Chapter 5 third chapter

In 1949, a few days after I first met John Taylor in Brundritt's office, I received a call from him inviting me to London.He suggested St. James' Park and we met on the bridge in front of Buckingham Palace.We wandered back and forth among cranes, pelicans and ducks, pausing every now and then to look at our own reflections in the pool.I am baffled by this peculiar way of working on matters of national security. Taylor was a small man with a moustache and an expression of wariness and keenness on his dour face.He had been a communications officer under Montgomery in the North African campaign, and although he was now a post office technician, he still retained his rough military demeanor.He conducts technical research for MI5 and MI6, and his laboratory is located in the Special Investigations Unit of the Dollis Hill Post Office.He said very positively that I knew he was the officer in charge.He told me bluntly not to go to MI5 headquarters at Leconfield House to see Colonel Cumming, except for a brief visit.Under normal circumstances, it is through his middleman to handle affairs.Taylor dissuaded me from talking about the "office," saying only that I would be awarded the title of "distinguished scientific advisor," but not paid.We met once a month at St. James for several years to discuss my written reports on technical matters that I had submitted to Wright, Secretary of the Brundett Committee (Wright later became Undersecretary of Defence).

Taylor and I split the technical tasks, with the post office working on the infrared detection system, and I began to use the advantages of the Electronics Research Laboratory to develop a new microphone and observe its response to sound waves reflected from the furniture in the room. receiving capacity.I am very familiar with the principle of resonance from my previous anti-submarine work.When sound waves hit a hard surface, such as glass windows or filing cabinets, a large number of harmonics are generated.The key is to find the point in the space where the distortion is the least, so that you can receive clear speech.

One day in 1951, I got a call from Taylor, anxious in his voice. "We're in trouble," he said breathlessly. "Shall we meet this afternoon?" In the afternoon, I sat on a bench in the park opposite the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and met him.He described to me that the air attache of the British embassy in Moscow once used a receiver to listen to the communication of a Russian military aircraft in his office. Suddenly, he heard his own loud and clear voice on the receiver.He realized that his conversation had been bugged.He immediately reported the incident.Tyler and I had a long discussion about what kind of mic they might be using, and arranged for an engineer named Don Bailey to look into it.Before Don Bailey went to Moscow, I briefly explained to him how to find the bug with confidence.I began to realize for the first time how devoid of technical expertise British intelligence had, or even have the equipment to do so.I had to lend him my tools and instruments.He made a thorough search of our embassy, ​​but found nothing.Apparently the Russians had gotten wind of it and turned off the bug.

When Bailey came back, I asked him some details and found out that they were not using an ordinary radio receiver.Once the eavesdropping device is activated, a strong radio signal appears as a clear carrier wave.I suspect that the Russians, like us, are also experimenting with a resonance device.In less than half a year, my guess proved to be completely right.Taylor called me in for another emergency meeting. He told me that U.S. State Department inspectors routinely sweep the offices of the U.S. embassy in Moscow in preparation for a visit by the U.S. Secretary of State.They used a standard tunable signal generator that produced a "microphonic effect" similar to the signal produced by a radio station operating in a room with a radio and a TV on.The howling device detected a tiny listening device embedded in the U.S. coat of arms on the wall behind the ambassador's desk.

The howling frequency is 1,800 megahertz, and the United States believes that the operating frequency of the bugging device should also be 1,800 megahertz.However, experiments have shown that when using this frequency to work, the signal is unstable and the sensitivity is not high.Faced with such a situation, the Americans felt powerless and desperate, so they had to turn to Britain to solve the mystery of this stuff. Brundritt arranged for me a new and very secure laboratory in the wilderness of Great Baddah.Tyler and two other Americans carefully sent the thing to my laboratory.It was wrapped in cotton and placed in a wooden box that looked like a chess piece.It was about eight inches long, had an antenna at the top, and had grooves inside that housed a mushroom-shaped metal device with a flat cover on top to adjust the volume.There is a piece of film behind it, which is specially used for radio reception, and a hole has been poked in it.Embarrassed, the two Americans hurriedly explained to me that one of their scientists had accidentally poked it with his finger.

At this critical moment, it's really dumbfounding for this kind of thing to find me.The anti-submarine detection system I am working on is approaching the critical stage of testing, and I should devote all my energy to it, but now, I have to find time to walk through the wilderness behind the Marconi Company every night and every weekend to my home. To that abandoned Nissen shack.It took me more than two months to figure out how this thing works. I have to fix that membrane first.One part of the thing had been stamped with an inspection stamp, and judging from the date on it, the Russians had put it into service in extreme haste, so that it could be installed before the arrival of the Secretary of State of the United States.Apparently they have microscopic devices on the film to hold the film in place, because every time I use the tweezers, it breaks the film.After much trial and error, I finally managed to spread the film first and then secure it.It was rough, but it worked out.

