'The Lonely Death Of A Spy'

There was once a man (Leonard could not remember if he had known this man personally or it was a tale an old friend had told him years ago) who had read every play by William Shakespeare, bar one- ‘As You Like It’. The reason for this was thus- the man held Shakespeare in such high regard and loved his plays he wanted ‘As You Like It’ to be the last thing he read before he died. Leonard had thought it would have been amusing if that the man had been hit by a car or shot because he’d go into the afterlife knowing he had missed one play out. Leonard had no patience for waiting till his deathbed to read something, so he had read Tolstoy’s ‘Anna Karenina’ practically once or twice a year. As he sat in his North London flat he read- it truly would be the last book before he died, he knew that for certain. He just wanted to read it one more time before he took his life.
Leonard first picked up ‘Anna Karenina’ while he studied at Cambridge in the late 20’s; he had forgotten the years that he had attended, it felt like centuries ago in a very different planet. He knew it was before MI5 had approached him that was for certain. A particularly favourite tutor of his had recommended that he read it, and following his mentor’s advice he did. Upon first reading he had absorbed Tolstoy’s evocative prose loving each and every sentence contained within. Leonard praised the book as ‘the perfect novel’ to all friends and family he came in contact with over the next year. Even when he was stationed in France during the war he had purchased a French translation to read and read it he did.
Languages were something of a speciality to Leonard- his Mother had been French and had taught him the tongue from an early age. In school he had developed a taste for German; so it was not a difficult choice for Leonard when asked what he wanted to study at Cambridge. It was his excellence in languages that made MI5 approach him to work for them, and because Leonard had not given much thought to life after Cambridge he gratefully accepted.
The MI5 were very encouraging and Leonard felt quite contented working for and with them. His language skills were thought of very highly, and one high ranking member told Leonard that he would make ‘the best spy I’ve seen in all my years’, this compliment was one Leonard had never forgotten. Even in his forced retirement, he would take himself back to that moment.
Within a few years with MI5 the shadow of war was beginning to loom large over the world. As soon as war was announced Leonard requested that he was stationed in France as his French was fluent and he could pass himself off as a born Frenchman with little difficultly. Leonard was also concerned about the family that still were living France from his Mother’s side. Even though Leonard saw himself as nothing less than British, he felt a certain attachment to the land that bore his Mother’s family. The officials declined his requested and he was sent straight into Germany. He served only three missions in Germany, with only one being successful- the failure of the other two Leonard put down to the inadequacy of others. But once France was invaded and occupied Leonard begged his superior to be transferred to France and this time his requested was granted. Leonard was flown into France, taking nothing of his former self with him. Leonard Carter was left in Britain, he was now Jean-Luc Beineix. Upon getting himself a job working in the dock, he used his money to buy a copy of ‘Anna Karenina’- a French version. He had considered learning Russian to read it in its original language, but whilst been stationed in France he thought it not the wisest idea he’d even had.
‘Anna Karenina’ had been a common denominator all his life- no matter what age or era Tolstoy’s novel would be along with Leonard. As his Cambridge friends grew older began to find women to settle down with, Leonard felt a strange sadness settle upon him. He knew what kind of woman he would like to marry, but he had yet to find her. It was to be a woman very much like Kitty. Leonard had fallen in love with Kitty upon the first reading of ‘Anna Karenina’ and she became the bar he judged other women and girls by. For a large part of his life he had not found another like her- lively, full of laughter and grace, devoted and loving to her husband. That was what Leonard wished for in a wife.
There was a time in France he thought he had found a woman close to Kitty. Eloise (‘Or was it Estelle?’ Leonard mused, ‘It began with an ‘E’ I remember that much) had been working for the résistance as had Leonard, but barely three months into their relationship she had been caught by the Germans and executed after days of torture. The officials wanted to bring Leonard back to Britain, but Leonard had insisted he wished to carry on his duty in France. He knew the girl would have told the Germans nothing, and he had been right.
