Free Blackest of Lies by Bill Aitken Page B

their tame journalists, to start crowing about how they managed to murder an old man in his bed down in Kent and once that particular cat is out of the bag, all hell will break loose, Henry, believe me.  We’ll have civil war at the Front with our own troops at each other’s throats and the War effort at home will just collapse.  Within a few weeks, we’ll see Kaiser Bill striding up the Mall.  I also know that you are far from perfect ...” He stopped to laugh at Farmer’s indignant stare, “… have to be honest, Henry.  But the point is that we can ensure no one outside our circle who is really familiar with Kitchener will get anywhere near you.  We can do that because we control the game.  All we need is for you to play the part for a couple of months ...”
    “Two months!”
    “Three at the most.”
    “Three!”
    “And during that time you’ll be seen by the public – but always from a distance.  Who in their right mind is going to walk up to Kitchener out of the blue and start talking to him?  You’re roughly the right height and build and with the moustache, you’ll look just right.  The idea is that over the three month period, you’ll begin to give all the appearances of being borne down by the workload and the responsibilities of State – you might even ‘die’ in harness.”
    “My dear chap, it’d be no lie!”
    “So much the better.  And your medical knowledge would be invaluable in that respect.  At the end of it all, a suitable announcement would be made.  No one would be surprised, really. Kitchener isn’t – wasn’t – a young man and he was used to warmer climates.  Two years as Secretary of State for War in a conflict like this would wear anyone down.  You’ll be quietly ‘retired’ – to a stud farm, or whatever.
    “And then what?”
    “You can take the moustache off.”
    “Be serious, you miserable child! Who will direct the War?”
    “Do you think Lloyd George could let a chance like this pass him by?  He’d be haunting the side-lines, preparing his ad libs.”
    “But three months , Chris!”
    “It’s in our interests to ensure that you are protected from discovery, Henry.  If you were found out, we’d be in a far worse position than we are now.  Look,” he said, “we have your office secretary protecting you, his PSO is in the know, Special Branch is on-side and MI5 is running the show.  Couple that with my own modest talents and we can pull it off!  I know you can do it, Henry.  Next time you look at that poster, he’ll be talking to you, personally.  Your country, this time, needs Henry Farmer.”
    “Don’t you wave the flag at me, you creature of darkness!”
    Hubert grinned like a schoolboy.  “Just shows how desperate we are.  It’s the only way, right now, we can think of to buy some time and sort something out.”
    “No more than three months?”
    “Absolutely.  We wouldn’t want you in longer – you might want the job permanently.”
    “Chris, I have to be honest – this thing scares me rigid.  If I’m to do it ....”  He held up a hand against Hubert’s beam of delight.  “I say if I’m to do this, I’ll need you there.  I couldn’t carry this off without someone around me I know and trust.  Even then, it’ll probably collapse around my ears.”
    “I think that’s the general idea, anyway, Henry.  You know – my idea, so put me in the thick of things to take the blame when it explodes.”
    Farmer swallowed the last of his coffee, still undecided.
    “Look, Henry, just think about it.  Come back with me to the War Office and let Kell and Thompson put in their respective oars.  No-one is going to force you to do this.  In fact, it was Kell’s main stipulation.  You must be a willing victim – that’s the bottom line.”
    “Very well,” he said, quietly, “I’ll come and listen to what your Kell has to say. No more than that, mind you.  And may God help us all.”
    **********
    On the Walther ,