Authors: Nick Barratt
The Forgotten Spy (26 page)
BREAK-IN AT THE FOREIGN OFFICE (JULY–AUGUST 1933)
He was quite sober, but I did notice that, when he handed the keys to me, his head was bathed in perspiration and he could not keep his hands still. I thought to myself, Guilty conscience
.
H
ERBERT
J
AMES
B
INDON
, F
OREIGN
O
FFICE ASSISTANT CLERK
, 14 J
ULY
1933
Break-in is perhaps too dramatic to describe the events that unfolded on the evening of Thursday 13 July 1933. Despite Bystrolyotov’s preparations that made it seem as though a major heist was being planned, the least problematic element was gaining access to the Foreign Office – once again, Oldham was able to stroll right in through the front door. However, this time his former colleagues were waiting for him on a heightened state of alert and the element of risk was exacerbated by the fact that, in order to secure an impression of the safe key, he had to perform a tricky piece of spy craft with only limited practice.
We have several eye-witnesses from within the Foreign Office who provided their version of what happened that evening when interviewed the following day. The main account was provided once again by Herbert James Bindon.
I was checking off the weights of the Paris bags as usual at about 5.50 pm on Thursday (13 July) when I saw Mr EH Oldham enter the Foreign Office by the main entrance.
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The timing of Oldham’s entry is important; most of the key officials would have left by around 5.00 pm, minimising the chances that he would be challenged. However, the cipher staff and other colleagues from the communications staff would still have been there, plus the door keepers and office keepers to ensure security was maintained.
The strain that Oldham was under had clearly started to tell. According to Bindon:
When he came into the building, first of all in his usual manner – he is not a particularly healthy looking man – he explained a mark on his nose and dark marks under his eyes as being due to a fall from a horse, saying he had run into a tree. Personally I doubt it.
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On his way in, Oldham realised that he had been spotted and was forced to come up with a plausible explanation for why he had turned up again.
He noticed that I saw him and wandered round to where the scales were. He chatted to me for a few minutes and asked if Mr Kemp was still in. I said, ‘No, he has just gone.’ He said, ‘What a pity. I wanted to see him. However, I shall pop down and leave a note for him.’
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Oldham’s appearance the previous week had clearly put Bindon on his guard and he was still mindful of the risk that Oldham posed given the incident in May with the keys.
Bearing in mind the circumstances which had occurred quite recently, I took no notice when he went away, knowing that the keys of Room 5 were in the safe in Room 19 and that the presses were locked, and that he could do no harm.
I had to wait a few moments before the bags were ready and, instead of going back to Room 5 and perhaps indulging in some awkward conversation, I went to Room 19 and chatted to Mr Roberts for a moment.
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Charles Roberts was one of the temporary clerks in the Communications Department, someone who would have been familiar with Oldham.
While I was in there Mr Hilbery came into the room with his own key, which is the key to the confidential presses in the bag room and which is normally kept on the bag ring and said, ‘Do you know Oldham is in our room?’
I said, ‘Yes, I know and I really don’t mind’.
He said, ‘He wants to get at something of his which is in the press’.
I thought for a moment and then said to Hilbery, ‘Well, you can take the keys but he is not to handle them. You are to open the press, let him get what he wants, close the press and bring the keys back to me.’
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Clearly security protocols had been tightened up since the previous week, possibly in consultation with the press keepers, men such as Alfred Norris, under the watchful eye of John Wright, the office keeper. However, Bindon was not expecting Oldham’s next move.
He [Hilbery] was gone about five minutes and then suddenly he dashed in and said ‘He [Oldham] has got the keys and he has gone to the lavatory.’
I did not quite know what to do. I went out of the room, went to the main door keeper and said, ‘Oldham is not to leave the building until I have given leave.’ I also went to the back door and Hilbery himself was down there by that door. I then waited in the vicinity where Oldham was, so as to prevent him getting out of the office with the keys.
