Finally, the much-delayed update.
Sir Ian Fleming, DSO, with the core members of the Special Section, with Leiter second from the right, second row, 1938
December 25th, 1938 0:23 AM
NID Special Section HQ
Leiter was still somewhat groggy, but after Fleming had made a steaming cup of Coffee he began to lighten up. When he was at least partially human again he asked Fleming: “Now what in the name of the proverbial hell do you want?” Fleming smashed a file onto the table in front of Leiter. “Somewhere in the files we already worked through I've come across Philby's name. As much as I'd like to go to the Admiral at once we have no proof!” “So we are sifting through all these files AGAIN because of one of your hunches and on Boxing Day no less?” “Well, your folks are all in Canada and mine don't await me until this afternoon anyway, so with whom should we share this delightful morning anyway?” Both men paused after this, each for his own reason, before they wordlessly resumed their work. They worked silently for several hours, with only occasional breaks to go to Fleming's Russian Samowar for tea or to relieve themselves. Once in a while one would halt as if he had found something before resuming his work. But then, at about 3:56 AM Leiter found it. “Bloody hell, you were right! He is in here!” Leiter rushed over to Fleming's table and showed him the file. “Litzi Friedman, married to H.A.R. Philby in 1936, immigrated to the UK that same year, divorced early 1937, currently living in Newcastle.” He paused and looked at Fleming. “So what are we going to do now, Ian? Go to the Admiral? This seems to be more than a coincidence for me.” Fleming shook his head. “No, Philby is politically connected. The Admiral would have my head if he knew we where investigating him, and anyway, so far we have nothing more than two low-ish NID Officers acting on a hunch. We need proof, but that's hard to get without the German records in Vienna.” Disappointed Leiter sat back down. “If it is as you say,” he said, “then we can't even have him shadowed. He would either smell the tails or be warned by friends within MI6.” Fleming poured himself yet another cup of tea and leaned back in his chair, theorizing loudly. “What if we simply tell them that we have suspicions that someone might be infiltrating MI6 but that we can't tell him who or how as we don't know how far it is going so far and that maybe even the NID is compromised? Na, that wouldn't work....” He trailed off and both went back to the brooding that had taken over. “What if,” Felix said after some time “what if we tell the Admiral that we are investigating a possible leak within the NID and MI6 and that we can't risk telling him because we don't know yet how deep the penetration runs? He will either understand and let us run with it or tear our head of for going from our original objective and/or not telling him who we suspect.” Fleming shook his head. “He'd still want proof that we can't offer.” He then had a splendid idea. “He worked for NID right? Once everyone is back at work I will call in a favour and have a look at his file under the pretext of recruiting him for our section, maybe we'll find something there.” Leiter caught on. “And if we do we might have enough to go to the Admiral and start asking questions?” “Fleming simply nodded.
“Bloody hell, this business is driving me crazy.” Ian said after a while and slammed his fist on the table in frustration. Yet they were forced to agree that it was the only viable course of action. The Rear Admiral was known for giving his people considerable leniency as long as they got the job done and Ian intended to make use of that. Felix might not have the same gut feeling Ian had, but he had learned to trust the Commander's instincts. “So when do we go to records?” he asked Ian. “Not before the day after tomorrow. All our folks are at home with their folks anyway, and I don't want to darken his mood by disturbing him today of all days.” Felix nodded and said: “Righto, Commander. So, what do we do now?” “I am going to go to my Parents to meet them for the Christmas dinner, and you, Sir are coming with me.” When Felix, honoured by the 'invitation' nonetheless opened his mouth to protest Fleming cut him of and said with his 'CO' voice: “Do I have to make it an order Leftenant?” Felix saw at once that his friend was only joking. “Well, Sir, it seems I shant be given a choice. Lead on, Commander.” he said with a fake upper-class accent and mock-saluted. Ian nodded with a grin and led Felix out to the car.
"Kim" Philby, MI5 file photograph of his later years
December 27th, Naval Records, NID Section
Lieutenant Commander Ian Fleming was walking briskly through the corridors of the building in search of a certain lady that still owed him one. When he looked into one office he could see her typing down some sort of report without even watching the door. He moved in and after a few minutes of muted discussion and 'squabbles' walked back out with a certain personnel file under his right arm and a pipe in the corner of his mouth, as of yet unlit but already stuffed with the finest tobacco the Empire could produce relieved of several pounds for chocolates and a meal at the Savoy. In spite of the expenses the meet had been successful and the fact that he could have simply ordered the WREN to hand over the files he was in a good mood, as he was finally getting to do the work because of which he had been re-commissioned in the first place. Outside Leiter was waiting for him in the Austin. “I see you obtained what we came here for. What did it cost you?” Making a dismissive gesture Fleming grumbled something about 'closing the eyes and thinking of England' before directing Leiter to drive to the 'Fusilier's Grove', the pub close to the Section HQ where they usually took their lunch and evening Beer. On the way there they discussed everything from Football, that Leiter insisted on calling 'soccer' to the new Spitfire squadron training from Croydon.
