One had been. I turned one day to see the Russian from my hotel in Olesno following me up the street. I stopped out of sight around a bus shelter & waited for him to pass. He didn't come by, I looked to see where he was, he'd stopped nearby looking at a window of a shop, but not at anything within, just looking straight ahead. His sneering smile told that he knew he'd been discovered. Then he went into the shop. I went on my way. First by tram, then taxi. A white Mercedes van appeared behind me more than once. I didn't think They knew which hotel I was staying at yet. So I changed cabs three times going home, taking them around the houses, which seemed to work.


        When the time came to leave town I took another cab. The Mercedes van which had appeared behind my taxis two or three times previously showed up again. Vans are slow & he'd been easy to lose, but this time he wasn't taking any chances, he was right up close to us. I took out a pen & paper, wrote down his number plate then waved the paper at him & smiled. He overtook & drove off looking annoyed. I asked the taxi driver to drive me out of town to Torun train station. I got onto a train & into a compartment which contained one of them I'd seen in Czestochowa. If I was in any doubt who he was, which I wasn't, when I sat down he took out his mobile, pushed a single button & put it away again. This is what they were doing these days, instead of making a call when I showed they were being more discreet. Still doing it right in front of me though, each thinking they aren't doing anything out of the ordinary, & together making the situation very obvious. This is what you get when you take people off the street & ask them to be operatives. I left the train at the next stop & got onto another. I changed trains again when I had the opportunity.



        It was dark now & the stations my train was stopping at were remote ones. There were no taxis to get into, no hotels to go to, & I didn't like the look of some of the characters on otherwise deserted platforms. The train terminated and the guard told me it was the last stop. I said I would stay on & go back the other way. I walked down the train to the toilet. Sitting in one of the otherwise empty carriages was the frizzy haired girl that watched my train pull away in Olesno, she turned her head away quickly when she saw me. In front of her was a young man toying with his phone. The train went back the other way, at one station there were two big men looking at me ferociously from the platform. The train terminated again after a couple of stops at Lascowice.

Lascowice station: Where I was met by local Polish police.

        I arrived in Berlin knowing that I wouldn't be able to just walk away when I got there. I hoped that I'd caught the Polish by surprise taking the express train, & that they wouldn't have their passports to be able to immediately follow. I expected them to have some people already on the ground, but hoped they would be few & easily lost with a few tricks I'd learned. When I arrived I was dealing with German Mafia. I knew they were different because the Polish had become shyer about their manner, & how they used their mobile phones, these boys were blatant, through out my whole time in Germany it looked like they didn't care at all that I knew who they were. I took a cab, walked through the darkness of a park, then got into another. I took that one out of the city North to a small town. We then hunted around for a hotel. We arrived at one about 2 am. Outside was a young man sat at a bus stop. When we got out he got up & walked off. Some people never sleep! commented the taxi driver. I could have told him why this one wasn't sleeping, but he wouldn't have believed me. It meant they must've been covering every hotel in & around Berlin, that was incredible. I'd shown an interest in traveling to Germany, so they had some prior warning. I thought it likely this wasn't the first time they'd used a system like this here, requiring a large amount of manpower short term (more usually boy power at this level). Presumably every metro station was covered too. I was later told by a cab driver that the Russian Mafia were a big problem in Berlin. This was worse than Poland. It was also a lot more expensive for accommodation, taxis & food. I did some shopping in the morning & headed off to some woods we'd passed in the cab to make camp while things cooled down. I left the road into the trees, where I unloaded & sat to rest on my pack. (If you are going to Germany there are studios containing captives here: Gutenbergstrasse 15a, D-55294 Bodenheim, Germany, & here: Richartzstabe 15, 30519, Hanover, Germany)

Prague Czech Republic

        Prague was, as I'd been told a charming city. It was a great pity I wouldn't be allowed to enjoy it. If you are going to the town center, this place is full of captive women & children used for p_rn production: Jecna 7, 12 000, Karlovo Nam- Praha 2. When you've lost your place at the top of the food chain it's hard to relax out & about. They didn't have a large force on the ground like Berlin, but it only took a day or two to get that way. One guy was particularly obviously showing up wherever I was & sticking to me like glue. Some of this kind of behaviour would have been innocent, it was the frequency of suspicious behaviour that was wrong, and seeing it where & when I'd come to expect to see it. It wasn't just me reading them, they would try to read me too. For example I approached a tram with the intention of getting on. A guy who was showing no interest in that it was there noticed me & quickly jumped on ahead of me. Seeing what he'd done I stopped & let the tram go, he looked back with frustrated expression, so smiled at him as he went up the street. I dodged through some back roads & hailed a taxi in one of them. Nobody saw me get in I was sure. The next I knew the taxi driver called someone on his cell phone, and chatted a while. Slavic languages are very similar, Czech for 'I'm taking your colleague home' was virtually the same in Polish, that part I understood. I guess Prague's a small enough place to be able to rig the taxis. He then asked me where I was planning on going next. I told him I wasn't sure & asked him if there was a big Mafia problem in Prague. "Mafia?" he said sounding genuinely surprised, he was quiet a moment, then quietly said "no". He was silent for the rest of the journey other than to ask what number in the street I wanted. I said to drop me where we were. I left the street & went around the block hoping to be elusive, but when I put the key in the door I could see someone at the end of the road watching.

        The next day I awoke, which is what always happens, yet though my faith is strong it was often puzzling that I find myself with another day ahead of me. That part is engineered on a level beyond my understanding. They were so frequent now that I couldn't relax anywhere I went. I knew they knew where I was staying, & on the street outside I experienced the same odd peace which I had outside my hotel in Olesno. They weren't there, but they wouldn't be far, and there'd be lots of them. I bought a Czech Sim card which didn't require any ID & went & sat in a cafe to load it up. When I emerged from the cafe there was a Boris Yeltsin look-alike sitting on a bench giving me a 'you'll get what's coming to you soon enough my boy' look. I stood around a corner & called the cab number of a previously trustworthy looking firm. As we pulled away Boris was on his cell phone. I took the taxi across the river & through the underpass which led to the Northern part of the city, & got out at a hotel. It was just a few seconds before someone pulled up & got out, phone to his ear & no destination. OK, enough, I didn't go into the hotel, but a nearby sports arena, where I hoped to slope out of the back door. They were all locked & I had to return to the front. The first man had gone somewhere, but a grinner arrived, reversed to face the road out of the car park, & sat blocking the entrance. I went down an access road, up a steep bank, across some railway lines, that'll slow the cars I thought, & down to a riverside path. I would've been visible from the road along side the path, but was able to obscure my self by crouching whenever I heard a car coming along. End of the path I had to cross the road into a park. A car pulled up ahead of me & a big man got out holding a huge spanner. He looked amused at my reaction to it, then proceeded to check his wheel nuts. I then took a tram out of town to a large area of hilly woodland.