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The chief door keeper was Sidney William Merryweather, and he would have alerted his associates William Dunkley and the rather aptly named Charles Lockyer. With the exits to the Foreign Office secured to prevent Oldham’s escape, Bindon tried to work out from his colleague, Clarence Anderson Hilbery what had happened.
Apparently when [Hilbery] went in to undo the press, the chair in which Oldham was sitting was almost touching one of the doors as it opened. This door has the lock on it. Hilbery naturally opened the press and as he was going to close it again shortly, he did not take the keys out. He had no sooner opened it than Oldham seemed to dash by him, saying where he was going. When Hilbery came to lock the press, he found the keys gone. He did not hear Oldham take the keys out of the lock.
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Hilbery confirmed that he had accompanied Oldham to the press and his testimony of what transpired confirmed that the new security measures had been authorised from the very highest authority in the department, Harold Eastwood.
Last night I went into Room 5 to put the key on the bunch as usual and Oldham was there sitting down writing a letter. He said he wanted to go to his box and would I get the keys?
I went to Room 19 and was told to let him have his things but not to give him the keys, as Mr Eastwood had given instructions. I told Oldham he could have his box, so I opened the press. Oldham said, ‘Sorry, I must just go outside to the lavatory’. I then found the keys had gone.
I told Bindon what had happened. It must have been quietly done as I did not hear the rattle of keys. I thought there was something peculiar about it, so I went and saw Bindon.
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Bindon confessed that he had not seen where Oldham had gone, but that Hilbery’s suggestion seemed most likely.
I did not actually see Oldham come out of the lavatory, but he had not time to go anywhere else. He could not have left the building in the 10 minutes he was missing.
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However, they did not have long to wait.
In about seven or eight minutes Oldham appeared again, went down to Room 5 and I followed him and immediately asked for the keys which he handed over. I said, ‘Have you got all you want? I am going to lock up.’
He said, ‘Just one moment, I want to get something else, I will be in tomorrow to see Mr Kemp.’ Then he left the building. I noticed on the table that he had started to write a note to Kemp; it was evidently left there so that I should see it and there was really nothing in it. Just as he was going he picked up the note and said, ‘Well, I won’t leave this now as I shall see Kemp in the morning,’ and destroyed the note.
He was quite sober but I did notice that, when he handed the keys to me, his head was bathed in perspiration and he could not keep his hands still. I thought to myself, Guilty conscience.
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With Oldham gone, Bindon brought in another colleague and together they inspected the keys for any sign of tampering. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed.
Roberts and I examined the keys and found particles of wax or soap; as I had only just used the keys, there was no possibility of their having come into contact with anything of this nature during the last five or ten minutes. There were particles of wax on the ward, which – had it been there before – would have been one of the first places to get it removed. I reported to Mr Eastwood that he might have taken impressions.
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Given that Eastwood had already tightened security and Oldham had still managed to outfox them, it was time to call in the professionals. The Director of Security Services at MI5, Vernon Kell, was notified the next morning about what had happened and Kell immediately passed all relevant details to B Branch, which conducted investigations and inquiries relating to domestic security.
The case was taken up by B Branch Head, Oswald Allen ‘Jasper’ Harker. He was an intimidating figure who listed his recreations as big-game hunting, riding and fishing, reflecting his earlier career in the Indian police. He moved quickly to place Oldham under surveillance. Under direct instruction from Kell, Harker applied for a Home Office warrant (HOW) which authorised the interception and subsequent reading of ‘all postal packets and telegrams addressed to EH Oldham or any other name, 31 Pembroke Gardens, W8’. This was supported by a decision to monitor all phone calls to the property, sent to the Director of Investigations at the General Post Office (GPO), Mr CF Wavish, so that the line could be tapped. Ominously, the justification given on the warrant was that Oldham was ‘suspected of offences under the Official Secrets Act’.
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Due to the urgency of the situation, the applications were made by telephone with the relevant permissions subsequently put in writing a few days later where Harker was more specific:
The subscriber to this number is an ex-employee of the Foreign Office and, owing to his recent very suspicious actions, he is strongly suspected of attempting to commit offences under the Official Secrets Act.