I measured the length of the antenna and tried various methods to explore the resonance method of this thing.Operating at 1800 MHz seems to be no problem.When I put it in one place and send a signal to it with an audio signal generator, the response is just as described by the Americans, the signal is unstable and the sensitivity is very low.It took me four weekends to figure out that the thing works exactly the opposite of how we thought it would work.We originally thought that the metal plate should be loosened to increase the resonance, but in fact, the closer the metal plate is to the mushroom-shaped device, the higher the sensitivity of the whole device will be.I adjusted the metal disc, turned the transmit signal up to 800 megacycles, and the thing began to emit a loud and clear tone.I was ecstatic and immediately called to tell my father the good news.

"I fixed that thing." "I see," he said, "the noise nearly popped my eardrums." I made an appointment with Tyler to see the installation.He came with Colonel Cumming, Winterborn, and two American inspectors.My father came, too, and brought a self-taught scientist from Marconi, Kemp, who was the director of the company's research department.I put this thing on the far wall in the room, and I put a monitor in the next room, and the audio signal generator can be heard clearly, as if it were live. I adjusted the tuning dial to 800 megacycles and explained to them the mystery of this.The simplicity of all this left the two Americans dumbfounded.Cumming and Winterborn couldn't hide their complacency.It was shortly after the events of Burgess and McClain.The defection of these two well-born British diplomats to the Russians in 1951 caused great dissatisfaction in the United States.Therefore, in any respect, even a small British advantage will be of great importance to Cumming and Winterborn.I soon learned this.Kemp began flatteringly saying that sooner or later Marconi would have to sign a contract to manufacture the bug they had developed themselves.

"How long will it take to use this device?" Cumming asked. Kemp and I explained to him that it would probably take at least a year to produce this thing, just to ensure quality. Kemp said to Cumming, "Malcolm, I think we could provide the venue and maybe have someone work under Peter to get a product sample out, but then you've got to try and get the money..." "Oh, we can't pay, you know that," Cumming replied. "The Treasury will never agree to expand the secret appropriations." Kemp raised an eyebrow.Apparently Cumming had argued over funding more than once, always wanting to get the equipment for nothing.

"But," I ventured in, "if the government really wants to provide MI5 and VI with technical infrastructure, it will have to openly fund it." "You're suggesting exactly the last thing they want to do," Cumming replied, shaking his head. "You know, we don't really exist." He fixed his eyes on me as if he had some new idea. "Would you be able to contact the Admiralty on our behalf and ask them to give us a little assistance in the open appropriation, perhaps..." This was the beginning of my peculiar way of approaching intelligence service financing.This question stuck with me well into the sixties.For a long time after the war, the intelligence department had to turn to the military department for help because they did not have enough funds to carry out technological transformation.The military branch was actually very reluctant to do this and became very impatient.I think that the amateurishness of British intelligence in the first few years after the war was a major factor.

