Meet the Mayor's advisers

They are barely visible and highly secretive, but the power they wield impacts on the life of every Londoner. They are the Mayor's men, a triumvirate of hired political guns whose unswerving loyalty and unquestioning commitment has come to define Ken Livingstone's City Hall. They, and others in a carefully organised tier below, make up the critical mass that underpins the Mayor.

This function, of course, is usually provided by a political party, but Mr Livingstone has no party.

Instead, he has trusted friends - people like his grandly-titled Chief of Staff Simon Fletcher. "I don't sneeze without the Mayor's permission," Mr Fletcher told members of the London Assembly recently. Such deference must be gratifying for the Mayor, although he expects no less from his other key people, policy directors John Ross and Redmond O'Neill.

Mr O'Neill flew to Livingstone's side at a reception at the Tate Modern the other night, when the Mayor found himself assailed by a waiter bearing a tray full of drinks. O'Neill cast an anxious glance at a nearby television film crew and shooed the man away.

And Mr Ross won lasting kudos in the Livingstone camp when he answered a desperate plea to help with the mayoral election campaign. He was in Moscow at the time and dashed to London in so much haste that he left behind his clothes and personal effects.

It might be imagined that such steadfast allies would earn the admiration of elected members and staff at City Hall. This is not the case. Some of the Mayor's cronies are well regarded but others have attracted opprobrium amid allegations of bullying and the assumption of power by undemocratic means.

There is more. The three share an intriguing background: all have graduated from Left-wing, revolutionary politics. John Ross once warned the "ruling class" they would be killed if they resisted a take-over by the workers.

Such talk may merely be an expression of youthful exuberance. But many at City Hall have watched with dismay the inexorable rise of the Mayor's team. Concern deepened when they were recently awarded directorships with enhanced salaries and even greater powers.

Livingstone's Praetorian guard moves in the most influential circles of London government. But a frequentlyvoiced complaint is that no one knows anything about them.

Simon Fletcher, the £67,275-a-year Chief of Staff, reveals his politics to no one, not even the elected representatives of the assembly who recently went to great pains to ask him.

Why the secrecy? He certainly doesn't give the impression of being a man of mystery. In the agreeable surroundings of the Cinnamon Club restaurant - perhaps toying with a Bengali-style lobster or stir-fried wild asparagus - he is the image of metropolitan chic. His relaxed confidence, expensive suit and silk tie mark him out as an urbane and affluent young man, probably destined for great things.

But it was not always that way. Fletcher, 34, is remembered by some as a gauche Camden councillor whose extremist politics were deplored by his mainstream Labour party colleagues. In the late Eighties he had Trotskyite revolutionary leanings and a personal style that owed more to the donkey jacket than Armani.

Yet there was nothing in his childhood to suggest he would be an eager volunteer in the class war. His father was an executive at the Rover car company and he had a middle-class upbringing in the pleasant Oxfordshire town of Banbury. His mother had Tory sympathies. But in the mid-Eighties he came to London to study at the City of London Polytechnic, a hotbed of revolutionary politics.

He became an activist in the student union, then worked part-time for Tony Benn, the Left-wing Labour MP. By the time he had gained a first in politics and government he was immersed in political life. After his degree he became a full-time officer with the student union for a year and in 1993 won his seat on Camden council representing St Pancras ward.

Around this time he became involved in the Trotskyite splinter group Socialist Action, which emerged from a split in the International Marxist Group. Socialist Action members resolved to pursue their revolutionary agenda while retaining links with the Labour party. Thus, in 1992, at a Labour party social gathering in Brent, he met the local MP, the maverick Ken Livingstone.

Livingstone and Fletcher took to each other at once, and Fletcher soon began working for Livingstone as a research assistant. Now their relationship is a cornerstone of London government.

When Livingstone travels abroad he leaves Fletcher in charge, much to the chagrin of assembly members who believe the Mayor's deputy, Labour's Nicky Gavron, should act in his absence. In fact, Livingstone has handed over effective control to Fletcher no fewer than four times in the past two years.

There is an understanding between the two men that seems to transcend the usual boss-assistant relationship. At meetings Fletcher will make a slight movement, an inflection barely detectable by others, but Livingstone will see it, end his speech and move on. Walking together at a Labour party conference, Fletcher instinctively lifted and carried the older man's heavy bag.

He was at Livingstone's side during the recent controversy over a drunken party and - when the Mayor took a three-week holiday in Australia earlier this year - he handed over to his young Chief of Staff, speaking once or twice a day by telephone.

Toby Harris, leader of the assembly's Labour group, noted drily that part of Fletcher's job was to be the Mayor's "surrogate brain".

