The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comcheck-in staff were too busy with other passengers to pay him muchattention.I chose Monday, 27 July for my abscondment because it was the schoolholiday season, so the ports would be busier than usual. MI6 would beparticularly vigilant during the last week of my probation, meaningsubterfuge was needed. On 12 July I telephoned a travel agent andbooked a Qantas flight from Manchester airport to Sydney for 2 August,the day after the end of my probation and just when MI6 wouldanticipate my departure. Friends who rang me were informed that thelast week in July was to be spent on a cycling tour of Scotland. Thiswould all be picked up by the UKZ telephone transcribers and relayedthrough the corridors of Vauxhall Cross.On 22 July an unexpected visit forced me to bring my plans forward. Atabout 11 a.m., as I was upstairs in my bedroom working on the internet,I heard the crunch of two sets of heavy footsteps on the gravel drive.Spying from behind a curtain, their odd and inappropriate clothingrevealed they were from SB. The elder was in a dark pin-stripe suit andheavy brogues, the younger in jeans and a blue fleece top; they lookedlike The Professionals with Bodie off sick.Presumably they wanted to question me, though about what I didn't know.I had not committed any new offence and SB had no business inquiringabout breaches of my probation conditions. I paid no attention whenthey rang the front door bell and ignored their banging on the backdoor. They must have known I was at home through surveillance, for theydid not give up easily and rang and banged until Jesse, now nearlystone deaf, heard the noise and started barking. Luckily I had lockedall the doors so they could not enter without using force. They wouldhave brought a bigger team if they had a warrant, so as long as I laylow, they would give up and go away. After a poke around the garden andoutbuildings, as if recceing the lie of the land for a later arrest,they trudged back up the drive some 40 minutes after their arrival.They would be back with a warrant and a bigger team, so there was nochoice but to leave. It took half an hour to pack. I had time for aquick lunch once my parents were back, said a fond goodbye to Jesse,knowing that I would never see her again, and put my two cases on theback seat of my mother's Saab. In case SB had posted surveillance, Ihid in the boot like Gordievsky until clear of the village. We arrived20 minutes later at Penrith railway station, from where the picturesquewest country line took me to the southern port city of Poole.The morning of 24 July broke cloudy and dull, like so many othersduring the summer of 1998. As planned, the terminal was thronging withfamilies and children, off to France on the first day of the schoolholidays. Flourishing my birth certificate, driving licence and creditcards at the harassed check-in girl at the `Truckline' counter, Iexplained that my passport had been stolen a few days earlier and,after some cursory questioning and a quick but nerve-wracking phonecall to her superior, she issued a boarding pass for the 1245 Cherbourgferry.With my luggage stowed, I went up on the promenade deck to catch mylast view of England and watched the myriad windsurfers and jetskiersflitting across our bows as we pulled out of Poole harbour. Just aspage- 203 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com