"We all make assumptions "
"We assume if it's planned it works."
" Out there there are a lot of people who got in the way - that damned guy in Tashkent, trawling the bars looking for whiskey and whisky a go-go"
The speaker paused.
"Of all the bars in all the world he has to walk into one where Chuck is en route UTTT to Dushanbe and then on to UATB"
His audience knew UATT was Tashkent and UATB was Kabul Airport.They had been there often enough.
"All hell broke loose then. he starts playing the bleeding heart and worrying about Karimov doing a boil in the bag with the awkward squad" . The speaker paused and took a sip of water.The audience waited. Patiently.
" Anyway, first we had him quietened 1. visas for girlfriends 2. arriving at the office drunk 3. Takes a girl up country unaccompanied ....drove car down staircases... dolly birds ... keeping driver on tap whilst he visits strip joints..."
There were weak smiles around the table.
"Then the Brits, as per, they fucked up ... Christ they accuse him of driving the Embassy car down steps ... the guy can't even fucking drive."
The smiles broke into chuckles, and snorts of derision.
"So we had to move in ." There was a lengthy and silent pause as he strode up and down .... He swung around to face his audience. " You know whatthey did ? They fucking medivacced him outta there , way out of our reach, put him in a private hospital and kept him on fucking suicide watch"
"24 fucking 7"
"And some cunt told the Press"
Again a silence.
"You know what gentlemen, from mid 2003 we had to close down UTTT." He banged the table violently. "Tashkent was shut down ... those fucking limey fucking public school bastards."
"This time, no fuck ups."
"Straw has done a good job. Played what those goddam limeys calll a straight bat. No evidence of rendition ...if you have any let us know... Don't know what Condi did to square him , but it worked"
His audience smirked. "Some hot bitch" someone muttered. A snigger echoed in the bare room. He sat down. Purposefully and leant forward.
"Now" he said , his voice lowered," it's the time for the fucking Euro fucking crats". Again he banged the table. Everyone listening waited.
"This Marty guy has been put on the job" Silence. "We can't stop him, it's too late."
"So Jack has agreed we organise a Brit report...finds nothing." Silence."Plausible denialability" as Dubya tells us all"
"This gents is the way it works"
Attention could not have been better.
Jack says they have a an ex Home Office person in Liberty ...makes a fuss .. demands a report... well they get one." Silence as he gets up and walks to the window.
"Remember Stalker ? Northern Ireland ? Shoot to Kill ? .. well they have to investigate that Hermon fellow - honour amongst thieves so a Chief Constable has to be examined by a Chief Constable ...They are all in the same Lodge or went to the same fucking school.. no-one wants to know."
He walks back and sits down.
"Now for once the limeys are smart. They pick a guy..Stalker, blotted his copybook, mixed with some dodgy men who like to sail over to Miami, they pay his bills, dah di dah ...."
"Keen as mustard.. starts turning up stuff no-one wants , turning over stones no-one wants turned over . BANG" He banged the table again.He had the listeners full attention.
"They get rid of him. Pension him off. Someone in the Lodge or whatever finishes off the job and everyone forgets everything."
"So this time, more of the same. We - by that I mean Jack's pals, have picked this keen, ambitious, guy in the Met, anxious to get on in the world." He paused and sipped the water again. " This guy has a weakness .. it's a weakness we all have, one we keep in our trousers"
" So gentlemen our man has, with some persuading done the business... here we have a report, not authorised by their lawmakers, not by the Ministers , not by anybody but the Top cops Trade Union. ACPO they call themselves." he smiled appreciatively.
"And it's for some holier than thou libertarians."
"Signed , sealed and fucking delivered - end of cucking story and whingeing bloody limey tree huggers."
"Examined the evidence , nothing there, everything fine and if anybody has any evidence drop it in the post". Silence."That was 7th June 2005 - 8th June - by extraordinary coincidence (He smiles) the day that Senator Dick Marty issued the Council of Europe’s official report. When he ..and I quote ...found European collusion with extraordinary rendition and blanket “overflight clearances” for US military flights... that took him 19 fucking months.
"So everything is ficking hunky fucking dory as that chap in Vauxhall says".
"But, No. Our Policeman Pat who had left a trail of brokenhearts at London's Finest, has proceeded on his merry way and broken a few more fucking hearts up in the godforaken North, one a fucking cadet - some sort of Limey trainee, and fucking Asian beauty to boot."
"His wife is on the case, another of his sweethearts, brainy one with lots of clout has given up and the heavy mob say he has to go."
"Medical, go quietly, early retirement at the Sunset Home for Convalescent Plods .. nice Pension..."
"Does he take it ? Does he fuck"
" No, he wants to clean the City's streets, he wants to marry this happily married woman ,he wants to fuck beautiful young recruits.... and gentlemen he wants to spill the fucking beans"
"Our man has a little file. An insurance policy."
There was a rustle round the table. Chairs shifted and squeaked, backs straightened.
"It's time for a walk in the countryside"
"It won't be him collecting on the insurance policy"
From the bivouac just below the summit they could see through the slit the ATV with the stretcher carefully skirt the railway and break off 200 feet below. They stripped the site. Their dull grey anoraks were wet with snow as they packed up. Minutes later they met and silently took the body and the ATV disappeared down the track.
Carefully, as planned, the props were set out, the bottle ( a heavy glass breakable bottle), the clothing - discarded some distance away - a sure sign of hypothermia. The Blackberry with it's fragile tiny keyboard (would anybody wonder how he texted in an an 80 mile an hour blizzard with bare hands ?) . A few bruises - the medical guy fiddled with the syringe making sure the puncture marks were in the scalp and unseen - just enough alcohol some more in the catheter.
Then they broke off. Their crampons clinking as they struggled on the ice rink of the path to get to the summit , they sat down and had a chocolate bar, some Kendal Mint cake and left the wrapper stuffed in the cracks of stone windbreak.
They set off down the hill,there were some patches of sun briefly flashing , it was about 3.00 clock when they called. 999 ask for Llanberis mountain rescue. They gave their location. Yes they would wait, they didn't want to be long as the light was going and they wanted to be off the hill.
The called ahead and as they reached the road the black scruffy people carrier slid up to the gate. Then they were in and off to Lakenheath where Gulfstream N829MG was waiting for them. It was a long journey as they took carefully prepared route to miss the number plate recognition cameras until they changed vehicles at .....
In Manchester his flat was entered and some papers discovered and taken away , a computer for safe keeping ... later it was announced he had left letters.
Mountain rescue didn't have the time to get any details from the walkers who wanted sensibly to be off the hill, searches for the mobile identity showed a German pay as you go which had been bought for with cash in Hanover.
Confusion over relationships, his mental history, a detox course, his wife, his marriage, his married lover, his job , his affairs, kept the press busy and the public happy. The Bishop of Manchester obligingly made the Cathedral available.
Nobody seemed to want to know about the people who found him. The Good Samaritans.... and he couldn't tell them.
Dead men tell no tales.
Keep watching this space.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Another bloody silly conspiracy theory