I'm sure the story has been around the world several times. Yet, the mystery remains and we are no wiser today than what we were when journalists started putting pen to paper.
By now, you realise, of course, that I'm talking about the alleged MI6 spy found dead in a London flat. Very strange. Or what?
A friend of mine remarked over coffee that, with espionage being that dangerous, he would never not consider taking it up. I pointed out to him that, at his age and with his failing eyesight, no agency would ever employ him, as he would be unlikely to distinguish friend from foe. Furthermore, I added, his arthritis would also not advance his application. That seemed to dispel his concerns. He even had a second cup, this time being able to savour it in a more relaxed way.
We discussed at length the different theories that had emerged since the tragic event, being careful, in each case, to weigh the different arguments. By the time the waitress started to look at us as if we were museum pieces, we had still not reached any conclusion. So we left hurriedly.
Already at home, and far from the aggressive eyes of women whose only objective in life is obviously nothing more than the next tip, I was able to settle on what I consider to be the story behind the story.
Why hide the truth? The man was no spy. He was simply one of Mr. Cameron's new tax inspectors looking for incriminating financial information allegedly hidden in the false bottom of a duffel bag. The fact that the search went wrong and he ended up inside the bag is just one of the hazards of the job.