 One evening when it began to get dark I heard a vehicle pull up on the track a little farther up the hill, somebody got out. Not long after a trail bike came along and stopped around the same area. The rider spoke to somebody who gave a thick headed 'hurhurhur' laugh, then rode away. It was about 3 am when I heard what sounded like the low trill of a cell phone. It could've been some local insect I'd not encountered yet, so I let it pass without too much worry. Next it was the single beep of somebody's watch chiming the hour. This was to become a very familiar situation for me as time went by, I'm not going to mention every instance or detail here in case it makes problems for me if I find myself on the road again. This was standard procedure, the mushroom man had given my location last seen, & I'd been sent an Assassin to watch & listen, to stop me if I made a night move or a noise that would locate me. In the light of the next morning he'd gone.

        I took a cab to the Airport. When I arrived there was a round faced black leather jacketed Russian sitting outside on a wall watching. I hunted for cheap flights far away & settled with Düsseldorf. It was three hours until my flight left. The Russian came and spoke to a group of backpackers behind me as I bought a ticket, but he was some distance still. I passed my destination to the vendor written on a piece of paper. He read it out loud, but too quietly for the guy behind me to hear. He came by me again later with a big guy, he said hello, which I ignored. The big guy was whistling would you believe. They must've got my number from the taxi firm somehow because my phone rang, it was a Czech number which rung off as I went to answer confirming for those watching that it was my number. Trying to impress I thought, the Czech number would soon be useless. I'll be impressed when they show some basic concept of morality.

        When the plane touched down I took a taxi to the city center & went into a kebab shop where I ordered a small pizza just to ask them to call me another cab. While I was waiting for it to arrive things didn't look good outside. A car pulled up in that slow silent sinister fashion & the occupants remained seated, the Kebab shop visible in their rear view mirror. My taxi came & the car pulled out ahead of us. Also there was a car waiting to pull onto the main road we were to join, from the road opposite us. It looked conspicuous because there was no traffic on the main road, & it could've gone, yet it waited until I'd loaded & we'd pulled away, then followed. I told the driver I thought we were being followed & asked him to lose him for me. He did a bit of signaling & half lane changing, then agreed & pulled an astonishing maneuver U-turning the wrong way into a narrow one way street. The car behind pulled to stop. He told me he used to be a driver with the Military police. I asked him to take me to Cologne, which would cost a fortune I knew, but I hadn't paid for a flight to let them stay with me now. On the Auto Bahn we passed a Porsche which was traveling slowly in the center lane, a few minutes later it came zooming past us. The road behind looked clear, which made my driver happy, but since Czestochowa I knew better.

Cologne Germany

                Arriving in Cologne my driver lost three more for me simply by pulling over to let them pass & then turning around. Then I changed cabs at a taxi rank near the Cathedral, I think unseen. The Porsche showed up again as I was leaving for a small town just outside Cologne called Bergish Gladbach. I Moved to the city center when they were obviously around me anyway. The next hostel used an excellent cab firm, unmarked chauffeur driven cars. I could even feel I hadn't been followed into town. At my hostel I had two young men who took it in turns to watch at the bottom of the elevator. Nearby was a coin operated Internet machine. One of them once tried to see what I was doing, but It wasn't important, it had been rigged anyway. Every time I visited a web page I automatically registered a visit to av.rds.yahoo.com in my 'visited addresses' bar. I'd had so much yahoo related trouble that when somebody got me the message that they are largely Mafia owned & cooperating with NaStudio it was no surprise to me, just confirmation. I looked at a map of European regional climate. I'd assumed that the further south I'd manage to get with winter approaching, the warmer it would be. This wasn't the case. There were warm spots, usually created by warm winds & cold spots, usually associated with height. I saw that the region of Poland I was in when the heavy snow came was a cold spot, that was either unlucky or destiny. Not so far was Slovenia, It's Western coast heated by Mediterranean winds was about 10 degrees warmer than 7 miles further inland. That's where I'd go for the winter, I certainly never wanted to see snow again if I could avoid it.


        I went out one day not comfortable about leaving my things in my room. I carefully placed a packet of needles on my books in a specific position that I'd know if it had been moved. I also noted the way my back pack lay. Packing it correctly required skill, I'd know if it had been touched at all. When I went out of the front door two people who were stood there immediately turned & went in. I walked back in to see where they were going. They'd queued to speak to staff. Around town they stuck closely to me, at least one in every street. I went to a book shop & looked at maps of Europe, one followed me from one part of the store to another, when I looked at a book he'd note it, wait until I moved on, then go see what it was. I took an atlas & sat around a corner. He came there & I tutted at him. Staring had no effect, but now he looked embarrassed, like he'd gone from being a covert operative to being a pest, & kept his distance. When I got back to my room I looked to see if the packet of needles had moved slightly from it's position on the books. They were lying on the floor next to them. The backpack hadn't been touched. The most important things, that is Diary, mobile phone & passport, I never left behind. I hoped they hadn't somehow managed to cut a key. It looked like they might've tricked or bribed staff into showing them my room.


        The day before I left I walked some back roads briskly & purchased a packet of envelopes, I'm sure unseen. One from earlier that day came by the store as I left. Too late pal. To get a bus to Ljubljana, capital of Slovenia I needed to travel to Frankfurt. On arrival I booked into a hotel & left in the morning, it was raining. There was a man at the end of the street with an umbrella which he held in a fashion which obscured his head, he also had his back to me. My suspicion aroused I looked back when I passed him. It was the Boris Yeltsin look-alike from Prague, & he was on his phone again. I walked into a bank, a couple of Polish speaking men came in & joined the queue behind me. I'd had too many Polish speaking men around me, it wasn't normal that they could afford to be here other than on a working trip, & here they all were bumming around on weekdays. I went into a shop to buy some string, when I came out the poles were at a nearby bus stop. Without even looking at each other they both came my way the moment they saw me. Way too obvious. I went and bought a ticket at the Euro lines office shortly before the bus was due to depart.

