The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comreported me posting anything. Ratcliffe could not admit that he had meunder surveillance, so he had to accept my false assurance.With my New Zealand passport still in my top pocket, MI6 had no choicebut to keep me under surveillance. That afternoon would give theopportunity to make them earn their living. On the IONEC we practisedanti-surveillance against teams from MI5's A4 and the Met SB in Londonon a couple of exercises, and recced two routes. The first, fromWaterloo station across the Thames to the Barbican centre, was abeginner's route, full of easy and obvious surveillance traps, andthere was no obvious cover reason for me to go to the City. Taking thatroute would make it obvious that I was surveillance -aware and theywould possibly back off. The second, more complicated and advanced, wasdown Oxford Street. The crowds made it more difficult for both dogs andhare, but there were some really good anti-surveillance traps. Also,there was a plausible cover reason for me to go there: I badly neededsome new clothes.That afternoon was spent trudging up and down the famous shoppingstreet, feigning interest in clothes and taking advantage ofsurveillance traps. In Debenham's department store, the switch-backescalators allowed me to scan the shop floor below and I picked up onewatcher. At the tube station, a little-used short-cut forced anotherfollower to expose himself as he exited the side entrance like a rabbitfrom a hole, anxious not to lose my trail. Browsing aimlessly in thelabyrinthine bookshelves of Foyles bookstore at Charing Cross Roadforced two others to do the same. By the end of the afternoon, I hadconfirmed repeat sightings on three watchers and had picked up apossible fourth.Sunday dawned with clear blue skies and a refreshing wind. It was aperfect day to skate in the park and that would provide an opportunityto bait my surveillance. Most surveillance teams train only againsttargets on foot or in a motor vehicle, and they are ill-prepared tofollow targets who choose unusual modes of transport. Skating wasideal; too fast to follow on foot, and followers would be reluctant toexpose themselves in a slow-moving car. About 11 a.m., I strapped on myK2s, grabbed a Walkman and burst out of the side entrance of my flat.Some rapid skating took me down Palfrey Place, Fentiman Road andtowards Vauxhall Cross. It was a gorgeous, uplifiting morning and itwas exhilarating to be on skates again. Passing Vauxhall Cross, I gavethe surveillance cameras an exuberant one-fingered salute. Skatingbackwards over the smooth pavement of Vauxhall Bridge gave me anopportunity to confirm that there was no obvious surveillance behind.Arriving at Hyde Park 20 minutes later, I was feeling buoyant,confident that I had escaped.`Hey, yo,'' a familiar voice called out. `Where yo'been?' I spun aroundto see Winston and Shaggy, weaving towards me through the strollers andjoggers on the broad asphalt path in front of Kensington Palace. `Wherethe hell yo' been these last months, fella?' Shaggy grinned, pullingaside his heavy-duty stereo headphones so that he could hear my reply.`I've just done a stretch down in Belmarsh,' I replied, smiling coyly.Both Shaggy and Winston had done short stretches in Brixton forpeddling in Notting Hill and so they would know Belmarsh. Winstonpage- 199 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com