World Of Secrets - Al Fayed, Predator at Harrods: 1. Golden opportunity

Episode Date: September 19, 2024

A dream job offer arrives from Harrods, to the surprise of debutante teenager, Cheska. Why is one of the world’s most famous luxury shops interested in her? How do they know where she lives - where to send the letter? It’s the 1990s in London. Cheska and other rich girls are being introduced to high society, as part of an centuries old tradition. What should she do next? Soon after she gets the job offer, Cheska is working in owner Mohamed Al Fayed’s personal office in London’s exclusive Park Lane. Can Al Fayed help her with her ambition to act?This season of World of Secrets is about sexual abuse, and includes descriptions which some listeners might find distressing. For a list of organisations in the UK that can provide support for survivors of sexual abuse, go to bbc.co.uk/actionline.

This BBC podcast is supported by ads outside the UK. Just a warning before we start. This season of World of Secrets includes descriptions of sexual assault and violence, which some listeners may find distressing. The first word out of his mouth was an expletive, beginning with F. word out of his mouth was an expletive beginning with F. The language is out of keeping with the setting. It's a bright day in 1994. A man, we're calling Steve, is standing alone before his boss,

in a tent on the grounds of an expansive villa in Saint-Tropez, a glitzy coastal town on the French Riviera, known for its beaches and nightlife. Then he carried on for about five minutes. It was a rant, actually. Steve's used to the fruity language. He's just finished 17 years in the British Army. Now he's a bodyguard to a billionaire businessman, the owner of luxury icons in London, Paris and cities across the globe. He didn't trust anybody within his organisation, which then led on to he didn't trust anybody in the British establishment,

which then led on to some comments about the Royal Family and members of Parliament. Steve stands impassive as his boss's anger flows past. It's not directed at him, after all. Outside, sunlight dances of the French Riviera. And then it came back to the security team. They said as far as he was concerned, they were all donkeys. Despite working for him for two months, this is their first meeting. He strikes Steve as a lonely man, insecure.

And not somebody that felt he could trust anybody. But he's already seen how this powerful man would seek to control those around him, mind, body and soul. Steve will become an instrument of this control. His job is not just to protect, but project the boss's power with muscle and money. Cash. With that, you can control people.

Once or twice a week, Steve gets called to the headquarters of his boss's global operation. The office is in London's Mayfair, one of the swankiest neighbourhoods in the British capital. Outside, he's as likely to see a luxury Bentley sedan as he would one of London's iconic black cabs. It's the hangout spot for the rich, famous brands at every corner. Wherever you look,

it shouts money. Inside, he climbs the stairs, his supervisor's instructions echoing through his mind. Don't talk to them. Don't try and get a date with them, you know, because they're all very attractive ladies up there. Hi Steve, they'd say. One of them would hand him a slip of paper. The first time, he dares ask, what's it all about? She said, I can't tell you, just take it and off you go. On his way out, Steve grabs one of the store's trademark carrier bags, dark green with gold writing.

He has to make a withdrawal from his boss's personal account. He steps out into the Mayfair flow, office workers out for lunch in their expensive suits, dog walkers heading to Hyde Park across the street, moneyed shoppers balancing their bags in both hands. He walks to a bank around the corner. Steve lines up with everyone else. When it's his turn, the teller looks at the slip and says,

no, sir, I can't give you this much here. She directs him to a private room, a space reserved for the bank's highest value customers, where he's handed a bag of cash. I didn't count the money. I wasn't there to count the money. But in my estimate, there was at least 20 to 30,000 pounds. It's the mid-1990s, and that's a lot. Upwards of 80,000 US dollars in today's money. Steve slips the cash into his green shopping bag with Harrods' ingold writing and walks nervously back to the office.

Again, there's no chit-chat. Drop the money and go. Where does the money go from there? Steve doesn't know, but he does know this. It's untraceable. It's unaccountable for. The next time I saw any cash was when we were on late shift. Steve's in the kiosk, a security booth in the reception area of his boss's Mayfair offices. There's a counter with a window, which he sits behind.