Ljubljana/Trieste (Slovenia/Italy)

                I arrived in Ljubljana & got some detailed maps which were easy to find because the country is so small. Next train was to Trieste, which was actually in Italy, opposite Venice, though I'd thought it a part of Slovenia, it looked as if it ought to be. I arrived in the evening & did some letter writing because I didn't think they'd likely interfered with the Internet cafes on my route so quickly. Next day I walked around a bit being elusive, then got on a bus halfway to the Slovenian border, walking the final part


        Rather than use a plane here they'd park high on a mountain side overlooking areas of open ground. This would sometimes catch me between trees below. Being on high ground often betrayed their positions to me too. I found that it was best to be high, not just because they wouldn't follow on foot, but to see what was around. High ground had to be worked for & it was best to try to keep to it as I traveled. It was easy to lose it taking the easy trail. I found one of them as I turned the corner of a high roadway. He was in his teens or early twenties parked with a view of fields below. He was engrossed in a book & didn't see me. I traveled back the way I'd come, then trapped by a river I had to travel through sometimes light cover along a railway line within the zone guarded by the book reader. I ran where I was visible & hoped he wasn't watching. I got across the river via a small bridge to a village, it wasn't the first time they'd overlooked minor bridges across rivers which otherwise would have contained me. I remember another one maybe two unguarded in Poland. I had purchased envelopes secretly in Berlin, compiled letters on arrival in Trieste I'm sure unobserved, & now I was posting them in secluded places whilst away from them. I was confident of a surprise hit. I didn't know what difference that made, but they went to an awful lot of trouble to know when I was posting what to who. Back in England later I realised they interfere with mail easily enough. postboxes, the sorting office & delivery to my house were all used to prevent my communication. After a time I head back to Ljubljana to fly home because my funds were gone.

Ljubljana Slovenia, KGB

               Back in Ljubliana I crossed a car park to a Hostel entrance. I turned to check behind me because the car park was dark, & I knew how their Assassins liked to do business, sneaky. A girl had appeared from nowhere, she wasn't in the street a moment ago, but she was there now, & coming in my direction walking as fast as was possible without breaking into a jog, which looked awkward & silly. She glared at me, coming in my direction purposefully. I slowed to a stroll to let her past. I didn't want her to follow me into the Hostel. She walked past the hostel entrance, I went in. While I was at reception she came in, overshadowed by a big rough looking man, & as I passed the bar to take the stairs to my room she was sitting alone at a table glaring again. I wondered for a moment how come so many Mafia were ugly. Walt Disney came in for criticism for making the evil characters ugly, and the good beautiful. Maybe he knew some organised criminals.


        I found a kitchen on the next floor & put the kettle on. A small girl about my age came into the kitchen from down the hall. "Is there tea or coffee?" she asked. I couldn't see any so I went to my room to fetch her a couple of my cherry tea bags, which I recommend by the way, also banana. I made the tea for us both as she began to tell me why she had booked into the hostel, though she lived in Ljubljana. She said that she was avoiding some criminals who were putting pressure on her to do some work for them. "Criminals?" I said, "not Mafia?" she thought a moment, then nodded yes. I laughed & said that they were in the hostel looking for me. "Really?" she said in surprise. "You know, I saw one that I know downstairs". I asked her why they wanted her to help them. She told me that she was former KGB, "a spy" she shrugged in a way that led me to believe people usually found that impressive & interesting. It wasn't very impressive for me. Not considering that I'd read a Wikipedia entry that when the KGB was disbanded it's former members had found employment with the Russian Mafia. I asked her if that was true, now she had the glare of the girl downstairs. This being the case I later established it to be a resentment filled kind of glare, at having been quickly rumbled as the enemy. She didn't say anything. There was the possibility I'd insulted her. "Didn't some of them do that?" I asked, "I read that somewhere". "I don't know" she said, her eyes then turning to the floor. "Yes, I also read that the Russian Mafia top man is a former KGB officer". "I don't know" she shrugged, looking like she'd prefer I changed the subject. 


        I asked her what it was that she used to do. She replied that she didn't want to talk about it. Instead she spoke about her child. That she had had it taken from her by authorities, due to her alleged mental instability, she blamed Mafia, she said they tried to make her look insane. She exclaimed this leaning forward, eyes bulging, certainly looking the nut. This was genuine, I believed that she had lost her child, it was a preoccupation & source of obvious frustration for her during the rest of our chat. She asked if she could take some of my hair, for luck. It was long & straggly so I let her cut a small lock where I didn't think it would be noticed. I worried about it a little after in case they tried to fit me up for a crime with my DNA, but that could be got at any room I stayed in. As we spoke she had far more interest in what I was doing next than what I'd done. When I smiled to her that I was able to stay hidden in Slovenian woodland for weeks by rationing my food & finding a huge crop of tree fungus, instead of smiling along with me at my escape as people would when I told them these kinds of stories, she looked annoyed. She made a few mistakes as the evening wore on, dispelling any doubt. Another time when I'd said it was looking like they'd manage to follow me where ever I went, she replied "hopefully", looking downward with a little smile, perhaps a mistake, perhaps deliberate, I don't know why she said that. It wasn't that she was no good, her acting skills were very good, she did say later in conversation that her job involved working between enemies. I assume she was chosen to speak to me because it also involved extracting information. It went into the early hours & we were both tired. I'd let slip I was flying out of the country. There's no substitute for silence. I should have cut it short & gone to my room.


