Bearings: The Compass Trilogy Part One

by Mr Iain F Johnston

  THE COMPASS TRILOGY

  PART ONE

  Copyright © 2014 by Iain Johnston…

  The right of Iain Johnston to be identified as the Author Of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Front cover courtesy of dreamstime.com. www.dreamstime.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  Stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ISBN-13 978-1502463821

  For Heather

  PART ONE

  Chapter one

  I have told the few trusted people in my life that I joined in ’94. To be totally honest, that’s not strictly true. I had been an “unrecorded” an errand boy as such since Brighton ’89, doing legwork and deliveries for anorexically thin envelopes “filled” with money…

  When they approached officially, firstly in November ’93 then again in February ’94, I said yes…

  It wasn’t to be anything exotic “A bit of low level surveillance work and photo stuff”. I would be loosely based in a ground floor dusty office at the bottom end of Tithebarn Street, Liverpool, opposite Exchange Square. My salary would start at £13000 a year with all expenses for food and fuel paid.

  There were three of us, two men and a woman, all new starters, who turned up on Monday 7th March ‘94 at 0730, huddled in the rain at a side door in Birdcage Walk London. A strange building, each floor a separate entity, having access to one did not necessarily mean access to another. It smelt of bees wax and Mr Sheen and the corridors echoed as serious people scurried past, no doubt dealing in serious business…

  There were “interviews”, I say this in inverted commas as they felt more like interrogations, we had to corroborate the information they had regarding schools attended, outside activities, political affiliations, if any, sexual orientation, known associates and family. Later I discovered that, for me, this was pretty tame stuff as they already had a file two inches thick. I don’t know about the other two.

  We three were kept separate for lunch on that first day, only meeting up at 1800 to be driven to our digs based in Battersea. There was no phone; food was pizza and soft drinks. There was a small TV, three armchairs and three single beds, in three separate doorless rooms. Its saving grace was the river view. If we wanted a shower or bath the door had to remain open on that first night and second morning. While the other two seemed uncomfortable I was enjoying every minute. Nobody has to look when you take a shower and at that age, well, it’s all been seen before. We also had a chaperone... I’ll get to him later…!

  The following three days consisted of more questions during the morning, however lunch time was spent in the Birdcage mess, separated from the anointed, of course, but nevertheless we all breathed a sigh of relief. We believed we wouldn’t have lunched there if we didn’t at least have a foot in the door. The afternoons were taken up with what I will call academic studies. These covered all manner of interesting pieces of information both written and photographic which we had to breakdown, study, second guess, pull apart then reform and brainstorm. I thought it was fascinating, good fun too. We became quite rowdy bouncing ideas across the room.

  On that first Friday morning I was ushered in and given the forms to sign, next of kin for death benefit plus the Official Secrets Act 1911 with amendments for 1923, 1951, 1952, 1963 and finally 1989… Whether this is signed or not is academic as it’s not a contract it’s a law, so I was duty bound by it… Then we had the Data Protection Act 1984, Access to Personal Files Act 1987 and finally, Prevention of Terrorism Act…

  At 1630 a car complete with Battersea chaperone took me to a private clinic for a rigorous medical which included comments of “bites finger nails” and “failed eye test due to weak lenses” when I pressed the subject my chaperone informed me that they were perfect for civilian life but an improved prescription would be required, this of course, was also arranged as were a selection of frames produced specially for the military… Not only was I weighed, I was also measured…

  Finally at 1900 I was back at the Birdcage… “Haway man, yer in…”

  I turned to look at my Geordie chaperone… “Who me…?

  “Wey aye man… See those three behind the desk…? They’re usually right nebby; they haven’t given you a second glance… Right I’ll see you to the lift then back upstairs, I’m reet gaggin’ for the netty…”

  I would learn quickly that his use of Geordie was only spoken to those who would be welcome in his inner circle… In this business it was a massive compliment…

  I was directed to the only office on a very bare fourth floor and asked to wait by a woman in her mid-fifties; I was glad of the offered cup of tea and plated biscuits… I was about to meet the director… I’d learnt he didn’t do this with most of the successful candidates so I was a little wary…

  There were another two men in the room, one issued me with documents and identification, the other, issued me with monitored credit cards… Again all required a signature…

  I was surprised to be issued four passports… Two of these were English, one for the Republic of Ireland and one for Canada… One of the English documents was in my real name, it was stressed this would be the document used for personal travel...or else…? Pistols at dawn in St James Park, no doubt…! The other three were under a pseudonym. It was the same for driving licenses, national insurance and medical insurance details for the appropriate countries and four credit cards… One was for the National Bank of Canada. ..The other was for the Allied Irish Bank then two English, Nat West and Barclays. The latter to be studiously scrutinised on a monthly basis... I could use either of the two English cards whenever I chose, however personal spending would be recouped at source, which was fair enough.