We would have a box with us, and in that box were envelopes with stuff full of cash. Each envelope has a name on it. Over the course of the evening, people come up to the kiosk and state their name. Steve flips through the envelopes. Following instructions to the letter, if the name matches, he hands it over. Steve is on the front line of a massive influence and patronage operation. The cash in the envelope was a critical part. You know, money talks. And it gave him the power to manipulate people. Not just any people. The British government.

Soon, the whole secret operation blows up. It's out into the open. One of the government ministers at the centre of new allegations of cash for questions in the Commons has resigned. The other totally denies the allegation. These MPs were people who came along demanding money to ask the questions. Cash for questions, the shorthand for a national scandal. If ministers had been guilty of wrongdoing, as alleged, I was not going to make any sort of deal, regardless of the cost to the government's reputation. It's a huge embarrassment to the government.

The sort of insidious nature of the sleaze allegations is very much more difficult for the government to counter. So, very bad blow for Mr Major. British politicians had taken envelopes filled with cash. In return, they'd ask questions inside the debating chamber within the Houses of Parliament on behalf of Steve's boss. He was angry because certain people that we'd paid hadn't asked the right questions in Parliament and no loyalty there from him.

He just immediately went to the press and named everybody who'd apparently taken a bribe from him. For Steve, this moment crystallises everything he's learned about his boss since that first foul-mouthed tirade in Saint-Tropez. He can't trust people, so he tries to control them. And if that fails, crush them. With cash for questions, the boss thinks the members of parliament have reneged on their promises. So he aims to bring them down by exposing his own corruption ring.

And it works. The scandal costs two government ministers their jobs. They knew exactly why they were picking up that brown envelope stuffed full of cash. And if they got caught, well, that's a name of the game. This single act would help bring down Britain's government. Who can do that? Who is Steve's all-powerful boss? A man who stands toe-to-toe with a British establishment. Mohamed Al-Fayed.

Billionaire Egyptian businessman. Lord of luxury. And if Al-Fayed can do that to the rich and powerful, those who rule the country, imagine what he can do to the people without riches or power. The people, like Steve, who work for him. This is World of Secrets, Season 4. Al-Thaid, predator at Harrods, from the BBC World Service. A story about power and control at the top of British society.

I'm Shaima Khalil. I'm Cassie Cornish-Trestrail. Episode 1, Golden Opportunity. At 17, Cheska and her friends are loving life. Did you see how drunk so-and-so was at the last one? Flirting outrageously with each other, talking absolute rubbish. Cheska and her girlfriends are in the sumptuous heart of privilege. A balcony above a ballroom in London's exclusive Grosvenor House Hotel. The place is as posh as they come.

Queen Elizabeth II came here as a girl when the ballroom was an ice rink. Buckingham Palace is just around the corner. Now, Chesca and her friends are being told, get ready. They start to arrange themselves, taking care not to step on each other's long, white taffeta dresses. We'd sashay down this enormous staircase. One train of girls coming from one side, another train of girls coming from the other side,

and we'd meet in this sort of crocodile fashion and slowly process up the main ballroom. Meet 1992's debutantes, teenage girls selected from upper-class families to partake in an ancient tradition of being introduced to high society. Back in the day, it was a way of nice girls potentially meeting their husbands.

Debutantes enjoy months of swanky parties. But tonight's air is even more rarefied. It's the Queen Charlotte's Ball, the London season's premier event. Our dates, whoever we'd invited, our Debs Delights, would join us on the floor and we'd do a waltz. Cheska feels she's waltzing into adulthood. I remember feeling very up, very, you know, full of beans the whole time, really excited about everything. And kind of slightly invincible too. It's one of those nights when the world and all of its possibilities seem there for the taking.

Cesca's delight in the debutante world would linger. The following year, she helps organise things. And in the afterglow of that season, her story takes a surprise turn. her story takes a surprise turn. She's living at her family home in the English countryside, southwest of London. She's at art college, but is not wild about it. Maybe drama would be better for me, she thinks.