        I went to make tea in the morning, she was hanging around in the kitchen, so I went back to my room. I waited a while, but accepted she wasn't going to go away and went back up. We had a short chat about her son. Then I mentioned I was going to another hotel. "Are you?" she said, quickly turning towards me displaying too much interest, "where?". I did go to another hotel, but only to use their Internet access to look at flight info. When I got there the computers had as usual been tampered with. I found an Internet cafe which displayed no suspicious signs, could be some were too secure for them or reset. I booked a flight to England with Easyjet possibly exposing my debit card details, but there wasn't much I could do about that, I'd tried unsuccessfully to book over the phone. I had to fly home now, all of my money was gone, I had to try to get a job. I'd waited for my feet to heal to the very last. Even after a year, the poor circulation that comes with frostbite injuries meant that they were still healing & still painful to do any serious walking on, if I tried my wounds got worse again. I'm not too sad that I didn't make it to Israel, stopping & being stopped are not the same. It was my body that broke down, not my spirit, that was the important thing, I never gave up, & that's good enough for me. I went back to the hostel because I'd seen a cabbie's business card offering a cheap fixed rate to the Airport. Outside the hostel were the KGB girl speaking to someone I didn't recognise, the big guy who came in with the glaring chick the night before & the moon faced instructor was there too, when I got into the cab he flicked his cigarette & got into a car, looking like he was enjoying himself.

England

                I arrived back in England at Stansted airport in the evening of Monday the 9th of January 2006, about 21 months after having left. I needed to take a connecting train to passport control. Almost all of the passengers on the plane were English natives, with just that I was feeling as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. One looked very foreign, he also looked very much the convict type, he hung back not going far from me. When the rest of us approached passport control he was bringing up the rear, then he was gone. I knew they'd be cooperating with English Mafia now, they'd done it wherever I'd gone. I took a car park bus to as close to an exit as it would take me. When I arrived there was a car parked at the road side. I stopped in my tracks when I saw it. The car immediately killed it's lights. I could see a garage & a hotel within the grounds. I went to the hotel. I asked them to call me a taxi. When it arrived a few minutes later The hotel front was obscured, so that I couldn't be seen getting into it by anyone other than who was standing near reception. I got in, & asked the driver where there were woodlands nearby. He suggested Hatfield forest, so we went there.


        He dropped me at the entrance and I went into the darkness, the road behind me was silent, nobody had seen. I stayed there a couple of days in light cover, then moved my tent somewhere safer. While out collecting water one day I'd seen a young couple behaving abnormally. My suspicions were confirmed not long after collecting my daily water. I approached with caution because a group of deer had fled from something ahead. As I got nearer I saw someone move behind a bush, then out he came, pacing away quickly, not noticing me among the trees, looking like he'd been disturbed. That was close, it was a camo jacketed shaven headed doorman type I recognised from hanging around me in a square in Ljubljana. He was near where I'd previously had my tent & standing by my stream. There was another man who wore Slovenian blue farming overalls, a jacket over the top, hanging about nearer my new position a few days, walking the wood perimeter. I saw him disturbed the same way as the bald headed man once. It was the weekend & the place was alive with people. When food ran short I called a taxi to take me to Scotland Yard.

London

                When I arrived at Scotland Yard I spoke to the Policeman on duty who told me to speak to the CID at Belgravia. I started to look around for somewhere to sleep, a derelict building or something. I passed a tube station with two young men stood at the entrance. One of them nudged the other who looked at me shocked, then quickly spun away, as if he'd just remembered he'd been told not to pay me too much attention, his friend kept his eyes down. I avoided tube stations now and found somewhere to sleep in St. James park.


        When I got to Belgravia I told the reception Policeman what I'd been involved with & that I needed to speak to somebody about the 2257 list of business associates, the policeman said it was too much for a small station like theirs. He said I'd need to go somewhere bigger, but didn't know where. He gave me the 'Crime Stoppers' phone number & said that they'd refer me to the correct people. When I called Crime Stoppers they had no idea who I needed. I asked whether It might be MI5 or MI6, but they didn't know. I knew the MI6 building was on the Thames somewhere, I hailed a cab and he took me there. The security guard was friendly. I told him I didn't really know where I should be, were they interested in Mafia? very interested he told me, so it seemed I was in the right place. I filled out a short form to say what it was I wanted to speak about and another guard took it upstairs so it could be established whether or not I'd be invited in for an interview. After ten or fifteen minutes the second guard came down & said that he'd been told to tell me it was a police matter, but didn't know where I should go. So it was back to square one. I passed a tube station a little further down the road, where there was a man stood at the exit, smiling a sneery smile & nodding at me that he knew who I was. I don't know how, I was even now wearing my red pac-a-mac & jogging bottoms disguise. I supposed they must have some good photos.


       

I went back to Scotland Yard and inquired where there was a large police station in London, since Belgravia hadn't felt they were a good station to deal with the matter, the Policeman suggested Charing Cross. When I arrived there they were busy & clearly didn't care at all about what I had. They kept looking for excuses why they shouldn't take it further, which I countered Soca: corrupted British intelligence agency until they simply said "we are busy, you have to leave now". I went to Savile row station where they seemed busier, but somebody agreed to pass my documents to an inspector. I could try to get away now. I got into a black cab, which are absolutely everywhere, all looking the same, it had to be impossible to follow one through London, but to get far enough away to walk around town safely would be expensive. I was very disappointed at how difficult it was to get any kind of help, but later in the year, when I discovered who I needed to make contact with I had more success. I made contact with SOCA, which to be fair had only been formed I think not long after my return to England. I was disappointed that they were content to observe. There was no difference to my woodland sleeping arrangements, which was the prefered Mafia location for a hit, while I slept idealy, else off road. I still had to handle assassins alone. I was for about a year, before they have began to use me in their battle with RBN, left to die. The next couple of years saw co-operation & a serious effort to put off an attack by providing witnesses. But they were still happier to observe than to make arrests, known knifemen would come & go freely, & when they approached with hands clearly grasping long objects in their coat pockets I would need to deal with the situations myself. They even once joked that I have "a job for life". I still have to deal with often familiar faces by my faith in God on roughly a weekly basis. I won't disgust you with details here, but the abuse of power, wasting huge amounts of money on personal vendetas, abscence of any sense of morality & ineffectiveness against Mafia has been beyond belief. They are also as likely to break the law as to uphold it & share intelligence not relating to UK crime with foriegn Mafia.

