Reuben [Falber] . . . remarked that he wished he knew where Wilson stood as he had been very quiet, and he rather felt himself that if there were a genuine possibility of the sort of more Trade Union and working class elements in the Parliamentary Labour Party ‘getting any place’, then Wilson would be the leader of it. Wilson was a very, very clever manoeuvrer.
Betty Reid, more bizarrely, now believed that Wilson was a Trotskyist.120
After losing a leadership election to Gaitskell in October 1961, Wilson sought to position himself in the middle ground between the Gaitskellites and the left-wing Tribune Group led by Michael Foot. On becoming shadow foreign secretary in January 1962 he was much more guarded in his comments about the Soviet Union than during his visits to Moscow in the 1950s. When Wilson was elected Party leader after Gaitskell’s sudden death in January 1963, the Daily Worker was distinctly unenthusiastic. Since becoming shadow foreign secretary, it complained, ‘Mr Harold Wilson has moved steadily to the right.’ It was particularly outraged by the fact that he had visited West Berlin and, standing at the Berlin Wall, had denounced the (East) German Democratic Republic.121 The KGB was equally outraged. So far from regarding Wilson as a potential recruit, as it had done in 1956, and probably for several years afterwards, once Wilson became prime minister in 1964 it inspired a number of press articles attacking his policies.122
* Most co-optees were Soviet Bloc officials who agreed to combine work on behalf of their intelligence service with their declared jobs. Officials rarely became agents.
6
The Hunt for the ‘Magnificent Five’
Kim Philby, Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean, Anthony Blunt and John Cairncross – all recruited at, or soon after leaving, Cambridge University in the mid-1930s – were the ablest group of British agents ever recruited by a foreign power. It was not until the spring of 1951 that the partial VENONA decrypt of a seven-year-old NKGB telegram from the Washington residency to Moscow at last identified one of the Five.1 That discovery, which took the Security Service completely by surprise, began the most complex and longest-drawn-out investigation in its history, taking over thirty years to complete.
Aware since the unmasking of the atom spies of the extraordinary quality of some of the ideological agents working for Moscow, the Security Service formed a greatly exaggerated view of the sophistication of late-Stalinist foreign intelligence operations. In reality, Soviet agent-running in the West during the 1940s and early 1950s, though able to draw on an impressive pool of highly motivated Western recruits, was frequently of poor quality. After the recall to Moscow of their inspirational early case officers (Arnold Deutsch and Teodor Maly in particular),2 many of the remarkable successes of the Cambridge Five were achieved in spite, rather than because, of their controllers. For almost two years in the middle of the Second World War, the Centre, amazingly, believed that the Five were an elaborate anti-Soviet deception operation by British intelligence. Though that became a minority view in the Centre after the war, there were still senior Soviet intelligence officers who argued that the Five were part of a ‘fiendishly clever’ British plot.3 In the early Cold War both Maclean and Philby were badly let down by their controllers at crucial moments. It is inconceivable that either the Security Service or SIS would have shown a similar level of incompetence in the running of such important agents.