Some kind of change. And I got a letter out of the blue, genuinely out of the blue, from Harrods saying, we hear you're interested in a career with us. And I thought, you know, racked my brains, how did I, have I ever, no, I have never contacted them. This is extraordinary. Why, how have they got my name?

They had my address. And that was quite exciting. Whenever she and her family came up to London, they'd fit in a trip to Harrods. They'd shop in a section with trendy clothes for teens called Weigh In. Of course, they couldn't afford to fill their wardrobes there. Who could? But just to go and look would be a treat. Friends would buy anything, even a bit of candy from the food hall, just to come away with an iconic green bag with gold lettering. In my head, Harrods was the ultimate glamorous shop. It was the most flashy, amazing shop in the world. It was beautiful. Beautiful lights on the outside everywhere, all over the whole building. It was an iconic-looking building.

You'd go there and you'd be transfixed by everything. It was just, everything about it was on another level. So the offer and the letter is a no-brainer. And so I rang them up and said, I've got your letter. And they said, well, do you want to come in for an interview? So I said, yes. And I was like, this is it. This is fantastic.

I'm going in. No idea what position I was going for. And I was like, this is it. This is fantastic. I'm going in. No idea what position I was going for. It didn't say. You know, in my head, I was like, Brian, let's work in the food halls. The food halls are amazing. Cheska heads to London to stay with an uncle. On the morning of the interview, she puts on a suit.

I thought I was being quite smart. I suppose I was. I mean, I'd never really worn a suit for work. I hadn't worked before at this point. She enters Harrods from the street and heads straight up. Right up to the top of where the offices were and was led into a room. And I just remember the place looking... It was just very sumptuous.

Beautiful offices, really beautiful. Very bright, very light, but beautifully decorated. She chats with one man. Then this other person appeared and continued the interview with me, asked me all sorts of questions, you know, have you ever worked in an office before? And I said, no. And, you know, do you know Harrods?

And I said, well, yes, of course I do. He said, do you know who I am? And I said, no. No. It's him, Mohamed Al-Fayed, the billionaire owner of Harrods. Cheska is attuned to the slight absurdity of her situation. This is all very exciting. Why am I here? This is great. Have you worked in an office before? No.

Do you know who I am? No. Great. You've got the job as my junior personal assistant. And I remember leaving feeling really excited, but also really confused and thinking, I don't quite know what just happened. I don't know how that just happened, but somehow I've got the job as a junior PA. Could be fun.

It almost feels too good to be true. What do Tiger Woods, Mark Zuckerberg and Taylor Swift all have in common? Well, their lives and fortunes are all being discussed on Good Bad Billionaire, the podcast exploring the minds, motives and the money of some of the world's wealthiest individuals. I'm Zing Zing, and each week my co-presenter Simon Jack and I take a closer look at the world's mega rich, and we try to decide whether they're good, bad, or just another billionaire. From celebs and CEOs to sports stars and tech titans,

find out how billionaires made their money and how they use it. Good, Bad Billionaire from the BBC World Service. All episodes of season one and two are available now, wherever you get your BBC podcasts. And click follow or subscribe so you never miss a new episode. The job isn't in Harrods. It's in Mohamed Al-Fayed's personal office, where security guard Steve would deliver bags of cash, then hand out the envelopes. It's not far from Harrods, at 60 Park Lane in Mayfair, right by the Grosvenor House Hotel. In fact, it's where Cheska and the other teenage debutantes waltzed away the night at the Queen Charlotte's Ball.

On day one, Cheska wakes at her uncle's place in London. He's letting her stay while she gets her feet, and it's handy to Mayfair. She's feeling at once nervous and grown up. I was quite excited to get there, and then it was not as exciting as I had hoped. and then it was not as exciting as I had hoped. I was sort of shown a desk where there was nothing on it except a phone and a Rolodex, one of those old paper Rolodexes, and I was just told to sit there. That's your desk. And I was like, oh, OK. By the way, a Rolodex is like the contacts list of the Times,

a rotating address book with index cards. And that's all she got in terms of instruction. No one really even talks to her until lunch, when someone tells her to get some sandwiches, which she does. Then it's more sitting around. This is really odd. This is, I'm sure, not a particularly normal work environment to be in.

