never been abroad, so I was given a simple task in Rabat, Morocco in King Hassan II's palace. Simple but useful, because I also liaised with a CIA agent which created a link for me with the American Secret Service too. That was my initiation into the world overseas and I am indebted to Maurice Oldfield who was "C" from 1973 to 1978, when I qualified and started working at Century House, London, MI6 headquarters at the time. His gentle treatment was appreciated when I was a 'newbie' and for his confidence in my abilities while I was completely green when it came to working abroad.
So, initially feeling like a complete outsider, with the barest of education, no qualifications, probably the youngest ever recruit, green as green gets, I was always going to be different. I liked that. I didn't want to be the same as those toff types from Oxbridge anyhow. I did make my mark and I had a sense of satisfaction that these people were coming to me and asking if I had anything on certain people or companies, and often Karen would find something in her database. She had created a separate system from the service network, as I always felt that it was illegally gained information we should have the capability of quickly disposing of the entire lot, should the need arise. I needn't have worried, it turns out most information the Intelligence Service holds is obtained in that way.
The work became more and more challenging as I gained experience, then, in 1988 I was given a task in Angola. Things didn't go according to plan and following capture, torture and escape, my career ended. What followed was years of keeping my secret, suffering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Until 2019, when I wrote and published my first book.
This story, begins in 1976, let's start there.
Secrets and Lies
Timeline - February 1976
Most Officers in MI6 have a cover, usually a small business or something to provide the deception of normality while they do their darker business. I worked with my father, the only person in my family that knew what I did. He’d cover for me whenever I needed to go away somewhere, I could use a telephone at work, not secure but I worked that way for years. At that time I had no girlfriend or wife, so things were quite easy should I need to go off somewhere. Of course, given the choice Karen and I would be together, but sadly it was never to be. There were security issues if we became a couple. One day I was at my father’s business, a printing company near Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire. The phone rang. I took the phone call in the general office. I recognised the voice immediately as Karen’s.
“Andy, could you come in please,” that was all I needed to know it was a request to go to Century House, 100 Westminster Bridge Road, London, MI6. The line wasn’t secure, I wouldn’t ask any questions to clarify, I’d find out what this was about when I got to London.
“Tomorrow OK?” I replied
“Yes not urgent,” was the brief reply and I hung up. The next day was Saturday, so it was a little quieter on the Metropolitan train line from Rickmansworth into London, 39 minutes and a change onto the Bakerloo Line, a few stops and a quick walk to the MI6 building.
It was very unusual for me to go to London, I never thought it a wise thing to do, but I guessed there must be a good reason to be asked. I wasn’t worried about the request, there was no point in worrying, worry and stress isn’t my thing.
Through security and up to my office, I found Karen busy at her desk, did she ever go home! As there was almost no one around on the floor where my office was, I kissed a greeting on her cheek, “Good morning Karen, you are looking gorgeous as always,” she smiled back happy to see me again. “Morning Andy, good to see you too, your visits are too rare,” Karen looked immaculate as always, she was a beautiful lady her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, dressed less formally, I guessed as it was Saturday and fewer people were around, I never minded how she dressed and my heart rate always went up when I was in her presence.
“So, what have we got?” I asked. Karen reached into her desk drawer and handed me a folder, there were maybe a hundred pages inside. The front had the inscription “TOP SECRET” and someone had handwritten an unusual addition “ULTRA” to the left of it. I had never seen this category level of secrecy, it wasn’t official, Top Secret being the highest level, I wondered if this was just graffiti.
“Go read, I’ll bring some tea, and have a talk to you about this,”
“Okaaay,” I said intrigued by the mystery.
I turned to check the office door to the corridor was closed and made my way through the adjoining door to my office and sat at my desk so I could easily open and arrange the file contents on the top. My office was bright, light and a good place to work, it was business-like yet comfortable with a desk and a sofa where more informal talks could take place, though in my case that would rarely happen here, I’d prefer a hotel or one of the many private clubs that we had membership to.
The first thing I noticed was that the folder hadn’t been signed out, or for that matter in. Inside the folder should be a Routing and Record Sheet, a form where anyone wanting to review the folder would have to sign for it, giving their name, department, a short reason for the review, and then signing back in. This is a permanent part of the folder so it has a history as to who has seen it. I looked at the front again and noticed in small type at the bottom right the address, Hanslope Park. This place, basically a secret storage building, was near Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire and I believe it is run by the RAF to appear to look like a small base that few people would question if they even noticed it. I had heard of this place, “Q” division, I knew the place contained thousands, if not millions, of highly sensitive documents and files. I had never been there, but I heard that the place was huge and contained files that were supposed to never be released after the 30-year rule came up. The 30-year rule is the period before papers can be released on request under the Official Secrets Act. I had heard some documents could be 200 years old and their existence never to be admitted should anyone request any files on whatever subject they contained. Britain is very good, or very bad at hiding secrets from its people.
So what was this file doing here? This was highly improper.
“So, where is this from and why have we got it?” I needed to raise my voice so Karen could hear in the adjoining room.
“It came from Jenny,” Karen came back
Jenny was Karen’s flatmate and the two were best friends. To live with Karen, you had to share her wicked sense of humour. Karen owned a nice flat quite near to Century House, one underground stop away at Elephant and Castle. I had been there a few times, beautifully furnished a gift from her banker father. Jenny was a sweet girl about two years younger than Karen. She also worked at Century House in the secretarial department doing admin work. She was pleasant and very attractive.
I flicked through some of the papers in the file, they seemed to be mostly American CIA documents, some had been redacted, which means they had probably come from the public domain. Redaction is when papers requested by the public are censored by blacking out names or information that could be sensitive to release, what’s left is a readable document, but all the best stuff is covered up.
I started to read some of the pages,
“JEEZ,” I exclaimed under my breath, this stuff was shocking. I’d seen some secrets before, created some secrets before, but this was shocking. If what I was reading was true history books would have to be altered. Karen came through with two teas and sat with me at the desk, her beauty was a distraction, I loved her so much and she loved me.
“So, come on fill me in, what’s the story? This is shocking to read I have to say, have you read all this too?” I asked her.
“I’ve
