The Big Breach - Index of

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, `I 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.`And have you posted your New Zealand passport to the High Commission?'asked Ratcliffe.`Oh yes, indeed I have,' I lied brazenly. `When and where,' askedRatcliffe suspiciously. `In 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