SOCA I first made contact with Soca by walking into Malvern police station (in the west Dawn Collis: Senior Soca officer & executive at Ipsos Mori where I am employed as a market researcher. midlands of the UK) and asking to put put in contact. As I've said at this stage very few police even seemed to know the new organistation existed, but the girl at the counter made a telephone call and with in a short time a man called back. He said "what did you say your name was? Mark Jones?" I hadn't said that, I'd said my name was Keith Jones, but Mark Jones is who I'd seen a pursuer emailing about from his Yahoo! account when I  peered over his shoulder at the library. So I knew that Soca had already heard about me. Then he told me to satrt walking up a main road nearby and wait for a call on my mobile. "How should I recognise?, I mean do you have a beard or something" he said. Yes I had a beard, so obviously they knew what I looked like & what I was being called, but at this stage did not know my real name. I was told to sit at a bench as I passed a park. After a short time 2 Soca officers showed, one male & one female niether would've looked out of place in the SAS. I told them we would have to keep it short or they would be photographed, the man became nervous. I wanted to give them a flash drive containing an early version of this website, but the man was insistant that they were unable to take it because they needed to give me a reciept. Keen to move things quickly I said "what if I drop this on the floor when I go?". "That's up to you". he replied, so that's what I did, which I regret now because Soca have never openly discussed the matter with me since and I have even been told that they could just walk away & I don't even have a letterheaded document to prove they were ever involved, & still insanly claim that depite employing almost all of my past friends and girlfriends and some family telling them everything. They are right now trying to kill me themselves & expect everyone to remain silent because they signed the official secrets act. Some of them are good people, & that is obviously not going to happen.

    

Blackheath

                I went to Blackheath where I found an abandoned block of flats, 'Glenie house' just a short distance down Blackheath hill. There were one or two flats which hadn't had their windows broken, one had a good front door & so put a new cylinder barrel into it's lock. I didn't want to use my cash card locally in case it brought them to me. I took a bus to Russell Square in central London with new cropped hair and new outfit from a charity shop. Then I had a cab wait for me while I withdrew my money. I took the cab about a mile, then got a bus back to Blackheath under cover of darkness. Living like a vagabond, & not being able to find a job was depressing, I missed the purpose of my old life. The idea was that I'd keep my head down & earn some more money before I went back to business, but it wasn't really happening. I went back to Central London on the bus one day, a couple weeks after having left, & into an Internet cafe to do some discreet business related searching through a proxy. I was there about an hour when I noticed a teenager peering through the glass door at me with a smile of a kind you might expect from somebody who'd spotted someone famous while out shopping. I don't know if it was my searching led them to me or if they were doing Internet cafe walkbys, but I'd been seen.


        I left & got into a cab, which I took to my bus stop. I wasn't there long before two young men came sprinting in my direction from another street, stopping when they made eye contact with me. I moved out of their sight behind the bus shelter, then looked again, they'd vanished. I got the bus home, I'd been seen at that bus stop anyway & they'd look where I was staying wherever I tried to lead them now. I was optimistic that perhaps I was wrong this time. Increasingly about town over the next few days the usual paranoia which isn't in fact paranoia at all crept in, until it became obvious they were all around me. The usual way in an area where there was a lot of people was frequency of minor suspicious behaviour followed by the very obvious, through foolishness or the reluctance of bigger men to use stealth. It wasn't long before they were appearing very close to my home. I would try to lead them astray taking different routes home, but they closed in over a few days, watching where I went & waiting around the area I'd been last seen.


        One night about 11pm I heard some fiddling with the lock on the front door, which went on for less than a minute. Then somebody began to strike it loudly with something heavy. I tried to call police, but as happened in Laskowice Poland there was no signal. It returned weakly after a time & I was able to get through, only to be cut off mid sentence. It was obvious now that they were using a jamming device. I changed sim card from Virgin to O2. The signal was good. I called again, the operator said she could hear the noise behind me. The banging stopped & I saw the blue lights in the street. I was expecting them to call my mobile, but they drove off. I rang again & said I couldn't walk down safely with a probable knife maniac in the building, gave them my flat number & asked them to call me. The blue lights showed again, then they drove off again.


        I went into Lewisham police station the next day & they told me the police on the scene were unablbabae to raise me on my mobile & thought me a prank caller. I got a bus to central London, into a black cab & asked him to drive up some back streets before he went, to lose any possible tails. I went to Wimbledon common where I expanded a clearing in some holly bushes & made camp. The next day they were with me. I would sometimes use McDonalds to get washed, they were outside one, also at a station. I used Fulham Library & an Internet cafe where I logged into yahoo chat. I was taunted there that I'd better run while I could, because the 'mean team' had arrived. The mean team it seemed were the public school types which now replaced the white van types. They were dressed as well as one would expect around Fulham. They were in the Library on my second day in town, the computer I'd booked at the desk the previous day had been newly networked with a familiar program which had followed me around, I looked to the PC next to mine, it wasn't on their task bar. Here I went into yahoo chat going from room to room saying that yahoo are owned by Mafia. I only managed to do that about 7 times before my IP got blocked. There were two more on my way back to Wimbledon common, & when I got there they were hanging around. One girl I'd seen in Fulham whipping out her mobile & looking scared, & a big guy. They were near my tent so I walked straight past. Further down a girl at a bus stop clocked me coming, left the bus stop & went into the bushes ahead of me. I went into cover myself and head back through trees to where my tent was. I passed near the place I'd seen the girl & man, they'd gone. I'd have to move next day.


        I took a long distance cab & then walked south After not very far I was offered a lift by a kindly Christian couple who went about 50 miles out of their way to take me to Winchester. I wasn't away though, over the next few days they employed more & more youngsters & van drivers until it was impossible to deny if I'd wanted to. They tried to establish where I was sleeping the same way as before, hanging around the area I was last seen. I took different routes back to my tent each night until it was too much, then left for Salisbury. I stayed there until again they closed in on me and went to Bristol, then Gloucester, then Worcester, the Malvern hills. While there the enemy set up a direct debit with my bank for some kind of ebay purchase, but I stopped it before they took anything. They might've got my bank details when I booked a flight online at an Internet cafe or by opening my mail back home & looking at bank statements (When I eventually returned home my mail looked steamed open & resealed). While in Bristol I  would sometimes through the night hear a shing-shing sound like someone sharpening a Kebab knife. In woods or once while I was in the protection of thorny blackberry bushes near houses. This time he spoke to someone who appeared to be waiting for him out of sight a short distance away.

