by Tom Marcus
‘Yeah, STAND BY, STAND BY, that’s DIRTY BOOT and HUNGRY WORM arriving at the gardens in the same taxi.’
‘DIRTY BOOT and HUNGRY WORM now OUT, OUT and walking arm in arm towards the entrance of the main building.’
Hearing the constant clicks of the camera in the background of the transmissions, the whole team now knew we had good imagery of these two. We just needed good intelligence of them inside and we would have enough to stop the Russian from stealing this tech.
‘Roger, thank you. Nine Seven, signal to acknowledge the last?’
‘Yeah, roger the last, I’m in a good position at the moment.’
‘Roger, thank you. Can we have anyone else out on foot, do you think?’
‘Negative, place is dead.’
‘Roger, thanks, Kate.’
‘Stations, we’ve got the exit covered, Kate inside. We’ve done all we can do to monitor this meet. Be aware of any counter on the outside positions, please. Other than that we’ll wait for them to come out.’
It was wise not to send anyone else in. Our team leader was good at listening. Surveillance teams from other intelligence agencies or police teams would probably have sent more people in, likely to be male, in walking kit, having just had a fresh shave that morning. These things stand out. The place was empty, apart from the staff. The headquarters of the Royal Horticultural Society were now the site of a major international intelligence operation, but it couldn’t look like one. We hid ourselves around the area, used other cars and buildings to disguise our profiles and positioning. We could just do with more team members – it felt a bit stretched getting here.
I needed to stay alert; if there was a Russian counter-surveillance team in the area we would need to identify them quickly. My eyes were starting to lose focus now the adrenaline of driving here was wearing off. Rolling my lip in between my teeth, I bit just hard enough to send a pain signal to my brain, switching to digging my nails into my fingertips, doing anything to keep me sharp. I was fucking starving and needed a piss badly.
‘From Nine Seven, imagery taken, HUNGRY WORM has shown DIRTY BOOT a brown paper folder. DIRTY BOOT looked at the contents of the folder but did NOT take anything out. The folder is still with HUNGRY WORM and she put it into her handbag.’
‘Roger, thanks, Nine Seven.’
‘SPLIT, SPLIT, DIRTY BOOT is towards the exit, HUNGRY WORM static in same position.’
‘Is the folder still with HUNGRY WORM??’
‘Yes, still in her handbag.’
‘Roger, let DIRTY BOOT run. We’ll stay on HUNGRY WORM and the folder.’
‘From Charlie Eight Five Zero, the same black cab taxi from earlier, same driver has just arrived at the car park again.’
‘And that’s DIRTY BOOT IN, IN to the back of the taxi, facing out the rear window, vehicle moving towards exit now.’
‘Roger that, we stay with HUNGRY WORM and the folder, Base acknowledge.’
‘Base roger, we are on it.’
Fuck. The Russian had done us over here and covered his arse properly. By leaving the folder with the blonde he had deniability. He technically hadn’t stolen state secrets, and by leaving them with her he made sure he and Russia kept their distance. There would be two reasons he’d do this: firstly he might have seen one or all of our team and decided to go about his day usually to prevent being arrested. Secondly and more likely, he was providing an extra layer of protection in his operational security, planned to receive the documents at a later date and was merely checking them. Fucking hell, these Russians are good.
We could hear the camera clicking away over the net as we got more updates.
‘That’s DIRTY BOOT and the taxi from earlier out of sight to me towards the exit of the car park now.’
Catching a glimpse of a black cab in my mirrors driving away, I let the team know.
‘Good possible for the taxi now northbound on the main, time and distance matches Eight One Zero’s last.’
‘Roger that, let it run. Stations, we stay with HUNGRY WORM and the folder. We can’t risk a loss here.’
Losing whatever intelligence about lasers the folder contained would be catastrophic. When the general public thinks about threats to national security, most of the time it’s terrorist mass-murder events: killing innocent civilians, women and children lying in pools of blood on the streets of our great country. For us as operators in the greatest intelligence agency in the world, hunting murderers masquerading under the guise of religion is preventing us from stopping the really big threats. The threats that would allow a country with a military force much larger than ours to walk straight through our front doors and take whatever they wanted.
