Authors: Nick Barratt
The Forgotten Spy (19 page)
The timing of the incident was particularly unfortunate. Diplomatic relations between the Soviet Union and the UK had only been restored the day before Bessedovsky’s flight, the result of months of negotiations following the return to power of a minority Labour government on 5 June 1929. To have such damaging revelations appear in the world’s press could hardly help foster mutual trust and understanding. Nevertheless, there the matter might have remained – no more than a diplomatic storm in a teacup – if it were not for the fact that Bessedovsky, under the protection of the French authorities and being debriefed at the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs on the Quai D’Orsay, made good his promise to reveal more details about the way the Soviets ran their embassies. No wonder OGPU had wanted to shut him up given some of the intimate details Bessedovsky started to provide to the press within days, and later summarised in a book
In Paris the work of the OGPU was actively pursued. Its director, Vladimir Ianovitch, was not a man of broad political views. In the old days he might have been a chief of judicial police in a small provincial town. He knew the tricks of his trade, however, and ran his section at the embassy well enough.
The OGPU occupied four small rooms on the third floor of the embassy, with windows overlooking its garden and that of the adjoining house, 81 Rue de Grenelle. In one of these rooms there was some elaborate photographic apparatus with electric light powerful enough for all photographs to be taken with instantaneous exposures. In a room at the side, always kept locked, was a darkroom and chemical inks. The third room was Ianovitch’s own office, and the fourth served as a meeting place for the typists and Ianovitch’s subordinates but was, of course, only entered by agents with a definite position at the embassy or the consulate.
159
Bessedovsky was able to provide notes about the way a legal
rezident
such as Ianovitch (real name Vladimir Borisovitch Wilenski) would operate:
Ianovitch’s activities came under several headings. First, he kept a watch on the whole embassy staff, including the counsellor and the ambassador himself, employing to this end numerous ‘secret cooperators’ recruited from the embassy officials. These secret agents listened at doors and gathered information about the private lives of their colleagues, sometimes acting as
agents provocateurs
by themselves initiating compromising conversations. Most of them worked in the Trade Delegation, the Petrol Syndicate, and the Soviet Bank. They had to take stock of the political opinions professed by the officials and of their personal relationships with French citizens.
160
As well monitoring the activities of Russian refugees fleeing the revolution who lived in France, Ianovitch conducted other surveillance operations.
The third branch of Ianovitch’s work was to provide the Russian government with information on all that happened in France and her colonies. Here too he had the help of many secret agents, and certain officials in the Trade Delegation and the Bank were also made to report on everything they learned in their dealings with the French, on pain of dismissal.
161
Ianovitch did not work alone. There was only one person he could trust with his secrets:
Ianovitch was assisted by his wife, who was young and very pretty. I do not know whether she was really his wife or not but at any rate they simulated conjugal life to perfection. Although he only held minor appointments, Ianovitch nevertheless lived on a grand scale; officially a clerk, he occupied a fine apartment, and could indulge in the luxury of servants.
Mme Ianovitch had charge of her husband’s personal code; she coded dispatches and the ambassador had to affix his stamp without their having been submitted to him previously so that he might have to sign a report which concerned himself. She also looked after the photography department and finances of the OGPU in Paris. Money arrived by diplomatic mail in large dollar bills and was paid into the embassy’s treasury where dollars were exchanged for francs through our bank. She made appointments with the secret agents, wearing on these occasions one of her finest fur coats. She was regarded as one of the best intriguers of the OGPU and was entrusted with the most dangerous missions.
162
As well as a talent for organisation, Ianovitch’s wife was required to play a range of other roles during her career:
At Berlin she had played the part of a Hungarian countess, in Austria she had passed as the wife of a Persian diplomat, and in Czechoslovakia as the widow of a rich diamond merchant.
163
Operations were not confined to Paris, though.