After Maclean’s posting to Cairo in October 1948 as counsellor and head of Chancery at the age of only thirty-five, apparently on a path which might take him to the top of the diplomatic service but with his double life placing him under increasing strain, he became deeply depressed by the local Soviet residency’s insensitive handling of him. In December 1949 he attached to his latest bundle of classified documents a note asking to be allowed to give up work for Soviet intelligence. The Cairo residency gave so little thought to running Maclean that it forwarded his note unread to Moscow. Incredibly, the Centre also ignored it. Not till Maclean sent another appeal in April 1950, asking to be released from the intolerable strain of his double life, did he at last succeed in attracting the Centre’s attention. While the Centre was still deliberating on its response, Maclean went berserk. One evening in May, in a drunken rage, he and his drinking companion, Philip Toynbee, vandalized the flat of two female members of the US embassy, ripped up their underwear, then moved on to destroy the bathroom. There, Toynbee later recalled, ‘Donald raises a large mirror above his head and crashes it into the bath, when to my amazement and delight, alas, the bath breaks in two while the mirror remains intact.’ A few days later Maclean was sent back to London where the Foreign Office gave him the rest of the spring and the summer off, and sent him to see a Harley Street psychiatrist.4
Atrocious though the Soviet handling of Maclean had been, it had helped to reduce him to such a desperate mental state that the last thing which either the Foreign Office or the Harley Street psychiatrist were likely to suspect was his involvement in espionage. The psychiatrist reported to the FO that Maclean’s psychological problems were so serious that he thought they might have a physical origin which should be investigated at the Maudsley Hospital:
. . . I found it very difficult to believe the man I saw on Saturday morning has got on as well as he has in the Foreign Office. I thought for a man in his position he was somewhat slow and retarded, and, of course, I had no account either from his wife or from the other people in Cairo as to how bad he was.5
The Treasury’s medical adviser told the Foreign Office Personnel Department, after examining Maclean: ‘Personally I think a solution is going to be difficult to find as the whole family . . . are definitely unbalanced & there is a marked alcoholic tendency which is surprising with such a family background.’ Matters were made worse by Maclean’s insistence on being treated by a psychoanalyst of his own choice, Dr Erna Rosenbaum, rather than by the Foreign Office psychiatrist, possibly because he feared he might give something away in meetings with a psychiatrist chosen by the Foreign Office.6 The choice of Dr Rosenbaum did not please the Treasury medical adviser; she was ‘not qualified in England and he therefore feared she might be a quack.’7 Treatment by her, however, seems to have partly stabilized Maclean’s condition. Remarkably, he was considered sufficiently recovered by the autumn of 1950 to be appointed head of the FO American desk. There, despite alcoholic evenings in the Gargoyle Club and a drunken description of himself as ‘the English Hiss’ (a former Soviet spy in the State Department), Maclean’s work in office hours, as his deputy later recalled, was meticulously efficient.8
Philby’s handling by the Centre during his two years as SIS liaison in Washington from 1949 to 1951 was as bad as that of Maclean. The chaotic post-war state of the Soviet residency in Washington, which led to the recall of two successive residents in 1948–9, made Philby refuse any contact with legal Soviet intelligence officers in the United States. For almost a year his sole contact with the Centre was via messages sent to Burgess in London. In the summer of 1950 he received an unexpected letter from Burgess. ‘I have a shock for you,’ Burgess began. ‘I have just been posted to Washington.’9 Burgess, like Maclean, was showing the strain of his double life. His behaviour had become so outrageous that he had come close to dismissal from the diplomatic service. A trip to Gibraltar and Tangier in the autumn of 1949 had turned into what his friend Goronwy Rees called a ‘wild odyssey of indiscretions’: among them failing to pay his bills, publicly identifying MI5 and SIS officers and drunkenly singing in local bars, ‘Little boys are cheap today, cheaper than yesterday.’10 The Security Service representative in Gibraltar wrote to the DG to complain about Burgess’s ‘extremely indiscreet’ behaviour: ‘Burgess appears to be a complete alcoholic and I do not think that even in Gibraltar have I ever seen anyone put away so much hard liquor in so short a time as he did.’11 On his return Burgess was summoned for interview by the FO Personnel Department, denied that he had behaved indiscreetly and blamed his troubles on the fact that he was ‘on bad terms’ with ‘the Security authorities’ (presumably th
e Security Service).12 The Security Service’s Legal Adviser, Bernard Hill,13 told the FO that Burgess could be prosecuted under the Official Secrets Act but that ‘it would be undesirable to proceed,’ chiefly ‘to avoid further publicity about SIS’s affairs’. Burgess also sought the help of Guy Liddell, who believed all that was required was ‘a severe reprimand from somebody [Burgess] respected’: ‘I did not think he often got wholly out of control, but there was no doubt that drink loosened his tongue.’ Burgess, he mistakenly believed, was ‘not the sort of person who would deliberately pass confidential information to unauthorised parties’.14