  My personal passport contained a monofilament which informed customs and excise who owned me and to leave me alone however dubious I looked…I found out during the next month the other two had French and Italian passports. Clearly they had language skills. I felt I was at a disadvantage… Or so I thought then.

  The final document was my identification, two simple credit card sized pieces of plastic. The first one had my full name, my job title then my operation code and then finally division. Never to be shown to any civilian. It was used to gain access to the inner offices of Downing Street, nowhere else. The other was far more cursory including my pseudonym and “Foreign Office”. This was to be used on a daily basis.

  Operationally I was no longer me…

  Iain Francis Jordan… HUMINT…

  House Martin…

  Special Intelligence Service…

  At this point my chaperone reappeared…

  “Ah there you are Magpie…We’re finished here, I’m sure…?”

  Nods all round…

  “Iain, we have accommodation for you in Battersea until Monday morning, I believe your transport will be arranged tomorrow. Do you prefer to drive or take the train…?”

  “I prefer to drive, plus I could take the other two with me…?”

  “Very well, a car will be left at the complex for you… Good luck…”

  “Thankyou sir…”

  At the lift I stopped…

  “So Magpie, what’s the plan, a night up the west end or a cosy video…?”

  “A cosy video, shared with your flatmates, I’ll be next door with a glass to the wall…”

  “You mean a pair of
headphones to listen to our every word and bodily function…”

  “Nee lad, besides, we leave that to Special Branch…”

  “Good enough… I sing in the shower, maybe I should ask them for requests, a medley perhaps…?”

  “I knew you’d be the one, there’s always one who fits right in straight away…Haway man, let’s gan doon the mess for some beltas scran… I’m reet clammin’…”

  “I take it you mean; I say shall we avail ourselves of the fine culinary offerings in the mess…?”

  “Speak English you daft bugger…”

  *****

  We then had four weeks of close quarter combat training in Taunton and three weeks of weapons training, concentrating on small arms. My fire arm of choice was the Sig Sauer P226 with suppressor. I found the Glock difficult, cumbersome even and the famous Walther, German designed for the service and standard issue, too small… No, I wanted the Sig… 20 round magazine using 9mm parabellum ammunition, less than 1 kilogram in weight even when chambered and slightly butt heavy until suppressed… I was a fan of suppression… I discovered this instantly on discharge. The quieter the better, a nice gentle “fhut” sound told me no one would hear it; no one would come looking for me, perfect…! It lost a couple of metres range suppressed but that never worried me… If I was in that close, well, I would be occupied in another activity anyway. A nice sturdy recoil too which for me was important. I knew I had used it… The gravity of that wouldn’t be dismissed.

  Forget all you see on TV; no 9mm firearms will damage a wet blanket beyond 25 metres. Anything longer, you need a rifle…

  For the record, my firearms license was in my pseudonym only. I was forbidden to carry a firearm of the service while personal. I could have gained one outside of the division true enough but I could never see the point.

  I was in…

  Or so I thought. The following six weeks were spent with my two colleagues disseminating old intelligence as exercise for the real thing. It was satisfying on occasion to find something which had originally been missed… It was good motivation to try even harder.

  The three of us became officially operational Friday 3rd June 1994. We were to be “covered” in the same place and same occupation, low-profile… I was immediately suspect of this as I thought I would be predominantly office based in Liverpool city centre. Simple, easy and would blend in with all the other office workers.

  I found the new setup to be too intricate and basically difficult to carry off. I had been led to believe I would not be undercover, so to speak. I hadn’t signed up for field work… Or had I…? The other two were happy though so I was in the minority. They had spouses they could probably inform and were not from the area.

  I have always been one to keep things simple. There is less to remember, less to forget, it is easy to rehearse and easy to destroy if “blown”.

  I had also been on the periphery of the service for a few years more than these two and knew the difference between mid-level pen pushing decisions and field craft. This was the former. I wasn’t happy.

  When I explained that my face was quite well known locally the response I received was…

  “We know, of course, calculated risk. Think of it as excellent field craft training, House Martin.”

  As I said, mid-level pen pushing decisions. No field officer would put someone at risk like that. Not a colleague, not an asset.

  Let me explain. Since 1949 the British government have used large UK companies for operative cover, the large department stores, the automotive manufacturers (when we built British), the NHS. The list is long and distinguished. In more modern times, supermarket chains, home delivery companies, catalogue stores. I don’t have to list them, you know the names.

