Secret Asset by Stella Rimington Read Free Book Online

Why had it palled so fast? For one thing, her topic turned out to be rather drier than she had expected, with not enough facts to satisfy her voracious appetite for detail. For another her days were overwhelmingly solitary, and she had found no way of peopling her evenings. The Miss Haversham–like librarian rarely exchanged a word with her and scuttled off home as soon as the library closed. From this solitude came a growing conviction that however vivid a world she found in books and manuscripts, the world she saw when she lifted her head from the pages was tantalisingly more promising if only she could find a way into it.
    She knew she had to leave, and the obvious alternative was London, where her manifest skills earned her an interview, and then an offer of a job, as a research assistant in the British Library. But the clinical, subdued atmosphere of the modern reading rooms struck her as even less acceptable than the tensions of a working day with Miss Haversham and she never knew what she would have done if an old acquaintance from college had not come into the library one day and told her of a specialised government department that was looking for researchers.
    Which was how, at the age of twenty-five, still with round spectacles and freckles, Peggy came to be sitting in the conference room in Thames House next to Liz Carlyle, with half-drunk cups of coffee and a plate of biscuits on the table before them, along with several stacks of file folders, which Peggy had already accumulated after only six days in the job.
    Though initially Peggy had approached her with some caution, she had liked Liz from the start. Peggy’s previous boss in the library, although herself female, had seemed to resent her on grounds both of age and gender. But Liz was younger, Liz was polite; best of all, Liz was straightforward. Peggy felt from the start they were a team, and the division of labour was clear. Liz would focus on interviews, while Peggy would do the research.
    She had spent her first days with B Branch, the personnel department, reading files, taking notes, organising a hunt, which her unfamiliarity with the records system made more difficult than she expected. Liz was going to Rotterdam the next day, and had asked Peggy to brief her on her progress before she went. She handed Liz the first of what she knew were going to be many, many documents. This is the beginning, Peggy thought to herself. But what if there is no needle in the haystack?
    Liz was surprised. There were only five employees of MI5 who had attended Oxford during the first half of the nineties, and she knew three of them. Perhaps not so remarkable as they were broadly the same age as she was. She looked again at the list Peggy had handed her:

    Michael Binding
    Patrick Dobson
    Judith Spratt
    Tom Dartmouth
    Stephen Ogasawara

    Peggy had done well, thought Liz. She had taken very little time to get used to what must seem a very alien environment.
    â€œI know Michael Binding,” Liz announced. “And Judith Spratt.” A friend, she almost said, but didn’t. “Tom Dartmouth I’ve only just met—he’s recently come back from Pakistan. He was seconded to MI6 there for a while. Like you in reverse. And Patrick Dobson was at a meeting I went to yesterday.” She handed back the list to Peggy. “What’s Dobson’s job exactly?”
    Peggy found his file. “His job is special liaison with the Home Office on operational matters. Degree from Pembroke College in Theology.” Liz groaned and Peggy gave an unexpectedly lively laugh. Thank God she’s got a sense of humour, thought Liz. Peggy continued: “He’s married. Two children. Very active in his local church.”
    Liz suppressed another groan and tried not to roll her eyes. “Right. And Stephen Ogasawara. What have you got on him?”
    Peggy found another file. “He read History at Wadham. Then—unusual this—he joined the Army. Six