You know, very few people really talking to you, even acknowledging you and not being given anything to do. On day two, things get weirder. Cheska says she was told she needs a medical. I was told that it was because his son Dodi had a low immune system and so everybody in the office needed to be checked in order that they weren't carrying any germs, so that if Dodi came into the office, there wasn't any threat of him becoming ill.

Dodi, the eldest of Mohamed El Fayed's five children. He's nearly 40 and has an international career producing films. And I went to the doctor that they had, thinking it was just going to be, you know, height, weight, blood pressure, whatever, but it wasn't. It was much more thorough. I was young and it was the first time I'd had a smear test. And I remember thinking at the time, this seems a bit strange.

It felt uncomfortable, you know, in every respect. But I went along with it. in every respect. But I went along with it. And I just remember the doctor, you know, saying how wonderful Mohammed Al-Fayed was and didn't he look after his employees so well. Cheska's job title, remember, is Junior Personal Assistant to Mohammed Al-Fayed.

It's not obvious how a clean bill of gynaecological health can help. But when she finally does get to talk to Al-Fayed, it seems like everything might be okay. He was very charming. I think he was trying to portray himself as a bit of a father figure. And he was trying to be very kind and caring but he would say strange things. He would say things like don't have a boyfriend, don't tell anybody what goes on here. What's to tell she thinks? People's sandwich orders? The contents of my empty Rolodex? Very quickly, things get even more odd. Mohammed would say things like, you should get something different to wear for work or whatever,

and he'd give me money and send me off either into Harrods or wherever to go shopping. Not for him, not for any office supplies, but clothes for myself. not for any office supplies, but clothes for myself. And it was pretty quick that my gut instinct started to go, this is not right. It just didn't feel right. I was naive, yes, and I hadn't worked in an office before,

but I also realised that this wasn't normal. No boss gives you presents. At the end of her first week, Cheska is down for a late shift. Al-Faid asks her up to his Park Lane penthouse for a drink to celebrate the new job and to talk about her future. She tells him she wants to be an actress. He says, right, well, I tell you what, why don't we get a portfolio together to give to Dodie and let's see if we can help you with your acting career. Well, she thinks Dodie has already produced the Academy Award winning film Chariots of Fire. He's done another with Robin Williams called Hook.

This must be legit. She takes the lift to the penthouse and he shows her around. There's a spectacular 360-degree view of London and a sunken circular seating area he calls his nightclub. Then he shows her the music room. And it was a big space with black and white checked flooring. And at one end was a rocking horse and at the other end was a grand piano. And that was it. They were the only singers in the room.

A rocking horse at one end and a grand piano at the other. And it was a very, everything was odd. And I remember even at that stage thinking, I've put myself here in quite a, potentially quite a bad position. The offices have now closed because everyone's gone home and I'm here in a strange place with this really quite peculiar person. We go back into his nightclub sitting room and he gives me a script that Dodie is working on and it's the prequel to Hook.

And it was simply called Peter Pan. There's a costume for her too, but it's a swimming costume. We've got to see your shape, he says. And I said, well, look, I've got leggings and a T-shirt. That'll do. And he's like, no, no, no, no, no, you need to go and put the swimming costume on. So by this stage, I am acutely aware that this is all wrong. But I've got to get myself out of this situation without antagonising somebody. So I've got to play along to a degree while working out some kind of exit strategy.

Cheska changes in a bathroom and returns to find the camera is set up in Mohamed Al-Fayed's bedroom. Her mind is now racing. I've got to get out. Al-Fayed hands her the script and points to the scene. Wendy wants to join Peter Pan in Neverland. Her line? Take me, take me please. So there I am in a swimming costume

facing the camera in his bedroom saying take me, take me please. At which point he comes round from behind the camera grabs hold of me and kisses me. The kiss is on the mouth. Mohamed Al-Fayed is 64 years old. Cheska is 19. And I pushed him off.