Bromsgrove

               I'd given up trying to get away to find a job in peace & went back to work, at Library computers, rigged library computers, but I still made progress. There had been too many people around me speaking Slovenian. Slovenia is too small & sparsely populated for so many here, sat at a Library computer, the phone would go & they would betray themselves. In Bromsgrove there was a Slovenian man who was one of a group of them in a previous town, he had followed me here and there was a girl who spoke Slovenian with Russian accent. She was also employing school children to monitor my Internet activity. She called one back once as that was leaving the Library, asked her where she was going. The school girl told her she 'couldn't be fucked anymore' throwing a look to me like she had better things to do, & walking out. This girl was an unlikely looking mafia employee in that she was attractive, unlike the usual array of Muppets, but she looked Russian & Russian girls have a reputation for that. She & a nutty beggar from Worcester have also put in several apearances around me in my home town of Chatham in Kent on my eventual return. There was a big man who began to hang around with the school children, he would follow me around conspicuously too. The children were also asked to torment my dog tied outside & then complain to staff that it was disturbing those in the Library, that I might be asked to go, but it was the Librarians that pointed out to me what they were doing.


        Shortly before going to Bromsgrove I had negotiated the release of all of the captive children together with their mothers, in exchange for my going away. I had registered with close to one thousand Computer & Internet related forums. I said if they didn't comply I would begin mass forum posting, telling everyone of yahoo involvement in their business. If you go to the Reuters yahoo company profile page you'll see how much the company is worth to those who have a slice of the pie. They were keen to talk & I ceased hostility for a couple of weeks while the July 2006 deadline came around. They offered money as an alternative, which I refused & voiced concerns that ' children with mothers that fight talk'.


        I told them that if they allowed captives to view it, I would keep an online diary from which they might try to gather useful information. I knew anything they could learn at all made them very happy. They must've been spending a fortune having me watched everywhere & photographed all the time. I did it at kef.0catch.com, deliberately feeding them useless information in the diary, & the captives were permitted to speak to me subtly via the banner ads at the head of the page, which now were footnoted 'ads by yahoo'. Refreshing the page brought a new ad comment, in between idiotic comments by Mafia that is. It was possible to glean some useful information from the comments, which would often include boasts detailing their activities, so I was criticised for closing the site in favour of one with no banners. Reading personal remarks can distract into tit for tat non productive behaviour. It can also lower morale reducing performance. Being drawn into it is a serious waste of resources. It's almost certainly there for a purpose, so I say to you that if it's having negative psycological effects or morale is already low then don't read it. If you don't read it it's them that waste their time & energy not us. There's nothing so important I've read from them. When I started I deliberatly had no dialogue for at least a year, & it was much easier.


        They had no intention of ever releasing anyone, they were just trying to keep me occupied that I'd stop registering with forums at a rate of about twenty a day. It had to be tried though. Even though I was being monitored for logins and passwords it seemed to bother them considerably. When the time drew near for release they said they'd located my family & that if I went ahead with the posts they would kill them. I could see clearly enough from the things they were saying that they had indeed located them. I pointed out to them that for all of their observation they had learned little worth knowing about me. They seriously expected me to abandon every woman & child which would ever suffer there, turn my back on God, sacrificing my eternal life & lay down & die in the bargain. To preserve the lives of my small family. I informed my family they'd been threatened & that I was going to continue to fight anyway because of the larger issue. It wasn't welcome news, but most of them know the difference between right & wrong. I wrote to yahoo directors to tell them what was about to happen that they might put pressure on NaStudio


        When they cut off one of the captive babies heads I had no choice but to do what I said I'd do. NaStudio had been trying to palm me off on Google, who they claimed were equally as guilty, they said I could find captives in SOHO, London, & pointed out a court case against them for promoting child p_rn websites, during which Google famously refused to hand over a weeks worth of search terms to the US Justice department."Google has made child p_rnography an obscenely profitable & integral part of its business & must be stopped" (Jeffrey Toback, US law maker). I hadn't heard that before, but I got their directors

Eric Schmidt: Paedo porn profiteer Quote “Evil is whatever Sergey decides is evil.”

addresses from the Reuters website & told them what was being said. The cutting off of the the head of one of the children belonging to a prominant 'trouble making' captive was NaStudio's response. It was quite a clever move to point me in the direction of Google because I would end up ultimatly doing more work against them than against NaStudio, despite that they were not my enemy. I thought that Google might squash NaStudio for dragging them into the trouble, but instead after some intial friction they helped them. I made the mass forum posting which is what I said I'd do if they killed the child, I'd registered about 800 or so, short of the thousand, but as many PC related as I'd been able to find. Some appeared to be nobbled, not accepting my login but most were fine. I also wrote to yahoo explaining why I was making them the main drive of the campaign. I compiled the story you are reading from diary entries I'd made beginning in Zywiec hospital, when it all started getting too much for my memory, on a laptop I'd purchased in the hope of Internet privacy. Unfortunately going online was extremely expensive with a mobile phone, also painfully slow, and the battery would quickly die when online. I had to use it at power outlets in libraries & cafés. Which would immediately attract someone with a laptop of their own & a bluetooth connection, so as even though I tried my hardest, I couldn't avoid the spyware & whatever else they managed to download. I couldn't afford to run it online, and I hadn't been able to surf privately, so when I'd written the story off-line I sold it. Google began to show an interest in my work from my point of contact with them. I discovered that they operate in much the same way as Yahoo! but on a larger scale. A year or two on, some jittery Google affiliated Mafia bosses ordered a cull of some kind of captive babies, using a pipette administered chemical, I don't have the details, but it was while I was lobbying the EU regarding captive children held in studios named at the foot of page 1. If you needed any more evidence they were almost thrown out of Brazil for withholding the indentities of child porn distributors from police. At the end of the day, it does not matter whether the Yahoo! Mafia pointing the finger at Schmidt were telling the truth, because if there has been deliberate large scale child porn proofiteering, he is the CEO & responsible anyway. Also responsible for creating a global demand for new material. Google affiliated TCS Productions have been more reckless than others within the UK following attention turned to them. They intensified activity & I had to duck would be assailants on a daily basis, but when I introduced Eric Schmidt onto the site there was suddenly nobody to be seen. I had a couple of weeks of peace before they creapt back. They had very obviously been rattled, taking time to consider & consult, because they immediatly returned for the day that I removed him again as a peace offering, then vanished again when I put him back. So I know where best to concentrate now, although I hear Dr. Schmidt is more of a puppet than a Don of any kind. The Mafia I have been dealing with have always had their workforce continualy thinking up new & inventive threats, looking for a reaction themselves.

