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By Root 2809 0

lieutenant-colonel, with the air of a don in uniform, who this time muttered a faint ‘good morning’ in my direction, then joined the sailor and airman in whatever they were discussing. It was impossible to remain unaware of an atmosphere of exceedingly high pressure in this place, something much more concentrated, more intense, than that with which one was normally surrounded. This was not because work was unplentiful or disregarded in our own building; nor – some of it – lacking in immediacy or drama. However much those characteristics might there obtain, this ethos was something rather different. In this brightly lit dungeon lurked a sense that no one could spare a word, not a syllable, far less gesture, not of direct value in implementing the matter in hand. The power principle could almost be felt here, humming and vibrating like the drummings of the teleprinter. The sensation that resulted was oppressive, even a shade alarming. I was still kicking my heels, trying to rationalize the sense of tension, when the same marine who had escorted myself, blowing his nose hard, ushered in Sunny Farebrother.

Farebrother came through the door looking as quietly distinguished as ever. He was wearing on his threadbare tunic the badge of a parachutist. The qualification was held desirable for those who, in the course of their administrative duties, had to arrange the ‘dropping’ of others, usually into destinations of excessive danger. Its acquisition was not to be sneezed at for a man in his fifties. It bore out the rumour that Farebrother’s DSO in the previous war had been a ‘good one’. I was glad to see someone I knew already, but Farebrother’s arrival did not in other respects make the atmosphere of the room substantially more cordial; if anything, the reverse. In fact none of the people at the table even looked up. Farebrother himself was obviously on his best behaviour. He addressed himself to the other half-colonel.

‘Hullo, Reggie.’

After this ranging shot, he greeted the rest in a manner precisely to indicate appreciation that the sailor was a rung above him, the airman at the same level, both employed in other arms of the Services, therefore unlikely to have immediate bearing on his own interests and promotion. Farebrother’s capacity for conveying such subtleties of official relationship was unrivalled. On this occasion, his civilities were scarcely returned. He seemed to expect no more, accepting his status as small fry in the eyes of people such as these. The others continued their discussion. He came across to me.

‘So you’ve had a move up too, Nicholas.’

‘Not long after your own, sir.’

‘Have you taken David Pennistone’s place? I expected him to be your Section’s representative here.’

Pennistone regarded himself as rather an authority on Sunny Farebrother, often laughing about that ‘charm’ against which Finn had warned me.

‘Farebrother himself refers to it,’ Pennistone said. ‘The other day he remarked that some general had “ordered me to use my famous charm”. The extraordinary thing is that he has got a way of getting round people, in spite of boasting about it himself. He does put himself over. A remarkable fellow in his way. Ambitious as hell, stops at nothing. I always enjoy his accounts of his own small economies. “Found a place off Baker Street where you can get a three-course luncheon for three-and-six – second helpings, if you ask – a man of my build needs proper nourishment. It’s becoming hard to get nowadays, especially at a reasonable price.”‘

This taste for saving money, usually to be thought of as a trait threatening to diminish an air of distinction, never seemed to detract from Farebrother’s. His blue eyes always smiled out bravely on the world. Parsimony, like the dilapidation of his uniform, the one product of the other, positively enhanced his personality – his ‘charm’ perhaps – even when you knew he was well off. Indeed, Pennistone, like others before him, took the view that Farebrother was decidedly rich.

‘And then when he puts on his holy face and tone of voice,’ said Pennistone. ‘A sacred subject