Horse Under Water. Len Deighton

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СКАЧАТЬ seized from various German archives at the end of the war. I found it fascinating but the Museum found them an almost overwhelming burden.

      In the final year of the war, there had been tremendous scientific advances in undersea warfare and I pursued these reports – British, American and German – with particular zeal. The War Museum’s librarian asked me to help by categorizing the material I examined, so that I became an unofficial member of the Museum staff. At the time, I had no idea that the notes I made would be used for anything other than my interest in history. It was during my stay in Portugal, when I was asking local people about German activity there during the war, that I recalled all that underwater warfare material. The book’s plot fell into place and I started writing.

      Like The Ipcress File, this second book was started with a fountain pen and locally purchased school exercise book. I had not named the hero of The Ipcress File. A Canadian book-reviewer said it was symbolic and pretentious but in fact it was indecision. Now, writing a second book, I found it an advantage to have an anonymous hero. He might be the same man; or maybe not. I was able to make minor changes to him and his background. The changes had to be minor ones for the WOOC(P) office was still in Charlotte Street and Dawlish was still the hero’s ‘chief’. There were very few modifications but I realized that (although Deighton is a Yorkshire name, and I had lived briefly in the city of York) identifying him as a northerner would make demands on my knowledge that I could not sustain. It would be more sensible to give him a background closer to my own.

      The indomitable Harry Saltzman, who had coproduced the James Bond films and was making The Ipcress File, solved everything with the sort of unhesitating practical move for which he was renowned. Michael Caine was cast to play the hero of that film and Michael was a Londoner, as I was.

      He was named Harry Palmer. It was the right decision. Michael and the man of whom I’d written fused perfectly. I am indebted to Michael for the dimensions his skill and talent provided to my character. Having no underwater skills, knowledge or experience, I went to the Royal Navy and asked for help. Everyone at the Admiralty was one hundred per cent helpful. They sent me to the Royal Navy’s diving school and this experience is described here more or less as it happened. It was only when I was half-way through the course, and up to my neck in water on the ladder of the diving tank, that I confessed that I could not swim. They were shocked and apprehensive on my behalf but as I said: ‘What is the point of wearing all this scuba gear if you can manage without it?’ The chief instructor gave a grim smile and nodded me down into the water. Those were the days when you didn’t have to wonder why health and safety allowed the war to be won!

      Len Deighton, 2009

       Solution

      1 Parley

      2 Nostrum

      3 Air

      4 Me

      5 Pistol

      6 Gib

      7 Brief

      8 Road

      9 Gun

      10 U

      11 Aid

      12 Frog

      13 Read

      14 Sim

      15 Um

      16 Bills

      17 Lore

      18 Fado

      19 Die

      20 Foe

      21 Sin

      22 Sex

      23 Boat

      24 Yarn

      25 Yes

      26 Ball

      27 All

      28 Tip

      29 Pray

      30 Entreaty

      31 Aid

      32 Old

      33 Nods

      34 Rude

      35 Guard

      36 Black

      37 Reread

      38 Gas

      39 D.D.

      40 A.I.T.C.

      41 Film

      42 Reason

      43 Sex

      44 UNO

      45 Deep

      46 Life

      47 Forgo

      48 Sings

      49 Echo

      50 File

      51 Shoes

      52 Set

      53 Baix

      54 Yo

      55 Jam

      56 Beep

      57 Ail

      58 Tack

Horse Under Water

       1 Sweet talk

       Marrakech: Tuesday

      Marrakech is just what the guide-books say it is. Marrakech is an ancient walled city surrounded with olive groves and palm trees. Behind it rise the mountains of the high Atlas and in the city the market place at Djemaa-el-Fna is alive with jugglers, dancers, magicians, story-tellers, snake-charmers and music. Marrakech is a fairy-tale city, but on this trip I didn’t get to see much more of it than a fly-blown hotel room and the immobile faces of three Portuguese politicians.

      My hotel was in the old city; the Medina. The rooms were finished in brown and cream paint and the wall decorations were notices telling me not to do various things in French. From the next room came the sound of water dripping into the stained bath tub and the call of an indefatigable cricket, while through the broken fly-screens in the window came the musical sound of an Arab city selling its wares.

      I removed my tie and put it over the back of my chair. My shirt hung suddenly cold against СКАЧАТЬ