Philby later claimed in his memoirs that he agreed to have Burgess as a lodger at his large neo-classical house on Nebraska Avenue during his tour of duty at the Washington embassy in order to try to keep him out of the spectacular alcoholic and other ‘scrapes’ for which he was increasingly notorious. There was, however, a more important reason which Philby did not mention. Though the ‘scrapes’ continued, Burgess fulfilled an important role as courier between Philby and his newly appointed case officer, Valeri Makayev, a Soviet illegal codenamed HARRY, in New York.15 The establishment of an apparently secure line of communication to Moscow via Burgess and Makayev encouraged Philby to try to extend still further his already remarkable access to British and US intelligence. During a visit to London in September 1950 he had a long talk with Guy Liddell, whom he tried to convince that his job in Washington did not really give him ‘enough scope’ (despite the fact that he was working for both SIS and Soviet intelligence). Liddell noted in his diary: ‘I thought I discerned a fly thrown over me in the form of a suggestion that it was really unnecessary for us to have a Washington representative, and that he could carry the whole business, but I may have been wrong.’ In fact Liddell was very probably right. Ever since the Second World War, Philby had obtained Security Service intelligence on a series of counter-espionage cases on the grounds that it was necessary for him to ensure effective collaboration between the Service and SIS.16 For him to become Security Service as well as SIS liaison officer in Washington would have marked a triumphant conclusion to this strategy. Though it did not occur to Liddell to suspect Philby’s motives, he did not rise to the bait: ‘. . . I told him that whatever the flow of information, I was quite convinced that we ought to have a man in the Western hemisphere.’17
Some of the most important intelligence which Philby supplied to HARRY, his Soviet case officer, concerned Donald Maclean. The VENONA decrypts to which he had access contained references to an agent codenamed HOMER operating in Washington at the end of the war, but initially gave only vague clues to his identity. Philby quickly realized that HOMER was Maclean, but was informed by the Centre that ‘Maclean should stay in his post as long as possible’ and that plans would be made to rescue him ‘before the net closed in’. In April 1951 a telegram decrypted by Meredith Gardner finally identified HOMER as Maclean. It revealed that in June 1944 HOMER’s wife was expecting a baby and living with her mother in New York – information which fitted Maclean’s wife Melinda, but not the wife of any other suspect.18 There still remained a breathing space of at least a few weeks in which to arrange Maclean’s escape. The search for the evidence necessary to convict him of espionage, complicated by the decision not to use VENONA in any prosecution, made necessary a period of surveillance by the Security Service in the hope of discovering him in contact with a Soviet case officer. A plan to warn Maclean that he had been identified as a Soviet agent was worked out not by the Centre but by Philby and Burgess.19 In April 1951 Burgess was ordered home from Washington in disgrace after a further series of escapades had aroused the collective wrath of the Virginia State Police, the State Department and the British ambassador. On the eve of Burgess’s departure from New York aboard the Queen Mary, he and Philby dined together in a Chinese restaurant where the piped music inhibited eavesdropping and agreed that Burgess would convey a warning to both Maclean and the London residency as soon as he reached Britain.20
Philby was even more concerned by the possibility of his own detection than by the fate of Maclean. If Maclean cracked under interrogation, as seemed possible in view of his overwrought condition, Philby and the rest of the Five would also be at risk. Philby sent a message to the Centre demanding Maclean’s immediate exfiltration to the Soviet Union, so that he himself would not be compromised.21 He also extracted an assurance from Burgess that he would not accompany Maclean to Moscow, for that too would compromise himself. Immediately after his return to England on 7 May, Burgess called on Blunt and used him to deliver a message to the current controller of the Five at the London residency, Yuri Modin, whom Blunt knew as ‘Peter’. According to Modin, Blunt’s anxious appearance, even before he spoke, indicated that something was desperately wrong. ‘Peter,’ he said, ‘there’s serious trouble. Guy Burgess has just arrived back in London. HOMER’s about to be arrested . . . Donald’s now in such a state that I’m convinced he’ll break down the moment they question him.’ Two days later the Centre agreed to Maclean’s exfiltration. Since it seemed clear that Maclean would need an escort, the Centre insisted that Burgess accompany him to Moscow. Burgess initially refused to go, recalled his promise to Philby not to defect and seemed to Modin ‘close to hysteria’. The London resident, Nikolai Borisovich Rodin, seems to have persuaded Burgess to go by giving the impression that he would not need to accompany Maclean all the way, and would in any case be free to return to London. In reality, the Centre believed that Burgess had become a liability and was determined to get him to Moscow – by deception if necessary – and keep him there. ‘As long as he agreed to go with Maclean,’ wrote Modin later, ‘the rest mattered precious little. Cynically enough, the Centre had . . . concluded that we had not one but two burnt-out agents on our hands.’22
On 17 April Herbert Morrison, who had succeeded Bevin as foreign secretary in March, agreed to Maclean being placed under Security Service surveillance.23 Not long after Burgess’s return to London an A4 surveillance team observed him meeting Maclean. Since Maclean was head of the American desk and Burgess had just returned from the Washington embassy facing the prospect of dismissal, their meeting was not in itself suspicious. Though Burgess was obviously worried, it was reasonable to suppose that the cause of his worries was the fact that he was facing the sack and the end of his Foreign Office career. The very outrageousness of his behaviour protected him against suspicion that he, like Maclean, was a Soviet agent. According to an A4 surveillance report:
. . . Guy Burgess appears to have something on his mind and is, in fact, obviously deeply worried. He will order a large gin (his favourite tipple) and will then pace the bar for a few seconds, pour the neat spirit down his throat and walk out, or order another and repeat the performance.