  However, until the Berlin wall came down, this was the sole arena of M.I.5, not S.I.S. This new political togetherness, the modern thinking of the above twice mentioned pen pushers, thought it an excellent idea to try department cooperation. In 1994 this cooperation was very much in its infancy. The boys and girls at Box thought their more illustrious cousins were muscling in and putting their nose where it wasn’t wanted. Equally, the older bods in the more specialised S.I.S division who were used to hiding under a cornflake at Yeltsin’s breakfast table thought it a waste of time, money and more importantly resources.

  This was to ignite a feud which had started back during the inception of both services and intelligence gathering in Northern Ireland, one that I experienced first-hand the following year. The same one I spent a lot of energy on trying to stop on my little patch of planet…

  In later life the two people I told this cover to, quite sincerely, I thought, stared at me with incredulous disbelief… I felt foolish but equally vindicated…

  Chapter two

  So, to the job...

  I began to see less and less of the other two. We had each been given an exercise to create an operation that would involve cross service partnership and cooperation. My controller liked my submission and authorized a sanctioned exercise. This would include limited funding with use of offices and some administrative personnel.

  It would involve three controlling officers; only one of us had any field experience, so I was off on my travels to further my art… Here is where I met the southern section of the triangle…

  Jackdaw had been very busy setting up his section or region as we began to call it. He was further along than I was and had already set up two remote listening posts at local aerodromes. Like me however, his field art was sketchy. He was twenty seven and had been in the service for two years now shuffling from one low profile investigation to another, not really settling in any station or section…

  Then came our third side, big and noisy and I’d got on with him ever since he’d been my chaperone in Battersea.

  Magpie was the real deal. He had been to places no one want’s to talk about… Done things civvies will never get to hear or read about… He was wise and generous not only with his knowledge and craft but also with his friendship. He saved my life three times and nearly took it once too…!

  I learnt everything from him, soaked it up like a sponge… By the time he’d finished, Jackdaw and I were new men…Magpie was encouraged, he had wanted to return to limited field service.

  His wife or hinny, as he called her, travelled every weekend to see him while he trained us and she’d cook huge dinners for us all…

  He’s gone now...Two years... Rest in peace Christopher Ellison… My guardian… My mentor… My friend…

  The plan was simple, three regions. Jackdaw would work on the south coast. Magpie would work on the east coast and House Martin working on the west coast. When fully sanctioned we would be working in close harmony with SO12-Special Branch, SO13- Anti-Terrorist Squad and Box 500-M.I.5.

  Operationally, east and west were to converge north of Stirling and overlap to the south accordingly.

  We would offer covert surveillance on every seaport, fishing harbour, marina and cove, every UK landing strip, aerodrome and airport… This was the theory put forward in my submission… In practice the sheer amount of personnel involved made the full description quite untenable and unrealistic…

  We could utilise any operative we needed as long as it was sanctioned by our Director, Robin, and with the appropriate forms and expense sheets correctly filled, of course…!

  As I was in at the very beginning, Magpie gave me the lead which I thought was bloody decent of him. He also remarked that the paperwork would fell a rainforest…. He’d done it before and was never doing it again willingly. Christ…! He wasn’t wrong…!

  The brief was to curtail, eavesdrop, record, photograph and if possible, the holy- grail, suborn any members of any organized smuggling operation using the UK as a destination or fuel stop.

  We knew there was a huge amount of non-recorded air and sea traffic heading our way we also knew the larger air and seaport customs officials were struggling to keep up… Jackdaw and Magpie were fully aware of the alcohol and tobacco
that was entering via the south and east so volume limits were drawn so as to annoy and generally aggravate only the larger buyers.

  To the east, Magpie had the added burden of very sophisticated drug, alcohol and tobacco smuggling operations. Jackdaw had illegal immigrants, which has seen heavy traffic since 1979 and I had PIRA or so I thought.

  The latter may have appeared more serious due to terrorism, but they were not that active since the ceasefire and people traffickers and organised drug smugglers are not averse to using hardware either.

  All in all we, and more importantly, our immediate masters, gave every indication they genuinely were of the opinion a difference could be made…We would be the link between foreign and domestic policy. We would gather INTEL of foreign travellers heading to our shores illegally or with illegal goods plus persons of interest whose plans were to compromise our security. It would then be handed over to the appropriate agency… We also had the added benefit of securing decent funding for hardware and software manufacturers to further develop existing onsite detection technologies. I felt that realistically their government funding was already and always would be in place regardless but that’s what it said in the brief... Remember this is 1994; mobile phones are still, just, mainly an exception. We could have them quite easily but to use them would draw attention and that would be naïve. We had one, a Motorola, which we used when together and usually when driving but the signal was pretty hit and miss too. It would be another six to twelve months before they became truly main stream for civilians.