The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comthere was nothing more I could do. I had exhausted the limits of mymedical training and the equipment with me and resignedly slipped thevial back into my pocket.As I bowed my head, questioning the fate that brought me here to watchthis girl die, I became aware of other people around me. An old manknelt beside me, mumbling something incomprehensible in Bosanski. ABosnian soldier stood overlooking us, his back pressed against thewall, wary of another salvo of shells. It was time for me to go.Standing up, my twisted knee reminded me about itself and I winced. Theold man grabbed me by the arm and murmured something but I twisted freeand stepped back into the shadows. I still had a job to do.I limped back to the cover of my doorway. Looking back up the road towhere the girl still lay, I saw that a car had pulled up - a few stillran in Sarajevo despite the siege, fuelled by black-market petrol. Thebystanders were loading her limp corpse into the back seat, arguingincomprehensibly. Another shell whistled overhead, sending them and meducking for cover. It landed perhaps a few streets away, perhapsharmlessly, perhaps not. The car carrying the dying girl pulled awayand sped past, a white Volkswagen Golf splattered with rusting shrapnelpockmarks and with an improvised windscreen from another make. I hopedthey were on their way to the Kosovo Hospital rather than straight tothe morgue.Sheltering in the corner of the doorway to take stock, I glanced at mywatch showed that only ten minutes had passed since Angus had droppedme off. There remained two hours and fifty minutes before he wouldreturn. I was in shock from the incident, I felt cold, and my hands andtrousers were stained in the girl's blood. This was no fit state for ameeting with DONNE. I removed my boots and took off my trousers. Thewater that remained in my split water-carrier was sufficient to rinseout the worst of the blood. After being wrung out, the damp trouserswere a bit uncomfortable, but the modern lightweight material would dryquickly. Nevertheless, I hoped that DONNE's flat would be warm.The route to DONNE's took me past the spot where the girl had been hit.As I limped by, a mongrel bitch, probably an abandoned pet, trotted outof the shadows, her long teats swinging, and cautiously sniffed thecongealing blood on the pavement. She whimpered approvingly and a puppyscampered out of the shadows to join her. Eagerly, they started lappingup the blood and scraps of flesh. It was a repulsive, hellish vision,but I did not chase them off. They were only doing what came naturally.At least a couple of starving dogs would benefit from the tragedy.Normally when an IB officer is posted overseas, he or she spends up totwo years in pre-posting preparation. The most time-consuming elementis the language training. Even if an agent speaks good English, it ispreferable to speak to him in his mother tongue - that way his realcharacter is more exposed. For a difficult language such as Chinese orArabic, it takes two years to reach the required level of fluency, evenif the officer is a talented linguist. For an easy language likeSpanish or French the training is shorter, usually about six months.The other important element of pre-posting training is to build athorough understanding of the political issues, intelligencerequirements and agent assets of the host country. An officer thereforepage- 109 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com