The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comperched at the stools of the Metropol's Artists bar, preying on theassembled delegates. Representatives of the second were also minglingmore discreetly amongst the delegates, and I was probably not the onlyspy present. The CIA would be attracted to the collection of movers andshakers of the new Russia and probably some of the American `diplomats'sipping the sweet, sickly Georgian champagne chatting innocuously aboutanodyne commercial and diplomatic affairs actually reported to Langley,not the State Department's headquarters in Foggy Bottom. Beneath thepleasant and agreeable questioning they would be weighing up everyRussian they met. Did he have access to any secrets? Did he have thesort of psychological make-up that might make a good spy? Did he needmoney and might he be prepared to sell secrets?I had no doubt that agents from the FSB were also present. Workingundercover as journalists, businessmen, or perhaps even as one of thedinner-jacketed waiters, they would be keeping an eye on the delegates,particularly any diplomats. They would already know the faces,character, hobbies, biographical details, even favourite restaurants,of all the suspected intelligence officers. Surveillance teams wouldhave covertly followed them from their homes as they drove to theMetropol. Their every move in the conference would be watched. If theyspoke a bit too long and animatedly to any Russian, the identity ofthat Russian would be established and noted, a file opened, and theirjob, financial status, access to any secrets would all be established.If the diplomat again contacted the same Russian, alarm bells wouldstart ringing. Nothing would be left to chance. If one of the so-called`diplomats' excused himself to go to the bathroom, the toilet would becarefully checked afterwards - it was just possible that he had filleda DLB for later collection by an agent.I could see Guy Wheeler, MOS/2, lurking around amongst the delegatesunder his cover of commercial secretary in the British embassy. I hadmet him only once before, when he briefly returned to London on leave,but I had communicated at great length with him by enciphered telegram,coordinating every detail of the operation. Wheeler fell into theclassic mould of a British spy. He read Greats at Oxford, then workedbriefly for one of the old family merchant banks in the city. He fittedeasily into his diplomatic cover. Courteous, well-bred, slightlystuffy, he took his job very seriously and frowned disapprovingly atany joke or flippant remark about the spying business. Like manyofficers who had experience of working in Moscow, he had acquired theirritating habit of speaking barely audibly, even when there was nopossibility of eavesdroppers.Wheeler glanced towards me and as quickly looked away. He could notcome over and greet me - that might be enough to alert his FSB watchersthat we were acquainted and so bring me to their attention.Nevertheless, the flash of recognition in his eyes gave me a reassuringfeeling that I was not totally alone. At least somebody appreciatedwhat I was doing.Operating under diplomatic cover, like Wheeler, is the normal,acceptable, gentlemanly way of spying. Those caught undertaking `dutiesincompatible with diplomatic status' are just declared persona nongrata and put on the first aeroplane home. There might be a bit of adiplomatic row and a tit-for-tat expulsion from the other side, but nofurther action would be taken against the officer, who would bepage- 82 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com