The Big Breach - Index of

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The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comthere were no journalists, just a couple of police in a Mini Metro whowatched as I walked to greet her. She drove me to Richborne Terrace formy first decent shower in six months and a quick lunch before myappointment at Scotland Yard.A WPC met me in the lobby and took me upstairs, where Ratcliffe andPeters were waiting in an interview room. A pile of polythene specimenbags were spread out on a table. `To put your mind at rest, Richard,'announced Ratcliffe, `we are not about to charge you with anything new- we just want to give you your stuff back.' One by one, Peters openedthe bags and gave back my possessions. It was like opening Christmaspresents, the items were so unfamiliar after months locked in a barecell - my Psion (from which they had àccidentally' erased all thedata), video camera, various books and videos.`There are some items you can't have back, unfortunately,' Peters saidwhen the items were all displayed on the table. `MI6 have told us thephotographs and videos that you took in Bosnia could damage nationalsecurity,' he said with a hint of sarcasm. The photos and video footageof burned out Bosnian villages and the Balkan countryside werecompletely unconnected with my work and could have been taken by any ofthe soldiers on duty there, and Peters was clearly sceptical of MI6'sclaim.Òne other thing,' interjected Ratcliffe. `Have you brought yourpassports?'`Sorry, I forgot,' I lied, using my MI6 training to sound vaguelyconvincing.Ratcliffe looked annoyed. ÒK, since you've just got out of jail, we'llgive you a break, but we'll make an appointment with your local policestation for you to hand them in there first thing tomorrow morning.'ÒK, I'll give them my British passport,' I replied superciliously.`You've the legal right to take that, but you're not having my NewZealand passport.' My probation terms were so unreasonable and irksomethat I was determined to be awkward. Ratcliffe said nothing, but lookednonplussed, so I continued. `My New Zealand passport belongs to the NewZealand government and it is against international law for a foreignpolice force to confiscate it.' I wasn't sure that my claim was correctbut I said it with conviction and Ratcliffe, who probably didn't knowhimself, seemed to believe me.`Well in that case, you'll be in breach of your probation and we'llhave no choice but to re-arrest you,' he replied.Òk then,' I replied defiantly, Ì'll ring the New Zealand HighCommission right now and tell them that you want to arrest me forrefusing to surrender my passport.' I picked up my mobile phone thatPeters had just returned, and started dialling an imaginary number.ÒK, forget surrendering your New Zealand passport to us. How about ifyou surrender it to the New Zealand High Commission until yourprobation is over?' suggested Ratcliffe resignedly. It was a faircompromise and my point was made. We agreed that I would post it to theHigh Commission first thing the following morning.page- 197 - 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.comRatcliffe, his duty done, got up and left, leaving me with Peters whoescorted me to the exit with my things in a bin liner. `Richard,' hesaid guardedly in the lobby, Ì just want to let you know I agree withwhat you've done. They were bastards to you, and they should be heldaccountable. But if you are going to carry on your campaign, just makesure you do it abroad. It causes us too much work here . . .'Unfortunately I was not to come across Peters again.Leaving my flat the following morning with my mother, it was evidentthat we were under surveillance. A green Vauxhall Astra with two maleoccupants was parked facing my flat only a few metres away at thejunction of Richborne Terrace and Palfrey Place. It was the only`trigger' position that would enable them to watch both the front doorand side entrance. There were no obvious followers as we walked the fewhundred metres to the Oval Underground station, but once my mother wason her way back home I was alone and had the opportunity to do a fewbasic anti-surveillance moves. Walking down Kennington Road towardsKennington police station, I picked up a possible watcher, a young,slightly plump female. There were probably others but it would takemore rigorous anti-surveillance to be sure. MI6, anxious to ensure thatI stayed in Britain, would be watching to check that my New Zealandpassport was posted to the High Commission. I was equally determined tomess them around as much as possible and decided to hang on to thepassport as long as I dared, to see what would happen.The police station was almost within the shadow of Century House, nowunoccupied and boarded up. It was Saturday morning, so there were halfa dozen other people awaiting attention to enquire about relativeslocked up the night before, or to present driving licences after theusual Friday evening drink-drive controls. I sat down on the bench infront of the duty sergeant's counter, picked up a copy of the localnewspaper and prepared for a long and tedious wait. I was getting intoa good article about a gang who had just been remanded to Belmarsh forholding up a Securicor van when there was a sharp rap on the window ofthe interview counter. The elderly duty sergeant peered at me over hisbifocal glasses. `Mr Tomlinson, step this way. Inspector Ratcliffe iswaiting for you.'`How do you know my name?' I mischievously called back.The sergeant looked sheepish; he shouldn't have let on that he alreadyknew me, as it revealed that they had followed me to the station.`Never mind, just get in there,' he replied impatiently, indicating oneof the interview rooms.`There you are, just as you asked,' I announced sarcastically, slappingmy British passport on the desk.Ànd have you posted your New Zealand passport to the High Commission?'asked Ratcliffe.Òh yes, indeed I have,' I lied brazenly. `When and where,' askedRatcliffe suspiciously. Ìn the postbox by the Oval tube station, justafter I said goodbye to my mother this morning,' I replied, stifling asmirk. Ratcliffe knew I was lying, because the watchers had notpage- 198 - 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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