Open Secret by Stella Rimington

Author:Stella Rimington [Rimington, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arrow
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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In addition to the law, Antony Duff’s other great contribution was to secure Prime

Ministerial backing for a new building for MI5. During his time as Director-General we

occupied nine separate buildings in central London, of which the best known were Curzon Street House and the building at the top of Gower Street, above the Euston Square

underground station, both now knocked down. Such a large number of separate buildings was grossly inefficient, to say nothing of the insecurity of regularly moving quantities of highly sensitive files and papers between buildings - this was before the days of computerisation. A fleet of vans drove in a continuous shuttle service from building to building several times a day, but very often when papers were needed urgently they were stuck in a traffic jam

somewhere in Mayfair.

The regular shuttle service between Gower Street and Curzon Street did have the

great advantage that without too much of a diversion it could pass by Marks & Spencer and staff could hitch a lift to do their shopping. It was seen as a great loss of privilege when, after a prolonged negotiation, Thames House on Millbank was acquired and after the move there was no shuttle service any more.

Tony Duff retired before many of the changes which he instigated had come to

fruition, and it was left to his successors to bring them successfully home. He made a massive difference to the culture of the Service, which I was able to build on when I became Director-General and instituted a programme of greater openness. I had reason personally to be

thankful to him for having recognised that I was capable of doing the most difficult jobs in the Service. And in particular for having promoted me to what I thought of as the best job in the world, Director of Counter-espionage in the final days of the Cold War.

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By the time I became Director of Counter-espionage, the girls were twelve and sixteen. Even though they did not know in any detail what I did for a living, they knew it was something secret for the government. The arrival of the New Statesman reporters at the front door had been only one in a series of strange events they had had to get used to. One evening several years before, the phone rang and I answered it. After I had put the phone down, one of them said: ‘What was that?’

‘Oh nothing’, I said absent-mindedly, ‘it was just about someone who thinks he’s been

stabbed by a poisoned umbrella.’

‘Has he?’

‘I don't think so.’

‘Oh,’ she said, and went back to whatever she was doing.

That, of course, was the first notification by the police of the incident when Georgi

Markov was poisoned by the Bulgarian Secret Service on Waterloo Bridge. I did not take the reported stabbing seriously at first, though of course it later turned out to be true and a similar case happened in Paris shortly afterwards.

There were innumerable telephone calls at odd times of the day and night, which

often resulted in my leaving home unexpectedly.

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