After the war he was happy to have been stationed in Berlin after a brief return to England. He felt happier out in the field doing something. Over the years in Berlin he had done much to aid the government- he had broken many circles and stings by the KGB and had trained several pupils and protégées, though he had heard nothing from any of them since his ‘retirement’ 6 years ago.
His ‘retirement’ was brought about by a woman by the name of Lillian. She had been a nightclub singer and sometimes prostitute whose company Leonard had paid for whilst in Berlin. He had been with her for a large section of the 50’s. Despite knowing she saw other men Leonard felt quite attached to her, despite the large age gap between them. Leonard knew she was not beautiful, but she was certainly an attractive young thing, with blonde always in a fashionable way. He liked talking to her. He often told her about his life, his Cambridge years, his parents who passed away, his role in the war years, and because she spoke only broken English he would reveal more intimate details of his life to her, believing she did not understand him. It was in 1957 when he was taken aside by a colleague and discreetly told that information had been leaked to the KGB about British spies resulting in several names of British spies been sold for high prices- and the name ‘Leonard Carter’ had been one of them. The colleague put a hand on Leonard’s shoulder and offered condolence, but his cover had been blown and he was no longer welcome in Berlin. “Sorry old chap,” the colleague had said rather unsympathetically, “That’s how it goes I’m afraid.” Leonard had never liked the man anyway, Leonard thought him far too young to be working such a high priority position.
Leonard had only even told one person in Berlin his real name- and that had been Lillian. She had sold his name to the Germans as if that’s all he was to her- a collection of letters.
He managed to stay in Berlin for an extra week much to the upset of his superiors. He had wanted to find Lillian, ask why she had down what she had down. He had waited outside her apartment building, watching her bring a new man in every night, even two some nights. He never spoke to her and she never knew he was there. She appeared in dreams sometimes, normally laughing at him. Once he dreamt he was chasing her laughter through a hall of mirrors, only for him to be chased around by a clown. It was only when he reached a dead end he realized the clown was just his reflection.
His superiors had convinced him that his retirement was a well-deserved one, although a little early. Leonard began to believe it too after a while. He settled into a small house in London. He had great plans for his garden, but after several months back trouble prevented him from doing too much bending up and down so his plans for the garden were crushed. He lived in that house for only a year or two more, watching the garden get overgrown.
He tired to find his old Cambridge pals, but many had died in the war or could no longer remember him. All the friends he had in MI5 were forced to keep their distant- if the enemy knew Leonard was a spy they want to know who he mixed with in case his old friends were also spies. Leonard was aware a young chap tailed him for a while. It became quite a game for Leonard to see if he could still outwit a young man at his own game. Soon the tail grew bored by it and left Leonard alone.
Despite large funds of money, Leonard elected to move into a more modest accommodation. A little apartment, like the one Lillian had owned, was what he was after. He eventually found one in the north of London and settled down there. He had tired to buy himself some company one early night, but had been laughed at for being ‘a dirty old man’ by the women he had though provided that service. Leonard was not disheartened though- he wanted company for old times sake, he didn’t think his back was up to it these days.
In was in 1963 that with no friends, no job nor family Leonard did not want to carry on suffering of isolation from the rest of the world. He no longer recognized music on the radio- it was all guitars now and raving about these ‘Beetles’ (whom Leonard was surprised to discover were a group of young men, not women). He had decided enough was enough and that he did not want to spend the rest of his years wasting them. So he took out his shoelaces to form a noose as he had been taught by the MI5 in case of capture and it was likely British secrets were to be revealed. He was about to stick his head though when he looked across at his book shelf- ‘Anna Karenina’ seemed to look at him. He removed the makeshift noose and picked the worn copy up. It had been with him many years now, there was a brandy stain on page 54, and page 203 had been torn a little. He poured himself a brandy, pulled up his armchair, sat down and began to read…