The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comapplied for and won a Kennedy Memorial scholarship to study at theMassachusetts Institute of Technology in the USA - a fantastic prize,especially since the scholarship included transatlantic passage to NewYork on the QE2. I started at MIT in September 1985, but was in for ashock. Whereas life as an undergraduate at Cambridge had been carefreeand easygoing, life as a graduate student at MIT was a lot of hardwork. But sticking at the task was rewarded with a masters degree inthe autumn of 1986. Shortly before the graduation ceremony, the RotaryFoundation wrote to me informing me that they had awarded me a furtherprize for a year of study in any country of my choice. My only problemwas deciding where to go. Inspired by Argentine friends at MIT andtheir descriptions of Peronism, radicalism, hyper-inflation, militarycoups and the Malvinas question, I decided to use the prize toexperience their country first hand. A few months later in January1987, a Swissair flight took me to Buenos Aires International Airport.Gripping my bag hard between my knees I braced myself for theinevitable impact. For the third time, the taxi-driver swerved thebattered Renault 12, its worn tyres protesting, around the back of thebelching Mercedes bus into the tiniest of gaps in the outer lane of theautopista. The journey from the airport to downtown Buenos Aires wasproving an uncomfortable baptism. As we passed a huge blue-and-whitebillboard bearing the slogan `LAS MALVINAS SON ARGENTINAS' the beetlebroweddriver, who had been glaring at me in the rearview mirror forseveral kilometres, took a long draw on his cigarette and flicked itout of the window into the darkness. `De donde es, usted?' he asked,suspiciously.For a moment it occurred to me to lie. It was only a few years afterthe Falklands war and I was not sure how a British visitor would bereceived. But curious to see his reaction, I cautiously answered, `SoyBritannico.' He glanced in his mirror again, as if he hadn't heard.`Britannico ... Inglaterra,' I said, this time a bit louder.He fixed me with his glare again and I wondered if my answer might havebeen undiplomatic. `Senora Thatcher,' he replied, his dark eyesflashing under his eyebrow, `She is good woman. I wish she come here -make better.' He gesticulated with a sweeping motion of his hand, andbroke into a gold-toothed smile.That was typical of the reaction of many Argentines during the comingyear. The bitter memories of the Falklands war were fresh in theirminds, but their antipathy was tempered by the long-standing culturaland commercial links with Britain.That evening, after finding a room in a modest hotel, I met up fordinner with Schuyler, an American student of the same age who had alsowon a Rotary prize. He had majored in Latin American studies atStanford and was amusing and laid-back. The next day we rented a flattogether in central Buenos Aires.The main objective of the Rotary prize was to get to know a differentculture through travel and friendships, but we were also expected tofollow a course of study. Schuyler and I enrolled in a postgraduatepolitical science course, held in evening classes at the University ofBuenos Aires. Our fellow students - senior military officers, left-wingjournalists, aspiring politicians and a Peronista Catholic priest -page- 10 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com