The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comI explained how I'd ended up working in Moscow under cover with a falseidentity and Goldstein tried to hide his surprise, but he was obviouslyintrigued and a little impressed. I went on. `I'm sure you'llunderstand that it would cause a right stink back home if any of thisgets out, but I am confident that you'll keep this little encounter toyourself.' Hopefully Goldstein would respond positively to the simplebit of flattery. `We'd best not associate too much for the rest of theconference. Acknowledge each other of course, but there's no need forus to talk at any length. When we're back in London, I'll get youlunch, and we can talk properly then.' We had now walked round thehotel back to the main entrance. There might be FSB surveillancearound, waiting for Wheeler and other suspected intelligence officersto leave. Goldstein wanted to rejoin the reception, so after some smalltalk we shook hands and I went back up to my room to think a few thingsthrough.This operation had taken months of planning and preparation and hadalready cost a substantial amount of money. All the effort would bewasted if I aborted now. On the other hand, could I completely trustGoldstein? He'd told me that he was dining with some of Yeltsin'spersonal staff that night, hoping to clinch a big business deal. Anindiscreet word, perhaps after a few too many glasses of vodka, mightland me in Lefortovo prison. Although I felt nervous about continuingit was too late to abort. I would recover the notebook, as planned, thenext day. My mind made up, I got up from the bed, grabbed my sportsgear and went down to the hotel gym.The gym was moderately equipped - a few rowing machines, exercise bikesand a bench press. A tall, rangy fellow occupied one of the runningmachines. He was in his 50s but fit for his age, and I recognised himas one of the delegates in the conference. I started warming up on themachine adjacent to his. `How are you doing?' he asked, in the friendlybut condescending way army officers address their soldiers. We swappedintroductions - he worked for Control Risks, a corporate securitycompany that was preparing a consultancy report for clients who wishedto invest in Russia. `Damned pleased to be here,' he continued. `Myfirst trip to Russia, fascinating. Don't know how I managed to get avisa though.'`Why's that?' I asked.`I was in the army, you see, a colonel. They've been following meeverywhere.' He nodded over to a young man working out on one of therowing machines. `It's OK. We can talk here. He's a Brit, works forMorgan Grenfell. Checked him out earlier,' he whisperedconspiratorially. I tried not to laugh at the colonel's fancifulimagination, and carried on with my work-out. I saw him again thefollowing morning on Prospect Marx Street in front of the hotel,scrutinising the faces around him as if looking for a hooligan in afootball crowd. Fifty metres down the road, he stopped and bent down totie his shoelaces, checking behind him studiously for his imaginarysurveillance.That morning I attended the last lectures at the Metropol. Future PrimeMinister, Victor Chernomyrdin, then head of Gazprom, was the starspeaker. Several members of the British embassy came to listen,page- 84 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com