The security service’s remit is to protect the United Kingdom and its interests. The key to that is ‘interests’. An island such as ours relies heavily on being on the front foot and, in some cases, controlling where the next step is. We provide some of the most advanced technical capabilities in weapons technology worth billions. If a country acquired our research and development it would advance their own status and earning potential. Losing the ability to earn billions of pounds would cripple a small but significant country like ours.
The other side of the coin in stealing military tech is losing the defence capability. If certain codes and equipment were handed over to foreign intelligence it could render our submarines and quick-reaction fast jets completely useless. By a million miles, the biggest threat to our country and its survival isn’t the few thousand would-be mass murderers living among us, it’s the smooth-talking suit like the one we’ve just allowed to drive away in a taxi.
We got another signal from Nine Seven, who still had control of HUNGRY WORM.
‘Roger, signal heard. STAND BY, STAND BY.’
‘From Charlie Eight One Zero, HUNGRY WORM OUT, OUT of the gardens into the car park, stood waiting looking towards the exit of the car park now.’
‘Roger that, stations ready for a vehicle move, please.’
I was already turning the car around before the team leader asked us to be ready for the move. It was obvious she was waiting to be picked up. You couldn’t walk far from here, and the way Nine Seven described her demeanour, this pick-up would have been prearranged and was going to be soon. Driving further down this side street, I’d parked up facing the main road, using a parked car and garden wall as cover. I had a gap of around two feet that allowed me to see the main road.
‘From Charlie Eight One Zero, a black taxi, different from earlier has pulled into the car park now, VRN to follow.’
‘Roger. Stations, we’ll go with this if she gets in.’
The team leader was anxious; we needed to keep hold of this file.
‘STAND BY, STAND BY, HUNGRY WORM IN, IN to a black cab taxi VRN MIKE ECHO FIVE ONE CHARLIE ECHO CHARLIE, taxi licence number FIVE ONE FIVE SIX.’
‘Base, roger.’
‘Out of sight to Charlie Eight One Zero.’
‘From Charlie Six One Two, good possible for the taxi now northbound on the main, will confirm.’
Seeing the side profile of the taxi drive past the end of this side street, I couldn’t see the blonde inside due to the roof pillars of the taxi. This was going to be a balancing act confirming the VRN, especially if these two taxi drivers were in the Russian’s pocket and had been told to watch for any suspicious vehicles.
Accelerating fast towards the main road, I hit the brakes hard as I approached and pulled out naturally. Last thing we needed to do now was get blown. Seeing the back end of the taxi move round a bend ahead on the road, I pulled out and started making ground.
‘Anything further, Six One Two?’
Fuck’s sake, give me a chance!
‘Checking the VRN now, give me ten seconds, time and distance would make this our taxi, though.’
Hard on the power, I moved round the bend in the road as I’d seen the taxi do just a few seconds ago. Charlie Echo Charlie, this is the one. I’d give it some distance now and try to clip the back e
nd through the corners, hiding the profile of my car as much as possible.
‘VRN confirmed, CHARLIE ECHO CHARLIE, northbound on the main. I’m giving it some room here. I’m non for cover.’
‘Bravo Nine can?’
We had only deployed with one biker. Bravo Nine would have been redeployed to help us out at the request of Base, realizing we were going to struggle when we had the split. This would allow the team to follow the taxi at a distance to prevent the cars being seen. The bikes had an incredible ability to hide their profiles behind other cars. Coupled with the speed and braking power of their motorbikes, they could catch glimpses of the taxi through the corners, so being non for cover didn’t really affect bikes as much as it did our cars.
‘Thank you, Bravo Nine, all yours!’
He must have been following us as he popped out from a side street just in front of me. To any normal road user it would just look like a rider taking his bike out, enjoying the sweeping roads, but his transmissions told the entire team he was here to help us. The whole team knew these guys would be taking over the majority of the follow.
‘Bravo Nine to Three, mate, I will hold this.’
‘Bravo Three, roger that. Great to have you here, mate.’
‘Anytime. From Bravo Nine, vehicle is northbound on the Alpha Three Two Five towards the junction with the Alpha Three One.’