Harker also arranged for Oldham’s movements to be monitored by his small team of agents in Section 11 of MI5, including inquiries officer John Ottaway, who took up position outside Oldham’s home under instruction to maintain ‘close observation day and night’. Meanwhile, the keys and waxy substances were sent to the Chemical Section for analysis by the Head of Security Research, H Smith, while interviews with Bindon, Hilbery and Roberts were arranged for the same afternoon. Oldham’s passport application from February 1932 was retrieved, complete with photograph for identification
purposes and a file was opened on him by MI5 which was to grow rapidly over the coming days.
That same day, Oldham met Bystrolyotov and reported that he had been unable to get near the safes, given the new levels of security that were in operation. The stress of the mission had clearly taken its toll on the former civil servant. According to Bystrolyotov, Oldham’s face was ‘sallow grey’ and his health was worse than ever. Pity did not come into the equation. Bystrolyotov needed Oldham to see this through to the end, so he arranged for him to enter another clinic, this time the Queen’s Gate Nursing Home, run by Miss Lucy Hopkins at 31 Queen’s Gate, Kensington, to ‘purify Oldham’s brain from alcohol and spur his heart on so that he could extract the ciphers at all costs’.
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No wonder Bystrolyotov’s OGPU superiors had used the word ‘merciless’ when inscribing his gun in November 1932, though Oldham’s new accommodation was nowhere near as harsh as Rendlesham. Miss Hopkins ‘was charming, tactful and skilful in the running of such an institution and she herself was quite a favourite… Her charges were quite reasonable for that part of London’.
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However, the removal of Oldham from his home doubtless saved him from further scrutiny by the surveillance operation. Ottaway was forced to confess in a phone call to MI5 on 17 July that there had been no sign of Oldham at 31 Pembroke Gardens, though he confirmed the presence of Lucy along with two maids, a chauffeur and her pet dogs.
Nevertheless, MI5 was able to discern some aspects of the Oldhams’ activities, thanks to the phone surveillance. On 15 July, Lucy received a call from Dr Rowan at 9.47 am. He was briefed about her husband’s latest disappearance to a clinic. The conversation shows that Rowan had long been acquainted with Bystrolyotov, in his guise as Count Perelly, and that he was sufficiently trusted as a confidante to allow Lucy to reveal that money was excruciatingly tight once more.
Things are in a terrible state. Joe came to see me. I don’t know how you are going to get your money or how he will pay the nursing home. I had to pay an overdraft – he’s quite bankrupt. I kept Ray [her younger son] in Germany seven weeks. I’m going to sell my furniture.
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The next day, Lucy started to look for alternative accommodation, preparing to make good on her earlier threat to leave Oldham. According to MI5’s surveillance report, she was picked up from her home at 1.10 pm by ‘a man aged about 38 – 40, 5 foot 9 inches, very bronzed, Jewish appearance’. They left in a taxi and Lucy did not reappear until 6.30 pm. The taxi driver was tracked down and in an interview he revealed that he had driven them to Brown’s Hotel, Dover Street. On making further inquiries at the hotel, Ottaway established that Lucy had asked about hiring a suite of rooms but had found them too expensive. Intriguingly, her companion gave his name as ‘McCormick’ and claimed to be a journalist from the New York papers. This was all rather strange, as Brown’s Hotel was where her son Thomas Wellsted and his wife Yolande were staying; Lucy had referred to the fact he was visiting from India during her conversation with Rowan the previous day.
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Lucy was not the only one on the move on Sunday 16 July. Oldham was not confined to his new accommodation at Queen’s Gate as he had been at Rendlesham – something made abundantly clear when, out of the blue, he turned up at the Foreign Office again at 12.50 pm to request access to his belongings once more, possibly hoping that security would be less stringent on a Sunday. If so, he was severely disappointed; he was asked to fill out a form before permission to see his safe deposit box could be granted. At this point he grew suspicious and walked away, promising to come back the next morning – which he failed to do.