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The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comThere was no spyhole so I slipped on the security chain and turned thekey. The door smashed to its limit against the chain, then again andagain. `Police, police, open the fucking door,' shouted an irritatedmale voice. Àll right, all right, calm down,' I replied, slipping thechain to avoid a big bill from the Copthorne.A pugnacious-looking Maori led the charge. `Get back over there, in thecorner,' he yelled, shoving me backwards away from my half-unpackedsuitcase. Two more officers followed him up.Once the room was secured and they had me under control - not that Iwas resisting - a fourth entered. Ì'm Detective Inspector Whitham,Auckland Threat Assessment Unit,' he announced, flashing his ID at me.He introduced the glowering Maori, who looked disappointed I had nothit him, as Constable Waihanari.`We have a warrant to search you and your belongings,' announcedWaihanari, waving a sheet of paper at me. `Strip,' he ordered. While myclothes were being searched, a female officer and a portly fourthofficer pulled on latex gloves and started a careful search of mybelongings. The telephone was still off the hook, with my friendlistening in from Sydney, so the female slammed down the receiver andfor good measure pulled the telephone lead out of the wall socket.`Can I see the warrant?' I demanded after Waihanari had allowed me toget dressed again. I checked it for accuracy - any discrepancy wouldmake it invalid and I could force the police to leave - but everydetail was correct. They even had the correct hotel room number,explaining why the receptionist insisted I took the suite.I heard other voices lurking outside in the corridor and as I finishedreading the warrant they entered. To my surprise, one was Ratcliffe.`What the hell are you doing here?' I shouted, leaping to my feet andcausing Waihanari's eyes to light up. Ratcliffe had flown all the wayto New Zealand at the British taxpayer's expense (and I later learntthat Whaley had accompanied him) for this latest episode of pettyharassment. `Get out of this room now!' I shouted. Waihanari waslimbering up with a gentle haka and I turned to him. Ìf he doesn't getout of here right now, you can have your fun.' Ratcliffe held up hishands to calm me down, and backed out of the room. He knew this latestpiece of harassment would be relayed to the press the next day and hedid not want a repeat of the bad publicity of the Paris.The New Zealand police searched my hotel room more professionally andthoroughly than the French. Anything unscrewable was unscrewed - allthe light fittings, electrical sockets and desk fittings, and theydismantled all my personal belongings. They found the Psion disk afteran hour and a half, hidden inside a clunky British adaptor plug. Theporky officer smiled with delight when he opened it up and pulled itout. I smiled too, as I had backed a copy up on the internet thatmorning in an Auckland internet caf‚.Just after 11 p.m. the police left with the disk and a few other piecesof paper that they decreed were evidence that I was èndangering NewZealand security'. Feeling bloody annoyed, I went out into downtownAuckland to get drunk. The second pub I stumbled into had a promotionevening for a canned vodka cocktail called `KGB'. When I was halfwaypage- 215 - 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.comthrough my first can, a young man came up to me and clapped me on theshoulder. Ì know you, mate, I've seen you on telly every night thisweek. You're that fella those pommy bastards have been chasing aroundthe world,' he grinned. `Here, have a KGB on me.' He waved over thewaiter and got me another can.Soon all his mates joined in and I knew I was in for a long night and arough tomorrow. `Stick at it and put one over the bastard poms,' theyurged me. Their fighting spirit and irreverent attitude to stateauthority was a refreshing contrast to the attitude of many people inEngland who limply advised me to give in to MI6.Despite the support from the drinkers that night in the pub, and frommany other ordinary Auckland folk who approached me on the streetduring the next few days, one even asking for an autograph, Ireluctantly decided that it was not advisable to stay in New Zealand.If MI6 had twisted the arms of the New Zealand authorities into theconfiscation of my property, then it was inevitable that sooner orlater they would try to press charges against me. I decided to go backto Europe, and chose Switzerland because of its reputation forneutrality.But first I had to find myself a lawyer who could help me get back myconfiscated property, as once back in Europe it would be impossible toact for myself. One of MI6's objectives in continually having medetained was to force me to spend my savings on lawyers to recoverproperty that they confiscated from me. Whilst they had unlimited legalresources at their disposal, they knew that my reserves were finite. Iwas therefore pleased to find a lawyer who was prepared to represent mepro bono. Warren Templeton, a diligent and independent barrister fromAuckland, had seen coverage of my case on TVNZ and tracked me down tothe Copthorne Hotel. I accepted his kind offer gladly and he has workedceaselessly ever since to put an end to MI6's treatment of me, not onlyin New Zealand but also elsewhere around the world.SUNDAY, 30 AUGUST 1998JOHN F. KENNEDY AIRPORT, NEW YORK15. SINISTER CIRCLES`Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. For security reasons would allpassengers kindly return to their seats.' There was a collective groanas passengers replaced their coats and hand-luggage in the overheadlockers while the Swissair captain repeated the message in French. Ihadn't stood up to join the rush to the exits and paid little attentionto the delay as I buried my nose back in The Economist. My neighbour inthe aisle seat sat down impatiently. `JFK's a goddarn disgrace,' hedrawled grumpily to nobody in particular.I took a circuitous route from Auckland to Munich via Singapore andBangkok, hoping MI6 would lose my trail somewhere along the way. Aftertwo days in Munich, rollerblading in the English gardens to keep anysurveillance on their toes, I took the train to Zurich then Geneva,where I found some digs. There lawyers for Mr Al Fayed contacted me,inquiring about my knowledge of Henri Paul's relationship with MI6. Ihad not given it any thought since posting the letter to Harrods a yearpage- 216 - 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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