The TV Show The Prisoner was Based on Fact

Given the subject matter of the previous entry, I though I would celebrate with an un-edited extract from Secrets & Lies .

The TV Show The Prisoner was Based on Fact

Sometimes you can get away with revealing highly confidential information openly as long as you don’t tell people what you are showing them is classified. When it comes to revealing a secret to full public glare, no-one comes close to George Markstein.

Markstein had worked as a military correspondent during the start of the Cold War. Before moving into writing for television, he built up an incredible range of sources within the intelligence community. Through his contacts he heard about the ‘Mad Major’ – an ace British secret agent during World War II who was too much of an asset to kill but who had become too deranged be allowed to go back to occupied France.

The ‘Mad Major’ was taken to an establishment known as the ‘Cooler’ – a Scottish castle where he and other spies were to be held until the end of the war. Unfortunately, post-1945 some of them were then transferred to another facility for ‘prolonged secure retirement’.

Whilst working with Patrick McGoohan on the TV show Danger Man, Markstein told the star about the retirement home for spies and together they created the basis for the cult TV show The Prisoner – in which a British masterspy resigns and is taken to the mysterious Village where he is held against his will. Later, Markstein revealed even more about the ‘Mad Major’ in his best-selling novel entitled The Cooler.

Over the years research has shown that the original ‘Cooler’ was at Inverlair Lodge, in Inverness-shire, an establishment heavily guarded by the Cameron Highlanders during the war. In the early 1980s, Markstein would take close associates to his London gun club where a special firearm – a Walther PPK – was displayed. This gun had once belonged to the Mad Major himself.

Even 60 years after the end of the war, the full history of the ‘Cooler’ and the ‘Mad Major’ remain classified information. Given that some of the files have been categorised Maximum Burial – meaning they remain classified for 100 years – the secrets of the real life Village look set to be kept for some time to come.

Back in the Village

Early morning, I walk along Embankment towards the Westminster Village and find myself standing at the crossroads of Westminster Bridge and Parliament Square. A bubble in the incessant traffic stream appears. A sports car with an actor whose face is memorable enough to recognise, but not to name, is driving. He is accompanied by a cameras mounted on a truck and police motorcycle outriders.

For some reason the suit, brutally polished muscle of the car and the actor’s determined sang-froid make me think classic celluloid secret agent. My mind moves beyond James Bond to John Drake, sparking sudden remembrance and possible recognition. I think the driver is James Caviezel.

Suddenly it strikes me I may be watching a recreation of the most iconic opening sequence in television history. If it is Caviezel, then it can only be filming for the new version of The Prisoner. I am living in the fantasy of my 14-year-old self who was entranced by McGoohan’s masterpiece. Libertarianism grew inside me while watching the defiance of Number Six. Views that found expression 20 years later in Secrets & Lies, began with a Lotus Seven growling past the Houses of Parliament and into an underground car park.

I stand on a traffic island and watch the car cross the bridge and out of sight. Suppress any delight by recalling how my excitement at being part of Star Wars history turned to a quinine bitterness when I actually saw The Phantom Menace. The classics are often unforgiving to those who try to fuck with them.

At 7am I slide my security key and open the blast doors. A heavy push on the thick, cold metal and six flights of stairs take me to my new space. Like banging the blackened skin of a bruise and being reminded of the original injury, the 80mm of armour makes me painfully aware I am in the Westminster security triangle. Even without this, my window view of the Thames House transmitter towers screaming paranoia into the static confusion of the infosphere prevents any denial that I am well and truly back in the Village.

Shadow Play – the Hidden Hands of History

I am having so much fun dealing with my Korean publishers, editors, translators and fans that I wonder if I should not just be done with it and move to Seoul. The translator who is currently turning Global Gangland into Korean, Miran, sends me lovely positive emails alongside queries asking me to detail if a certain gangster's sister-in-law is his cousin, younger sister or older sister due to the exacting nature of a language that values familial positioning. The translator of Secrets & Lies, Ahn So Yeon, has been keeping me updated on the television interviews been done on the book. It gave me a warm glow to know that it was one station's book of the day last week.

Today I was honored to receive an email from DooSeung Lee, the chief director at IMAGO, my Korean publisher. I have never received such a pleasant and praising email from anyone actually involved in the dirty work of publishing my books. Beyond the fact that I have been offered the chance to write a new and territory specific preface for latest Korean edition of Conspiracy Files, there is the intriguing possibility I could decide to write a book purely for the Korean market. I am not sure how Shadow Play – the Hidden Hands of History translates into Korean, but it just might allow me to say all those things lawyers prevent me from saying in English.

Secrets & Lies Korean Style

The temporary break in the Royal Mail strike has meant post being delivered canalside again. Now any package that does not contain dubious chemicals is reason for joy, but one unexpected parcel this morning had me dancing while still in my boxer shorts. Given it had my publisher's logo stamped all over it, I knew it was safe to rip open, but I was not expecting what dropped onto the table – a Korean edition of Secrets & Lies. The slip from my editor simply said with wonderfully precise irony: ‘Your fame spreads!’

Shamefully lacking any fluency Korean, I have no idea how my name translates or whether they have kept in my song nods in the picture captions. It would be shame if the references to The Ruts (Babylon Is Burning), Bowie (Station To Station) and Stiff Little Fingers (Alternative Ulster) have all been lost. Then again, given I am not sure how big Luke Haines’ exquisite Baader Meinhof project was in South Korea, it might only be a loss to one soul in Seoul.

There is one thing I can say with absolute certainty about Secrets & Lies Korean style: it looks beautiful. The cover is fabulously eccentric. Does having Harold Wilson, the tail of an Apatosaurus and an upside down George W. Bush grasping John Kerry sell books in South Korea? Having a pipe smoking Cary Grant and a praying Bill Gates on the back certainly works for me.

Inside it is almost as if a manga-influence runs through the 456 pages. Halftone dots and dashes of gravure effect as design elements, pictures erupting with the impact of a good graphic novel splash. The layout simultaneously gives my words both kinetic energy and gravitas. Even the backpage flap advertising the Korean edition of Conspiracy Theories reminds me of the ‘Next issue’ trailer used by DC. I adore it.

Somewhat Shamefaced

A Korean reader of Secrets & Lies has made me feel somewhat shamefaced today about the standard of editing in the book. In a delightful email, they picked up on a literal. So, for the benefit of 안 소연 and everyone else who reads page 122 of the standard edition... yes, ‘flying back triangles' should read ‘flying black triangles’.