       I received no reply from yahoo but as with the last letter, NaStudio received & began to comment on the content within a couple of days of the letter's due arrival in California. The posts were more successful than I'd expected them to be considering I was being monitored while entering login details at various library computers within the region I'd been registering on. Some posts were immediately deleted, a lot of the sites were fake I think, but I could still search & bring up 250 results. They dealt with this as they had done before, posing as ordinary forum members with mocking replies to the posts, & also editing them slightly so I wouldn't notice to correct them.

Having used all of the computer & Internet related forums I could find, I started to send Emails. When I had revisited The websites of organisations like the United Nations I found the names of senior professors whose task it was to advise on International human rights policy. Searching with these names brought me specialist universities & the names of other leading human rights academics. These were the people I wrote to next. Those & investigative Journalists, Around 650 new email addresses. I created a blog and sent them links to it. Threats appeared in the Google banner at the foot of my blog page as they had appeared in ads marked yahoo in the past. Ads which would ordinarily be related to page content now named family members & threatened rape & school bullying amoung other things. I had no intention of naming Google as being heavily involved with Mafia because I was already busy, but they were obviously very keen to discourage it. Having access to my Hotmail account the enemy added several of their own addresses to my mailing list so as to be assured of copies of whatever I sent out. Them having that access of course meant I had no replies waiting for me when I logged in each day. I recieved the same kinds of subtle threats from Ebay (which now owns paypal) on discovering that they are also Mafia controled, having a close relationship with Google. So now you need not wonder how $100 Billion a year is stolen via the Internet.


        Then I altered the yahoo Wikipedia entry changing 'yahoo is an American owned company' to 'yahoo is a Mafia owned company' which was usually immediately changed back, though sometimes nobody noticed & it remained at least for the duration of my session. In the end Wikipedia banned the Library IP address for "vandalism" at the same time banning regional schools & Libraries who were using the same IP. I wrote to the FSB but as I found with the UN there was a procedure for giving information which meant despite what I'd managed to discover it probably still wasn't enough for them to take it further. Aside from letters to the offices for the management of matters, I also sent files to the top man. Later in documentaries about the Alexander Litvinenko murder in London I discovered that as a former FSB agent he knew both the top FSB man & the president both to he be corrupt. Litvinenko had been Assassinated after trying to investigate the murder of Anna Politkovskaya, a very brave lady who worked for Noviad Gazeta & was famous for opposing the government & exposing atrocities in Chetchneya. I'd been advised to speak to her by a human rights organisation, but she was shot dead two weeks later, before I'd had the chance. They also advised me that raising public awareness was my best course of action. But be careful not to put yourself at risk they said. If everone does that nothing will ever get done.

Chatham

                I took a break because I was pretty spent & because I knew success at that time wasn't possible, I had begun to look like a concentration camp victim eating little food & I smelt not having money/time to wash clothes. It was a race to get things done faster than they coud be nobbled & even if I did take a day off hanging out washing was like putting up a big flag. I went back to my home town where I got a job to get some funding, accommodation and eventually Internet access. I had more sense than to go out at night, but as the winter evenings drew in traveling home from my first job meant I had to. I asked SOCA to help me get out of the area but I was ignored. I was cautious at these times, so when I saw the anxious 3/4 length leather jacketed man with foreign looking hairstyle standing on the corner of a deserted street, I turned to make sure he wasn't coming up behind me when I'd passed. Which he was, quickly, then stopped & turned his back to me. I was working in a factory at the time. Some of the people started acting suspiciously after a month or two, a man not long out of prison who joined after me especially. I decided it was time to leave. I was unemployed & inactive in this online campaign, because it was an understandable requirement of living at my parents house. It's not fair to expect two elderly people to be at the front line of that kind of work, they can't do what I have to do. I was that way for some months before the SOCA gave me a job, interviewing people in their homes about commercial & political matters. I was encouraged to talk to people about Mafia Internet involvement in small talk while in their house & away from prying ears. It was a much better job because it put me in a new location within my region every three or four days, which prevented the enemy from getting too organised. I'd learned that they will not strike when anywhere new. Once you've been somewhere two or three times in a season, or been in a particular area for a few hours it can get dangerous to be there. Also for this job I needed a car, which as it turned out is much safer than walking, although returning to the car in an area where there aren't many onlookers can be dodgy. I told my coordinator that I didn't want to work in my home town. Since I knew that as time went by increasingly more people would be hired locally to observe my movements & to contain. Entering houses in that area would eventually put me in the house of a Mafia employee of some kind. Surprisingly this included several people I'd known for many years at school, former friends & a former girlfriend, & even eventualy one of my brothers. All taking payoffs from an organisation which makes money from child abuse, slavery & torture, to play their little role in it's perpetuation. I guess I wasn't careful enough about the kind of company I kept. Other than this scum it's usualy local drug addicts, drunks & lunatics. Not so surprisingly they employed Fred French & his family, a group of small time petty criminal gypsies. At this time a lot of these people are now working in some kind of Mafia Soca affiliation. They & nieghbours have been encouraged to help with Soca surveillance, former female friends, aquaintences and current nieghbours are now making lewd comments about bathroom images from Soca cameras which I have said I do not want in the house. The men have also inappropriatly been set leering at streaming video of my captive friends stripped naked by Mafia, despite protests from the already oppressed girls. This is typical of the abuse of power & gutter behaviour from Soca who seem to have been told they are above the law. I hear they recently stopped using the camera strategicly placed to watch me relieving myself. What I'd like to know is how the hell they can show those images to everyone I ever knew and get away with it. I've asked them to go many times, but they are not here for my benefit, they are here for what is thought to be of benefit to the UK.


