered up instantly. Peter waved off, Mia should stay. Mia sat up and didn't care that the blanket slid aside. Peter looked at her nakedness, beautiful breasts and her wet hole with pleasure and reported. He had seen Jack's desperation and decided to send two agents directly to the hotel. They and two of Faruq's servants discovered the dead king and his 14‐year‐old girl, also dead. He had been poisoned with ricin in the lemonade, as later investigations revealed. The girl had brought the lemonade with her in three bottles, and they had apparently not checked them carefully. Presumably, the girl had not known about the poison, since she did not know the king. Finally, Peter said that the media had been informed that Faruq had succumbed to a stroke in Capri. It sounded less puffery than that they had been unable to prevent an assassination in the middle of the capital. Peter's eyes broke away from Mia's wet little hole and looked firmly into Jack's. You must admit that you have this special gift! and without waiting for an answer he stood up. Jack was very affected and Mia did not understand the last remark.

And now, Peter said with a grin, carry on, children! But this was not to be thought of. Jack and Mia got dressed and hurried into the OpRoom. The agents stood in clusters and discussed. The loud buzzing was quite different from the cacophony that had prevailed in the OpRoom until now. They moved together or separately from group to group, listening and asking questions. Everyone expressed themselves completely freely; there were no secrets here. The consensus was that the Italians had screwed up. They had only tested one of the bottles, the king's cupbearer and taster had only tasted this lemonade. The girl had been brought here just to get fucked by the fat King, no one suspected anything. She had been thoroughly and full of horniness groped several times and her orifices inspected by grinning and horny agents. The girl, made docile by pills, was helplessly at the mercy of the overweight fat toad, the royal pederast helplessly at the mercy of the poison. No one mourned him, he was a miserable pig. But he was their package, their ward. May the failure not have been their fault, they had lost the package, Period.

Some agents were still on the phone with radio stations and newspaper editors, the cover story was spread, the dead girl was never mentioned. Since the cause of death was alternately stroke and heart attack, it made for a good mix of different narratives. Capri was good, the ex‐king loved Capri, Capri had no clinic where the king could have been saved. Capri would not be hurt by a dead king; an assassination in the city's most exclusive hotel would be a disaster. An agent approached Jack. Sir Peter would be waiting in the driveway in twenty minutes and would gladly take him. Before he could even say peep! the agent had disappeared in the thick of the crowd. He was looking for Mia. I have to see the boss and then go home, he said. The best lies meander very close to the truth, he reminded himself. Mia asked, and he nodded, he just wants to see me. She hugged him for a tenth of a second and whispered, I'll see you again, I hope. He whispered back, hopefully there will be more than just seeing each other, and she gave him a friendly peck. They shared a fleeting kiss, then he left.

He waited outside the covered entrance, smoking. He was annoyed that he had become a chain smoker during the last few days. The cab stopped, he stubbed out the cigarette. Sir Peter's cab was a well‐camouflaged vehicle and had a few extras. It was probably the only one in all of London, maybe even the country, that had a radio telephone. He waited until the chauffeur had stowed Peter's luggage in the compartment and sat down opposite Peter. The drive to Jack's house took over an hour, Peter had his notepad open and was jotting down point by point what he needed to get done to end Operation Nefertiti. Who got which report, who had to be informed personally, who only by phone. To whom did he have to communicate his conclusions. Evaluation of the operating room, the accommodations, the room service. The coffee once tasted a little salty (seawater?), even for such trifles you have to take your time, Peter said.

He read each item aloud and discussed it with Jack where necessary. But Jack understood most of the steps even without explanation. At one point, when he said it was such a bloated device, Peter nodded and shrugged. It's too early for reform, Jack. At Jack's objection that this or that one was a bottle after all, he shook his head thoughtfully. Not at all, Jack, not at all! Being taken for a sucker is one of the most effective disguises! Jack remained silent, there was still so much to learn. Peter flipped his notebook shut, after your PhD you must assist me with all this to be fit for your future.

Transitionally, he asked how it was with Lilly. Jack raised his head in amazement, but he answered straightforwardly how it had come about. Peter laughed, wrong door, my ass! The girls switched rooms in a flash, you simpleton, a typical Lilly's maneuver, I know it! Jack looked at him piercingly and Peter said with a hint of embarrassment, we knew each other in the war.... known each other. Jack smiled, Lilly and the marriage vows, I'm laughing! He told Peter anyway what Lilly had confided in him. Peter nodded, most of it was true, only there were many more affairs before she got married, as well as during the war, although she was already married then. A whole lot more. She was one of the most desirable and willing in Whitehall. Perhaps she was ashamed of it and therefore embellished the story. That she hadn't screwed in the past 12 years was true, I know from her husband. He would have known immediately if the husband had lied. And since she held a sensitive position, any extramarital screwing would have been mentioned in the reports.

