‘On the train’
Things were getting intense in my hometown, I couldn’t move without being watched and followed; their surveillance was scrutinising.
Nathalie had always been a good friend, even though it transpired that she too was working for the government. Why had I not realised that earlier? I’d even seen the FBI and KGB books on her bookshelf but had never put two and two together before; how naïve!
She must be in the position to shed some light on my situation, to understand and offer some kind of insight, sympathy and advice.
I had to go to London to see her; she was my last hope.
I knew that as it was, I was making their job of surveying me easier by staying in my hometown, and didn’t present them with too much of a challenge regarding the paths of travel that I took, for them to track and monitor me: the library, the beach, the estates, the back streets; my futile attempts to give them the slip and to relax a little without their eyes on me.
I didn’t know what to expect when I’d attempt to leave Brighton, even if it was for just one day. Would they panic and arrest me? Would they stop me from leaving, or just simply refuse me a ticket?
I didn’t want to alert them to anything unexpected that I was doing and needed to appear calm. I spoke with Nathalie on the phone but kept it brief.
“I’m in trouble, can’t really discuss it now. I’m coming to London”
I tried not to let the anxiety spill into my voice, tried, through my panic, to sound casual.
So now they knew. They had been bugging my flat and my phones for quite some time. They would now be preparing…
Would they take me away in the night? Whilst I slept? I packed my bag and slung my torch around my neck in case they bundled me into a dark space at night. My head was throbbing.
‘On the Train’
That morning I woke up, gathered my items and left the flat. As I walked through town it was quieter as if in anticipation of my movements. I turned a corner. An agent gently walked past, quietly observing. Another agent across the road nonchalantly pretended to be occupied by tying his shoelaces.
I got to the train station. Two agents were waiting there attempting to act aloof to my arrival. I headed past them and onto the ticket office. Eerily there was no queue. They were expecting me. I acted like nothing was up,
“day return to London please”.
The agent dealt with me efficiently and professionally; acted like a true station worker.
I went along with it. So they’re letting me get this far. With tickets in my hand I headed to the barriers expecting them to be rigged so they don’t open due to a faulty ticket or the like. The barriers opened. Surprised and pleased I walked through, onto the platform and quickly onto the train which was there waiting specifically for my arrival…