I spy Christmas

Karen Neville

Michael Smith

Author and journalist Michael Smith introduces us to a Danish naval officer who was content with very ‘conventional’ inducements for passing on secrets

Trying to find a spy appropriate to the season, I thought it might be a good moment to write about the first agent ever run by MI6. Captain Walter Christmas, a former Danish naval officer who travelled in and out of Germany to collect intelligence on what the German navy was doing. MI6, then known as the foreign section of the Secret Service Bureau, was set up in 1909, amid fears of a German invasion. Its first boss was Mansfield Cumming, who was known only by the initial letter of his surname, C, which is still used by heads of MI6 today as an abbreviation for Chief.

Christmas was designated WK, perhaps because it was mistakenly assumed that his name began with a K, or that using the initials WC would lead to his reports being ridiculed in Whitehill. The first time Christmas met Cumming he stressed how keen he was to spy for MI6 having “always looked upon myself as at least half English”. Cumming concluded in his diary that Christmas “seemed straightforward”.

The Dane was in fact very straightforward indeed. He was willing to spy for what were already the standard inducements of sex and cash and went on to provide Cumming with a regular supply of the Danish navy’s ship-watching reports of German vessels passing through the channels joining the North Sea to the Baltic. As well as reports on new German equipment obtained by visits to the naval dockyards in Kiel, Hamburg and Breman. The 48-year-old insisted that the go-between who collected his intelligence should always be a ‘pretty’ young woman who was to meet him in a hotel in Skagen, the town at the northernmost tip of Denmark. The women concerned were prostitutes procured and paid for the purpose. The close links between what are alleged to be the world’s two oldest professions were to be repeated persistently throughout the Service’s early history. Sex and money often represented far better inducements to spy than Patriotic or moral beliefs.

When a few years later, the Germans got too close to Christmas and Cumming had to have him exfiltrated to London, he was lodged in the notorious Shepherd Market area of Mayfair, where there were plenty of pretty young women, all pursuing the same business as the go-betweens who used to collect his intelligence from the Skagen hotel.

But that was not his last job for MI6, Christmas was a close personal friend of King Constantine. So in an early form of the ‘parallel diplomacy’ practised by MI6 in a number of different situations over the years, most notably at the start of the Northern Ireland peace process, Cumming sent him to Athens, in the hope that he might persuade Constantine that Greece should join the war against Germany. Compton Mackenzie, then the MI6 man in Greece, seemingly unaware that Christmas was operating under the direction of his bosses in London, was furious at this intervention on his patch by “this irresponsible old man of the sea” and stymied the operation.

Frank Stagg, a senior MI6 officer, recalled that what Christmas had to say about Mackenzie on his return to Whitehall Court was “unrepeatable”. Stagg decided to take Christmas out as recompense for Mackenzie’s behaviour. “I took that most lovable man to the Hippodrome where Fay Compton was singing a song in which the last line of each verse was ‘I’ll take a little more off’. Christmas was getting more and more excited and clapping roundly. When at the height of his enthusiasm, I asked him if he knew she was Compton Mackenzie’s sister, he looked tragic and said, ‘I’ll take back everything I said about him. If only I had known he had a sister so lovely I should have made friends with him instead’.” 

Christmas was not only the first MI6 agent, he was the first of a long line of officers and agents to venture into spy fiction, a tradition that included Mackenzie himself and many  others, most famously John le Carre. Christmas wrote the first spy novel by an MI6 agent ̶   Svend Spejder (Svend the Scout), in which a young boy hunts down German spies in Denmark ̶   in 1911, relatively early in his MI6 career. 

Michael Smith’s spy novel, Ritter: No Man Dies Twice is published by Safe House books. 


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Could you be James Bond?

Karen Neville

Michael Smith

James Bond fantasies can easily unravel as Michael Smith reveals in his latest account of spies and secret lives

The popular image of a spy as epitomised by James Bond all too often leads people to imagine they can be spies.