Peter changed the subject again. Be aware, Jack, that you cannot have a girl unnoticed. That should not stop you at all, take them all. Just know that it will never be secret. If you know that, you won't make any mistakes. None are worth making a mistake. Peter held his gaze. For how long? Until you're in consecrated ground, Peter said without thinking. Even if you don't want to cooperate, and in principle you can still decide that, you'll never come down from the list of not‐so‐important people. It is imperative for the service to know about their people, from the chauffeur to the head honcho. That's been true since Walsingham and it remains true. It is a sensible thing to do, remember George Blake, because if we had paid better attention it would not have come to this.

They had arrived outside Jack's house and the chauffeur turned off the engine and got out. Jack asked if he wanted to come in for a drink, but Peter declined with thanks. He rummaged a package out of his pocket. It was your birthday last week and you couldn't celebrate because of Operation Nefertiti. Jack accepted the box and thanked him. Peter motioned him to open it. It was a gold‐plated Portugieser wristwatch. He had kept looking at the display on the way to the hospital and had thought about buying this beautiful Swiss watch. A doctor needed a wristwatch with a second hand. Surveillance has its good points, Jack muttered. Peter knocked on the window, I have to go on. They said goodbye and Jack went into the house. He had been gone 12 days, and every day Peter's office had called Jane to say that Sir Peter and Jack were well.

The next morning he celebrated his 26th birthday with Jane, Rose had provided delicacies early that morning and served them a festive late breakfast. He had received from Jane a gold ring, which was worn on the little finger at that time. The light blue stone was adorned with a fanciful crest, and a J C was engraved on it. "Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Jack theatrically, and Jane automatically corrected, No, Jack Crawley. Then she laughed because she had fallen for him. Then he put the little black box on the table, from Uncle Peter. He took the beautiful watch and put it on. It was a precious piece and he liked it very much. Jane picked up the watch, looked at it from all sides. Glass bottom, you can really see inside. She noticed the engraving.

For Jack Crawley by Peter Lord Mossley

.

Jack had a lump in his throat and saved himself with the help of the coffee cup.

He had finished his studies, was third best out of 167 students, and in 10 days was the ceremonial graduation. He had not seen Peter since Operation Nefertiti and told him about the graduation via office message. He would be happy if he could come. He had sent Veronika the train ticket and expected her in a week. It was Veronika's second visit to London, the first time he and Jane had taken turns guiding her to the tourist highlights. They had cleaned out his room and made up his bachelor bed for her. Still, the three of them woke up in Jane's big bed every morning. Rose was blindsided when Jack introduced her to his mother, surely this was the woman in the nude pictures!? She greeted the Lady Veronica, occasionally addressing her as Milady. Veronica was insecure and in return addressed her as Lady Rose and Milady, seriously, she didn't know any better. Rose didn't dare correct Lady Veronica. Jane and Jack laughed uproariously when they were alone and performed Rose's unfortunate court curtsies. Lady Janet of the Crawlies and Sir Robert the Bruce, His Highness the Baron Jacky of Crawley Castle. They laughed tears.

At Jack's request, Jane escorted Veronika to a fashion boutique. Veronika's festive dress she brought with her was unspeakably tacky and redneck. Jane fitted her for a beautiful dark blue dress that was appropriate for the period. Jack had also gotten a nice, simple suit and had taken Rose with him. Of course she had to be there for the promotion, no arguments, Jack had said. If I had a dog, he would have to come too, he said, immediately regretting the inappropriate comparison. Rose had not taken it negatively and protested, a dog would only make our Crawley Manor filthy! It was his first time in a ladies' boutique, he stuck his head cheekily through the curtain. Rose got a red head from his half‐loudly insinuating pigging out and pawing. She kept having to strip completely naked to try on the new bras and fashionable panties he had bought her earlier. She still had a beautiful body, except for her breasts. He made her try on dress after dress, even though he had already found the right one. With a heavy heart he finished the charade and sighed, Rose really was a splendid woman and fucked masterfully.

