Diplomatic Incident

It was just another embassy party, dinner jacket, black tie, polite conversation in fractured English, lots of nodding and smiling and at the end of the evening the sinking feeling you’d agreed to something you could not or should not deliver. That was what I thought when I got the invitation. I still thought it when the invitation was backed up by an instruction from my superior, K, that I would be attending, that I would arrive at six-thirty and I would not leave before nine-thirty.

We call him K because we all know that he craves his knighthood and is only staying on to get it. His predecessor knew that and promulgated the instruction on his code name before he was offered the post. I could tell you his predecessor’s views on the perversity of the interview panel that appointed him, but I’d have to kill you afterwards. Not that I’d mind; it is my job, after all. But it could lead so unnecessary complications and I have been instructed to avoid making life unnecessarily complicated for K.

I was wrong about the party. Not wrong about the format. There were more black shoes than you would see at Eton on the first day of term. There were more prawn sandwiches than you would find in Torquay on a bank holiday. The English was as fractured as I had ever heard.

Then my heart soared; a beautiful woman, long black hair, long white dress exposing her long brown arms and falling to the floor, cut through the throng straight towards me. She fluttered her long black eyelids and favoured me with a long, shy smile.

‘Commander,’ she murmured, in perfect English, ‘here are you.’

I nodded, momentarily taken aback. ‘Madam’, I said, when I found my voice, ‘I am.’

‘I must speak with you,’ she said.

‘If you must.’ I took her arm and led her to the dance floor.

She leaned close as we twirled.

‘I need a favour,’ she said.

I looked straight at her and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Her eyes were brown as far as I could tell; her pupils were dilated wide. Fear or drugs? I wondered. I supposed I would soon find out.

She explained that she worked at the Embassy, she was British and her job did not involve her in work of a sensitive or political nature. However she had been required to take up residence in an apartment in the embassy and to escort senior staff to functions such as this reception. She was forbidden to leave the building under any circumstances and when she had attempted to do so had been prevented from leaving by the security guards.

‘When I saw your name on the list of guests I hoped so much that I would have the opportunity to meet you. I know of your exploits in the past, your daring rescue of the school teacher captured by pirates, your bold intervention to prevent the massacre in Libya, these things are talked of with great admiration by the staff of the here.’

I paused, missing a beat in the music. ‘How would you know of these matters, this is classified information?’ I asked.

She giggled and expertly picked up the rhythm of the dance. ‘This is not Britain; this is foreign soil. Your classified information is not classified here. It is common knowledge and the subject of conversation all the time. You are much admired.’

‘I’m flattered,’ I told her. But I was also perturbed to learn what a leaky service I worked for. Well, that would have to wait but I would be having words with K as soon as I saw him next morning.

As we revolved around the room I asked her to point out the Embassy staff and guards.

When the music ended I invited her to join me at the buffet table. I checked the disposition of the guards and the Embassy staff. No one seemed to be paying us any particular attention. I leaned towards her and whispered, ‘Could you make a run for it now or do you have things you want to take with you?

‘There is one keepsake I should like to take. It is in my office.’

‘I think we could make a break for it now.’ I explained. ‘But if there are things you want to take perhaps we should wait for another occasion.’

‘Oh no. There is just one thing. It is small. It will take me only a moment to fetch it. If you think we can get away now then I think we should. Who knows when we may have another opportunity.’

‘I shall go over to the corner of the room with my plate. You go and as soon as you return we’ll walk out.’

She nodded and walked away.

When she returned she was carrying nothing more than she had had when she left. She saw my appraising glance and whispered, ‘I told you it was very small.’

‘Good. Let’s just walk to the door.’

We walked side by side, talking some nonsense to give the impression we were deep in conversation. I timed our pace to the door so that we reached it as the guard standing by it was dealing with an enquiry from a drunken Dutchman who was looking for the gents.

We slipped through and into the entrance hall. There was no guard there. I silently cursed the lack of opportunity to reconnoitre before making our exit but there was nothing for it but to take our chances.

As luck would have it was raining. ‘Hooray for English weather,’ I murmured. There was no sign of a guard in front of the door. The lady however had no raincoat; I shrugged off my dinner jacket and put it round her bare shoulders. ‘Let’s go,’ I whispered urgently, propelling her through the door.

We ran across the pavement. Looking to my left I saw that the outside guard was sheltering at the corner of the building. He began to run towards us but we were already off across the road where a bus stood at a bus stop. I flailed my arm and called out ‘Wait.’ A small miracle, the bus stayed where it was. I carry a police warrant card in my wallet. I dragged it out, flashed it at the driver and said, ‘Thanks mate; now get moving as quick as you can.’

We watched through the rear window of the bus but there was no sign of pursuit. Three stops further on we alighted. I flagged a taxi, gave the driver a twenty pound note and asked him to take the lady to a hotel the department uses. I assured her that the cost would be borne by the department and said that I would send someone to see her the next day to sort out what should happen next.

I arrived at work early the next day. I was anxious to see K as soon as I could. When I reached my desk I called K’s PA to tell her I needed to see her boss. I was told, ‘He wants to see you straight away, about last night.’

I was puzzled by the brusqueness of her tone. I wondered what had happened l the night before.

I went up to the seventh floor. Miss Twining motioned me to go straight in. She kept her eyes on her monitor and neither nodded nor smiled at me.

I tapped at K’s door. ‘Come in,’ he snapped. I had barely closed the door behind me when he barked, ‘Can’t you get anything right?’ He turned to a man who was sitting at a chair beside the desk. ‘This is Sir William Welles, Foreign Office.’

I stepped forward offering my hand to Sir William. My welcome died on my lips as K said. ‘Stand still man. This is a disciplinary matter, not a tea party.’

I put two and two together. ‘I am hardly to blame if classified information about my work in the department is common knowledge at an embassy. I am not likely to be putting out that kind of information,’ I told him.

‘What are you talking about? This is about your freelancing.’

‘Freelancing? Are you talking about an emergency operation to rescue a British subject kidnapped by a foreign power and held against her will on British soil?’

Sir William spoke before K had the chance. His tone was cold. ‘I rather doubt that we are although it might be made to look that way to someone not in full possession of the facts.’

That had me foxed. I looked blankly from one to the other.

K took charge again. ‘We are talking about the abduction of the wife of a senior diplomat of a foreign power; a kidnapping from the embassy where the lady’s husband works and lives. We are talking about the theft of a valuable jewel from that embassy. We are talking about a violation of the sovereign territory of a foreign state by a British national employed in the intelligence service of Her Majesty’s government. What do you have to say about that?’

‘You mean she lied to me?’

Sir William answered. ‘Assuming, as seems likely, we are talking about the same incident then yes, it would appear that she lied to you somewhere along the way. She is, or was, a British national, whatever else she told you to get you involved in this hare-brained scheme. However all is not lost. Where is she now?’

I told them where I had sent her.

K brightened. ‘Call them. Tell them not to let her leave. We’ll go and fetch her right away,’ he shouted.

I rang the hotel.

‘What is the name of this guest?’ the clerk asked.

‘I don’t know. She was a dark haired lady, thirties, wearing a ball gown when she arrived.’

‘What time?’

‘Pardon?’

‘When did she arrive?’

‘I don’t know.’ I thought for a moment. ‘Between ten thirty and eleven I would guess.’

‘No one arrived here after eight.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure. Sorry sir.’ He hung up.

K watched me put his phone back in the cradle. ‘Not there?’ he asked.

‘I nodded.’

‘That,’ said K slowly is what I shall tell the Ambassador when he asks me where you are.