Three hours later they were sated with both beer and food and were driving the few hundred yards back to HQ with the secure knowledge in their minds that they had enough to approach the Rear Admiral tomorrow. All their plans were however trashed when they entered the building and the clearly audible voice of Rear Admiral Edwards could be heard. “What in the blazes are you doing with secret personnel files of the NIS? Why is it that a Wren calls me in tears and admits that you practically coaxed her into handing them over?” Recovering first Fleming answered with a slight tremble in his voice: “Sir, we have found some discrepancies with the subject of said file.” He offered Philby's file to the Admiral who grabbed it, skimmed over the first page and then yelled at the two officers. “What in the name of Nelson's grave have you been thinking? Bloody hell, do you two have any idea what will happen if Whitehall gets as much as a wif about this?” Fleming saw an opening and seized the opportunity. “That, Sir, is why we acted in this rather clandestine manner. Had we gone right to MI6 without the proof we have now we would have been laughed out of the building, and that would have been rather counter productive for the matter.” The Rear Admiral saw the reason behind this and grudgingly said: “Well then, what is this proof of yours?” Fleming inwardly yelled with relief but simply started to explain what had happened since the party at the Admiralty. Concluding after a few minutes he said: “Simply put Admiral, it was enough to pike our interest and had you not decided to visit is unannounced we would have visited you tomorrow at the latest. All we want is to be allowed to at least shadow Mr. Philby. If he really is some sort of Spy then he will compromise himself sooner or later, especially if he does not know that the NID is suspecting him, and that is why we would like to circumvent MI5 for the time being and...” “Who knows who else might be in on it and so on.” the Admiral interrupted. “Say, Mr. Fleming, are you sure that what you have showed me warrants further investigation?” After receiving an affirmative the Admiral continued. “As much as I hate to admit it so am I. It is disgusting to believe, but if Ivan or Jerry has actually managed to penetrate then it is a matter of the gravest concern. And if they have managed to penetrate this deep it is also most embarrassing.” He nodded and proceeded to light his own pipe. “Gentlemen, as of now the Special Section is temporarily re-tasked with investigating this. But Gentlemen, I'm sure I don't have to order you to tread carefully.” “No Sir.” the two other Officers in the room answered.
[Game Effects: I've taken considerable liberty with Mr. Fleming's family. Call it creative licence.]
Chapter 39
Sir Ian Fleming, DSO, with the core members of the Special Section, with Leiter second from the right, second row, 1938
December 25th, 1938 0:23 AM
NID Special Section HQ
Leiter was still somewhat groggy, but after Fleming had made a steaming cup of Coffee he began to lighten up. When he was at least partially human again he asked Fleming: “Now what in the name of the proverbial hell do you want?” Fleming smashed a file onto the table in front of Leiter. “Somewhere in the files we already worked through I've come across Philby's name. As much as I'd like to go to the Admiral at once we have no proof!” “So we are sifting through all these files AGAIN because of one of your hunches and on Boxing Day no less?” “Well, your folks are all in Canada and mine don't await me until this afternoon anyway, so with whom should we share this delightful morning anyway?” Both men paused after this, each for his own reason, before they wordlessly resumed their work. They worked silently for several hours, with only occasional breaks to go to Fleming's Russian Samowar for tea or to relieve themselves. Once in a while one would halt as if he had found something before resuming his work. But then, at about 3:56 AM Leiter found it. “Bloody hell, you were right! He is in here!” Leiter rushed over to Fleming's table and showed him the file. “Litzi Friedman, married to H.A.R. Philby in 1936, immigrated to the UK that same year, divorced early 1937, currently living in Newcastle.” He paused and looked at Fleming. “So what are we going to do now, Ian? Go to the Admiral? This seems to be more than a coincidence for me.” Fleming shook his head. “No, Philby is politically connected. The Admiral would have my head if he knew we where investigating him, and anyway, so far we have nothing more than two low-ish NID Officers acting on a hunch. We need proof, but that's hard to get without the German records in Vienna.” Disappointed Leiter sat back down. “If it is as you say,” he said, “then we can't even have him shadowed. He would either smell the tails or be warned by friends within MI6.” Fleming poured himself yet another cup of tea and leaned back in his chair, theorizing loudly. “What if we simply tell them that we have suspicions that someone might be infiltrating MI6 but that we can't tell him who or how as we don't know how far it is going so far and that maybe even the NID is compromised? Na, that wouldn't work....” He trailed off and both went back to the brooding that had taken over. “What if,” Felix said after some time “what if we tell the Admiral that we are investigating a possible leak within the NID and MI6 and that we can't risk telling him because we don't know yet how deep the penetration runs? He will either understand and let us run with it or tear our head of for going from our original objective and/or not telling him who we suspect.” Fleming shook his head. “He'd still want proof that we can't offer.” He then had a splendid idea. “He worked for NID right? Once everyone is back at work I will call in a favour and have a look at his file under the pretext of recruiting him for our section, maybe we'll find something there.” Leiter caught on. “And if we do we might have enough to go to the Admiral and start asking questions?” “Fleming simply nodded.
