I split the spying diversion
by ANNE GULLAND,
THERE were no shootings . . . it wasn’t like James Bond, says Valery, the caretaker of Moscow’s KGB museum, at the point when I inquire him about his work for 007’s arch-enemy at the stature of the Chilly War.
‘It’s hard to keep in mind what I did since it was dull stuff,’ he adds. ‘It’s not the way you see it in the movies, it was just hard work.’
I’m in Moscow to play the Spying Diversion – a trip for James Bond obsessives who need an knowledge into the dinky world of espionage. The visit of the KGB gallery is to whet my craving for the next day’s movement – a spying mission.
Ex-KGB colonel Valery decreases to give me his surname or, on the other hand have his picture taken, since ‘he still works for the service’. This is the FSB, the touchy-feely successor to the KGB, whose points are not to exchange middle class foes of the revolution, yet to battle sorted out crime.
I am sharp to know in the event that there is a document on me in the vaults of the Lubyanka, the KGB’s old headquarters. I to start with gone by Russia in 1990, amid the biting the dust days of Communism, what’s more, somebody once told me that the KGB kept records on all remote visitors.
‘There could be a record on you,’ says Valery. ‘We have a perusing room, yet not all the documents are open. In some cases it’s better not to know.’
Valery takes me on a visit of the gallery what’s more, I figure it out he was lying –the Cool War was like a James Bond film. He appears me a picture of Martha Peterson – a hot CIA operator what’s more, karate dark belt, caught redhanded on a Moscow railroad connect as she made her meet with a Soviet operative.
The KGB too overseen to catch a few awkward CIA observation unit – counting a plastic tree stump covering a spy satellite transmitter introduced close to a rocket-testing ground.Twenty-four hours later, I am putting everything I learned at the KGB gallery into rehearse as I have my possess mission to complete.
I have a meet at 1000 hrs precisely with Vera, my Russian knowledge counterpart, who hands me the subtle elements of my mission.
‘The reason of the amusement is to take after the course shown on the map, to satisfy errands by the English intell-
igence benefit to get mystery data what’s more, to come to the wrap up point not afterward than 1300 hrs.
‘Warning! There will be a few obstacles. There might be observation by Russian counter-intelligence service. KGB is observing you.’ The portrayal of my ten errands is taken after by the consoling coda: ‘All the above does not damage Russian legislation.’
Armed with a Polaroid what’s more, a map, Vera what’s more, I set off. The genuine fun begins at the Bolshoi Theatre, the second control point, where I meet my contact. ‘You will perceive him by a long dark calfskin coat what’s more, a daily paper in his hand.’ I perceive him by his sneakiness what’s more, give him the password. He is Or maybe attractive what’s more, I ponder in the event that this is a great time to concrete Anglo-Russian relations. Yet I question Vera would approve. Unfortunately, I have cleared out without picking up the next set of directions what’s more, he has to run after me what’s more, hurl them at me. About 100 yards away I spot a middle-aged man chuckling at me – he must be the surveillance. I must retain his face, as I will be inquired to depict him afterward in my field report.
The hunk from the second control point has given me a ticket for the left-luggage room at the Kremlin. Vera what’s more, I run over there, where I pick up a satchel containing a copyofRussian Playboyandmynext instructions. Outside a eatery close Red Square is what looks like an old hag offering bread. I approach her and, on saying the password, she hands me a bread roll. I tear into it what’s more, covered inside is a bottle containing my next clue. This takes me to GUM, the celebrated Russian division store that utilized to offer parcels of tat yet is presently full of planner shops.
At the perfumery, staffed by highly-glamorous shop assistants, are my next instructions, covered up under a bottle of nail polish. I feel a bit of a trick with my hide hat, camera dangling round my neck, plastic satchel what’s more, bread roll stuffed into my pocket.
I’m starting to think this is all lovely simple at the point when two policemen stop us at the Lubyanka (where else?) metro station. They usher me into the rank gap they call their office, clearing out Vera outside, what’s more, I’m pushed into a cell. A low-level freeze sets in. I have a cell mate – is she going to cut me? Will I have to stand trial in a Russian court? Will I ever see my guardians again?
BUT at that point I quiet down what’s more, keep in mind I’m playing a game. On the off chance that I truly was 007 this is the point where I would utilize one of Q’s devices – possibly my Polaroid camera transforms into a few super-sharp twine with which I can cut the bars of my cell what’s more, garrotte my captors?
Two cigarettes, a few telephone calls what’s more, 20 minutes afterward I’m let free, a bit shaken be that as it may not stirred. The officers were genuine but, it turns out, were in on the act.
Buoyed up by the reality that I didn’t split in that stinking cell, Vera what’s more, I head off to our next meet –a Bohemian bar where I must swap satchels with another agent.
I spot her, so I sit at an bordering table what’s more, indifferently put the satchel down. She folds her paper, picks up my case what’s more, leaves, without indeed a glance.
By presently I’m depleted what’s more, prepared for a coffee, be that as it may I figure it out my trade satchel is missing. What an idiot! I’ve permitted myself to be occupied by the server taking our order. That grinning observation fellow took it – I thought we’d shaken him off. Vera what’s more, I give pursue what’s more, oversee to wrestle the satchel from him.
Vera ushers me into a holding up car, which speeds through the city centre, saving me dumbfounded outside a eatery – the last contact point.
Inside are the lady from the police cell, Irina, what’s more, the hag who sold me the bread. She’s not a hag at all yet a youthful lady called Olga. They are both Spying Amusement representatives of a nearby travel agency.
Over a maybe a couple helpful shots of vodka I convey my field report – the pictures, the bread roll what’s more, an precise depiction of the observation man – what’s more, my spymasters compliment me on my cool head at the police station.
I have finished the mission in time what’s more, have asserted my prize – a KGB watch. Yet someone’s missing. Where’s 007 to appreciate a secure with in the shutting credits?
THE two-night trip costs between 635 what’s more, 905 per person. Cost incorporates flights from London Heathrow, two nights’ bed what’s more, breakfast, two lunches, visit of the Kremlin what’s more, KGB gallery what’s more, the Spying Game. For more points of interest go to www.unmissable.com or, then again call
0870 010 6208.