Initiation

We meet our hero and find out how he first became involved with Military Intelligence.

Red Palace


Chapter 1: Initiation

June 6th 1967

Andrew Davies watched, with tired eyes, as the Russian fleet oozed it's way through the Aegean; an industrial mass of conning towers and steel cannon, dark and menacing like an almighty oilspill. A few hundred miles away in the Middle East, a vicious war was opening as a Soviet-backed coalition of Arab states gathered their forces around Israel. Even as the fleet approached it's destination, tank brigades were amassing in the Sinai Peninsula. Israel had been caught off guard but the young nation was far from defenceless. If the Peninsula were lost and should Tel Aviv fall within Arabic crosshairs then her leaders would have no choice but to unleash the deadly weapon they had concealed. Davies felt the murmurs of trepidation shake through him like a primeval quake under mountains as he contemplated the fate of the world.

With a hand held over his bandaged forehead, Davies lit a cigarette, aware that there was nothing he could do now. All that was left was hope, and as a military man, Davies was well aware that such things made little difference when there were guns involved. He took a swig from a wine bottle on the table in front of him and cast his mind back three years. He thought of the day he was recruited; the first time he had killed.

"Are you a patriot, Mister Davies?"

He hadn't known Professor Hughes, he'd seen him around the colleges and city, but like many of Oxford's Dons he seemed to have no obvious occupation. He was just there, forming part of the general fabric of the place. However on a crisp morning, early in 1964, the Professor had approached him. He was tall and wore a double-breasted suit with a tweed jacket.
"Good morning. Mister Davies isn't it?"
"Yes that's right, I'm afraid I don't think I know you."
"No, of course my boy. William Hughes; Professor Hughes if you care for such things."
"Pleased to meet you" Davies had replied, puzzled. Hughes' clipped voice had a touch of the Highlands about it and it reminded Davies of his father, his dead hero father.
"Listen my boy, I've heard good things about you. Politics, yes?"
Davies nodded.
"Then you may be interested in a little talk I'm giving tonight. The nature of nations."
"Certainly Professor, I'll come along."
Hughes beamed. "Excellent, I'll see you later then."
"Good show."
"Good day Mister Davies."

The talk was held in a small lecture room in Christchurch. About thirty people attended, most of them graduates. Davies was one of only half a dozen undergraduates. The lecture lasted an hour and covered diverse areas; the Holy Roman Empire and German culture, the Italian Risorgimento and finally the purpose of the United Kingdom. Afterwards, as Davies was about to join the trickle of people leaving, Hughes came up to him.
"Hello Professor."
"Good evening Mr Davies, how did you find my little discussion?"
"It was fascinating."
"I'm glad you liked it, and what do you think was it's purpose?"
Davies thought for a moment "Outlining the differences between ethnic identity and statehood?"
"Close my boy, very close. I wonder, would you be interested in joining me for a drink. I live here at the College."
"Yes, that sounds fine Professor."
"Wonderful, well do come along then."

He led Davies across the Courtyard and up a flight of stairs. The Professor's lodgings were not spacious, but they were well furnished. Wooden panels lined the walls, set about with well-stocked book-cases. He gestured toward a group of Victorian armchairs, placed around a low table.
"Sit down then Mr Davies."

Davies did so, while Professor Hughes set to work retrieving a brandy bottle and glasses from a bowed cabinet. Having poured each of them a liberal dose, he sat down and lit his pipe. This procedure completed, he gazed intently at Davies.
"Cigarette Davies?"
"Thank you."
"The box is just under your chin."
Davies selected one and Hughes offered him an ornate silver lighter.
"So you're studying politics my boy. Tell me, do you see it as a theoretical science or a practical one?"
"Well Professor, in my opinion, the study of politics should focus on the forces that drive, on the processes and reactions that take place, as if one were observing a chemical reaction. However, one may also use the knowledge of the rules of politics in it's application. However the two are separate, one involves observation, the other a certain amount of decision-making, choices. In this case, one is governed by the rules and so cannot effectively observe them."
"Very interesting. And how, may I ask, would you choose to apply politics?"
"I'm sorry Professor?"
"How do you feel, for instance, about Communism?"
"I don't much care for it."
"Excellent, and Britain, should her international powers be maintained?"
"In my opinion, the British Empire has always been a force for good in the world, certainly I think it should be a shame if she were entirely usurped in this role by the Americans or the Russians."
"I agree my boy, I agree. What does your father do?"
"He's dead sir, he was in the army, killed in Malaya."
"Was he Colonel Stuart Davies?"
"Yes, did you know him?"
"I did somewhat yes, in the thirties. I remember reading about his death, he was a hero Davies."
"Yes Professor."
"A patriot."
"Certainly."
"Are you a patriot, Mister Davies?" His stern eyes were gazing brightly, as he licked the last traces of brandy from around his lips.
"Yes Professor."
"You would die for this country?"
"Yes Professor."
"And finally, would you kill a man for her?"

