The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comearlier, but after a casual comment to a journalist who realised itssignificance, his lawyers wanted a full statement. Judge Herv‚ Stephan,the magistrate in charge of the inquest into the crash that killed thePrincess of Wales, Dodi Al Fayed and Henri Paul himself, invited me toParis shortly afterwards to give evidence. It was a breach of the OSAfor me to do so, but I felt entirely justified, given the significanceof the tragedy. I told Stephan about Paul's MI6 file, the notes I sawof his meetings in 1992 with his MI6 case officer, Fish's plan toassassinate President Milosevic in a tunnel car-crash and about thepaparazzi photographer who worked for UKN. I do not know anything moreabout the fatal crash, but I am convinced that there is information inMI6 files that would be useful to the enquiry, in particular concerningthe movements of Henri Paul on the evening of his death. For despitethorough police inquiries, his whereabouts for an hour have not beenaccounted for. I suspect that he was having a drink with his MI6handler, as a large sum of cash was found on his body later thatevening. Examination of his MI6 file would clarify this and might shedlight on the mysteriously high levels of alcohol and carbon monoxidefound in his blood. Disappointingly, Stephan did not request the filesfrom the British government.NBC wanted to interview me live on their Today news programme onMonday, 31 August about this evidence and MI6's pursuit of me aroundthe world, hence my flight to New York. But, watching a group ofuniformed, armed men methodically counting down the seat rows of theMD-11, I feared MI6 had other ideas.`Can I see your passport please, sir?' the badly overweight INS(Immigration and Naturalization Service) officer asked politely as heand three colleagues stopped at my row. I handed over my passport, openat the page with the multiple-entry indefinite visa issued while astudent at MIT. The official flipped to the photograph and glanced atme to verify the resemblance. `Come with us please, sir,' he ordered.My grumbling neighbour stood to allow me out and as I stepped into theaisle, two INS men grabbed my wrists and slapped on handcuffs. `Where'syour hand luggage?' one snapped, and picked out my canvas shoulder bagfrom the locker I nodded towards. I smiled back at the hostile glaresfrom the plane's passengers as they frogmarched me off the plane, twoin front, two behind, through the docking gantry into the crowdedarrivals area, then down into the bowels of the airport.The INS detention centre was dominated by a substantial desk on araised plinth, behind which two officials surveyed the detaineessitting in a row on a bench against the opposite wall. My captorsuncuffed me, sat me down between a snoozing Mexican in a sombrero and agreasy-haired Russian in a tight T-shirt, and manacled me to the benchwith leg-irons. `I thought you gave up legirons for new arrivals 200years ago,' I quipped.`We've been ordered not to let you into the United States,' amarginally slimmer officer replied humourlessly. `Wait your turn here,and you'll find out why.'Fortunately my turn for an interview came quickly. `Sit down overthere,' the INS officer indicated a plastic chair in the corner of asmall interview room containing a desk and computer. `Right, Mrpage- 217 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com