In the open he frequently shows indecision with, apparently, his mind in turmoil.
With CURZON [Maclean] there is an air almost of conspiracy between the two. It is quite impossible even in a bar to hear a word of what they are saying. It would seem likely that Burgess has unburdened himself to CURZON as the latter does not display any normal emotion when they are together.24
Maclean was observed leaving the Foreign Office after work on Friday 25 May, carrying a large cardboard box, and tracked to Victoria Station, where ‘After a drink he boarded the 6.10 p.m. train.’25 That was to be the last A4 saw of him. Security Service surveillance of Maclean was fatally flawed as a result of its lack of resources. The London residency knew from studying the watchers’ working pattern that they clocked off each evening and stopped work for the weekend at Saturday lunchtime with no Sunday working.26
Unknown to Maclean, in the course of that day, Friday 25 May, the Foreign Office proposed he should be interrogated by the Security Service on some date between 18 and 25 June.27 The London residency, however, mistakenly believed that Maclean was to be arrested on Monday 28 May, and made plans for his exfiltration with Burgess during the previous weekend, in the correct belief that A4 would not attempt to resu
me surveillance until Monday morning.28 (It may or may not have realized that there was no surveillance at all of Maclean at his home at Tatsfield on the Kent – Surrey border, for fear that its isolated location might lead to the detection of the watchers.)29 The residency also discovered that the pleasure-boat Falaise made round-trip weekend cruises from Southampton to French ports, which did not require passports. Burgess was instructed to buy tickets for himself and Maclean under assumed names for the cruise leaving at midnight on Friday 25 May. Next morning they left the boat at Saint-Malo, made their way to Rennes and caught the train to Paris. From Paris they took another train to Switzerland, where they were issued with false passports by the Soviet embassy in Berne. In Zurich they bought air tickets to Stockholm via Prague, but left the plane at Prague where they were met by Soviet intelligence officers. By the time that Melinda Maclean reported that her husband had not returned home after the weekend, Burgess and Maclean were behind the Iron Curtain.30
The Centre congratulated itself that the successful exfiltration of Burgess and Maclean had ‘raised the authority of the Soviet Intelligence Service in the eyes of Soviet agents’. That, however, was not Philby’s view. At a meeting on 24 May, Makayev (HARRY) had found him ‘alarmed and concerned for his own security’, and insistent that he would be put ‘in jeopardy’ if Burgess, his friend and former lodger at his Washington home, fled with Maclean to Moscow. The first that Philby learned of Burgess’s defection with Maclean was during a briefing about five days later by the Security Service SLO, Geoffrey Patterson, in Washington. ‘My consternation [at the news]’, wrote Philby later, ‘was no pretence.’ Later that day he drove into the Virginia countryside and buried in a wood the photographic equipment with which he had copied documents for Soviet intelligence – an action he had mentally rehearsed many times since arriving in Washington two years earlier. Just when Philby most needed his controller’s assistance, however, Makayev let him down. The New York residency left a message and $2,000 in a dead letter-box for HARRY to deliver to Philby. Makayev failed to find them, and Philby never received them. An inquiry by the Centre into Makayev’s conduct in New York, prompted by his failure to help Philby, concluded that he was guilty of ‘lack of discipline’, ‘violations of the Centre’s orders’ and ‘crude manners’.31
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