However, as instructed, I set out to persuade the British Admiralty to pay for research into this new microphone.I have urgently asked to see Brundett's successor, Sir William Cook, Director of Naval Science.I know him very well.He was lanky and wiry, with red hair and piercing blue eyes.He is very happy, and he is an outstanding organizer with many ideas.The first time I dealt with him after the war was when he invited me to work with him as a model of the "Project Blue Ribbon".The project was later canceled due to the conscience of Chief Scientist Ben Rockspitzer of the Supplies Division.Ironically, Cook himself was skeptical of the development of nuclear weapons, though for practical and political reasons rather than moral ones.He thought Britain had been hasty in producing the atomic bomb.He fears that with the development of modern rocket technology, the navy will lose the advantages it should have.He also realized, I suspect, that our obsession with the atomic bomb, in the face of growing American and Russian superiority, seemed absurd.Incidentally, this view was almost universally held by ordinary scientists in the 1950s. I told Cook that the new microphone might be of unexpected value to intelligence.If the Admiralty agrees to fund this project, it will benefit the Navy greatly in the future.I stated my reasons so frankly that he smiled knowingly.At the end of the meeting, he agreed to draw six people from his staff and invest in a dedicated laboratory at Marconi to carry out the work. In less than a year and a half, we came up with a sample, code-named "Sylvan God".Kemp and I arrived at the front door of MI5 headquarters in Leconfield Building.Hugh Winterborn was there to meet us.He took us to a modestly furnished office on the sixth floor and introduced us to a tall, hunched man.The man wore a pinstriped suit, and when he laughed, the muscles in his face lost their symmetry. "My name is Roger Hollis," he said, rising from behind the desk, and shook my hand stiffly. "I'm afraid the director can't come to see it today, so I, his deputy, will attend temporarily on his behalf." Hollis didn't chat with us.His desk is empty, a testament to his efficiency.Not daring to delay, I immediately took out the device and showed it to him.There is also a suitcase containing radio equipment to operate the Satyr, and two antennas that look like ordinary umbrellas.The two antennas are opened for reception and transmission. We installed the satyr in an MI5 flat on South Audley Street and the antenna in Hollis' office.The test started and everything worked fine.We heard the voices in the apartment over there, and even the sound of the key turning in the lock. During the experiment, Hollis was full of praise: "Peter, it's great, this is simply a fantastic magic." Cumming chuckled behind his back. Until this moment, I didn’t know that the officials of MI5 confined themselves to the “paradise” of Leconfield Building during almost the entire war, and rarely experienced the joy of victory brought about by scientific and technological progress.Hollis stood up again from behind the desk, and made a serious official speech.What a day it was at the Five, he said, saying it was exactly what Brundritt had dreamed of building his team.He spoke this in a condescending tone, as if we servants had found for him a lost diamond tiara in the rose garden. "The Forest God" lived up to the hype, and it was very successful.The Americans couldn't wait to order twelve sets, and shamelessly copied the drawings, and built more than twenty sets themselves.Throughout the 1950s, the "Sympire" was widely used in Britain, the United States, Canada, and Australia as one of the best tools for obtaining classified information, until new instruments replaced it.As far as I am concerned, the successful development of "The God of the Forest" has established my position as a scientist in MI5.Since then, they've come to me regularly, asking me a growing number of technical questions. I still kept in touch with Cumming and gradually became aware of the structure of his department, A.He was in charge of four departments: one provided supplies for MI5, from microphones to lock-picking wrenches; The materials provided; the third section is responsible for contacting the police of the special branch; the fourth section is an expanding surveillance center, which is responsible for tracking diplomatic personnel and other foreigners from various countries on the streets of London. Cumming is a moron when it comes to technical matters.He believes that Division A should manage science instead of using science to manage Division A.Therefore, the department as a whole is seriously lacking in modern facilities, which should have been implemented long ago. Our relationship is fruitful when we discuss specific issues.But one day we will get into an area where I cannot advise MI5 unless Cumming and Winterborn trust me completely.For example, Winterborn used to ask me if I had any assumptions about phone-hacking.I told him frankly that if I didn't know what kind of technology they were using, there was no way to ask this question. "Ah, of course, the field we're talking about is top-secret, and I think it's better not to talk about it." Cumming would always knock on the table impatiently, and Winterborn was very annoyed by this. The same goes for surveillance.The main problem facing MI5 in the 1950s was how to monitor and follow the growing number of Russians on the streets of London without revealing itself. "Have you got any new tricks, Peter?" Cumming asked me, as if I had something up my sleeve in my coat pocket.I suggested that at least let me see for myself the scale of the Surveillance Center's operations.Cumming said he tried his best to make an arrangement for me, but then he couldn't. Against all odds, MI5 still found me useful to them.In 1954, I was spending almost two full days a week in Leconfield Hall, and I had just finished a long meeting when Cumming invited me to lunch at his club.We walked together through St. James's Park and into the I.O. Club from Paarse Market, Cumming fiddling with the umbrella he was accustomed to carrying. We sit down at a table.It was only now that I realized that even though Cumming and I had known each other for five years, this was the first social event between us.Cumming was short in stature and without much talent, but he was loyal to MI5.Like the cops in John Buchan's novels, he might hunt down heroes as villains.He had been an officer in the Rifle Brigade, fitting into MI5's long military tradition dating back to its founder, Vernon Kell.He was somewhat related to Colonel Mansfield Cumming, the first director of MI6.When I first met him, he consciously let me know this background situation.Dick Goldsmith White, chief of the British Security Service, was also brought in by