Of course the alterations to Veronika's dress weren't finished, of course not. Jane snatched the nearly finished piece from the protesting seamstress and raced home in a cab. In no time she finished sewing it by hand and saved the schedule. Jane, Veronika and Rose looked very elegant, Jane had made up Veronika from scratch so she looked subtle and not like a main porn attraction. They went to the Academy in two cabs, in the first Jane and Jack, in the second Lady Veronica and Lady Rose. The ceremony was carried through ironclad according to old tradition, the ceremonial speeches interminable and the fanfares blown by chubby‐cheeked boys, not from tape as in later times. Jack had not been able to discover Peter. The new doctors took the oath of Hippocrates, many the oath of Maimonides. Only now he was Jack Crawley M.D. As they turned after taking the oath, 167 young men and women, to bow to the festive guests, he noticed Peter next to Jane. The festive guests gave loud, prolonged applause. The young doctors deflected past the dean's table to receive their certificates. Jack immediately checked to make sure the three copies of the certificate really bore his name, then walked out like everyone else.

In the vestibule the hugging and kissing, Veronica and Rose blubbered into their handkerchiefs. Jane beamed like a freshly polished gold coin, Peter just gave him a firm handshake. He took Jack aside for a moment. Change of program, one went to the Coats of Arms. Jack's eyes teared up, but Peter reassured him, he had already cancelled Jack's table reservation, end of debate. Peter had visibly caught fire when Jane introduced him to Jack's mother. Only his good breeding kept him from clicking his tongue. The elegant dress of the main porn attraction was top fashion and revealed everything that was not hidden underneath. It didn't take much imagination, after all, the dress was designed precisely to veil and reveal the wearer's physical assets. Peter almost couldn't take his eyes off her horny body. She was discreetly made up and that showed off her feminine features well. He had her hooked under immediately and swung his classy walking stick. To accommodate her he spoke German. The others followed them and Jane exchanged a meaningful look with Jack. He had hooked himself under Jane and Rose, Rose clutching the dark red document scroll like the crown treasure. The Coat of Arms was the best restaurant in London at the time, and it was a mystery to Jack how Peter had managed to get the small, separate Viscounts Room in this sinfully expensive establishment. Service brought such a few conveniences, Jack thought silently.

Peter had ordered a good meal. Knowing that neither Jane nor Jack liked soup, there were two appetizers, trout and seafood, then delicate pink tournedos à la Rossini and a lemon ice cream sorbet. Red wine went with everything, only Jane drank white. Peter ended Veronika's effort to speak English and had already switched to German on the short walk here. Jack had not known until now that Peter spoke German quite well, but really he knew nothing about the man. All four of them complimented him on how persistent he had been in his studies. He was really very proud of that, but he raised his voice, without them four he would never have made it to be a doctor at just over 26. He singled out Jane, who held him up and supported him like a rock. Veronica, who had first got him into grammar school and encouraged him to study in London, which meant a great personal sacrifice for her. Rose ran her household with the precision of clockwork and was always there for the bodily well‐fare of the master. Everyone except Veronica knew what was meant by bodily welfare. Jack gently stroked her arm, for she was crying again. Rose, you are the good soul of Crawley Manor and passionately delight to your master! And, Sir Peter, you are the best uncle we Crawleys have, your support has given Jane and me the good uncle that fate has denied us. Jack stood up and raised his glass, to you all, to us all!

The other day Peter whisked Veronica away for two days to show her the country and its people. Jane and Jack exchanged meaningful glances and persuaded Veronika to go with him. She was brought home the other day tired but smiling. She was surprised because Jane and Jack quizzed her on all the details that night. Peter remained an old‐school gentleman the whole time, and sensitively and purposefully tucked her into bed, where they spent 24 hours. Peter had learned two new words, Schniedelwutz and Fötzchen, when she had to tell him the story of her life, from the convent to her neighbor Heinz, who fucked her for a year without damaging her hymen. She left out the sex with Jack and gave a truthful account of her work in the porn film industry. She was clear that she had already passed 35 and was not good for this job for much longer. She didn't need the money and she still had enough to retire. When she had told everything honestly and without make‐up, Jane said that thank God Peter was still in such a good mood at his age and still enjoyed fucking. Only the ugly scar on his loin still hurts him, Veronika said. Jack kissed Veronika on the forehead and said, Thank you, that was a good work for his friend, the best he ever had. The other day, Jane gave Veronika a tour of the BBC, where she marveled at the state‐of‐the‐art new television studio. In the afternoon, they visited Jack at St.Anne's, where he showed them both around.

It was their last evening, Rose had prepared the steaks deliciously and they chatted for a long time in the cozy living room.

The next day they accompanied Veronika to Victoria Station and said goodbye.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