And I said, you know, you're married. Like, that's going to matter. But in my head, that was a real thing. You're married. What are you doing? And he sort of laughed. He said, well, she doesn't know. She doesn't need to find out. Cheska is horrified.

Al-Fayed pivots back to Cheska's dreams. If I'm going to help you, he says, I need you close to me all the time. What does that mean, she asks. He said, if you don't sleep with me, I cannot help you with your acting career. I mean, it doesn't get more blatant, does it? I mean, literally right there, that's your option.

Stalling, Jessica asks if she can think about it. Can I let you know on Monday, she says. And he said yes. Yes, absolutely, go home and let me know. As soon as she leaves Al-Fayed's penthouse, Cheska starts shaking uncontrollably. She goes down to her office and fumbles with the phone. She's so muddled,

she can't get an outside line. She's never even been shown how the phone works. Eventually... I got on the phone to my mother, hiding under the desk in the dark. Just going, what the hell do I do? You know, this is what's happened.

She was saying, you know, get is what's happened. She was saying, you know, get out of there, get out of there, get a taxi and call me later. And that's what Cheska does. She goes down to the street and starts waving for a cab. A doorman clocks her state and helps her flag one down. She climbs in and drives off into the night. Cheska never goes back. No one from Harrods or Mohamed Al-Fayed's office ever calls to ask where she is. She tells a lawyer what happened and is advised to brush it under the carpet. Move on. The assault happened 30 years ago.

Cheska has never figured out how Harrods found her name and address in the first place. But then, after our interview, we chat more about the debutante days. As we're leaping through some old magazines, the penny drops. This is, you know, a photograph of me sitting in a field of daffodils with my name, introducing who I am, who my parents are, where I lived, full address. Then goes on to say, is unusually a second season debutante she is joint junior chairman of the queen charlotte's ball committee and hopes to be selected for the barclay dress show i mean you know i think that might be my answer. And that's the address that...

That's where I lived in Hampshire. And where the letter came? Yeah. Yeah. Wow. That must be it, doesn't it? We'll probably never know if that was, in fact, how Mohammed Al-Fayed found her. We do know that Cheska got away from him. Others, however,

couldn't. There was most definitely a culture of fear across the whole store. Mohammed Al-Fayed was like an apex predator. He enjoyed the chase and he enjoyed the fear in my eyes. I joined Harrods because I wanted to be a buyer and I ended up working for an absolute monster. We pull back the curtain on Mohamed Al-Fayed and his Harrods machine. That was the point at which I would have to enter his private office on my own with the door closed. That's where things would start to happen.

That's next time on World of Secrets. You've been listening to episode one of season four of World of Secrets, Al-Sayed, Predator at Harrods. It's a long-form audio production for BBC World Service. Special thanks to series consultant Keaton Stone and director Erica Gornall. It's presented by me, Shaima Khalil. And me, Cassie Cornish-Trestrail. The producers are Neil Rizal and Sally Abrahams. The editor is Matt Willis. If you've been affected by any of the issues in this series, please contact support organisations in your own country.

For a list of organisations in the UK that can provide support for survivors of sexual abuse, go to bbc.co.uk forward slash action line. I hope you're enjoying World of Secrets. Subscribe or follow now so you get all episodes in our next investigations automatically. And if you haven't already, check out our previous three seasons. For just as long as Hollywood has been Tinseltown,

there have been suspicions about what lurks behind the glitz and glamour. Concerns about radical propaganda in the motion pictures. And for a while, those suspicions grew into something much bigger and much darker. Are you a member of the Communist Party? Or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party? I'm Una Chaplin, and this is Hollywood Exiles. It's about a battle

for the political soul of America, and the battlefield was Hollywood. All episodes of Hollywood Exiles from the BBC World Service and CBC are available now. Search for Hollywood Exiles wherever you get your podcasts.