The Yalta Incident

By Patrick Mitchell

Three friends head off on holiday to the Soviet Union at the height of the Cold War. To their great surprise, the chief of MI6 asks them to contact a space scientist in Yalta while they are there.

After the recent defections by British agents, notably Kim Philby and George Blake, no Western espionage personnel remain active in Soviet terri

• Language: English
• Publisher: 2QT Limited (Publishing)
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781914083594

Patrick Mitchell

Patrick Mitchell is the author of Santa Ana River Guide: From Crest to Coast. He has been a museum natural history director, ranch manager, resort landscapes director, park naturalist, herb farmer and field ecologist.

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Prologue

Special Message to the Congress on Urgent National Needs President John F. Kennedy

Delivered in person before a joint session of Congress May 25, 1961 Excerpt of Section IX: Space

… Finally, if we are to win the battle that is now going on around the world between freedom and tyranny, the dramatic achievements in space which occurred in recent weeks should have made clear to us all, as did the Sputnik in 1957, the impact of this adventure on the minds of men everywhere, who are attempting to make a determination of which road they should take. Since early in my term, our efforts in space have been under review. With the advice of the Vice President, who is Chairman of the National Space Council, we have examined where we are strong and where we are not, where we may succeed and where we may not. Now it is time to take longer strides—time for a great new American enterprise—time for this nation to take a clearly leading role in space achievement, which in many ways may hold the key to our future on earth.

I believe we possess all the resources and talents necessary. But the facts of the matter are that we have never made the national decisions or marshaled the national resources required for such leadership. We have never specified long-range goals on an urgent time schedule, or managed our resources and our time so as to insure their fulfillment.

Recognizing the head start obtained by the Soviets with their large rocket engines, which gives them many months of lead-time, and recognizing the likelihood that they will exploit this lead for some time to come in still more impressive successes, we nevertheless are required to make new efforts on our own. For while we cannot guarantee that we shall one day be first, we can guarantee that any failure to make this effort will make us last. We take an additional risk by making it in full view of the world, but as shown by the feat of astronaut Shepard, this very risk enhances our stature when we are successful. But this is not merely a race. Space is open to us now; and our eagerness to share its meaning is not governed by the efforts of others. We go into space because whatever mankind must undertake, free men must fully share.

I therefore ask the Congress, above and beyond the increases I have earlier requested for space activities, to provide the funds which are needed to meet the following national goals:

First, I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth. No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish. We propose to accelerate the development of the appropriate lunar space craft. We propose to develop alternate liquid and solid fuel boosters, much larger than any now being developed, until certain which is superior. We propose additional funds for other engine development and for unmanned explorations—explorations which are particularly important for one purpose which this nation will never overlook: the survival of the man who first makes this daring flight. But in a very real sense, it will not be one man going to the moon—if we make this judgment affirmatively, it will be an entire nation. For all of us must work to put him there.

…I believe we should go to the moon. But I think every citizen of this country as well as the Members of the Congress should consider the matter carefully in making their judgment, to which we have given attention over many weeks and months, because it is a heavy burden, and there is no sense in agreeing or desiring that the United States take an affirmative position in outer space, unless we are prepared to do the work and bear the burdens to make it successful. If we are not, we should decide today and this year.

This decision demands a major national commitment of scientific and technical manpower, materiel and facilities, and the possibility of their diversion from other important activities where they are already thinly spread. It means a degree of dedication, organization and discipline which have not always characterized our research and development efforts. It means we cannot afford undue work stoppages, inflated costs of material or talent, wasteful interagency rivalries, or a high turnover of key personnel.

1

A Problem

The chief of MI6, Sir Richard Temple, was in a pensive mood as he left Number 10 Downing Street and made his way to his office in Birdcage Walk. He walked through St James’s Park, not in his customary brisk style, but slowly, deep in thought after his weekly meeting with the prime minister. He did not hear the quacking of the ducks nor the roar of the traffic down The Mall. He was preoccupied with one of the most intriguing and important problems of his career.

Usually, his Tuesday appointment with the prime minister was over within half an hour. His briefing papers had been sent on the day before. He would then answer any queries raised during the meeting, give the latest intelligence reports on the major projects, enjoy an excellent cup of Brazilian coffee and some light-hearted political gossip with his master, then leave.

But today had been very different. When he entered the prime minister’s private study, he had been surprised to find another person present. This was most unusual. Even the prime minister’s personal secretary was not allowed to stay in the room when he met with the head of British Intelligence.

‘Good morning, Sir Richard,’ said the prime minister as he extended his hand to greet him. ‘Let me introduce you to Strobe Delaney, the American ambassador. I am afraid we have a problem.’

Sir Richard shook the big, warm hand of the tall Texan, who he had met once before about five years earlier while he had been working with the CIA in Washington during the Cuban missile crisis in 1962. Delaney had that rare gift of having been trusted by the charismatic President Kennedy and his successor, President Johnson. Kennedy had soon recognised his potential and had quickly promoted him to be his chief presidential advisor on external security, which entailed liaising with the CIA on highly classified material.

