On a hot autumn evening in Tehran, the capital city of Iran, two professional spies sat drinking vodka in a small, white-tiled bathroom on the top floor of a house in the semi-abandoned compound of the British Embassy. One was Russian and the other British.
The 6ft 4in Russian, a major in the KGB, sat precariously on a wicker laundry basket while the Englishman, perching on the toilet, leant over and refilled his guest’s glass. The MI6 officer suspected his home was bugged from attic to basement by the Iranian secret police, so, to cover the sound of their voices, the
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