The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comincluding Wheeler, whose cover job provided a good excuse to attend thelectures. I scribbled a few jottings in my notebook to keep up mycover, but didn't pay too much attention to the content of thelectures. My mind was on the job ahead.After a quick lunch, I hurried to my room, locked the door firmly andremoved a WH Smith pad of A4 notepaper from my briefcase. The first 20pages or so were filled with the notes I had taken from the conference- junk which would be discarded in London. At the back of the pad, Icarefully ripped out the fifth-to-last page, took it to the bathroom,placed it on the plastic lid of the toilet seat and removed a bottle ofRalph Lauren Polo Sport aftershave from my spongebag. Moistening asmall wad of cotton wool with the doctored aftershave, I slowly andmethodically wiped it over the surface of the paper. In a matter ofseconds, the large Russian script of SOU's handwriting started to show,slowly darkening to a deep pink. Using the hotel hair dryer I carefullydried the damp sheet, trying not to wrinkle it too much and drivingaway the strong smell of perfume. It now looked like a normalhandwritten letter, though in a slightly peculiar dark red ink.Reaching into the back of my TOS supplied briefcase, I pulled on thesoft calfskin lining, ripping apart the Velcro fastening it to theouter casing, slipped the paper into the small gap and resealed it. Itwould take a very diligent search to find the hidden pocket.P5, who was a former H/MOS, had warned me that there would be no pointin an inexperienced officer like myself attempting anti-surveillance inthe Russian capital. `Their watchers are just too good,' he had toldme. `Even officers with good anti-surveillance experience struggle inMoscow. Normally we reckon on six months before a new officer canreliably pick them up. There's just no point in you looking,' he hadadvised me. Nevertheless, as I stepped out of the hotel lobby on thewalk to the Ploschad Revolutsii Metro station, I couldn't help but takeadvantage of the natural anti-surveillance traps that presentedthemselves - staircases that switched back on themselves, subways underthe busy main roads, shopping malls. It gave some assurance therewasn't any obvious surveillance.The journey out to the Zelenograd suburb, one of Moscow's poorest andmost run-down `sleeping districts', was long, tedious and tricky. P5had ordered me to use public tranport because the risk of a Metropoltaxi-driver reporting a westerner making such an unusual journey wastoo great. The rickety but easy-to-use Moscow subway system only wentpart of the way; thereafter I would have to use buses. SOU gave clearinstructions - out to Metro Rechnoy Vokzal, the last station on thegreen line, then the 400 bus to Zelenograd, changing to a local bus forthe final leg - but his information was over a year old. Moscow stationhad been unable to verify the details because any of their staff, evenone of the secretaries who weren't always under surveillance, makingsuch a journey would have appeared suspicious. I would just have tohope that the bus routes had not been changed or, if they had, that itwould be possible to navigate my way by reading the Cyrillicinformation panels on the front of the buses.It was 3 p.m. by the time the bus arrived at the small, run-down parknear SOU's flat that he had suggested was the best place to disembark.The housing estate was a soulless, depressing place, made worse by thedull skies above. All around were the grey, monstrous, nearly identicalpage- 85 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com