The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comNo sooner had I locked the door of my room behind me and sat down onthe narrow bed than there was a knock at the door. It was the sharp,aggressive knock of somebody in authority, not the soft apologeticknock of a hotel maid. `Oui, qu'est ce-que vous desirez?' I asked,unable to hide the suspicion in my voice.'C'est la r‚ception.' The voice was too belligerent and in any casereception would have used the internal phone if they needed to speak tome. I stood up, took a deep breath and turned the key in the door. Itburst in as though there was a gas explosion outside. Three heavilybuilt men catapulted through the door, screaming, `Police, Police!',cartwheeling me backwards, smashing my head on the desk and crushing meto the floor. Resistance would have been futile, even if I was soinclined. My arms were wrestled behind my back and handcuffs snappedinto place, biting into the flesh. I was helpless, but blows stillrained down on the back of my head until a well-aimed kick in the ribssucked the breath out of me. Only when I fell completely motionless didthe assault stop. I was hauled upright, then thrown on to the bed.Three heavies stood over me, their glowers relaxing into triumphant,toothless grins. One was sucking a knuckle that had split during theassault. Behind them stood two more officers, their revolvers pointedat my chest. The taller of the two appeared to be in charge. A wave ofthe barrel and the three heavies started searching the room.`L'ordinateur, o— est l'ordinateur?' he snapped at me. I pointed at theoverturned desk where my laptop lay on the floor, face down, open atthe hinge, but seemingly still in one piece. A heavy picked it up,dusted it down, slammed it shut and rammed it into a specimen bag. `Etle Psion?' continued the gun. I nodded at the bedside table and thebloody knuckle slung it in another bag. Working in silence, theygathered my other possessions and clothes together, crushed themuntidily into my suitcase, struggled to close the zip, gave up andstrapped it together with my belt, leaving my suit trouser-leg and ashirt-tail hanging out.Silently they dragged me out of the room and down the narrow corridorto the lift. The commander stabbed the button but then muttered anorder and decided on the stairs. There were five steep flights of themand for a moment it crossed my mind that they might give me a shove. Asthe five police led me past the front desk of the hotel, my hairdishevelled, shirt splattered with blood, shirt-tail hanging out, Ismiled apologetically at the receptionist. He glared back, presuming Imust be guilty of some villainous offence.Outside, a small group of onlookers had already gathered. Two plainclothes police cars waited with an ambulance behind them, suggestingthat they expected me to put up a fight. `Why did you smash me up?' Iasked one of the officers in French as he pushed me into the back seatof the first car. He grunted menacingly and I shut up.Sitting impassively in the back of the car, handcuffed to a flic oneach side, we made our way westwards and then along the south bank ofthe Seine. It was a sickening feeling to lose control of my freedomagain and dull helpless resignation set in, like a rabbit caught in asnare knowing its time is up. MI6 had got me again on a Fridayafternoon, meaning a whole weekend in an uncomfortable police cellpage- 206 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com