To those troubled by his pervasive role, Fletcher offered this assurance: "I don't make screw-ups." Indeed, his abilities are highly regarded, even by those who do not warm to him.

But there is a persistent sense that it cannot be right that an unelected officer is effectively acting as deputy mayor. And there is unease over the erstwhile far-Left affiliations, not just of Fletcher but the other two members of Livingstone's inner circle.

Fletcher has said that, as a paid member of staff, his politics are his own affair. But some members find it odd that Livingstone's key people share the same political history.

Our inquiries disclosed that economics adviser John Ross and his transport counterpart Redmond O'Neill were also involved in Socialist Action.

Little is known about this group but it had its own printing works and offices in Dalston, where Fletcher once worked. Ross was an important figure in the set-up. At one point he made audio tapes giving a personal exposition of revolutionary politics, interspersed with homage to Leon Trotsky, architect of permanent revolution.

Ross's vision of a working-class uprising goes back a long way. In 1974, while working as a psychology lecturer at Enfield Polytechnic, he stood at Newham North East as the International Marxist Group parliamentary candidate. He said in a speech that union members should be allowed to form militia units. "This is the only peaceful road to socialism. The ruling class must know that they will be killed if they do not allow a take-over by the workers. If we aren't armed there will be a bloodbath."

Such chilling words seem at odds now with the rather Falstaffian John Ross - a 55-year-old Oxford graduate who adores opera and, it is said, has an encyclopaedic knowledge of celebrated tenors.

His former sanguinary utterances seem a world away from the discussions he now holds with individuals who could be considered members of the ruling class. They include many of the City's leading capitalists, whom Ross courts assiduously on Livingstone's behalf.

John Ross went to Moscow some years ago to advise financial institutions faced with the task of embracing capitalism. He dashed back to be Livingstone's economic adviser during the mayoral race. He is a jovial man, often seen munching a sandwich at meetings. For his salary, which is close to £60,000, he provides Livingstone with advice especially geared to regeneration projects.

When Ross removed to Moscow his role as political guru at Socialist Action was taken up by a diminutive but fiercely intense politico called Redmond O'Neill. He had cut his political teeth in the Left-wing hurly-burly of Sussex University between 1973 and 1979, while studying experimental psychology. At Sussex O'Neill fell in with Marxists and political activists, company he relished.

A fellow student recalled: "He really was a firebrand. He and the other Marxists were quite glamorous because they spent their time preaching revolution."

O'Neill, now 48, moved to London and became active in Islington South Labour party. Ken Livingstone, while Labour MP for Brent East, later took him on as a researcher.

O'Neill cultivated senior figures in the Northern Ireland Republican movement - real revolutionaries, as it were. His love of Ireland and things Irish was shared with Londoners last March when O'Neill dreamed up the idea of a St Patrick's Day celebration.

As Ken Livingstone's policy director on transport and public affairs, O'Neill occupies a pivotal position at City Hall. His brief takes in such crucial areas as congestion charging and the future of the underground. O'Neill is the most impenetrable of the Mayor's closest aides. An assembly member said: "If you walk past him on the street he'll look away, as if he doesn't know you. He never talks about anything except work."

A City Hall insider said: " Redmond is a naturally secretive guy. He reminds you of one of those creatures that bolts for safety when the lights go on."

Running for cover is a frequent ploy adopted by City Hall staff, who say O'Neill and Ross have used bullying tactics in their dealing with them. According to reliable sources the two men have been heavyhanded in their treatment of officers, and were accused of bullying in a recently-circulated e-mail - apparently sent by staff members.

The authors of the e-mail set up an untraceable address to cover their identity, and an inquiry failed to prove their allegations.

There is a second tier of Livingstone cronyism. It includes Lee Jasper, policy director on policing and equalities. Jasper has a gift for self-promotion, and the exalted status he enjoys in parts of London's black community derives at least in part from his closeness to the power of the Mayor. But critics say that, on some sensitive issues, he has made friends and enemies in near-equal measure.

Neale Coleman, the housing director, is a veteran local government man and a former Labour councillor in Westminster.

The third man in the second tier is John Duffy, policy director on the environment. Duffy toiled tirelessly for Livingstone in Brent, providing ammunition for the former MP's war of attrition against Brent council and its Conservative members.

Others have been brought in to bolster Mr Livingstone's staff, including the architect Lord Rogers. He shares the Mayor's vision of a city regenerated by large-scale commercial and residential development.

But none of the Mayor's advisers have the status and power of the triumvirate at the top. These men, and their Socialist Action past, puzzle some elected members of the assembly. What happened to their revolutionary fervour? Has it, like many a youthful passion, simply faded away with the years? Or is it lying dormant, perhaps to reawaken one day? At this stage in London's mayoral experiment, no one can be sure.