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The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comWhitehall customers the next morning. Thereafter, there would be a hellof a storm. The Tory Party were already reeling from a series offunding scandals, fuelled by a vitriolic press campaign, and there wasno doubt that this report would be leaked by a Whitehall official. Itmight even bring the government down, forcing another general election.But half an hour later such thoughts were interrupted by the PAX(internal phone system) ringing on my desk. `Hello, Richard, R/CEEhere. I'm afraid that CX of yours has been spiked. And H/SECT wants tosee you about it - go up and see him right now.' I dropped the phoneand urgently made for the lift to take me up to the 18th floor. H/SECTwas the personal secretary to the Chief, and if he wanted to see me itmust be about something very important indeed.Alan Judd carried a lot of clout in the office hierarchy. He had beenlargely responsible for drafting the new àvowal' legislation that wasdue to come into effect the next year and which would allow thegovernment formally to acknowledge the existence of MI6 for the firsttime. He was also well known in the office for the series oflighthearted novels that he had written about spying, his powerfulcontacts in Whitehall allowing him to side-step the normally strictrules that prevent MI6 officers from writing books about theirexperiences. He even had the nerve to put in a flyleaf dedication toNick Long, the inspiration for Tango, a spy-caper set in Latin America.`Take a seat, UKA/7.' Judd addressed me formally by my job designationrather than first name, perhaps to underline his status. `That CXreport you wrote about Tory Party funding' - Judd nodded to my reportlying on his desk - Ì'm afraid we can't possibly issue it. If itleaked out, it could bring down the government.'`So?' I replied. Ìt's not MI6's job to interfere with the governanceof the country, is it?'`Well,' replied Judd lugubriously, `there are other channels to reportthis sort of information.'`Such as?' I asked. We'd never had any other channel explained to us onthe IONEC.`The Chief has decided to issue it as a ``hot potato'', meaning that itwill go only to the Prime Minister. I want that CX report destroyed.'Judd handed over the paperwork that I was required to sign in order tohave the report officially struck off the records. There was no choicebut to sign, though I knew it was wrong. Ànd you're to talk to nobodyabout this report or this incident,' Judd threatened ominously as I wasgetting up to leave.Perhaps it was no coincidence that I got a phone call from the head ofpersonnel department's secretary a few days later, informing me thatthey were removing me from UKA. `We've got an interesting overseasposting for you,' the secretary said. `PD/1 will give you the detailsat the meeting.' The good news of my first overseas posting wasexciting, but it was tempered by the fact that I would have to dealagain with Fowlecrooke, who had been appointed PD/1 after finishing asmy line manager in SOV/OPS.page- 105 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com
The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.com`We've decided to post you to Bosnia, as H/BAP,' announced Fowlecrookeat the meeting. `We think that you have the ideal blend of experiencefor the job - your time in the Territorial Army will be usefulexperience in a war zone, and you have worked enthusiastically on theconflict for the past six months. You'll be taking over from KennethRoberts in two weeks. It's not a lot of time to prepare for the post,but I am sure that you will cope.'FRIDAY, 26 NOVEMBER 1993CENTRAL SARAJEVO9. DEEP WATERI heard the screaming shriek of the shell cutting through the air asplit second before the shock wave of the detonation crushed me to theground, so I knew I was going to live. Harris, a 12-year-old streeturchin, petty crook and veteran of the three-year Serbian siege ofSarajevo, gave me the tip only a few days earlier. He made a livinghanging around the Sarajevo Holiday Inn and `guarding' the vehicles ofthe journalists and aid workers - if they chose not to acquire hisservices, windscreen wipers, aerials and anything else removable woulddisappear overnight. Clapping his grubby hands and whistling throughbroken teeth to provide the sound effects, he cheerfully explained inhis pidgin English that if an incoming shell whistled, then it wouldland far enough away to be harmless. His words of wisdom were the firstcogent thoughts that entered my mind as my senses returned and theawareness of where I was drifted back into my consciousness.Angus, the dour, moustached NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer) of theBritish army detachment in Sarajevo, had dropped me off on a quietstreet corner in central Sarjevo just a few minutes before theshellburst, promising to return to the RV in three hours time, thenagain the following hour if I failed to show up for the first. Gruffly,he had wished me luck, then drove off into the mist of an earlywinter's evening.As the red tail-lights of the kevlar-armoured UNPROFOR Land Roverdisappeared into the murk, I slipped into a shadowy doorway to let myeyes adjust to the falling light before beginning the ten-minute walkto the home of DONNE, MI6's most important agent in Sarajevo. Unshaven,shabbily dressed and with a woollen hat pulled low over my head, Ilooked like any of the other Sarajevans employed by UNPROFOR beingdropped off by a friendly soldier after a day's work. To further thedisguise, in my left hand I lugged a half-full 25-litre polythene jerrycan of the sort carried ubiquitously by Sarajevans in their daily toilto fetch water from the public spigots. Over my right shoulder wasslung a canvas bag containing a notebook and pencil, a PETTLE recorderand presents for DONNE - a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label whiskyand 400 Marlboro cigarettes.Despite my innocuous appearance, there was a risk of a routine ID checkby one of the Bosnian police officers who lurked on street corners. Ifelt nervously in my breast pocket for my G/REP forged ID card and thegrubby, cellophane-wrapped card bearing the words `Ja sam gluh i nijem'page- 106 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com
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