by Tom Marcus
The more you expose yourself to risk, the more resilient and stronger you become. You know you can’t rely on anyone else and you don’t need to.
It was not long after I’d escaped being raped that I saw a bloke expose himself to one of the girls from my class on the way to school. Then he grabbed her and pulled her on top of him. She screamed and the other kids nearby just froze, looking for someone to help. I ran after him straight away. Some of the other rougher kids joined in but he was too fast for us.
This protective streak is something I would see a lot with others in the surveillance team who had a similar background to me. We weren’t on any kind of noble crusade but we remembered the bad times we’d been through, the fear we felt, and how no one was there for us. If we could make a difference to someone else we would do so.
More than that, I wanted to stop the kind of people who feel they can do what they want to others, because the rules don’t apply to them. On a big stage, this is what we did in MI5. I don’t care who you are – foreign agents, terrorists – you can’t threaten our safety and get away with it. On a smaller stage, my insistence that the rules were for everyone was the reason I ended up working for the security services in the first place.
If you read Soldier Spy, you can skip the next bit. I joined the army at sixteen and was on track to become the worst mechanic the Engineers had ever seen when one of our officers took pity on me and sent me on a Physical Training Instructor course instead. I fucking loved it. I took my new role as a PTI very seriously, even making the Commanding Officer take remedial training after he cheated on his sit-ups. I wasn’t trying to score points, I just believed that if you’re leading 1,500 men you need to be able to do everything you ask them to do. No one is entitled to special treatment just because of who they are. That attitude is why the CO recommended me for Special Operations selection. (Although he might also have been trying to get rid of me!) I passed after six tough months and was one of the youngest people ever to join the army’s secretive counter-terrorism unit in Northern Ireland. That was where I met my wife Lucy, who was one of the few women at the time to pass the Special Ops course.
Ian Grey, my handler in Northern Ireland, recruited me into MI5 not long after the 7/7 attacks. I joined A4, part of A Branch, which is the department tasked with surveillance. More specifically, I was part of Green Team. Surveillance is a complex procedure if you don’t want to be caught, and by operating in teams we could find and keep control of the target while remaining out of sight. We were trained to blend into our environment, to notice detail and filter what is important and what is not. On the street your life might depend on your ability to read a situation in a fraction of a second.
Being part of a team like this is like no other feeling. In the military you have a special bond with those around you. When I made it into Special Operations, something we know as ‘the group’, the bond was even stronger. But being in an A4 team was the first time I had complete faith in the people around me, knowing there were no weak links. We never questioned anyone’s ability and we all put the operation ahead of ourselves. There was no place for ego. If your target was on his way to the tube with explosives in a backpack, you didn’t care about being the one to control him – you handed him over without hesitation if someone else was in a better place. We were driven not to let anyone down – the intelligence officers back at Thames House and especially each other. We knew almost nothing about each other’s personal lives and yet we saw each other more than our own families. We lived and breathed surveillance to stop terrorism. With each other. For each other.
4
THE FOLLOW
A couple of days after the terrorist cell was arrested in Wales I was woken up by the sound of my son struggling in his cot. Whenever I was home I would make sure Lucy had as little as possible to do. She was struggling to recover from the birth of our son, which had very nearly killed her. The doctors said the only reason she survived the massive haemorrhage during birth was due to the fact she was so fit. Losing four and a half pints of blood is quite often fatal. I knew she still didn’t have enough energy to cope with breastfeeding our humongous baby boy every ninety minutes and do the constant washing newborns bring, never mind keep herself fed too. I wanted to let her sleep through the night, so now I slipped quietly out of bed. I knew what I was getting into as the sound I’d heard is one every parent recognizes – a baby taking a huge shit in their nappy. No problem, I was quite proud of how quickly I could clean him up and put him back down again; I had my own little system going.
‘Come here, baba.’
Giving him a big kiss, I thought again how important it was that I had a good relationship with my son. Having grown up without family care, I was determined to break that cycle.
Unfortunately, the changing table had been moved, so I laid my son down on the bed. I had my baby wipes on my right-hand side, nappy bag at the ready. Controlling his feet lightly but securely, with my left hand I undid his nappy, nice and quick, to be met with the most monstrous shitty nappy I’d ever changed. Because I was kneeling down by the bed it was all at eye level.
‘What are we feeding you! Jesus Christ, buddy,’ I said under my breath.
I heard a little snigger from Lucy.
‘Lucy, have you seen this little guy’s nappy? It’s like he’s been eating mushy peas and curries for a week!’
Almost through cleaning him up, I reached for a fresh wipe just as my son let out the most forceful and loudest fart I’ve ever heard.
‘Fuck . . .’
More laughter from my wife.
‘Lucy, if you think that’s funny, you’ll love this. His fart has just speckled shit all over my face!’
Switching the side light on next to the bed, Lucy saw I was indeed covered in tiny bits of poo.
‘At least I had my mouth closed!’
Still laughing, Lucy came to the bottom of the bed, kissed our son to congratulate him and took over so I could wash my face. Just as I checked in the mirror to make sure I’d got it all clean, my work phone started vibrating.
In the mirror I could see Lucy’s face drop slightly. I knew she’d been praying for me to leave home on time as planned but this early morning text could only mean one thing. I read the message:
Briefing on air, new job. ASAP
‘Fuck me, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Keep your phone next to you, don’t worry about doing anything else, just feed yourself and little dude. I’ll be home soon.’
Kissing the top of her head, I knew she was putting a brave face on all this.
‘Yeah, don’t worry, we’re gonna have a great day.’ She adopted a mock stern expression for the baby. ‘But you better not poo on my face or there will be trouble, mister!’
Our son was showered in affection constantly – we often joked about him being the most kissed baby in the world – and it was fucking killing me that MI5 and the country’s security was depriving me of the normality I craved.
Driving away from home, I switched the car’s radio on and sent a test call to let my team leader know I was on the net.
‘Anyone read Charlie Five?’
‘Loud and clear to Team Leader,’ Graeme said. ‘We’ll wait for everyone else to get on the air, mate, but for now head to the area of Edgware, please.’
‘Roger that.’
It didn’t take long before the whole team was on the net and the operations officer gave us a briefing over the air.
‘Morning, Green Team, apologies for the earlier than planned start. This is a briefing for a new job, Operation STARLING. Following the arrests in Wales, Zero Six recovered a mobile phone at the campsite. That phone has been interrogated by the techs and is confirmed to have belonged to GREEN ATLANTIC. A number of new targets have been identified. To that end, this is a first look at two new targets whose details were on GREEN ATLANTIC’s phone. All the details have been uploaded to your Personal Digital Assistants but they are two white cousins, DEEP BLUE and GREEN GARDEN. We need any
thing you can get to develop a picture on these two – housings, up-to-date photographs, cash cards used, any internet terminals, mobile phones used and GPS’d locations. As I say, refer to your PDAs for more information. I’ll pass on an accurate location for them both in a minute. Team Leader back to you.’
‘Team Leader roger. Stations head to Edgware and wait for update. We don’t have a whole lot of information on the PDAs about the cousins other than their background.’
Traffic at this time in the morning in north London was really light, making progress very quick. I was one of the first cars into the area when Base fired another update on the cousins’ location to the team over the radio.
‘All stations from Base, be aware DEEP BLUE and GREEN GARDEN have been confirmed into Edgware tube station, both in dark coloured tops, one with blue stripes, no other description available.’
‘Team Leader roger that, is anyone close enough to the station to react?’
‘Zero Six out on foot towards the station now, searching.’
Ditching my car round the corner, I had to move fast. As I ran towards the station I was worried by the amount of people getting off one of the local buses outside the entrance and walking en masse towards the tube.
Moving through the station’s barriers, I could just make out the backs of the cousins. Losing sight of the targets at this stage would be catastrophic. I followed them onto the platform and then into a carriage that was rammed full of people trying to get to work, parents keeping a tight grip of their children on their way to school, and two terrorists. As we left Edgware southbound on the Northern Line I saw the cousins, who were at the other end of the carriage, refusing to give their seats up to an elderly couple who were struggling to keep their balance.
Two white cousins who grew up in the foster system, recently replacing their addiction to drugs with extremism. I caught glimpses of them through the crowd, signalling to the team on my radio that I had control. I noticed them comparing phones – it looked like they were swapping information they had found, or pictures perhaps. Given how busy this tube was I could get closer and still look natural, but I’d have to wait till the next stop to get off, using the massive rush-hour crowds for cover, and re-enter at the doors next to them. The phone signal on this line was intermittent so I was fairly sure they wouldn’t be using the internet, and to get a look at what they were doing on their phones could prove valuable later on.
I knew from their transmissions that the team cars were following this tube on the parallel roads – they were making great progress as they dropped other operators out on foot ready to come and help me out. We still had no idea what these two cousins would do on a normal day.
As the tube lurched slightly, braking as it neared the next stop, I got ready to squeeze myself into the group by the door who would be first to leave. A quick glance over to the cousins showed me that they were preparing to get off too. Getting ready to give a ‘stand by’ signal on my radio, I took note of the direction of the exit. I had to keep control of these two but in this crowd I was already too far away. Fuck.
The tube doors opened and the daily battle of people leaving versus getting on started immediately. Pausing for a second in the doorway of the carriage, using the slight height advantage before I had to step down onto the platform, I saw the cousins already out and walking towards the exit. Shit, this was going to be a scramble. Sending my team the signal that the targets had left the tube, I was praying we would have someone watching the station ready to pick these guys up.
‘Roger the stand by, Zero Six. You’ve got Eight Nine direct on the outside if you can feed them to me?’
Still unable to talk with so many people around me, I sent the discreet message to acknowledge I could feed the targets to the exit. I had control of this by the skin of my teeth, only seeing the back of the cousins’ heads towards the exit barriers.
‘Eight Nine, roger that. Once they are through the barriers I can take control and I’ll clear you out.’
I didn’t get a chance to send a covert reply before Sean took control of the cousins. Situations like this are a surveillance nightmare, with tons of people around and more than one option for the targets once they got off the tube.
‘From Eight Nine, I have control. That’s DEEP BLUE and GREEN GARDEN OUT OUT and south towards the Alpha Five. Zero Six, you’re clear to come out.’
‘Roger and Zero Six is backing.’
‘Team Leader, roger that. Eight Nine, you have bikes in the area too if you need them.’
So far so good. We had a good pick-up of these two targets, just, and as this was a ‘first look’ we didn’t want any compromises. Passing them around the team was a good idea, but finding that balance of gaining intelligence without getting too close is extremely hard to do sometimes.
‘Hold back hold back! DEEP BLUE and GREEN GARDEN have stopped at the junction with the main, looking back on their route. Zero Six can you? I’ve taken cover.’
By ‘can you’ Sean was asking if I could take control. It’s a shorthand we often used. As I took over I thought, These fuckers are operationally aware. This means they aren’t just local extremists, it’s likely they are planning something too. Luckily I was on the opposite side of the street to Sean, I had plenty of delivery trucks hiding enough of my profile and at this distance I could keep walking with the people in front of me towards the cousins without being obvious. As I whispered into my radio I could see them both moving around, trying to identify anyone they thought was acting suspiciously or they had seen before somewhere else.
‘Zero Six has control. No change. DEEP BLUE and GREEN GARDEN continuing to look back on their route. Extremely aware, is anyone ahead to help out?’
‘Yes yes, Bravo Two has eyes on the main if they continue south.’
‘Roger, thank you, and that’s both now turning back south towards the main, Zero Six has control.’
‘Zero Six, permission?’
I knew the team leader would be cutting in soon; he wanted to know why these two were so aware.
‘Go ahead. Five-zero metres from the junction with the main.’
‘Thanks. Base from Team Leader, any intelligence on these two, why are they operationally aware?’
‘Negative, we don’t have anything on these two at all yet, other than being seen with previous targets on Operation OWL. This is the first look.’
I knew the geeks back at Thames House would be doing everything they could to find any intelligence about the cousins but it already felt as if we had started following these men too late. Normally there is a build-up to an attack, little changes in their daily habits until their days are filled with planning.
‘Bravo Two from Zero Six. Mate, I need to change my profile. Can you watch the junction while I duck out of view for ten seconds?’
I was fairly sure the cousins wouldn’t have seen my face, or at least that they wouldn’t be able to remember it, but changing from a T-shirt to a different-coloured hoody would help me stay in their shadow a bit longer without alerting them to the fact the world’s best surveillance team were watching their every move. But I barely had time to make the switch, using the high sides of a delivery van to screen my actions, before Bravo Two was back on the net.
‘Bravo Two, all stations. Both targets are IN IN to a Blue Ford Mondeo. VRN Foxtrot Kilo one one Echo Mike Romeo. Vehicle is now SOUTHBOUND SOUTHBOUND at speed.’
Fuck. These guys were ‘dry cleaning’ themselves, taking measures to make sure they were free of any surveillance. They were clearly up to something and had a high degree of operational security. We couldn’t let them escape – if they went missing now it would be nearly impossible to find them again unless they went to a known address.
Running towards the junction at full tilt, I knew I was in danger of being noticed if someone was providing counter-surveillance for the cousins. In situations like this it becomes a trade-off; you lose some of your operational security to keep control of a target, or you keep yo
ur trade craft intact but risk losing complete control of terrorists.
Just as I reached the junction, looking out for a team car to pick me up, a black motorbike appeared from nowhere and skidded to a halt in front of me. It was one of ours, Bravo Two. Ryan passed me a spare helmet from the rear storage box and I slammed it onto my head, no time to fasten the strap. Climbing onto the back, I held onto Ryan and tucked my head down to reduce wind resistance, allowing him to ride and get control of the Mondeo without having to worry too much about me falling off. It had the added benefit of making it impossible to see the world whizzing past at sickening speed.
I could hear the team’s transmissions as everyone scrambled to get hold of the cousins as fast as they could.
‘Bravo Two is complete with Zero Six, searching for the vehicle now. Update in ten seconds.’
The accelerating force of the bike made me shut my eyes tight and work to control my breathing, repeating in my head: ‘calm, calm, calm’. My breath was forced out violently as Ryan rode onto the pavement to get round a truck holding traffic up, and then accelerated off the kerb and back onto the road.
‘Bravo Two has control. Vehicle is still southbound on the Alpha Five. Speed six zero, six five miles per hour.’
I love our bikers. Ryan had done me a huge favour picking me up. He was incredibly skilled and I trusted him with my life but at the speeds he was doing as he drove in between trucks and weaved around cars, using pavements to get past awkward traffic, I couldn’t help being scared.
‘Continuing southbound past the Asda to the offside towards the North Circular. Stations, vehicle isn’t hanging around, is anyone else with?’
It was clear from the responses that no one had been able to keep up, and they were all still struggling to get through the heavy traffic.