They frequently went to Normandy, staying on the coast near Trouville. They pretended that Ianovitch needed rest, though at the embassy he did nothing at all; from time to time he put in an appearance at the Chancellery, but this was merely a matter of form, and he spent the rest of his time in the secret rooms.
164
Clearly, the Soviets were desperate for intelligence and were prepared to go to great lengths to secure it from within the countries where they operated embassies. Yet perhaps the most startling revelation of all was Bessedovsky’s claim that the Soviets had obtained access to Italian cipher codes, which had been offered for sale at the Paris embassy the previous year. Bessedovsky recalled:
In the summer of 1928 a young man came to the embassy and said that he was attached to one of the Italian embassies in Europe. He was received by Guelfan [Helfand], the embassy secretary. He explained that, being in great need of money, he was prepared to sell to the Soviets a secret code which he had stolen from his chiefs. Guelfan informed Ianovitch of this visit. The Italian was told that before paying Dovgalevsky [the ambassador] would have to glance at the key of the code and he duly brought them to the embassy. While he was waiting Mme Ianovitch, in an hour and a half, photographed all that was needed and he was then informed that the embassy did not buy stolen codes. Thus the deal was affected without any expense.
165
More was to come, though; it was not just the Italians who had been compromised by the black market trade in official cipher codes:
In 1929 there was a similar incident in connection with a British code. An unknown man offered Ianovitch the code used by the London Foreign Office for its communication with the Indian authorities. The same little comedy was played and Mme Ianovitch again brought Ianovitch a substantial monetary reward.
166
If the allegations were true, they represented a serious breach of British security. The India Office cipher codes had only been changed earlier in the year. The new edition of the cipher and re-cipher tables were circulated to all official holders and acknowledgement of safe receipt was duly recorded with a diligence and attention to detail similar to that demonstrated in the exercise Oldham had coordinated in 1924.
The leak could only have come from someone with access to the codes, which narrowed it down to three sources: a diplomat associated with the India Office, someone within the India Office or a person within the Communications Department itself, where the cipher codes were issued. The British were duly alerted about Bessedovsky’s claims and Dunderdale
was sent to interview him on 5 October. However, Dunderdale did not form a very strong impression of Bessedovsky, considering him to be ‘smart and intelligent, but neither frank nor principled and quite possibly not honest’.
167
Perhaps it was the disbelief that anyone from the British civil or diplomatic services could betray their country in such a way, but despite the fact that a copy of Dunderdale’s report was sent to Captain Hugh Miller of Special Branch, the allegations were not pursued.
Nevertheless, this was exactly the sort of problem that Oldham, as the new Staff Officer, and his trusted team of permanent clerks were there to prevent or, should the unthinkable have occurred, to investigate. However, the potential crisis coincided with a serious illness that incapacitated Oldham and prevented him from going to work. Although the nature of the illness was not specified, notes were placed on file in the Registry day books that he had been signed off work for a considerable period – initially for two weeks, from 18 to 31 October, with a further medical certificate issued on 7 December and a third on 23 January 1930, stating ‘that it would probably be three months before Mr Oldham would be fit for duty’.
168
This was an extraordinary length of time to be away from work and the absence of the Staff Officer clearly contributed to the lack of official interest within the Communications Department.
However, Bessedovsky did not go away. A week after Oldham’s absence from the office began, Bessedovsky’s allegations began to seep out to the press in a series of articles reported in the
Telegraph
. On 25 October, he fuelled existing paranoia about Soviet activities by writing:
The latest Anglo-Soviet agreement in no way modifies Stalin’s plan to undermine the British colonial empire in order to achieve world revolution. Those who think Moscow no longer believes in the possibility of such revolution are mistaken.
169
This, though, was only the beginning. He repeated his claims that Italian and British codes had been sold and copied, and the story was picked up around the world – not just major capital cities, but regional and local newspapers too. Faraway titles such as the
Townsville Daily Bulletin
, Queensland, published
a syndicated summary of Bessedovsky’s claims with the headline SOVIET POSSESSES INDIA OFFICE CODE:
M Bessedovsky asserts that the Soviet also obtained by the same method the British government’s India Office code, and since has been able to translate all British code messages to India.
