I was serving in our embassy in Turkey in 1945. First secretary. In those days we used to move from Ankara in the summer and go down to Istanbul and work from the old consulate building, a lovely place. One morning this Russian walks into reception looking very nervous and asks to see the acting consul-general, Chantry Page. The Russian is Konstantin Volkov, Page's opposite number in the Soviet embassy. I'd done my Russian exams so I get the job as interpreter.

Anyway, it turns out that Volkov is really an NKVD officer and he has decided to defect. He says he wants a laissez-passer for himself and his wife to Cyprus and £27,500. In return he is offering the real names of three Soviet agents working in Britain. He says two of them are working in the Foreign Office, one the head of a counter-espionage organization in London. There was some other stuff as well - addresses of NKVD buildings in Moscow, the burglar alarm systems, key impressions, guard schedules, a list of Soviet agents in Turkey. He'd obviously been preparing for his defection for some time.

Konstantin Volkov, an NKVD officer attached to the Soviet Consulate General in Istanbul, had in August approached the British Vice-Consul to ask for political asylum for himself and his wife. Among the secrets he promised to bring over in return were the names of three Soviet agents working in Britain: two, he claimed, were in the Foreign Office, and the third was head of a counter-espionage section in London. When Volkov's cry for help reached London it was natural that "C" should hand this top-secret case to his anti-Soviet expert for immediate action.

There in the papers on his desk Kim saw destruction staring him in the face. His only hope of salvation was to tell the Russians as soon as possible of this mortal threat to himself and make sure they had enough time to deal with Volkov. He was lucky. Volkov, alleging that the Russians could read some British ciphers, had pleaded that all communications about him should go to London by bag. As a result a full week passed before Kim learned of his approach to the Vice-Consul. There were to be more delays. It took three days for "C" to dispatch Kim to Istanbul via Cairo to handle the case on the spot, and another twenty-four hours were lost when bad weather diverted Kim's aircraft to Tunis. As a result he arrived in Cairo too late to catch the onward plane to Istanbul, and another day was wasted. In Istanbul itself a further day went by because the British Minister wanted to consult his ambassador in Ankara before authorizing action. As it happened, the Ambassador, Sir Maurice Peterson, had known Kim in Spain during the civil war and invited him aboard his yacht on the Bosphorus. Only there was he given the go-ahead to contact Volkov, but by this time there was no Volkov for him to meet: the Russians had spirited him away.

A certain Konstantin Volkov, a Vice-Consul attached to the Soviet Consulate-General in Istanbul, had approached a Mr. Page, his opposite number in the British Consulate-General, and asked for asylum in Britain for himself and his wife. He claimed that, although nominally a Vice-Consul, he was in fact an officer of the NKVD. He said that his wife was in a deplorably nervous state, and Page remarked that Volkov himself was less than rock-steady. In support of his request for asylum, Volkov promised to reveal details of the headquarters of the NKVD, in which apparently he had worked for many years. He also offered details of Soviet networks and agents operating abroad. Inter alia, he claimed to know the real names of three Soviet agents working in Britain. Two of them were in the Foreign Office; one was head of a counter-espionage organization in London. Having delivered himself of his shopping list, he stipulated with the greatest vehemence that no mention of his approach should be relayed to London by telegram, on the grounds that the Russians had broken a variety of British cyphers. The rest of the papers were of little interest, representing only off-the-cuff comments by various members of the Embassy, some of them quite flippant in tone. What proved to be of some importance later was that the Embassy had respected Volkov's stipulation about communications, and had sent the papers home, securely but slowly, by bag. Thus it was over a week after Volkov's approach to Page that the material was examined by anyone competent to assess its importance.

That "anyone" was myself; and the reader will not reproach me with boasting when I claim that I was indeed competent to assess the importance of the material. Two Soviet agents in the Foreign Office, one head of a counter-espionage organization in London! I stared at the papers rather longer than necessary to compose my thoughts. I rejected the idea of suggesting caution in case Volkov's approach should prove to be a provocation. It would be useless in the short run, and might possibly compromise me at a later date. The only course was to put a bold face on it. I told the Chief that I thought we were on to something of the greatest importance. I would like a little time to dig into the background and, in the light of any further information on the subject, to make appropriate recommendations for action. The Chief acquiesced, instructing me to report first thing next morning and, in the meanwhile, to keep the papers strictly to myself.

I took the papers back to my office, telling my secretary that I was not to be disturbed, unless the Chief himself called. I very much wanted to be alone. My request for a little time "to dig into the background" had been eyewash. I was pretty certain that we had never heard of Volkov; and he, presumably to enhance his value to us, had framed his shopping list in such vague terms that it offered no leads for immediate investigation. Still, I had much food for thought. From the first, it seemed to me that the time factor was vital. Owing to Volkov's veto on telegraphic communications, the case had taken ten days to reach me. Personally, I thought that his fears were exaggerated. Our cyphers were based on the one-time pad system, which is supposed to be foolproof, if properly used; and our cypher discipline was strict. Yet, if Volkov so wished, I had no objection to ruling out swift communication.

Another train of thought soon claimed my attention. The case was of such delicacy that the Chief had insisted on my handling it myself. But, once the decisions had been taken in London, all action would devolve on our people in Istanbul. It would be impossible for me, with slow-bag communications, to direct their day-today, hour-to-hour actions. The case would escape my control, with unpredictable results. The more I thought, the more convinced I became that I should go to Istanbul myself, to implement the course of action that I was to recommend to the Chief. The action itself required little thought. It involved meeting Volkov, bedding him down with his wife in one of our safe houses in Istanbul, and spiriting him away, with or without the connivance of the Turks, to British-occupied territory in Egypt. By the time I put the papers in my personal safe and left Broadway, I had decided that my main be that he should instruct me to go to Istanbul to continue handling the case on the spot. That evening, I worked late. The situation seemed to call for urgent action of an extra-curricular nature.

Next morning, I reported to the Chief that, although we had several Volkovs on file, none of them matched our man in Istanbul. I repeated my view that the case was of great potential importance. Dwelling on the delays involved in communication by bag, I recommended, rather diffidently, that someone fully briefed should be sent out from London to take charge of the case on the spot. "Just what I was thinking myself," replied the Chief. But having raised my hopes, he promptly dashed them. The previous evening, he said, he had met Brigadier Douglas Roberts in clubland. Roberts was then head of Security Intelligence (Middle East), MI5's regional organization based in Cairo. He was enjoying the fag-end of a spell of home leave. The Chief had been well impressed by him, and his intention, so he told me, was to ask Sir David Petrie, the head of M15, to send Roberts straight out to Istanbul to take charge of the Volkov case.