FBI Special Agent Richard Miller was supposedly a professional paid to look for spies, but he was 48, seriously overweight and widely expected to be fired for a series of lapses that included leaving the keys in the door of the FBI offices overnight. He did have one potential asset.

Svetlana Ogorodnikova, a slim, pretty, blonde Russian, had emigrated to the US in the early 1970s hoping to become a Hollywood actress. She was all too happy to play a Mata Hari role by helping Miller to recruit the KGB man as his own agent, and turn himself into a hero, a top spy.

The KGB officers in San Francisco were rightly suspicious and rejected the approach. But their bosses in Moscow ordered them to go ahead. When the KGB said yes, Miller and Ogorodnikova celebrated and ended up making love. “It was just something that happened,” Miller said. “She was a very attractive woman. It just sort of came with the territory. I had a James Bond kind of fantasy.”

But the fantasy was spiralling out of control. The KGB sent Ogorodnikova to Moscow to be briefed on what to do and it was agreed that Miller would be paid $50,000 in return for handling over anything the KGB wanted. Ogorodnikova took Miller to the Consulate-General for a meeting with the KGB boss, but the normally teetotal FBI officer was so nervous that he had a few drinks to calm his nerves and became very drunk. He got out of the car in the full view of the FBI surveillance team watching the building, who photographed him with Ogorodnikova and soon identified him.

The FBI set up a surveillance operation against them Operation Whipworm – she was Whip, he was Worm. They bugged Miller’s and Ogorodnikova’s phones and cars, recording an agreement to fly to Vienna to seal the deal. But the trip never went ahead. They were both arrested and jailed.

* Read more stories about spies who never became famous in Michael Smith’s book The Anatomy of a Spy, published by History Press


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Bond: the man, the myth

Round & About

Michael Smith

In his first column, author and journalist Michael Smith reveals how much truth there is to 007 James Bond and the inspiration for the legendary secret agent

James Bond is undoubtedly the world’s most famous spy. The 14 Bond books, written by Ian Fleming between 1953 and his death in 1964 ‒ and an astonishing 27 films ‒ have created a lasting legend.

MI6 always insists that 007 is nothing like a real secret agent, or more precisely an “intelligence officer”, the official job title for our spies. There are no “Double O” agents here, they say. No-one with a “licence to kill”. But they do admit that Bond “created a powerful brand for MI6”. Sir Alex Younger, a former C, the real-life equivalent of Fleming’s “M”, has admitted that many of the British secret service’s global counterparts “envy the sheer global recognition of our acronym”.

Despite the denials, a remarkable new biography of Fleming himself demonstrates that an awful lot of the stuff that 007 gets up to did happen during the period that inspired the Bond books and Fleming was better placed than most to know how MI6 operated.

Academics have long been a bit sniffy about Fleming’s wartime career in naval intelligence, but as more and more files have emerged from the archives it has become very clear how central he was. As the key lieutenant to Admiral John Godfrey, the director of naval intelligence, Fleming was his main liaison with MI6, in frequent contact with the then “C”, Stewart Menzies, with the codebreakers at Bletchley Park and with the Special Operations Executive, which operated behind enemy lines and was very much “licensed to kill”.

As someone who has written extensively on both MI6 and Bletchley Park, one of the closest links between Fleming’s wartime work and Bond’s adventures comes in From Russia With Love when Bond is tasked to track down a Russian Spektor cipher machine. His frequent trips to Bletchley Park during the war, where Alan Turing was initially struggling to break the German naval Enigma machine, led Fleming to devise a daring plan to seize one from on board a German warship in the Channel. Operation Ruthless was to be led by a ‘tough bachelor, able to swim’, with Fleming writing his own name alongside that role.

The many fascinating examples of storylines in the Bond books based on Fleming’s personal experience working with MI6 are far too numerous to fit into a small article like this. It would take an entire book to do them justice. Fortunately, we now have one. Ian Fleming: The Complete Man by Nicholas Shakespeare is a fascinating book and a pretty good last-minute Christmas present.

Michael Smith’s latest book The Real Special Relationship: The True Story of How the British and US Secret Services Work Together is out now in paperback.