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The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comÒh I say, just a spot of fraud,' Craggs mimicked an upper-class accentfor his audience. `What did you get then?' he asked, still suspicious.Èighteen months,' replied Michaels cautiously.Ònly 18 months! That's a bleedin' touch that is, a shit and a shave,'Craggs jeered. `So how much did ya nick then?' he asked.`The judge said that it amounted to about œ600,000 in total, over aboutten years or so,' Michaels nervously replied.Craggs frowned, as his brain made a quick calculation. `Wot, youswagged six hundred bleedin' grand, and you only got 18 month?'Michaels looked at the floor and fidgeted uncomfortably with his watch.Ì only swagged five bleedin' grand and got 15 years!' exclaimed Craggsindignantly.Àye, but you did shoot the bank manager while you were at it,' Onionheadbutted in helpfully.But Craggs was unrepentant. `Six ùndred bleedin' grand, and only 18bleedin' month,' he repeated wistfully. `Fuck me, that's what I'mgettin' into when I'm out o' here. I'll go into fraud. That's gotta bethe answer, heh,' he nudged Onion-head jubilantly in the ribs, pleasedwith his new idea. `Yeah, that's wot I'll do,' he repeatedoptimistically, pleased with his brainwave. But a frown slowly crumpledhis scarred face, as a dark cloud loomed. `Fuck, if only I could read`n' fuckin' write.'Most of the other prisoners on my spur and the neighbouring spur withwhom we shared our hour in the exercise yard knew me because of themedia coverage and it was not unusual for a complete stranger toapproach me to express his disgust that I was in prison for writing abook. They also sought my perceived expertise in case it might proveuseful in the future, erroneously assuming that I would be an expert onfirearms, have an insider's knowledge of the workings of every obscuredepartment of the police or customs service and a solid grounding incriminal law. My hour in the exercise yard, where it was possible totalk out of earshot of the screws, was dominated with questions like,`What's better, an Uzi or a Heckler & Koch?', `Can SMS messages betweenmobile phones be intercepted?' and `How do you spot policesurveillance?' The questions broke the ice, enabling me to quiz mycolleagues about their own crimes, and gradually the exercise hoursevolved into informal symposia on criminal tradecraft. They taught mehow to ring cars, where to buy false passports, how to slip out of theUK without documents and the best countries in which to evade recaptureand extradition.Another popular topic of conversation was the relative merits of oneprison over another. By universal consensus, Belmarsh was the worstprison anyone had experienced; the lack of freedom and associationirksome even to the career criminals. The acknowledged jail connoisseurwas Ronnie, a cockney who had been in so many foreign jails that hespoke fluent rhyming slang in several languages. His last stretch hadbeen in a Monaco jail. One afternoon, queuing for dinner with Dobsonand Onion-head, he told us how he ended up there. He had just come bypage- 181 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com
The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comsome money by virtue of a `little venture' and decided to treat hismother to a weekend in Monte Carlo. Ì came out of the bleedin' CasinoRoyale,' he continued, àll spruced up in me dinner jacket, and therewas a bright yellow Lamborghini Diabolo parked outside. I thought tomissel', `Ì'll have that'', so I went up to the gar‡on and told him toget the keys to me macinino pronto. The little con went and fetched theLambo' from where it was parked and handed it over! I was with me Mamand she was saying, `No Ronnie, don't do it, don't do it', but I shovedher in the front and told her to shut up. We were halfway to the CostaBrava before the flics nicked us.' Jail in Monaco was, according toRonnie, a `piece of pissoir.' Dutch jails too were a breeze. `They keptpayin' me to go on drug-rehab courses, but I was so stoned I kept àvinto start again.' Swiss jails were `like bleedin' Hiltons' and Spanish,French and German jails were all à touch' compared to British prisons.Even the experienced Dobson and Craggs were in awe of Ronnie's prisonknowledge. `Which country would you say has the best jails then?' askedDobson, who was considering a career move abroad if he were acquittedfrom his current offence.Ronnie furrowed his brow for a second. Àh, there's no fuckin' contest.You wanna get yoursel' in a fackin' Icelandic jail. They're a bleedin'swan. I was getting paid œ100 per week to sweep the yard, only I didn'tàve to do it if it were covered in snow, which was all fackin' year. Icame out rich like a bleedin' rag'ead.'One bitterly cold afternoon I was pacing the exercise yard furiously,trying to keep warm against a biting wind and cursing to myself aboutthe circumstances that had lead to my imprisonment. Other prisonerswere huddled in the corners of the yard sheltering from the wind,except Mockalenny who had stripped to the waist and was energeticallydancing in a puddle in the middle of singing the Lord's prayer with hisarms raised to the sky. Suddenly, a meaty hand clasped my shoulder frombehind. I spun round, brushing the assailant's hand away and bracingmyself for trouble. It was a relief to see a grin on the gnarled butfriendly face of an elderly prisoner from spur two. `You're that spyfella, aren't you?' he asked. Before I could reply, he introducedhimself. `The name's Henderson, Pat Henderson . . .' (a grin crumplingat the familiar joke). Ì wanted a word with you,' he continued. `Doyou know a bloke called George Blake?'Ì've heard of him,' I replied, ìf we're talking about the same GeorgeBlake.' George Blake was the last MI6 officer to go to prison for abreach of the OSA in 1950. After spending six years in prison heescaped and fled to Moscow. `Yeah, that's the one,' Henderson laughed.Ì was in Wormwood Scrubs with him, years back. A cracking fellow. Hewent over the wall one night.'I laughed at the irony of ending up in jail with somebody who knewBlake.`What's he up to now?' Henderson asked.Ì think he's living in Moscow these days,' I replied.`Well if ever you get to meet him, make sure you give him my regards,'Henderson beamed.page- 182 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com
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