strike doesn't bother them but it churns me up."
"It'll hit our people hard."
John said, "These miners are all going to lo se their jobs. The industry will close. Coal was my family's living but soon it'll be all over. You know there's still plenty of coal?"
She said, "They make out there's hardly any left and that's why it's so expensive."
He said, "Our mines and miners are expensive because we have expensive safety precautions. Chilean coal is cheap because their miners die like flies."
She smiled. "I love you because you care about people."
"But Thatcher doesn't. At least she cares about her own people and their profits. And in the meantime the miners will get their redundancy money and then there'll be a fortnight when the housing estates are deserted because they are all go on holiday; a few weeks later there'll be lots of ice cream vans and burger vans going round like manic flies as they search for some kind of living and then a month after that you'll be able to pick up a burger van dirt cheap."
"Do you miss home?"
"I do - lots of things about it. I don't miss the cold. I'd like to die there one day."
"Morbid. Let's go and get a coffee and feed the little ones."
And they got up from the bench and walked away while crows descended to see what they'd left.
April 28th, 1985 - London: Like many members of SIS, Philip belonged to the Traveller's Club on Pall Mall. John had got the Tube and then walked to meet Philip outside so he could be escorted in. Philip was waiting outside smoking.
"Very discreet," said John indicating the club.
"In terms of ostentation, yes - on the outside. It's not just for spies. There are lots of proper diplomats here. It's good for having private conversations."
With a minimum of fuss and with every demonstration of good breeding from all parties concerned, they were allowed in and found a quiet table in a quiet corner surrounded by quiet, gilt framed portraits - statesmen, explorers, industrialists, but no spies.
They ordered coffee. John took it black. Philip noticed and smiled. "Social climber."
John blushed. "Even the staff here make me feel inferior."
"It's in your head. You're no better or worse than any man here, whatever they do for a living; however much money they have; whoever their families are. You didn't strike me as the insecure type. You have a reputation for being a little cocksure."
"Really?" John was flabbergasted.
"How little you know yourself. But I think it's a good thing. That's why I don't think you're right for MI5. They prefer the more pedestrian personality. But we've spoken of this."
"Indeed. But I'm guessing you've something else to tell me?"
"Yes, I'll do a contact report but I wanted to tell you that it's promising."
"Good."
"He's an awful little prig, Leonov. I bumped him in the tailors. Makes me wonder where he gets the money. Any ideas?"
"Well he'll have his salary."
"And c an afford Saville Row suits on that?" Philip snorted.
"I can't think his father can be able to afford to send him money like that. Maybe he's bent?"
"Must be. All to the good. I wonder what he's selling and to whom? It's not to us." Philip sat back.
"Maybe he's working for the Yanks? But they would have told us surely?"
"You must be kidding. They tell us what they want. They've still not forgiven us for Philby and co. They think they're so watertight. I look forward to the day when we get the names of FBI and CIA men turned by the KGB. I will laugh."
"Should we approach them to see what they know about Leonov?"
"Pffft. No. They wouldn't tell us if they were running him. And if they aren't I don't want them to know that we're interested in case they jump in first."
"What was Leonov like?"
"He was an arse."
John laughed. "I'm getting that. What else?"
"Well my cover was that I am a commodities broker in the City. I complimented him on his suit first. He was standing there looking at himself in the mirror."
John said,
"It'll hit our people hard."
John said, "These miners are all going to lo se their jobs. The industry will close. Coal was my family's living but soon it'll be all over. You know there's still plenty of coal?"
She said, "They make out there's hardly any left and that's why it's so expensive."
He said, "Our mines and miners are expensive because we have expensive safety precautions. Chilean coal is cheap because their miners die like flies."
She smiled. "I love you because you care about people."
"But Thatcher doesn't. At least she cares about her own people and their profits. And in the meantime the miners will get their redundancy money and then there'll be a fortnight when the housing estates are deserted because they are all go on holiday; a few weeks later there'll be lots of ice cream vans and burger vans going round like manic flies as they search for some kind of living and then a month after that you'll be able to pick up a burger van dirt cheap."
"Do you miss home?"
"I do - lots of things about it. I don't miss the cold. I'd like to die there one day."
"Morbid. Let's go and get a coffee and feed the little ones."
And they got up from the bench and walked away while crows descended to see what they'd left.
April 28th, 1985 - London: Like many members of SIS, Philip belonged to the Traveller's Club on Pall Mall. John had got the Tube and then walked to meet Philip outside so he could be escorted in. Philip was waiting outside smoking.
"Very discreet," said John indicating the club.
"In terms of ostentation, yes - on the outside. It's not just for spies. There are lots of proper diplomats here. It's good for having private conversations."
With a minimum of fuss and with every demonstration of good breeding from all parties concerned, they were allowed in and found a quiet table in a quiet corner surrounded by quiet, gilt framed portraits - statesmen, explorers, industrialists, but no spies.
They ordered coffee. John took it black. Philip noticed and smiled. "Social climber."
John blushed. "Even the staff here make me feel inferior."
"It's in your head. You're no better or worse than any man here, whatever they do for a living; however much money they have; whoever their families are. You didn't strike me as the insecure type. You have a reputation for being a little cocksure."
"Really?" John was flabbergasted.
"How little you know yourself. But I think it's a good thing. That's why I don't think you're right for MI5. They prefer the more pedestrian personality. But we've spoken of this."
"Indeed. But I'm guessing you've something else to tell me?"
"Yes, I'll do a contact report but I wanted to tell you that it's promising."
"Good."
"He's an awful little prig, Leonov. I bumped him in the tailors. Makes me wonder where he gets the money. Any ideas?"
"Well he'll have his salary."
"And c an afford Saville Row suits on that?" Philip snorted.
"I can't think his father can be able to afford to send him money like that. Maybe he's bent?"
"Must be. All to the good. I wonder what he's selling and to whom? It's not to us." Philip sat back.
"Maybe he's working for the Yanks? But they would have told us surely?"
"You must be kidding. They tell us what they want. They've still not forgiven us for Philby and co. They think they're so watertight. I look forward to the day when we get the names of FBI and CIA men turned by the KGB. I will laugh."
"Should we approach them to see what they know about Leonov?"
"Pffft. No. They wouldn't tell us if they were running him. And if they aren't I don't want them to know that we're interested in case they jump in first."
"What was Leonov like?"
"He was an arse."
John laughed. "I'm getting that. What else?"
"Well my cover was that I am a commodities broker in the City. I complimented him on his suit first. He was standing there looking at himself in the mirror."
John said,
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