Would he kill? Davies was beginning to understand now. Hughes had been probing his affiliations, his loyalties. He realised what was coming, considering what he was getting into. This last question had shocked him Nonetheless, he answered firmly.
"Certainly, Professor."
Hughes refilled both their glasses and leant back in his cavernous chair.
"I believe that you are not unaware of the growing threat of the Soviet Union and the steps it may be necessary to prevent alien infiltration and sabotage upon these islands."
"Not unaware Professor, no."
Hughes' voice now took on a sterner tone. "You may be interested to know that a certain civil service agency has bade me perform a task for them; to watch over this university and become aware of any individuals likely either to serve this country in particular important roles, or to betray it. You may not have known me Mr Davies, but I have been keeping an eye on you. You are firm but not too vocal about your beliefs, you are contemptuous of all that is alien and liberal, you come from a military background of unquestionable merit. As a result, I believe you would be an able servant of this country. Would you agree to such an offer?"
Davies' head was spinning, he found it hard to believe that this was taking place, but he knew duty when he heard it.
"Yes sir."
"Excellent, my boy, that's excellent. Now, you say you would kill. I would like you to prove it to me. After you carry out this task for me, there will never be any doubt as to your loyalty and your worth. You will be called upon in the future to carry out similar tasks in service of Her Majesty, and Her Majesty will reward you. So, now, are you prepared to serve your country?"
"Yes sir."
Hughes batted away the honorific with the silver lighter, which he was using to ignite his re-stocked pipe.
"I am not your superior yet Andrew, but after tonight we will be allies in the great game that is being played. Men such as ourselves must simply ensure that we are moving the pieces and are not ourselves the pawns."
He sucked hard on his pipe, blowing out a great cloud of smoke into the hazy air of the study.
"There is a man in this university who has betrayed his country. For a long time now I have observed his actions with distaste; his socialistic attitudes, his endorsement of alien and seditious philosophies, his seduction and corruption of impressionable members of the student body, both male and female. All of these concerned me, but it was only this week that my worst suspicions were confirmed. A friend of mine intercepted a message, a communiqu� from Moscow to this man. He is, without a shadow of a doubt, a Soviet agent, distributing dangerous propaganda and most likely attempting to recruit those he has corrupted as KGB moles and spies. Who knows how many of our brightest minds have fallen under his influence. He must be dealt with. Immediately. Do you understand me Andrew?"
"Absolutely Professor. Who is this man?"
Hughes emptied the charred remains of tobacco from his pipe into a crystal ashtray and then went over to his desk. He took out a key from the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photograph. He turned it toward Davies. It was the image of a man, in profile. He was bearded, with oiled hair and small, dark eyes.
"Do you know him, Mister Davies?"
"Yes, Professor."
"And will you do what I ask?"
"Yes, Professor. Consider it done."
"Thank you Andrew. I will provide you with the details of his location and the necessary equipment. Have you ever fired a pistol?"
"No Professor, I shoot fairly regularly though."
"Well then, my boy, you should find it easy enough."
"I'm sure I will, Professor Hughes."

The task was an initiation. Once a recruit has killed then he is considered trustworthy and reliable. After an initial killing, any that follow will be easier and carry less dread. And, of course, with blood on his hands, the recruit is linked intrinsically to the organisation and he has little choice but to obey his commands. If he refuses then he is a criminal, a murderer, if he complies then he is a hero. Andrew Davies' role therefore was simple. He was to break into the target's home and pull the trigger of a silenced Webley Mark VI service revolver. Having done so, men would come to remove the body and clean up. Davies would sleep.

And so, at a quarter to three A.M. Andrew Davies made his way to the residence of Professor Irving Carlton, a Welsh lecturer in Philosophy. Like Hughes, Davies had only been aware of Carlton as part of the background at Oxford, occasionally seen making his way to a lecture or wandering at ease with a group of undergraduates. Recruits, Davies realised. Potential traitors and spies. As he walked to the lodgings, he realised the influence that a prominent teacher could have if acting for evil, he realised the necessity of finishing Carlton's reign over the minds of students.

And so, though he felt like a ghost, Davies burnt away the lock on Carlton's door with a small phial of acid. The wood and metal hissed and disintegrated. Davies was in. He crept, catlike to the bedroom. Entering silently, he saw the form of a man, swathed in bed sheets. Knowing that he couldn't stay long, and not wishing to have to contemplate his actions he quickly removed the pistol from his jacket. He cocked it with his thumb and pointed it at the sleeping man. He took a breath and pulled the trigger.

The body under the bedclothes spasmed as the bullet entered it's guts. Professor Carlton raise up in his bed like a roused vampire, his hands clutching his stomach. His eyes gazing in horror at Davies, he opened his mouth to scream. Before the sound could manifest itself, Davies pulled the trigger again, firing one, two shots into the man's chest. He fell back against the headboard, his skull hitting it with a sickening crack. Stalking forward, Davies put the gun to the limp head and fired one more shot, blowing a mass of red matter out of the late Professor's scalp.

Feeling the epic pounding of his own blood as it gushed through his veins, threatening to flood his brain, Davies dropped the revolver onto Carlton's bloody chest. Then he turned around and left.

Author's Note

Punish me with soul.

Reviews

[Eric]

I think it's well written for the most part. A lot better than some other stuff I've seen on here. I can tell that Davies is a good character, and I'd like to get to know him better, but I really couldn't pick up anything about his personality from the dialogue. I'd add a little more detail regarding the tone of the two characters' voices during their conversation. Not too much though, because I like the overall briskness of their exchanges.

The bit where it says: "Davies' head was spinning, he found it hard to believe that this was taking place, but he knew duty when he heard it. " That seemed out of place to me for some reason. I didn't feel like there was anything leading up to that statement. The questions asked by the professor and the bit where Davies begins to understand the professor's intention add a little excitement, but I think there just needs to be more leading up to this big moment.

You said to punish you with soul and that's all I have. I've given nicer reviews to a lot worse pieces of writing. Your's kept my attention great.