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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.Ì'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
The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comlooked at me disbelievingly. `Like fuck, fella, educated white-boyslike you don't get bird!'I explained how I'd ended up in Belmarsh, but they were stilldisbelieving.`Nah, yo's pullin' my arse,' laughed Winston scornfully. `Yo can't getlocked up in `dis country for writin' no book.' Winston skated off,laughing mockingly.`Right fella,' Shaggy addressed me, suspicious but prepared to believeme, ìf yo's really done bird, what d'ya call a fella like Winston?' heasked.À fraggle?' I answered.Shaggy laughed, `Hey Winston, git back here, you fraggle, dis fellareally has done bird!'Winston skated back over. Ìf yo's really done bird in Belmarsh, thattakes respect!' I held out the palms of my hand and Winston slappedthem enthusiastically, delighted to find that the educated white-boyreally was an ex-con.`Shit man, dat helicopter is pissin' me right off,' Winston exclaimed afew minutes later, glaring at a Metropolitan police helicopter that wasdroning a thousand feet above us. `Let's get some quiet by d'lake, seewhat's happenin' there,' he suggested.Dodging through the ambling pedestrians, we skated over to theSerpentine, on the other side of the park. There were half a dozen ofthe regulars already there and we joined in the banter. But thehelicopter followed us over, the buzzing noise intrusive. `Hey,Winston, yo' been dealin' again?' shouted Shaggy. `Dat bleedin' `copteris followin' yo',' he laughed. Winston came over to join us, lookingnervously at the helicopter. `What yo' bin doin' den, badboy?' laughedShaggy.Ì bin good dees days,' answered Winston. `He ain't followin' me, nofuckin' way man, but he's gettin' right on my tits.'They had used a helicopter to escort me on my prison transfer fromBrixton to Belmarsh, but that was because it was a standard operatingprocedure for A-cats. It would be difficult to keep me undersurveillance while I was on my skates, but surely they wouldn't go tothe expense of using the police helicopter to follow me? There was onlyone way to find out. `Let's go down to Trafalgar Square,' I ventured.`See what's up over there.' We took off through the heavy Piccadillytraffic, Winston blowing his whistle, skating backwards just in frontof any taxi-driver who dared get in his way, giving abuse or thefinger, and Shaggy, ghetto blaster balanced on his shoulder, hopping onand off moving buses or grabbing the back-rack of passingmotorcyclists. The trip only took a few minutes but it was long enoughfor the helicopter to appear over our heads again.Winston was now even more agitated. `Dat bastard, he followin' me!' heglared skywards indignantly, frowning hard as he planned how to dealpage- 200 - 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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