Alf Whittaker- Terror of the STASI

By John THOMPSON

The blurb reads - These are the adventures of Alf Whittaker the ace spy catcher of MI5with super hearing. Learn how he got his super power. Thrill to his wartime exploits at Bletchley Park, then with SOE in occupied France. Travel with him to dangerous East Berlin during the Cold War on a rescue mission and be amazed at the ending. An adventure for all lovers of spy stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447844846

Book preview

ALF WHITTAKER – TERROR OF THE STASI

by

John Thompson

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

YOUNG THOMAS FAIRFAX

Fairfax Fights Fair – Fact

Fairfax Fights Fair In America – Fact

D C S WILSON

The Last Unsolved Case Of Maurice Stoneley

DCS Wilson vs The Leeds Vampire

THE DASHING TEST PILOT

The Dashing Test Pilot

The Dashing Test Pilot Beneath Siberia

CHAPTERS

PROLOGUE

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EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Alf Whittaker’s head was rocked back yet again by an accurately placed punch to his nose. His nose began to dribble blood. Throughout this terrible beating by Jan Gruber, the STASI’S main goon, Alf remained his usual patient stoical self. Alf could take a beating for sure, and if he ever got free he would pay Gruber back with interest. [AUTHOR’S NOTE STASI were the much feared East German secret police who held the country in the grip of fear, further details down the line but you are allowed to boo them they are the villains of the piece.]

  Alf, said Gruber with a strangely concerned tone, "please, just tell me why you are in the DDR [AUTHOR’S NOTE DDR stands for Deutsche Demokratische Republik set up in 1949 better known as East Germany, the western fringe of the Soviet bloc] this is 1963, not 1943, we should be able to speak freely to each other as gentlemen without this medieval torture stuff, which we only use on our own dissidents after all else fails. Why won’t you tell me, Alf?"

Alf’s face was a mess: his right eyebrow was split, his left eye was swollen almost shut, his nose was bleeding a little, his lips were split in a few places, however, his mid-section was fine he could take punch after punch to the abs as they were almost of steel.

Alf said through the pain, Jan, I have told you several times, I am here on holiday. You know I am MI5, I work in England catching foreign agents, including STASI, I never work abroad, that is the province of MI6. I am no spy I can assure you. I do not know why you don’t believe me as you have a file meters thick on what I do. Release me from these cuffs so we can have a fair fight.

  No Alf, no can do, I wish I could, even in your weakened state you would be a worthy opponent but I must decline that pleasure. I know what I am doing, I also know you know what I am doing. Once you confess you will be looked after and swapped for an agent of ours, one of many held by you, even caught by you.

Jan punched Alf accurately on the point of the jaw rendering Alf unconscious.

Out of nowhere came the voice of an old lady.

  Oi! Dogbreath! Gerroff ‘im and fight me I’m more your usual bully boy style. …

1. ALF’S EARLY LIFE

Alfred Eric Whittaker was born on the 19th of September 1921 in the Maternity Ward of Leeds General Infirmary. [AUTHOR’S NOTE same birthday as me but I was born 26 years later] His father was Percy and mother was Florence. Percy was a foreman in the cleaning department at Leeds General Infirmary and Florence was a devoted wife and now mother.

The family lived in a two up two down plus attic and cellar, back to back brick house in Hyde Park. The address is not an official secret, it was 3 Harold Mount, Leeds 6. [AUTHOR’S NOTE by sheer chance I lived there too but from 1947 to 1959, I did not know Alf as he is fictional.] The house was big enough as Florence was unable to have further children.

Alf grew up as an only child but not a lonely child as he made friends easily and was an outgoing, gregarious lad. It was clear from the beginning that he was gifted with intelligence as he was able to read and write by the age of four, but that did not mean he grew up a geek immersed in books at all times, no he enjoyed playing out at Cowboys and Indians like most lads.  He started school at the age of five at Queens Road Primary School, [AUTHOR’S NOTE me too but in my case in 1952] where he proved to be a fine scholar excelling at maths and most other subjects. He was also a good rugby league player playing right center having a turn of pace plus his defending was top class for his age being able to tackle boys who were much bigger than he.

When he reached seven years old a peculiar incident happened. His mum took him onto Burley Park most Sundays to play in the kid’s playground which contained the usual equipment: slides, swings, roundabout, seesaw et al. Alf was swinging and whirling, a happy little chap. There was not a cloud in the sky and it was very warm. Then, oddly, a small black cloud scudded across the sky and came to a stop above the playground. Florence was dozing off so she had not noticed it and Alf was busy playing. Suddenly, the cloud discharged a fork of blue lightning that hit Alf on the head driving him to the ground. His scream brought Florence fully awake. She rushed over to Alf who was surrounded by an aura of blue light. She dare not touch him although thankfully he was breathing normally. He quickly came round as he was very resilient and in later life could tolerate pain and recover quickly from painful episodes.

Alf sat up grinning and said, Wow mam, that were a shock and no mistake. Mr and Mrs Meredith are talking about it on ‘t bench down ‘t path, can you hear them, mam?

Florence looked round and saw Mr and Mrs Meredith sitting about two hundred yards away.

  You can hear them Alf? she asked, That bolt of lightning seems to have improved your hearing amazingly. What about your eyesight?

Alf replied, I can see even clearer now but I think we’d better say nowt about it except to me dad.

They returned home and explained what happened to Alf at Burley Park. From then on Alf realized he had super hearing as he could hear conversations four rooms away at school but he never told anyone.

His time at Queens Road passed happily and at the age of 12 he went on to Brudenell School, [AUTHOR’S NOTE my mum went there a couple of years after Alf but she did not know him] where he continued to excel academically and also in sports. He was selected a few times for Leeds City Boys at rugby league and, indeed, he was offered a trial by Leeds Rhinos rugby league club but Alf turned it down, he preferred playing out with his mates. Several of the teachers noticed Alf had a penchant for the newly invented crossword puzzle and he was able to complete the Times crossword in under five minutes.

He did not leave school at fourteen which was the norm then, instead he took the entrance exam for Leeds Technical College, passing with a very high mark. He was accepted, which delighted Percy and Florence, and he began a four year maths degree course.

Let us digress for a moment and look at the character of Alf. Physically, Alf was quite ordinary, he was of average height, about five feet nine inches. He worked out and jogged most days some 40 years before everyone else and so he was a magnificent specimen of muscularity. He was neither handsome nor ugly, just ordinary with floppy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes like a couple of ice chips. He had many physical and mental assets as well as his super hearing. He was able to get on with anyone, even those who tried to bully him, although his muscularity and prowess for the college rugby league team usually deterred bullies. He had infinite patience which his tutors at the college noted, they felt that when the next war came, which was inevitable, Alf would be an asset to the intelligence services rather than the armed forces, also they noticed he was unflappable when sorting problems out which again would be an asset to say, MI5. [AUTHOR’S NOTE MI5 was and still is the branch of the intelligence services which catches enemy agents in England who are trying to steal the few secrets we have] Temperamentally Alf was friendly, loyal, honest and a good friend to have. In fact Alf had many friends, some of whom went to Headingley with him to watch Leeds Rhinos in the rugby league season and Yorkshire in the cricket season. They also went to the pictures regularly to the Lyceum, Lounge and the big favorite the Hyde Park to see mainly westerns. [AUTHOR’S NOTE I used to go to the Hyde Park too for the Saturday morning matinee full of westerns and cliffhanger serials- the Hyde Park is still in business.] Alf did not bother with a girlfriend and indeed never married, there was nothing wrong with him, he enjoyed life too much to be tied down, and in later life his dangerous job with MI5 precluded close