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The Big Breach - Index of

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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Big</strong> <strong>Breach</strong>; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments <strong>of</strong> http://www.192.comme a recent article in the Mirror. In a cynical attempt to save money,personnel sacked the 47 cleaning staff employed in Century House, thenre-employed them on a lower-paid contract basis at Vauxhall Cross. Inan unprecedented move, the justifiably furious cleaners took MI6 to anemployment tribunal with the help <strong>of</strong> their local MP, Labour backbencherKate Hoey. MI6 used every trick in the book to deny them thisbasic human right, claiming that even the identities <strong>of</strong> cleaning staffwere too secret to be made public in a court hearing. Eventually, aftera long and expensive legal battle, they were granted access to atribunal, and the Mirror showed a comical photograph <strong>of</strong> the cleaningladies taking their stand, only a row <strong>of</strong> sensible shoes visible beneaththe screen which they were forced to stand behind. <strong>The</strong>y quickly won thecase, compensation and their jobs back. It was an embarrassing setbackfor the new directors <strong>of</strong> MI6, not only publicly but also in terms <strong>of</strong>their standing within the service. <strong>The</strong>y embarked on a damage-limitationexercise, complaining in the internal weekly newsletter and in publiccomments that the Treasury had forced the cuts `upon them'. It nevercrossed their minds to admit that they had simply ignored basicemployment law and used the OSA to cover up their mismanagement.Walking back across the lobby to the lifts, I spied my old IONECcolleague Bart entering the building, carrying a squash racket in onehand and using the other to push the remnants <strong>of</strong> a bun into his mouth.`'Allo, mate,' he grinned, flicking away with the back <strong>of</strong> his hand acurrant which had adhered to the side <strong>of</strong> his mouth. `You've been inBosnia,' he continued, unabashed.I pointed to his squash racket. `This exercise business, is this somecover job?'`Nah, I've really taken up some sport - have you seen the squashcourt?' Bart showed me through a steel door next to the library exitand through to a small grey-carpeted gymnasium with rowing machines andweights. A portable CD player was thumping out dance music and a large,plump-thighed woman dressed in a too-small, polka-dot leotard wassweating away in time to it on an exercise bike, the seat <strong>of</strong> which wasset several notches too low. `Phwoar,' murmured Bart, without a trace<strong>of</strong> sarcasm, `not bad eh?'Bart showed me around the rest <strong>of</strong> the sports complex. <strong>The</strong> building'sarchitect originally envisaged using the space for a swimming pool, butthe directors decided that the extravagance would attract adversepublicity. Some ex-military <strong>of</strong>ficers lobbied hard for an indoor pistolrange, but eventually commonsense prevailed and the space was used foran indoor five-a-side soccer and badminton sports hall.I had already spent too long looking around the new facilities and itwas time to be getting upstairs to meet my new section. `So what's PTCPlike?' I asked Bart, knowing that he had just departed the section tostart pre-posting training for an assignment to Hungary.`You'll be working for Badger. He likes a few beers.' Bart patted hisstomach knowledgeably, his erudite praise reassuring me that I would bejoining a happy section. I left Bart to get on with his squash matchand made my way over to the lifts.page- 125 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version <strong>of</strong> this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com

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