Secret Asset by Stella Rimington Read Free Book Online Page A

years in the Royal Signals. Served in Northern Ireland,” she said, pausing meaningfully. “As the name suggests, he’s got a Japanese father. But he was born in Bath.”
    â€œWhat’s his job now?”
    â€œHe’s not here any more.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œNo, he left three years ago.”
    â€œWhat did he go into? A private security firm?” With that mix of military and MI5 experience, Ogasawara was probably making a small fortune as a consultant in Iraq, thought Liz. Though he might not live long enough to enjoy it.
    â€œNot quite,” said Peggy. “It says here that he now manages a dance troupe in King’s Lynn.”
    â€œHow exotic,” said Liz, suppressing a smile.
    Peggy asked, “Can I take him off the list?”
    â€œYes,” said Liz, then thought again. “Actually, better not. But you can certainly put him low down.” She glanced at her watch. “You should have plenty to do while I’m in Rotterdam.” Liz gestured towards the files.
    â€œI thought I’d double-check their original applications to join MI5. And check the facts in the updates too.”
    â€œYes, you might as well go through the basics. And read their references.” Liz looked again a little anxiously at her watch. “I think we should probably see as many of the referees as we can. Look out for anything on the personal front that looks unusual. And obviously, any kind of Irish connection.”
    As Liz got up from the table to go, Peggy said, “Do you mind if I ask who you’re seeing in Rotterdam?”
    â€œNot at all,” Liz said. She had already decided that if they were going to work closely together, she would need to be able to tell Peggy everything. “I’m seeing a man called James Maguire. He was our source for the story that the IRA had put a secret asset into the security services. The officer he gave that information to is dead, so Maguire is the one person in the world, apart from us and the mole himself, who knows about it.”
    â€œDo you think he can help us?”
    Liz thought for a moment. “Possibly. The question is whether he will. He didn’t want to meet me.”
    â€œWell good luck then,” said Peggy.
    â€œThanks,” said Liz, her lips pursed. “I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

8
    T he water in the Old Harbour of Rotterdam was sea green, and slopped against the sides of the canal boats and small tugs moored at one end. It was twilight in mid-May, the air was mild, and the light rain felt soft on her face. Liz looked out across the small body of water, relic of the age when it had been the city’s main port. Levelled by bombing in the War, Rotterdam was almost entirely modern; its inhabitants had decided not to reconstruct the city as it had been before 1939 but instead to start from scratch. The results were architecturally renowned but bleak to look at; this genuinely old sector of the city was a small sanctuary from the relentlessly new.
    The café across the harbour was on the ground floor of an old building of dark brick, and lit inside by wall lamps which cast a rich orange glow; at the tables on the veranda candles in bowls provided the sole illumination. Although she had only mug shots from which to identify him, Liz was confident he was not among the café’s few customers. But as the dark now moved in as if by stealth, she suddenly saw him. A tall figure, lean to the point of gauntness, walking slowly along the far edge of the harbour towards the café. He wore khaki trousers and a long raincoat that hung loosely from its padded shoulders, and he carried a newspaper rolled up under one arm.
    Liz gave him five minutes to settle, then moved quickly around the perimeter of the harbour, and into the café. She spotted him at a corner table and, as the man looked up and nodded, Liz sat down across from him, putting her own coat on an empty chair. She said,