‘Roger, Bravo Three is backing on your parallel to the west.’
‘Roger, thanks.’
Our bikers are an incredible asset to the team, but when we have two working together like this it’s almost a work of art to watch and listen to. Their training and experience and the fact Red team had finished their operation early, allowing the operations officers to redirect Bravo Nine to come and help us, had just saved us getting too close and potentially compromising the whole job. Each time they transmitted, you could feel the effect accelerating and braking was having on them physically.
‘Bravo Nine, permission?’
‘Yeah from Charlie Eight One Zero, leaving the car park now and have just seen DIRTY BOOT in his taxi travelling northbound, facing forward in the taxi now.’
Bollocks. The Russian must have doubled back once HUNGRY WORM got picked up and started looking out towards the front of the taxi. That suggests he was going to try to see if anyone was following behind the blonde’s taxi.
‘Roger that, Charlie Eight One Zero, go back and change your vehicle, please. Is Nine Seven back with you or in her car?’
‘Yeah, in her vehicle’
‘Roger, Bravo Nine, permission?’
The team leader was now desperate to prevent DIRTY BOOT identifying the whole team. It was clearly the Russian’s plan to follow up behind the blonde to try to identify a surveillance train following on the road behind.
‘Go ahead, HUNGRY WORM’s taxi is still northbound going past the junction of School Hill.’
‘Roger. All stations, with the last in mind, get off the main roads and stay parallel behind DIRTY BOOT’s taxi.’
‘From Bravo Three, I will take the follow on DIRTY BOOT if Bravo Nine stays on HUNGRY WORM.’
‘Bravo Nine, roger that.’
‘Charlie Nine is close in to support lead biker Bravo Nine on a parallel with HUNGRY WORM.’
We had to stay out of sight from DIRTY BOOT now his taxi was trying to identify if the blonde was being followed. Having Charlie Nine close in to support with HUNGRY WORM’s taxi and our biker, Bravo Three, behind DIRTY BOOT’s taxi, we would be able to react if these taxis stopped for whatever reason.
The great thing about our team is profile. Bravo Three was a leather-clad biker. The bikes looked the part, and they needed to be quick and agile to skip through traffic. In contrast the car close in, Charlie Nine, was a dark blue Nissan Note driven by Ken, who by his own admission was at least 900 years old and looked like a perfect OAP on a Sunday drive.
‘Bravo Three to Bravo Nine, for information you have DIRTY BOOT’s taxi now 500 metres behind HUNGRY WORM’s.’
‘Bravo Nine, roger that. I’m balancing in between the two taxis now. Can you if I have to use one of these side streets?’
‘Bravo Three, yeah, no problem.’
With DIRTY BOOT’s taxi closing in on HUNGRY WORM in front, Bravo Nine was about to end up in a Russian-spy sandwich.
Running this follow was a fucking nightmare. Using side roads as small as this, working our way around using the main dual carriageway, which our entire team was trying to use, wasn’t ideal.
‘From Bravo Nine, that’s a STOP, STOP, STOP at a garage on the west side of the main, it’s a Texaco. HUNGRY WORM is out of sight to me. Bravo Three, all yours, I’m pulling off.’
‘Stations be advised from Bravo Nine, in my mirrors, DIRTY BOOT’s taxi is now towards the garage.’
‘Bravo Three, roger.’
As the biker transmitted you could hear his engine screaming while he desperately tried to make enough ground up to see both taxis in the garage.
Without saying anything, I could sense the team tightening its grip on these two. They were displaying a really high degree of operational security. We needed to be on top of our game here; squeeze too tight and we risked compromise, but if we gave them too much room we’d be handing Russia our country’s pay cheque for the next thirty years.
‘Both taxis at the fuel pumps. DIRTY BOOT’s is at pump number 0ne, HUNGRY WORM’s is at pump number three, drivers still at the wheel of both. DIRTY BOOT and HUNGRY WORM have just walked into the shop at the garage, from Bravo Three.’
This was going to be the handover of the folder, I knew it. Whether the Russian chose this spot deliberately or not was irrelevant. We only had our biker close in.
