Stella Rimington - Breaking Cover

‘That’s MI6,’ said Sir Peter cheerfully. ‘Good morning, Miss Kapoor.’

‘And this,’ went on Pennington, indicating the man on his right, ‘is Mr Fane, also of the Secret Intelligence Service. Miss Catherine Palmer you have already met, I think.’

Jasminder nodded in response to the introductions and waited. She could feel the tension in the room and had an almost irresistible urge to laugh. This was clearly going to be like no other selection board she’d ever attended.

‘I will ask C to start by telling you some more about the post, which will be on his staff.’ Pennington leaned back in his chair, clearly relieved to be passing the baton.

‘Thank you, Henry.’ Sir Peter sat forward and smiled at her. ‘You must be wondering why you are being interviewed for a post in SIS, Miss Kapoor. Well, I envisage the role as serving as the day-to-day interface between SIS and the public and media. That’s why we are describing it as Director of Communications.

‘From time to time I make public speeches with input from various parts of the Service; the Director of Communications will be responsible for pulling this material together and drafting what I say. But more important, and arguably more influential, will be contact with the media and through them the public. I want that to be a lot more open than it has been in the past and I want it to be done by a person who is not seen as a faceless spook or anonymous propagandist. I’d like someone already known outside the covert intelligence world, someone seen as open-minded and honest. They need as well to grasp the complex balance that has to be struck today between civil liberties and security.’

He paused briefly, then said, ‘I should add that not everyone in the Government, the Foreign Office or SIS itself agrees with me that this should be the way we do it.’ A little snort, just audible, came from the direction of the man called Fane.

Jasminder said, ‘Thank you for the explanation. It does sound an interesting position but I don’t understand why you think I might be suitable. I feel sure that you and I would differ very much on the balance you talk about – and where the line should be drawn. I think both of us might be accused of hypocrisy if I were to join you. People would say I’d sold out to the establishment, and that you were just trying to curry favour with your critics.’

‘Thank you for being so frank, but that’s not how I see it.’ Sir Peter was no longer smiling; his elbows were on the table and his expression was intense. ‘I know your reputation is for supporting civil liberties of all kinds against what you see as incursion by the state. You’re also concerned that, using the excuse of terrorist threats, governments will intrude unnecessarily on private lives.’ Jasminder was about to reply, but he went on: ‘Believe it or not, so am I. But what impresses me about your position is that you also acknowledge there is a real threat from extremism, and that the Government does have a duty to protect its citizens – even if that involves some surrender of civil liberties. Have I got that right?’

Jasminder nodded and began to relax a little. The chairman, Pennington, had made her want to laugh with his mix of pomposity and nerves, but she liked Sir Peter, who seemed straightforward. As they continued their discussion, she sensed she might enjoy working with (and for) this man, and could feel a growing fascination at the prospect of being involved in this mysterious world.

It was only when it was the turn of the third member of the panel, Mr Fane, to ask the questions that she again began to feel that she was in the wrong place. This languid-seeming gentleman in pinstripes, lounging comfortably in his chair in this elegant room, was exactly what she’d been expecting from the interview and just the sort of person guaranteed to make her feel uncomfortable. His questions took a completely different line from Sir Peter’s and were aggressively posed. How could she possibly move from the untrammelled freedoms of academe to the restrictions of a closely controlled environment? Was she used to knowing secrets? More important, was she good at keeping them? Did she realise how intrusive the media could be? Could she work with colleagues who didn’t share her political views? Could she get along with people who thought her naïve, and despised her brand of liberalism?

As each question was posed, with elaborate old-school courtesy, Jasminder felt her temper rising, but she managed to control herself and reply politely, if increasingly curtly, until he prefaced a question with ‘My dear Miss Kapoor’, when she finally snapped. ‘I’m not your “dear”, Mr Fane. And if that’s how you address women you barely know, then I hope you’re not typical of the men in MI6. If you are, I would feel quite uncomfortable about being closely associated with them, let alone representing them to the public.’

There was a short silence. Fane looked slightly stunned, and then Sir Peter intervened. ‘Thank you, Geoffrey,’ he said firmly. To Jasminder he said, ‘As I mentioned, there are different views in the Service about how our interface with the public should be managed, and you have just heard one of them from Geoffrey. However, you have also heard the route I intend to pursue and I hope you think it’s the right one.’

Geoffrey Fane said nothing. He leaned back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, a look of supercilious distaste on his face. Henry Pennington suddenly roused himself as though he had just remembered that he was the chairman of the selection board. Looking (and sounding) more anxious than ever, he turned to Sir Peter.

‘Have you any more questions for Miss Kapoor, C?’

‘No further questions, thank you. Is there anything more you would like to ask us, Miss Kapoor?’

Jasminder, who had been more shaken by Geoffrey Fane’s attitude than she was prepared to show, asked whether there was a great deal of opposition within the Service to the creation of the post. ‘I would not wish to find myself caught between a hostile media and hostile colleagues, attacked from both front and rear as it were.’

‘I can assure you, Miss Kapoor,’ replied Sir Peter, ‘that I attach a great deal of importance to the creation and success of this post. There will be no attacks from the rear, as you put it. I will be responsible for ensuring that.’

Jasminder nodded. ‘Thank you. That’s my only question.’

After this, Henry Pennington wound up the interview and Catherine stood up and escorted Jasminder out of the room to the front door.

‘Don’t be put off by Geoffrey Fane,’ she said. ‘He’s a traditionalist and suspicious of any change. But he’s not a bad old stick really, and he’s very good at his job. If something new seems to be working, he’ll get behind it. And anyway it’s Sir Peter who will be calling the shots, as you saw for yourself. Do ring me if you have any queries, and I hope we meet again.’ With that, she shut the door, leaving Jasminder to walk back down Carlton Gardens, her head in a whirl.

‘You ready?’ It was Peggy, knocking on Liz’s open door and walking into her office.

‘Ready for what?’ asked Liz, looking up from what she was reading. ‘Oh, yes, of course. I forgot Miles brought the meeting forward. I was thinking he was coming this afternoon.’

‘Reception’s just rung to say he’s in the waiting room. Shall I go and get him?’

‘Perhaps I’d better go down. It seems only polite, as I haven’t seen him for a few years.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to encourage him?’ said Peggy with a grin.

‘I don’t. But we’ve both grown up a bit since those days and he is the senior Agency man here now. Have you booked a meeting room? It’s a bit of a squash in here.’