Cumming.Cumming and White had taken a group of children camping together in the 1920s. White was uneasy about being a schoolteacher, and Cumming persuaded him to apply for MI5.After entering the five divisions, White really stood out and became an intelligence officer with outstanding ability and accurate judgment, and soon far surpassed his referees.In order to repay his kindness, White took special care of Cumming in the 1950s. Cumming is rich, as he should be.He owns a large estate in Sussex.In the country, he is a gentleman; in the city, he is a spy.This line of work suits his introverted personality.In fact, most of his energy was spent sorting out MI5 papers and other routine tasks.Cumming was not on good terms with those who had been drafted into the Intelligence Service from high schools during the war.But Cumming's talent is quite astonishing, he has a very complex network, he has many old friends at the club.His relationships are varied and bizarre.If MI5 needed a one-legged Chinese-speaking washerwoman, Cumming could find it. There was a vacancy in the position of director of Division A, and Cumming was naturally the first choice to fill the vacant position. Cumming asked for pelican eggs and asked me about my personal life experience.During the meal, he listened casually to my conversation.After the meal he asked for two glasses of brandy, and only then did he reveal the purpose of his dinner. "I want to ask you, Peter, what do you think of the situation in my department, from a technical point of view?" I was mentally prepared for his question, and decided to take this opportunity to explain what was in my heart. "It won't do much unless you take a problem-solving scientist and let him work." I paused as the brandy arrived, then continued, "You've got to give him access to the case staff to help them plan and analyze what's going on." Cumming raised his glass and gently swirled the wine in the glass. "Yes," he agreed, "we'd like to do it too, but it's hard to find the right man, and Jones would love to do it, but if we let him in, he'll be claiming the power the next day .” I agree with him. For a while, I hinted at one point to Winterborn that I would be interested in joining MI5 formally if there was a suitable vacancy in the Bureau. I asked Cumming, "I think he told you I was interested in trying?" "Ah, that's the question, Peter," he answered. "We have an aboveboard agreement with Whitehall not to poach each other, and we cannot get you over from the Navy, even if you voluntarily." Cumming raised the wine glass in his hand and drank it down. He continued: "Of course, if you leave the Admiralty, things are different..." Good cumming, he wants me to take the initiative.I raised the issue of my pension at the Admiralty.If I leave the Admiralty, all my fourteen years' pension will be forfeited.I cannot, like Cumming, live on private income.Cumming flicked the rim of his brandy glass lightly, with a look of wonder on his face, as if I shouldn't have asked the question. "I think you are also very clear that this is an extremely rare opportunity for you, Peter." He said. He paused, turning the conversation to a topic of interest to him. "We are not civil servants of the administrative agency. You can only be prepared to trust us. The funds in our business are allocated secretly. In this case, we cannot write a written guarantee. But I can guarantee one thing, if you have any difficulties in the future , we will make some kind of arrangement, we can’t just watch our people suffer, you know that.” After lunch, we walked out of the elegant and gorgeous "I.O. Club" with the aroma of wine, and walked to the bright Piccadilly Avenue. "Remember to let me know if you decide to leave the Admiralty, will you, Peter?" Cumming said. "I'll ask the Heads of Departments to take care of me then." We shook hands and he turned and strode toward Leconfield House, the umbrella still tucked under his arm. Cumming's invitation to join MI5 came at a perfect time.The anti-submarine project is almost coming to an end.The Admiralty was anxious to place me in my new post at Portsmouth, and I had no interest in new duties.At the same time, the Marconi Company signed a contract with the British Electric Company to cooperate in the "Blue Ribbon Project" research.Eric Eastwood, deputy director of the Marconi Laboratories, told me to work on the orientation system for Project Blue Ribbon.In less than a month, I quit my job in the Admiralty and joined Marconi Company as a senior chief engineer of the company. I found myself incapacitated in missile research, partly because I was eager to join MI5.But I am not the only one who thinks that the missile system cannot be done. Building a missile system is simply a stupid thing, and it is a portrayal of the British self-deception.Either way, this science ends up having only negative implications.So why spend your life developing a weapon that you hope and pray you'll never use? I called Cumming and told him I had left the Admiralty to wait for his move.Half a year later, I was invited to dinner again. He was very hospitable, but not as generous as last time.He cut to the chase and said to me: "I've discussed your proposal with the committee and you're welcome. But if you come in as a scientist we'll run into trouble from Whitehall because we don't have a precedent for that and it complicates things, so , we suggest you come in as an ordinary official and try to play to your strengths." I clearly expressed my dissatisfaction with Cumming's proposal.As far as I understand, because of this difference he will pay me on an ordinary officer's salary instead of my present senior scientist's salary, which will save me £500 a year.There was also a matter of principle, which my father brought up when I was discussing joining MI5. He said to me, "Don't go unless they make you a scientist. If you give in, you'll never work as a scientist, and before you realize what's going on, you'll be a scientist." Ordinary investigators." Cumming was surprised by my refusal, but he didn't try to convince me any more.He got up quickly and said goodbye, claiming he had an urgent appointment at Leconfield Hall. A month later, in my lab in Great Baddard, I was told to go to Kemp's office.Cumming and Winterborn were sitting there.Winterborn was all smiles. "Ah, Peter," Kemp said, "looks like I can't keep you at last. Malcolm wants you to be MI5's Chief Scientist." Winterborn later told me that Cumming had been to Kemp's and asked how much he would pay me to have me.Kemp knew how extreme Cumming would go to save the government a few pounds.So he replied, "A fair wage. If I went, I would ask for that too." Cumming told me, "Of course, there's committee approval, but that's just a formality." I shook hands with everyone in this room and went back to my lab, ready for a new life.