After the traumatic assassination of the president he was kept on by Johnson, who wished to ensure continuity of security policy but felt he could not trust many of the old Kennedy clan, who viewed the new president as a dull usurper of their former Camelot. The Texan Johnson knew he could rely on the Texan Delaney, and he was not disappointed.

With presidential patronage and his own exceptional qualities, Delaney’s career took off. He held a succession of key posts in both the White House and the State Department until early in 1967 when he was appointed as the US ambassador to the Court of St James. The growing problem of Vietnam was producing unprecedented anti-American feeling among the populations of normally friendly countries. The president wanted his own man in London to keep an eye on Europe and to strengthen the special relationship with America’s oldest ally.

The three men sat in comfortable chairs around a small low table, on which was placed a jug of piping hot coffee, three cups and saucers and a plate of light, thin biscuits. The prime minister poured out the coffee then turned to Sir Richard and said,

‘The president has asked Mr Delaney to explain to me a major problem, which could have a profound effect on the credibility of the United States and its leadership of the Western Alliance. He has also asked for our help in resolving it. I thought it appropriate that the ambassador should also brief you on the details. Hence this meeting.’

During the next half hour Strobe Delaney outlined in his slow Texan drawl what had happened, what could happen, what was needed, and why British intelligence was vital in helping to resolve the problem. He explained that the United States had made good progress in developing their Moon project but had encountered major problems with rocket technology. The Soviets were ahead in this particular field, as their Soyuz space programme had demonstrated.

The ambassador confirmed that they had no agents behind the Iron Curtain, due to recent defections and captures. The president would welcome the help of the British government in obtaining through its espionage network any information it could on Soviet rockets. He spoke without interruption, stopping only occasionally to sip his coffee, and murmuring, ‘Damn good coffee,’ before continuing with his sombre explanations.

When he had finished, the prime minister and Sir Richard remained silent for a short while as if overcome with the enormity of it all. The prime minister then broke the silence and assured the ambassador that everything possible would be done to assist in this matter. He would personally speak to the president later that day. Delaney then stood up, thanked the prime minister, wished Sir Richard the best of luck, and was shown out by a Downing Street official who had been summoned to the room by telephone. The prime minister and the chief of security were then left alone.

‘Well, Richard, this is going to be a hard nut to crack, particularly with the loss of so many of our agents in Soviet territory due to Blake’s defection last year. If Dante is caught before mid September it will be an unmitigated disaster. This is our worst crisis since Khrushchev installed his nuclear missiles in Cuba. Do we have any agents in the field who are currently unknown to the Soviets?’

‘No, Prime Minister.’

‘How long does it take before an officer is ready for active duty?’

‘At a minimum, between four to six months, but it usually takes at least a year before an officer is fully trained and operational, physically and psychologically.’

‘You haven’t got a year, or even four months. You have less than two. Failure is not an option. You have my complete authority to deal with this crisis as you think fit. However, I must agree your final plan before it is given the go-ahead. Please report back to me on Saturday morning with a coherent strategy.’

‘Yes, sir, I’ll do my best.’

By the time Sir Richard had arrived at Birdcage Walk, he knew he had to make two telephone calls. His personal executive assistant, Jennifer Ashworth, met him at his office door with an armful of files, all marked Urgent or Important. She was a little irritated by his late arrival, since she took pride in managing her boss through an exacting schedule.

‘Put those files back in your office, Jennifer,’ said Sir Richard, ‘then get me the Foreign Secretary and the Home Secretary on the phone, Code Red.’

The top-secret red code told Jennifer she would have a long day – and night.

2

Tom Gillespie

The mild summer sea breeze blew in across Aberdeen Harb-our, carrying with it the pungent smell of the morning’s fish landings, which were by now long past their best. The auctions had taken place about three hours ago, and the discarded remnants were left to rot – much to the delight of the shrieking gulls.

The big Russian trawler was tied up by the quayside like a beached whale, gently swaying in the swell of the harbour. There was nobody on deck except a short, squat man with what looked like a long black sausage in his hand – which he occasionally bit into, chewed, then spat out towards the circling seagulls. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and grimaced a smile when a gull caught the titbit before it hit the ground.

‘It won’t be long before I visit his country,’ Tom Gillespie, a junior officer in HM Customs and Excise, said to himself as he strolled round the harbour during his lunch break. The meeting with his boss, the controller of Customs and Excise, Scotland East, was at 2 p.m. Usually, such meetings did not take long: a general review of job performance followed by a routine warning about going to Communist countries, then a pint in the Copper Kettle pub if the boss had the time or the inclination.

However, Tom was not looking forward to this meeting. Robert Macalister was only recently appointed from London headquarters, and he had a reputation for discipline, insistence on the minutiae of departmental regulations