170
The
Canberra Times
added:
The Foreign Office refuses to comment on the allegations concerning the Italian and British secret codes.
171
The British newspapers were also strangely quiet on the matter, and in general the claim that British codes had been sold were ridiculed.
The Daily Herald
reported on 29 October:
STOLEN CODE STORY REGARDED WITH DERISION IN LONDON
The story of the acquisition by the Soviet Embassy in Paris of a British cipher ‘used by the Colonial Office for communicating with India’ is regarded here with derision.
M Bessedovsky, the former Counsellor of the Soviet Embassy, who tells the story, has a great flair for the topical…
An Italian cipher is stolen in Berlin; and promptly Mr Bessedovsky tells how a British cipher was stolen in London and taken to Paris.
172
However, given the
Herald
’s role as the ‘official’ newspaper of the Trades Union Congress and therefore its greater sympathy to Soviet ideals and aims, their stance was perhaps understandable. The stories rumbled on for a few days and then gradually faded away. However, investigations and checks continued behind the scenes. On 6 December 1929, the SIS forwarded the report of Bessedovsky’s statement to their counterparts in MI5, hoping that they would pick up the trail:
Regarding the alleged sale of a British Foreign Office cipher to the Soviet embassy, Paris, in July 1929. According to Bessedovsky’s statement, the Englishman who offered to sell the cipher and who gave his name as ‘Mr Scott’, was interviewed by the second secretary of the Polpredstvo [embassy], Gelfand [Helfand].
So Bessedovsky had provided a name for the British source of the leak, and a rough date for the interview with Leon Helfand, nicknamed the ‘Eye of Moscow’ for the way he passed information back home. Although a personal file was raised on ‘Scott’, MI5 was unable to follow up on this lead – it seems that suspicion had mistakenly fallen on William Arthur Scott – and with Old-ham still absent, the Communications Department showed an equal unwillingness to stir up any trouble. Indeed, it seems that internal security remained sloppy in the wake of the affair, if a later entry in the day books is anything to go by. A report filed on 12 March 1930 noted that a safe in the Passport Office in Room 32 on the second floor had been found by the Office of Works, nightwatchman unlocked, albeit with the door closed. The incident had occurred on 20 February, meaning there was an interval of nearly three weeks before it was officially noted.
173
The secret services were clearly concerned about Soviet attempts to intercept British intelligence. MI5 agent Jasper Harker noted in January 1930 that:
We are in possession of information that [O]GPU agents received instructions during 1929 to watch foreign officials residing in hotels with a view to seizing any opportunity for ransacking their luggage.
174
However, it took another defection to finally rouse the Foreign Office into action. Agabekov – the man who had been sent to eliminate Bazhanov and then, it transpired, ‘liquidate’ Bessedovsky, before the mission was aborted – had been acting as an OGPU illegal and head of operations in the near east since the failed assassination attempt in 1928. However, he too sought asylum in France in June 1930 for ‘ideological reasons’, although the fact he had fallen
in love with an English translator, Isobel Streater, played a large part in his decision to flee to the west. He was quickly expelled by the French – they were unconvinced by his information and were glad of an excuse to get rid of him – and deported to Brussels, where he caught the attention of the waiting British authorities.
Special Branch sent future MI5 agent Guy Liddell across to interview Agabekov, and he provided various written reports to MI5 and MI6. He also kept in close telephone contact with MI5’s Jane Sissmore, by this date in charge of B Division (investigations and inquiries) with oversight for Soviet activity within the UK. Agabekov explained how his network of agents had operated whilst he was in Tehran and the near east, as well as the ways in which British telegrams were intercepted or copied. Amongst Agabekov’s claims, many of which subsequently appeared in the papers, was the news that: