I Spy: My Life In MI5

by Tom Marcus

  Struggling to maintain my personal space, catching a stray elbow on the top of my head, I was faced with a decision: fight my way out or lose the target. If I fought I was almost certainly going to lose the ability to keep eyes on the exit.

  If I stayed put I might get hurt. But the team needed me here. My job was to watch the target and identify any contacts he made. I had to stay put. I was trying to transmit the emergency signal over the radio to tell my team I was in trouble when I saw a shiny metal pole careering towards my face. Forcing my arms up to act as a shield, I had no idea if my signal got out – I couldn’t hear anything over the noise.

  The metal pole hit me on the arm but luckily it was just one blow and I couldn’t see anyone nearby wielding it. The pain was intense, but instantly forgotten. I had to get out of there. Moving my arms away from my face, I caught a glimpse of MAGENTA STOAT turning to someone behind him with his arm outstretched. I needed to see who this contact was, but the crowd was being compressed even tighter and I was pinned against the wall by a wave of people, the air knocked out of my lungs.

  I tried to shout for help, but it was no use. No one could hear me. I’ve never felt as helpless as I did right then. Through the bodies and police horses I caught another snapshot of MAGENTA STOAT shaking hands with a man wearing a red jacket with a fur hood. Distinctive, this was good. I needed to get this out to the team so we could find out who he was but I still couldn’t breathe properly. I dropped to the floor, where finally I had the space to draw a breath, and at last I got my chance to send the message.

  ‘Red coat, fur hood, contact!’

  9

  DEAD DROP

  I was still on my hands and knees when the noise of the crowd increased to its loudest level yet. One young lad fell in front of me, looking frightened.

  I don’t have a high IQ, nor am I some mechanical genius. I’m not funny or the person people gravitate towards at a party. I’m no good at sports and most people probably think I’m a bit of a prick and far too serious but when my time runs out I’ll know I’ll have done all I could to help keep people safe. The young lad was crying. I made the decision to protect him, whoever he was. I needed to do my best to get him out of there.

  I was pulling him towards me when the sound of the fighting and abuse hurled at the police changed to screams for help. The crowd suddenly ripped apart and I could see the giant legs of a horse in front of me. The horse immediately backtracked to let a handful of riot police rush in, carving a path with their shields to get to the boy.

  With space opening up, most of the crowd took the opportunity to run, fearing they were about to be arrested. The rush of fresh air was like a wave of life suddenly pouring in to rescue me. I caught the eye of one of the uniformed riot police – a sergeant going by the rank slide on his uniform. I needed to play this right so I could get back with my team. I knew the police would have one priority here, to keep people safe and stop anyone coming to harm.

  ‘This man needs a medic, quick,’ I called out.

  The sergeant started directing his officers to create a space around us. I stood up, allowing a paramedic to get close and examine this teenager; he was breathing but seemed out of it.

  ‘Are you his friend? Can you tell me what happened?’ the sergeant asked.

  ‘I was on my break, I work at the hotel here. Just having a fag and everyone started fighting. I couldn’t get out and then this lad fell on the floor next to me. He’s scared but I think he’ll be OK.’

  Fuck, this was taking too long, I needed an out.

  ‘We’ve got blankets in reception, shall I go and get some to keep him warm?’

  ‘Yes please, that would be great,’ the paramedic jumped in, while the police sergeant nodded approval.

  I glanced over at the Shed End exit. No sign of MAGENTA STOAT or this red coat. Bollocks. The crowd had almost all dispersed, with a few people being led away to riot vans in handcuffs. Time to get back on task. Moving around the wall of the hotel building and through the lobby doors I heard the transmissions of my team again.

  ‘Yeah, that’s him continuing west on Fulham Road at the junction of Waterford Road.’

  Man, I hoped this was our contact. Pulling my dark-blue hoody off, I realized my arm was hurting. Didn’t matter – I’m going to change my profile now and just keep the grey long sleeved T-shirt on until I got back to my car.

  ‘Zero Six is back with.’

  ‘Roger that, Zero Six. We are with this contact you had with MAGENTA STOAT. Blue Team has come in to take control of MAGENTA STOAT.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  Thank God, it had been worth it. I had no idea how significant or not this guy in the red coat was but right now I didn’t care. It was worth enduring that pain for the team. I left the hotel minus any blankets – the teenager had paramedics all around him now, he had everything he needed, and I had to get back to my job. I could have done with getting off the street though.

  ‘Control, permission?’ Given the scale of this operation, I was scrupulous about getting permission to break into the running commentary.

  ‘Eight Six, go ahead. Target still westbound on the south side.’

  ‘Roger, thank you. Team Leader, is it OK if I get back to my car?’

  ‘Team Leader yes, that’s fine mate. Can you hold further westbound?’

  ‘Roger. Thank you, Eight Six, back to you.’

  Instantly my phone started ringing, it was Graeme: ‘Tom, you OK mate?’

  ‘Yes and no, I’ll be OK once I get back to my car. I got caught up in the crowds outside the stadium and couldn’t make my way out.’

  My playful tone wasn’t fooling him.

  ‘How badly are you hurt? Be honest.’

  I wanted to hide my vulnerabilities. The team and success of that day’s objectives were paramount. ‘I’m fine, just bruised arms and a few scrapes, that’s all. Honest. I just need to get away from the stadium and back to the team.’

  It hurt just to keep my phone held up to my ear. The adrenaline that normally masks pain had worn off and I knew the next few hours were going to be tough. Walking through the crowds still arriving for the game, I listened for the commentary on the radio.

  It was a relief to turn down the side street and get into my car. I was cold, so I sat listening to the guys on foot following the contact of MAGENTA STOAT while I waited for the car to warm up. Ideally I would avoid sitting with the engine running, but there were still people everywhere and fans being dropped off so I didn’t stand out. I could take a few minutes but no longer.

  I needed to get back with the move to make sure the team leader had everyone in position. Blocking out the pain in my arms, I navigated the car through traffic, avoiding the fans walking in the road, towards my position further to the west.

  ‘Stations, target now at the junction of Fulham Road and Harwood Road from Eight Six. Looking at his watch now, looking back on his route.’

  ‘Roger that, Eight Six. Stations, close in please. Base confirm MAGENTA STOAT is still under control inside the stadium.’

  Subtle changes in the way someone acts or moves indicate a change in intention. This contact was starting to look like he was on a schedule.

  ‘Stations from Base, NEGATIVE. MAGENTA STOAT is not inside the stadium and is NOT under control, stations. He became unsighted before Blue Team could take control. MAGENTA STOAT is running free.’

  The current number-one threat to British security was no longer under surveillance. This was going bad, fast.

  Every operator in the team, whether in their vehicle or on foot, acknowledged the last transmission from Thames House ops room. It was the quickest cascade of replies I’ve ever experienced, ending with the Team Leader. ‘Roger, stations, keep the last in mind and do what we do.’

  It would have been easy to panic at this point, perhaps even pile in with an arrest team to lift the contact we were following, but what would be the benefit of either? Intelligence gathering is knowing when you’ve reached the t
ipping point between getting high value intelligence and people starting to get hurt. The trade-off. The one thing we could make sure stayed consistent in this roulette wheel was our ability. We knew how to do what we do. So we do that. Simple.

  ‘From Eight Six, target is now walking south onto Erin Close, runs parallel with Harwood Road. I believe this is the northern entrance to Eel Brook Common. Can anyone else take control?’

  I was close to Eel Brook Common, which was a large open park nestled in amongst the surrounding London houses, but Fatima beat me to it on the net. ‘Nine Nine can, let him run.’

  ‘Roger, thanks Nine Nine, easy lock on, still has this red jacket and fur hood. One zero metres from the entrance of the park now. All yours.’

  ‘Roger and have seen, Nine Nine has control of this target. Base can we have a target name for him please? Just in case this target meets another contact.’

  Fatima was absolutely right requesting this, and it was better to ask for it now rather than trying to get a name for the target when all hell was breaking loose.

  Nothing from Base. Everyone else was quiet on the net waiting for Base to reply, the seconds ticking by with painful slowness.

  ‘Nine Nine, you are going out, mate.’ Sending Fatima the quick message, I parked up to the south-west of the park. There was a boundary of trees but I had sight of a path leading out of the bottom of the park back onto a busy road.

  Other members of the team were also positioning themselves, surrounding Fatima and this unnamed target both close in and further out, a combination of staying out of view and hiding in plain sight.

  Despite MAGENTA STOAT not being under control, the team were loving this, constantly handing over control, aware of the threat level, knowing Blue Team was also in the area hunting MAGENTA STOAT.

  ‘Nine Nine, Team Leader, can I get someone with a camera in there securely? I need pictures of this target.’

  ‘Yes yes, to the south-west corner of the park, plenty of cover and you’d get him face on if you’re quick.’

  My corner. Before my team leader got onto the net asking for anyone to assist I was out with my camera kit. ‘Zero Six has that corner now, attempting video, Base acknowledge?’

  I could make out the red coat of the target, but had no idea where Fatima was. That was good. If I couldn’t see her, no one else could.

  ‘From Base, yes we have feed, waiting for target visual.’

  This was the tricky part. I’d just walked into the park but I now needed purpose. The pop-up coffee and pastry cabin was perfect.

  ‘Base, Zero Six. I’m going to zoom in fully.’

  Sliding my hand into my satchel-style bag, I knew where the zoom button was. We do this stuff all the time, it’s second nature. Once I was confident the camera was fully zoomed in I joined the queue to get a coffee. A mum and two small children were in front of me, waiting for their latte and juices.

  Counting through some change while pretending to look at the coffee prices, I used the inside of my left elbow to slowly move the bag.

  This wasn’t an exact science, trial and error is how we get this right; the big variable here was the moving target. Scratching my left shoulder, ignoring the twinge from my arm, I pulled the shoulder strap to elevate the camera slightly, slowly trying to move it with a minimal amount of pressure.

  Edging it up, I was desperate to hold it at the right angle. I was near enough to the coffee counter to stay in position while I ordered, without looking unnatural. For now at least. The woman serving and making the coffee, from eastern Europe judging by the accent, didn’t seem to take much notice of me.

  Another pretend scratch of my shoulder allowed me to pull down with even less pressure on the strap of my bag. I couldn’t even feel the bag shifting now, the movement was so tiny.

  I knew Thames House would be cross-referencing the image of this contact of MAGENTA STOAT. Meanwhile, I could see my coffee being made and calculated that I had ten seconds maximum before I would have to move, which would more than likely mean the target would no longer be in the picture.

  Just as my coffee cup got crowned with a lid and I had to step forward and pay for it, we all got a transmission from Base, not the male voice of our operations officer on this particular day but an older woman. I didn’t recognize her, but she meant business.

  ‘It’s LAST DAWN, target in red jacket is LAST DAWN.’

  ‘Roger, Nine Nine has control of LAST DAWN continuing to walk south on the east side of the park, slowly.’ Fatima didn’t react to the new target name. Although this person was obviously significant, I had no idea who he was or what operation banner he’d fallen under before today. I’d never heard of him.

  Graeme had, though. ‘Base, Team Leader, confirm LAST DAWN? He’s dead . . .’

  Walking out of the park with my coffee, I moved back towards my car with the intention of driving away. All the while I was trying not to have any facial reaction to these last few transmissions.

  ‘STAND BY STAND BY, relay from Blue Team, they have control of MAGENTA STOAT towards the southern end of Eel Brook Common on a push bike. They have control.’

  The communications from Base were once again being handled by the familiar voice of our operations officer. I knew the team would be dying to know who the older woman was who passed on the target recognition message about LAST DAWN, but for now, we had a potential meeting to cover. If these two came together again inside the park then it was highly likely operational activity. Now we had two full-size MI5 surveillance teams watching two of the most wanted men in Britain in a park.

  These Russian operators were sneaky fuckers. The park was a wide open area, and while you can never assume what a target might do next, if MAGENTA STOAT or LAST DAWN wanted to identify any surveillance teams they could quite easily move to a small, quiet area and see who or what came with them.

  ‘Base, from Team Leader, Green Team. Can I have a direct channel to Blue Team Leader please.’

  ‘Yes yes, channel Eight One, Eight One.’

  ‘Roger, thank you. Nine Nine back to you.’

  As Fatima gave a running commentary on LAST DAWN, who was still walking through the park, Graeme was doing his team leader bit and organizing the surveillance with Blue Team, and it happened rapidly.

  ‘From Nine Nine, for information, LAST DAWN is continuing south towards the rough area of the coffee place and for information, have seen MAGENTA STOAT, who has entered the park area from the south-east corner. MAGENTA STOAT has just looked at his watch on his left wrist.’

  ‘Roger, thanks Nine Nine.’

  Watching my mirrors, nestled in a row of parked cars, I listened to the commentary, keeping an eye out for any known vehicles passing me. The team leaders expected a meet or dead drop of some sort between MAGENTA STOAT and the contact we now knew as LAST DAWN.

  It seemed like every second things got ramped up a notch.

  ‘Zero Two has control of MAGENTA STOAT towards the south-west corner of the park, who has LAST DAWN?’

  Zero Two was an operator from Blue Team who I instantly recognized as Amuz, thanks to his unique twang.

  Fatima replied as we all held our positions.

  ‘Nine Nine has control of LAST DAWN, I can control them both if they come together if you want?’

  ‘Yes yes, I’ll back from a distance.’

  ‘Nine Nine, yes, no problem. I’ll do that if they come together.’

  ‘All stations from Base, quick message; if there is a vehicle move STEEL BADGE is in play, STEEL BADGE is in play throughout. Base out.’

  STEEL BADGE is the operational command that allows us to exceed the speed limits and not stop for the police or if we clip another vehicle. If required on an operation, we will drive above and beyond what is probably considered safe – all without sirens or flashing lights. But STEEL BADGE is our legal protection if we have to nudge another car out of the way or use pavements to pass traffic.

  ‘From Nine Nine, that’s LAST DAWN now at the coffee cabin,
with MAGENTA STOAT standing behind him waiting to order. Both facing south and not talking. Appears they are ordering separately.’

  ‘Nine Nine, from Blue Team Leader, have they acknowledged each other in any way?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘Seven One coming in from the south-west.’

  ‘Eight Two is holding to the south-east.’

  ‘From Nine Nine, LAST DAWN is taking a napkin from the coffee counter. Taken something from his pocket and wrapped it inside the napkin. Napkin is still on the counter.’

  ‘Seven One, roger.’

  ‘Eight Two, roger.’

  Dead drop. Got to be, I thought. It’s a classic move, but why do it here, this way round. It’s too obvious. If LAST DAWN was going to pass something to MAGENTA STOAT why not in the privacy of the football stadium?

  ‘Nine Nine, from Seven One. Have seen. I’m going to see if this is a dummy run or not.’

  ‘Nine Nine, roger. LAST DAWN is stood facing towards the coffee cabin counter, napkin still on the countertop.’

  Still no vehicles passing my position with registration numbers I recognized. Crucially, no other operators from Blue Team were visible.

  Seven One, a woman from Blue Team, would somehow engineer a way of discovering if the napkin held anything of significance or if it was a decoy to allow the targets to do a practice dead drop and see if anyone reacted around them. The coffee place wasn’t visible from my position but whatever she decided to do I was sure Seven One would get a result. She had no choice.

  It didn’t take long. ‘From Nine Nine, LAST DAWN has been given a cup. He’s paid and walking solo east towards the south-east exit, napkin is still on the counter.’

  ‘From Seven One, napkin has a stone in it.’

  ‘Nine Nine, roger. MAGENTA STOAT is now ordering and has taken the napkin off the counter and put it in his pocket.’

  Suddenly the radio communications got incredibly loud.

  A transmission from the operations officer back at base told us something was wrong. We had to leave immediately and make our way to a secure base in Wales. Fuck!