Somebody has stolen Julian Assange: A ‘Choose your own reality adventure’.

 

 

Julian Assange, heavily sedated, confused and squinting in the light, is calmly lifted in to the back seat of a blacked out car. CCTV follows the car as it makes its way across the prison compound. The barrier is lifted and the car pulls off in to the city traffic. Cameras watch as it makes its way west, loosing sight of the car as it turns in to residential streets, five minutes later. Nobody in the car says a word.

Some time later the same day, two members of the intelligence service of the United States army are questioning a British prison officer. ‘Craig’ sits nervously on one side of a small table in a prison interview room. On a chair opposite Craig is one of the members of the intelligence service, the other paces back and forth in front of the door.

Craig tells his inquisitors exactly what happened on the morning of the event. He received a call at his desk, from the governor, that the prisoner was to be moved and that an escort party were on there way to collect him. Craig goes on to say that he was instructed to make his way to the prisoner’s cell and prepare him for immediate transfer, which he did.

The intelligence officer sitting opposite Craig asks him what sort of mood the prisoner was in when Craig arrived at the cell, and how the prisoner reacted when Craig informed him that he was due to be transferred. Craig gave a small laugh, ‘he’s been so whacked out since he’s been here, he didn’t even know I was there, I don’t think’. The intelligence officer pacing the floor came to an abrupt holt, looked Craig in the eye and, in no uncertain terms, made clear to Craig that this was no laughing matter.

Craig swallowed and looked back at the intelligence officer opposite him, who ascertained that ‘whacked out’, was British slang for ‘sedated’. Craig confirmed that it was, ‘yes’. The other officer resumed pacing, the sound of their shoes against the concrete floor began to annoy Craig, who was asked to continue with his story.

Craig told them that a few minutes after he received the call, a group of six men, two in military uniform, four in grey suits, all with prison identification, arrived at the cell and, without a word being said, removed the prisoner. Making their way off the wing, towards the stairway leading to the upstairs landings.

The seated intelligence officer asked Craig if anything seemed suspicious or out of place, or if indeed, Craig sensed that anything might be amiss. Craig confirmed to the negative. ‘Everything seemed alright’. The pacing officer ‘tuts’ audibly and mutters some remark about ‘idiot limeys’. The seated officer smiles at the now angry Craig, who says between gritted teeth, that he had ‘followed his orders to the letter, exactly as his job demands’. At which point the seated officer says that Craig is free to go. Craig stands, the pacing officer opens the door for him and he leaves the room.

The person ultimately responsible for the security of the prisoner was the prison governor. On the morning of the ‘escape’, he was excitedly awaiting the arrival of a delegation of prison service executives from the United States. For some months prior he had been in communication with their organisation, which claimed to promote the ‘modernisation of British prisons to a model more closely linked to the prisons of The United States’.

The governor had been informed that he was to receive an ‘all expenses’ trip to The United States as a member of a British delegation chosen to inspect three of the country’s ‘top performing’ prisons. The governor was told he had been chosen in respect of his exceptional handling of the ‘very special prisoner’, that had been left in his care.

When ‘Future Prisons’ made first contact with the governor, he had his PA, Sophie, research the credibility of the organisation. Sophie, a young woman from the Czech Republic, who came very highly recommended by friends of golfing colleagues, when his previous PA left suddenly due to a family bereavement, a few months before, assured the Governor that the organisation was genuine and provided him with the relevant paperwork.

As far as the governor was concerned, on the morning of the ‘escape’, all was as it should be. He arrived at the office around nine, Sophie brought him coffee and read him his daily diary. When, after a little flirtatious banter, Sophie left his office, the governor swiveled his chair toward the window, cradled his warm mug in his hands and watched as the yellowing  birch leaves dropped to the grass below. In his mind he re-ran all the compliments ‘Brad Moyles’ of ‘Future Prisons’ had paid him, smiling to himself and, for a brief moment, enjoyed a rare feeling of self satisfaction.

The governor was distracted from these thoughts by Sophie gently knocking at the door. The governor swiveled back toward the room to see that Sophie had opened the door just enough to pop her head in, to let the governor know, that the ‘Future Prisons’ delegation were at the gate.

Turning back to the window the governor watched as a blacked out ‘Hummer’ slid across the prison yard toward the reception block. ‘Just like in the movies’, he smiled to himself, ‘these Americans’. He gave his head a little shake, turned back to the room, placed his mug on his desk, before straightening his tie. With his handkerchief over his finger he quickly cleared both of his nostrils by inserting a  covered finger and giving a sharp twist. Inspecting his handkerchief quickly before stuffing it back in to his pocket. After which ritual, the governor sat, happily awaiting the arrival of the man who had, in his emails and telephone calls, shown such acknowledgement and appreciation for the ‘very difficult job’, the governor did ‘so well’.

In just a few minutes, Sophie tapped on the door again, before opening it and announcing the awaited delegation. Six men followed Sophie in to the room. Four dressed in grey suits, two in military uniform. Shutting the door behind them, five of the men spread out across the room, while the other moved towards the governor, reaching out his arm and saying the name ‘Brad Moyles’. The governor stretched out his arm in the direction of the suited man and their hands met, with a sense of pride rushing through the governor’s body.

