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The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comRobin Ludlow, the vetted external career counseller, explained how hehad spent most of his career in the army, then worked as a personnelofficer before becoming an outplacement adviser. His antecedents werenot that different from Dimmock and Fowlecrooke, and he seemed to havebeen briefed by them too. `You need to think about a career in the Citymore positively. With your talents you'd soon be earning a fortune.'`They wouldn't have to pay me a fortune, they'd have to nail my handsto the bloody desk,' I replied. Ì liked my job in MI6 because of themental stimulation of working on complex team projects withstimulating, intelligent colleagues, because of the opportunity to liveand work abroad, learning the languages and immersing myself in theculture of the host country, because of the fascinating and variedpeople that I would meet, because of the unpredicatbility and varietyin the career and because of the fulfilment of working in publicservice to my country. Now tell me where I'd find any of that in thebloody City?' Ludlow looked baffled. These criteria were out of hisscope. `Listen,' I said, `this isn't going to be easy for you, but atthe very least can you help get me something temporary and urgently? Iam really up the wall financially and am about to default on mymortgage.'Ludlow thought for a moment. `How about driving minicabs?' hesuggested. `Sign on the dole and get your mortgage paid by the socialsecurity, then work as a minicab driver to pay your groceries.' I gotup and left. Ludlow's recommendation was illegal; I would end up inprison if caught fiddling social security benefits.There was one last recourse against MI6. Strictly it would be a breachof the OSA to tell my MP that I was a former MI6 employee, let aloneexplain the dispute and ask for help to find a resolution. In practiceit would be very difficult for MI6 to press charges. A quick phone callfrom a public callbox to the constituency office of Labour backbencherKate Hoey established the times and dates of her surgery.Hoey's offices were just a few streets away from my home but I took mymotorbike as Shaggy and Winston wanted me to go rollerblading onTrafalgar Square later that evening. Drawing up outside her surgery, Isaw that she was scurrying down the steps towards her car. `Miss Hoey?'I called, dismounting my motorbike to pursue her on foot. She stoppedand turned to face me. `Could I have a word?' I asked politely andkeeping my distance, aware that she might feel intimidated by a sixfoot-fourman in black motorcycle gear on a dark evening in a dodgypart of London.Ì am terribly sorry, but I am in a real rush to get to an officialfunction - could you see one of my assistants in the surgery?' shereplied helpfully.Ì would really rather talk to you directly - it concerns the OfficialSecrets Act and I'm not sure that I'm allowed to speak legally to oneof your assistants.'Ìt's OK, go and see one of my assistants,' she insisted. She waspressed, and it would be rude to push.ÒK, I'm sorry to bother you,' I replied with a smile.page- 151 - 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.comBack in her surgery there was a lengthy queue awaiting attention, so Isat down in one of the plastic seats to wait. When my turn came up, theyoung assistant invited me into an interview cubicle and asked me toexplain my problem. Ì have a dispute that I would like Miss Hoey'sassistance to resolve. But it would be a breach of the Official SecretsAct if I were to tell you anything more. Would it be possible to makean appointment to see Miss Hoey herself?' I asked.`Well, this is very unusual,' the assistant replied sceptically,probably wondering why he got all the nutters. Ì think it best thatyou write to her,' he continued. `Here's her address.' He gave me abusiness card with the constituency address and telephone numbers,smiled and indicated that I should leave.Hoey replied commendably quickly with the news that she had written tothe Chief, David Spedding, and that he had invited her out to lunch todiscuss the problem. Vauxhall Cross was in her parliamentaryconstituency, as was Century House, so she had often met the variousChiefs. Spedding even had his London flat just a few houses away fromme on Richborne Terrace, so he perhaps he was also a constituent. Butmy optimism that Hoey might mediate successfully was short-lived. A fewdays later, she wrote to me again and told me that over lunch Speddinghad assured her that I had `been fairly treated' and that personneldepartment had `done everything they could'.A few weeks later, my ever-expanding overdraft forced me to pack up andvacate my flat. The rental income would be enough to pay the monthlymortgage arrears. After a brief visit to my parents, I loaded up mytrusty Honda with as many of my possessions as it could carry and setoff for the channel ports. I had no specific destination in mind, Ijust wanted to go somewhere warm and cheap.As far as Customs and Excise were concerned, Richard Tomlinson wasnowhere in sight as I entered the docks at Portsmouth, glared over thepier at the Fort and handed them the well-worn passport bearing mypicture and Alex Huntley's name. I'd been sacked so abruptly afterarriving from Rio that there had been no opportunity to return thealias passport, driving licence and other documents to CF. If theirabsence hadn't been noted yet, it probably never would.Living under alias would give me the opportunity to write with lesspossibility of intervention by MI6. Although I'd left the UK countlesstimes using fake identification, this time was different. I hadn't yetviolated the OSA since leaving the service but handing over Huntley'spassport was crossing the line. Living on fraudulent documentationcould be problematic, so as a safeguard before leaving Cumbria I curledup my real passport, driving licence and some money, stuck them in anempty shampoo bottle, weighted it with some old fishing-line weightsand slipped it through the filling aperture of the Africa Twin's petroltank. Even if the Customs officers searched my bike on entry to theferry, they would be unlikely to find it.The next two weeks were spent meandering down the back roads of France,camping in coppices and by mountain streams with my bivvy-bag andponcho. Every few days, when I felt the need for a shower and acomfortable bed or had received a soaking from the spring showers, Ipage- 152 - 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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