‘Zero Five on foot.’
‘Roger. Charlie Nine now close in to support if needed.’
The bikers went in because this was likely to be a quick stop and if these two were handing over the folder we needed to know because after this we knew the two taxis would split again.
‘From Charlie Nine, STAND BY, STAND BY, that’s DIRTY BOOT and HUNGRY WORM OUT, OUT and towards their respective vehicles.’
‘Roger, where is the folder??’
‘Unseen from Charlie Nine … HUNGRY WORM into her taxi now and vehicle out and away northbound, DIRTY BOOT getting into his taxi now.’
Fuck, we had no idea where the folder was or who to follow. This was fast becoming a cluster.
‘Bravo Nine has control of HUNGRY WORM.’
‘Roger. Stations close-in, any idea who has the folder??’
‘Bravo Three negative, they came out as I walked in.’
‘WAIT OUT, WAIT OUT! From Charlie Nine, as DIRTY BOOT got into his taxi, his shirt was untucked at the back. Bravo Three, was it untucked when he went into the garage shop?’
‘NEGATIVE!’
‘All stations go with DIRTY BOOT. Bravo Nine, can you stay with HUNGRY WORM, please?’
‘Bravo Nine, roger.’
It was a long shot, but Ken had likely saved this operation. He’d been an operator for well over thirty years now and cut his teeth following the Russians. DIRTY BOOT, by not tucking his shirt in, might have given us enough of a clue that he’d been passed the folder and hadn’t smartened himself up properly afterwards. The problem we had now was that clearly these taxis were Russian assets in some way. But we didn’t know if DIRTY BOOT was photographing the paperwork in the back or sending it directly to a secure server and destroying the evidence. As dangerous as this situation was, we were also in the middle of a political arm-wrestle between London and Moscow. Get this wrong and it would be extremely embarrassing for Downing Street to explain.
‘From Charlie Nine, DIRTY BOOT’s taxi moving towards the main from the garage. He’s facing to the rear of the taxi again, and it’s southbound, southbound, Charlie Nine not with.’
‘Roger that, Charlie Nine. Stations, let’s leapfrog ahead and ping him through. Base, can you go to channel thirteen, please?’
The team lea
der was trying to make a plan here. At the moment we were just keeping control of DIRTY BOOT, but he potentially had vital intelligence with him. We needed to stop him and check him and the contents of the taxi but do it in a way that gave us a sliver of deniability.
As the team followed the Russian’s taxi southbound, watching the taxi through key junctions and using alternative roads to get ahead, constantly handing control over to the next vehicle ahead in this massive game of leapfrog, the team leader popped up asking permission to tell us the next move.
‘Stations, local police are going to stop DIRTY BOOT and conduct a licence check on the taxi driver under the cover of illegal taxi drivers.
‘Further, the police team will have a dog with them and fake a drugs find to allow a search of both occupants.’
‘Charlie Six One Four, roger, taxi still southbound on the Alpha Three Two Five.’
It took all of five minutes for the police team to stop the taxi.
‘From Charlie Six One Four. A police dog car has pulled the taxi over on blue lights. HOLD BACK, HOLD BACK, taxi is STOP, STOP, STOP on the west side of the Alpha Three Two Five, just south of the junction with Holt Pound Lane, page 56 on your maps.’
‘Roger, have you still got control, Charlie Six One Four?’
‘Yeah, and can give commentary if needed.’
‘Thanks, we have Special Branch with the dog team, but if you can let us know – if they take DIRTY BOOT into custody we’ll get out of the area.’
‘Roger that. Just one uniform talking to the driver of the taxi now. DIRTY BOOT remains inside.’
The police team wouldn’t have been told what to look for; that would have been handled by our Special Branch contact. He was in uniform too so would have looked like a normal police officer, like the other two in the car, but he would have been told one of the two occupants in the taxi was hiding sensitive material. It had to look like a normal licence check on the driver until the dog indicated the presence of drugs, which would allow them to be taken in and searched and the taxi to be impounded.
‘Charlie Six One Four, permission?’
‘Go ahead, no change. Uniform checking the taxi driver’s details now.’