Within an instant, everything had changed. ‘Brad’, held on tightly to the governor’s hand as one of the remaining suited men, produced a syringe. In moments, Sophie was laid, unconscious on the sofa to her left. Simultaneously, the two men in military uniforms moved behind the governor, blocking the window and aiming their, now drawn, pistols at the governor’s head. ‘Brad’, looking the governor in the eye, tightening his grip said, ‘Stay calm, this will all be over in no time’.

The governor who was assured that Sophie was only sleeping, was then instructed to call the solitary confinement wing and notify the guards that the prisoner was to be readied for immediate transfer. Once this task had been carried out, an injection was speedily administered and the governor was laid out, sleeping, on the floor behind his desk. The military personnel replaced their pistols in their holsters, and dropped the blinds over the window, before all six men, without a word, left the room, heading for the basement and the solitary confinement wing.

So smooth was the operation that not one of the prison staff had an inkling that anything untoward was taking place. The actions around the prisoner had been unusual since he had been placed in the prison, meaning that more unconventional behavior, (ie: an immediate transfer), did not seem out of place. The appearance of two personnel in uniforms of the United States military, aroused no suspicion, being as it was, common knowledge that the prisoner was a captive of the government of The United States.

Not until two forty that afternoon was anything noticed to be out of place. It was quite common for Sophie to spend long periods of time in the Governor’s office, while the blinds were drawn and visitors to her desk that day, made a mind to callback later. When a young prison guard arrived at the governor’s office for a disciplinary hearing, regarding fraternising with inmates, he waited patiently for ten minutes beyond his scheduled appointment time, then, keen to ‘get it over with’, he knocked on the door to the governor’s office, opened it and discovered the two bodies.

Seeing the bodies and immediately imaging the worst, the young officer fell in to a panic state. Stepping over the governor’s body he reached below the desk and pressed the panic button he knew was situated there. He then lifted the receiver on the desk phone and dialed nine four times. After requesting the services of the police and ambulance service to be directed to the prison he replaced the receiver and tentatively moved towards the bodies and, with great relief, found a pulse on both.

Four guards responding to the panic button burst in to the office. The alarm was raised and the prison placed on lock down. Very quickly, the sound of sirens filled the air and a flurry of activity fills the office and the prison yard, as the police and ambulance service do their best to ascertain what has happened. Not until an hour later, when the summoned guards from the morning shift arrive back at the prison, is it realised that the prisoner has been removed.

A plain clothes policeman immediately contacts his superior who swears very loudly down the phone. It is his job to call the chief of police, who in turn expresses her displeasure at the scenario, and must then make a very awkward call to the home secretary.

The home secretary then notifies the embassy of The United States of America . The ambassadorial representative of which, explains to the British home secretary that: ‘shit show hardly comes close’, and that ‘heads will roll’, before notifying her that this event ‘seriously jeopardises’ the ‘special relationship’ between the ruling administrations of the two countries.

A thorough investigation is launched by both the British police and the military intelligence service of The United States of America. Very little fresh evidence is procured. The guards in the prison all tell identical versions of the same story: ‘Six men with the necessary security clearance entered the prison, visiting the governor’s office, before heading down to remove the prisoner from his cell, making their way back through the prison, to their vehicle and leaving’.

The only people who claimed to have heard the perpetrators speak are the Governor and Sophie. When they were well enough to be interviewed they told the investigating officers that the man calling himself ‘Brad Moyles’ spoke with a broad American accent, but couldn’t be more specific. The governor claimed to have heard a Russian voice as he passed out. Sophie, being more familiar with Eastern European dialects, thinks she may have heard Bulgarian or Albanian being spoken between the suited men, as she lay unconscious.

The ‘Hummer’ slipped out of the prison the way it had come. CCTV watched it leave and head West in the city traffic. After ten minutes the car turned in to residential streets, disappearing from view. It is believed the assailants swapped vehicles and the abandoned car was removed in a covered lorry.

The British government tried to keep the story from becoming public for as long as possible. Only when, two days after the event, the prisoner’s legal team informed the press that their client had been removed from the prison without them being notified, did the story break. The prisoner’s legal team were looking in to a case of probable kidnap, with the administration of The United States as their chief suspects. Believing that, becoming weary of waiting for the lengthy court process to ensure the extradition of the prisoner to their own territories, (where the prisoner was to be tried on charges of treason), they had instigated the kidnap and probable execution of the prisoner.

The British administration were forced to issue their own statement declaring that yes, the prisoner had disappeared from his cell. It seemed most likely to them to be a combined plot by the Russian secret security forces and the Albanian mafia. ‘A thorough investigation, the likes of which the country had never seen was under way. If anyone had any information, anything at all, then would they please contact the police immediately’.

In all, seven groups claimed responsibility for the ‘break out’. Photographs and video footage of the prisoner soon began to surface from all over the world. It seemed the prisoner had found employment in almost every chip shop in Britain, every bar in Spain. Not a single full moon party in Thailand or Mexican beach party, was complete without the prisoner in attendance.

His family swore they never heard from him again and asked for their privacy to be respected as they were left to make up their minds, with broken hearts, whether the prisoner were alive or dead.

An overwhelming amount of information came pouring in to the investigation, swamping any hope of ever distinguishing the facts . Ensuring the story’s place among the ‘choose your own reality adventure’ that was twenty first century Britain.

 

 

 

Ben Greenland

 

 

 


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