“Bloody hell, this business is driving me crazy.” Ian said after a while and slammed his fist on the table in frustration. Yet they were forced to agree that it was the only viable course of action. The Rear Admiral was known for giving his people considerable leniency as long as they got the job done and Ian intended to make use of that. Felix might not have the same gut feeling Ian had, but he had learned to trust the Commander's instincts. “So when do we go to records?” he asked Ian. “Not before the day after tomorrow. All our folks are at home with their folks anyway, and I don't want to darken his mood by disturbing him today of all days.” Felix nodded and said: “Righto, Commander. So, what do we do now?” “I am going to go to my Parents to meet them for the Christmas dinner, and you, Sir are coming with me.” When Felix, honoured by the 'invitation' nonetheless opened his mouth to protest Fleming cut him of and said with his 'CO' voice: “Do I have to make it an order Leftenant?” Felix saw at once that his friend was only joking. “Well, Sir, it seems I shant be given a choice. Lead on, Commander.” he said with a fake upper-class accent and mock-saluted. Ian nodded with a grin and led Felix out to the car.
"Kim" Philby, MI5 file photograph of his later years
December 27th, Naval Records, NID Section
Lieutenant Commander Ian Fleming was walking briskly through the corridors of the building in search of a certain lady that still owed him one. When he looked into one office he could see her typing down some sort of report without even watching the door. He moved in and after a few minutes of muted discussion and 'squabbles' walked back out with a certain personnel file under his right arm and a pipe in the corner of his mouth, as of yet unlit but already stuffed with the finest tobacco the Empire could produce relieved of several pounds for chocolates and a meal at the Savoy. In spite of the expenses the meet had been successful and the fact that he could have simply ordered the WREN to hand over the files he was in a good mood, as he was finally getting to do the work because of which he had been re-commissioned in the first place. Outside Leiter was waiting for him in the Austin. “I see you obtained what we came here for. What did it cost you?” Making a dismissive gesture Fleming grumbled something about 'closing the eyes and thinking of England' before directing Leiter to drive to the 'Fusilier's Grove', the pub close to the Section HQ where they usually took their lunch and evening Beer. On the way there they discussed everything from Football, that Leiter insisted on calling 'soccer' to the new Spitfire squadron training from Croydon.
Three hours later they were sated with both beer and food and were driving the few hundred yards back to HQ with the secure knowledge in their minds that they had enough to approach the Rear Admiral tomorrow. All their plans were however trashed when they entered the building and the clearly audible voice of Rear Admiral Edwards could be heard. “What in the blazes are you doing with secret personnel files of the NIS? Why is it that a Wren calls me in tears and admits that you practically coaxed her into handing them over?” Recovering first Fleming answered with a slight tremble in his voice: “Sir, we have found some discrepancies with the subject of said file.” He offered Philby's file to the Admiral who grabbed it, skimmed over the first page and then yelled at the two officers. “What in the name of Nelson's grave have you been thinking? Bloody hell, do you two have any idea what will happen if Whitehall gets as much as a wif about this?” Fleming saw an opening and seized the opportunity. “That, Sir, is why we acted in this rather clandestine manner. Had we gone right to MI6 without the proof we have now we would have been laughed out of the building, and that would have been rather counter productive for the matter.” The Rear Admiral saw the reason behind this and grudgingly said: “Well then, what is this proof of yours?” Fleming inwardly yelled with relief but simply started to explain what had happened since the party at the Admiralty. Concluding after a few minutes he said: “Simply put Admiral, it was enough to pike our interest and had you not decided to visit is unannounced we would have visited you tomorrow at the latest. All we want is to be allowed to at least shadow Mr. Philby. If he really is some sort of Spy then he will compromise himself sooner or later, especially if he does not know that the NID is suspecting him, and that is why we would like to circumvent MI5 for the time being and...” “Who knows who else might be in on it and so on.” the Admiral interrupted. “Say, Mr. Fleming, are you sure that what you have showed me warrants further investigation?” After receiving an affirmative the Admiral continued. “As much as I hate to admit it so am I. It is disgusting to believe, but if Ivan or Jerry has actually managed to penetrate then it is a matter of the gravest concern. And if they have managed to penetrate this deep it is also most embarrassing.” He nodded and proceeded to light his own pipe. “Gentlemen, as of now the Special Section is temporarily re-tasked with investigating this. But Gentlemen, I'm sure I don't have to order you to tread carefully.” “No Sir.” the two other Officers in the room answered.
[Game Effects: I've taken considerable liberty with Mr. Fleming's family. Call it creative licence.]