The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comFor the next 45 minutes I stood by the open window of the door,watching the grim suburbs of Belgrade gradually give way to featurelessagricultural land, letting the breeze cool my face. DespiteObradovich's ominous words and the problem of crossing the borderahead, my thoughts were with Sarah. I had not bought her a present -not through lack of trying, but because I couldn't find anything thatshe would like. I knew she wouldn't be angry. At the worst, she wouldpull a funny face and make a jestful, mocking comment, but she would bedisappointed. Resolving to find her something in Budapest, I set offdown the rocking corridor to find a seat.Four hours remained until the train reached the Hungarian border and myfate was out of my hands. Would Obradovich have reported me to theSerbian authorities? Probably. But having told him that I was leavingBelgrade by bus the following morning, he might not have rushed toreport me, meaning that the Serb border police would not yet benotified. There was a slight possibility that surveillance might havefollowed me throughout my trip and that my rush to the station may havebeen seen. But even if my cover was blown, would the Serbs order anarrest? That would depend if it would serve any political purpose. Theywere under UN sanctions and catching a British spy would give them someleverage in the UN HQ in New York, but on the other hand they might notwant to antagonise the West any further. The risk of arrest was slight,but that did not stop me carefully rehearsing every detail of my coverstory as we approached the border. What was my date of birth? Where wasI born? Address? What was my profession? Where did I work? I chastisedmyself for not having worked harder on my cover. Having rattled offnatural cover trips to Madrid, Geneva, Paris and Brussels since Moscow,I was becoming blas‚. It had become as routine to me as jumping on abus, and I vowed then never to take the responsibility so lightlyagain.The train slowed to a crawl as we clanked into Subotica station justbefore 9 p.m. The Serbian border police had checked my passport here onmy first uneventful trip, so presumably they would do so again. I leftsnoring Serbs in the compartment and stood in the corridor, pullingdown the window to let the damp summer air spill into the mustycorridor. Outside, only a few lights twinkled in the deserted-lookingtown.The train lurched to a halt, its brakes squealing unpleasantly. Doorsslammed as a couple of passengers disembarked. Most, like me, werecontinuing. A child ran up to my window, thrusting a tray ofunappetising, sweating pastries. Her brown eyes met mine for a secondor two before she registered my disinterest and ran to another window.Two border guards, sweating under the weight of thick coats and submachineguns, climbed into the front carriage and began methodicallyworking their way through the train, examining each passenger. Werethey looking for me, or was this just their usual nightly routine?For a fleeting moment, I considered jumping and legging it across thesidings and junctions into town and onwards to the unpatrolled border.It was a moonless night, but the sky was clear and it would be easy tonavigate by the stars the ten kilometres to Kelebia, the nearestHungarian village. A hike like that would have been regarded as astroll when I was in the TA.page- 95 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com