The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comcopy of the Gazzetta dello Sport. Squeezing into a gap between him andanother customer, I placed my own copy next to his and ordered acoffee. Wordlessly, Eric picked up my paper and left. I enjoyed mycoffee, leaving 15 minutes later with Eric's newspaper under my arm.Even if surveillance were watching me, only the most acute observerwould have noticed the brush contact.There was not another meeting scheduled with Eric until the followingmorning, but there was plenty to keep me occupied for the rest of theafternoon. Ball had told us to do a house recce, as we had learnt onPERFECT NEIGHBOUR. The scenario was the same - it was a suspected IRAsafe house and we were to help TOS plan a bugging operation. Number 41Via Antonio Gruinaci was on the east side of the town. That afternoon,a casual stroll past gave me a first look. A detached three-storeyhouse, probably of post-war construction, it was stuccoed in a creamycolour and set just off the road with a small iron gate leading intothe front garden. There was a new and expensive Lancia parked in thedrive. I strained to get a better look at the small plaque hanging fromthe side gate: `Studio di Architectura, M di Rossi, Pietrangelo DiVito, M Caracci.' I memorised as much detail as I could but no amountof written detail can beat a good photograph. We had not been issuedwith covert cameras - that would be far too compromising if we werearrested - so I took a photograph openly with my Pentax SLR. Ifquestioned, I would claim that it was part of my research. It would beenough to make a good report for the DS - not as good as on PERFECTNEIGHBOUR, but good enough given the limited time. I stashed the cameraaway and hurried back to the pension.The rest of the afternoon was spent doing the work a real academic on aresearch visit might do. Maria Vialli, a pretty assistant clerk in thetown hall planning department, provided me with maps of the town beforeand after the war and photocopies of town records. `You're in luck,'she told me in good English, `the local priest who has lived here allhis life is displaying his collection of sketches of the town from 1945to present - you should go and have a chat with him.' She gave me herbusiness card in case I needed to contact her again. At the gallery,just underneath the town hall, the priest, Monsignor Berlingieri, washosting the exhibition, humbly showing visitors around his pictures. Hewas delighted to escort me around the collection and two hours later,the tour finished, I pressed a calling card into his hand to ensurethat he would remember my name.Eric was waiting for me the following morning in a third caf‚, just offthe town square. The Gazzetta dello Sport swap was two-way this time.My copy contained the write-up of the house recce and a canistercontaining the undeveloped film and there was a message for me inEric's copy.Back in my room at the Arena, the brown envelope inside the papercontained a plain sheet of A4 paper. Surprisingly, there was also athick wadge of œ50 notes, amounting to œ1,000 in total. Eager for anexplanation, I moistened a ball of cotton wool with the doctored Poloaftershave and applied it to the blank sheet and waited. Nothinghappened. I reversed the sheet and tried again. This time typed scriptgradually appeared, faint pink at first, then darkening to a deeppurple. It was a message from the Rome station:page- 56 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com