        There was a pretty narrow slot for my termination now, while I slept, but I shared the house with other lodgers, or when I walked my dog. I walked him to different places taking different routes at first, but as these areas warmed up I drove to a park in a neighbouring town which was always busy. Here as in a nearer park they used teenagers to try to goad me into a fight, which doubtless would result in a stabbing seemingly unrelated to my other activities. Also a regular was a large Russian with standard leather jacket who would usually try to hide behind a tree narrower than himself as I approached. Maybe the Lord has blessed me that my enemies are all stupid.


        When I got online I created a website. I posted links to it anywhere I could (I prefer to call that white spam). I visited streaming cam girl sites, pornication and as many others as I could find moving from room to room posting that the sites were Mafia owned & used captive girls. I could get through hundreds in a night, using an early version of windows, it meant they could see what I was doing but it was very fast & got the job done. I did it at different times of day, sowing seeds. Like the original seed which had made me suspicious years ago, somebody in pornication had said "don't you know all of these sites are owned by Mafia?" which led to an alliance with girls I became friendly with a year or two later. I also went through the St. Petersburg & Moscow businesses directory (yell.ru) emailing a link to as many businesses as I could. First in the immediate district of NaStudio & then as many others as I had time. I was able to do a few hundred I think unchallenged up until about half a day, then they interfered with the website using the slave labour work force including those in Canada to create large numbers of false business addresses, making what I did very much less effective. I was running windows XP, & whenever I shut down or was automatically shut down by windows update I would reboot to a ton of malware and spyware & would need to reload windows to prevent them watching and interfering with everything I did. With a windows reload I was able to continue through yell.ru without interference. I switched to Vista on the advice of people with whom I share a common enemy, who need to remain nameless.

Israel / Palestine

                I decided to return after a break because I thought doing more would make no difference at that time & I wanted to give the heat a chance to die down in the area. I went to Israel because I'd promised to walk to Jerusalem amoung other things, & keeping promises is very important, especially if you're waiting for something from those you made that promise to. It would need to be from Tel Aviv airport now, taking about three days. I was expecting things to be more dangerous than at home, but faith is going ahead anyway. The first night I spent within the airport complex. I pulled up a fence to access trees on wasteland under cover of darkness & experienced no problems. The second night as the sun was going down, from the road I went over a big hill. It was dark when I reached the road at it's base on the other side. I thought I saw someone run across the road to the side I was crossing to about 50 meters down. There was some kind of tower ahead with bright lights surrounding & bushes. I thought it a good idea to be near civilization & crept into the shadows of the terrain & bushes made pitch dark by bright lights illuminating the ground around them. I proceeded to set up camp & feed myself. a car pulled up at the building & there were voices. It wasn't long before I noticed a spotlight on the top pointing my way & realised it was an observation tower watching the nearby West Bank border. It must've been unmanned when I approached. I could hear the Palestinian guard conversing over his radio & playing Arab music through the night, he was shining the search light this way & that onto the sides of the surrounding hills. They left their post not long after daybreak while I was trying to sneak off.


        The third night I was approaching Jerusalem & happened across an area of woodland. I made my way through, spotting a very suspicious looking Jewish teen in traditional clothes on the track ahead, mobile phone & familiar manner. I left the track & changed direction when I was out of sight. I'd taken a camouflaged net with me which I draped over myself & went to sleep. Not long after nightfall I could hear calling through the night between three or four men. The one who usually instigated the call (oi!) was very close, my own fault for sleeping too near a pathway I thought. He came past almost stepping on me twice as he looked around the area until almost daybreak. His friends had stopped answering his calls several hours earlier. These were Arabs. These two days had been some serious heat & I had months ahead of me yet.


        Things cooled in accommodation in town & in the Judean mountains south of Bethlehem where I often stayed. True to form Mafia didn't like hill work, if the terrain had been very difficult or there was deepish snow or even if it was raining it would usualy be enough to put them off. I did see one waiting in woodland in the rain once but he had a big umbrella. I have had no more millitary training than some time in the army cadets while at school, but Mafia assassins made me look like special forces. It is by the grace of God I always walk away, but I couldn't resist refering to them online as "useless Mafia wankers", which I heard led to The NaStudio Don aquiring the nickname 'wanker' in some circles. Not a very Christian thing to say I guess. They tried to close in on me on a hill a few days before I was due to go back to England, but were not familiar with it & had to go fetch or call to each other since there was no mobile phone signal out there, which was a bonus making them easy to duck. Sometimes I made use of the observation tower of a nearby Jewish settlement which they didn't want to go very near to. Going near the tower got me questioned many times by palestinian police going to & from town, since my clothes & pack were desert camouflaged. My equipment caused me a lot of questioning in town but in the hills where it was more important, kept my movements concealed much of the time. The Arab Mafia would be in a lot of trouble I think hanging around a Jewish settlement in desert camouflage. They were easy to pick out in what they were wearing. There was a camp of Fatah tents in town & the youths there would usually ask me where I was heading. I knew the Fatah party & Abbas, the Palestinian president to be Mafia from news reports & was wary.


           I got a volunteer job at a hostel in the old city in return for a dorm bed and food. There are lots of jobs like that other than Kibbutz with charities, NGOs etc. The hostel had cameras everywhere linked to a computer security system. I didn't like the idea that people could see me come & go, accessing through their Internet system whether or not they'd been approached, which they probably had. I put some tape on the lenses thinking it would be some time before anyone noticed, I used the computers regularly & knew nobody watched the security monitor. Within a few minutes I'd covered them someone came upstairs & asked me why I had. I asked how he knew so quickly. "Something was beeping" he said unconvincingly. His brother appeared so I asked him, "we have a secret screen" he said in contradiction. They had no answer as to why they had a different story. "I was watching you closely because I knew you were trouble" one said, "you look like James Bond" referring to my camouflaged military equipment. I may have looked like a soldier, but definitely nothing like James bloody Bond, especially not with my over grown beard. This was however consistent with Mafia comments online referring to my persistant survival. I left immediately. The next hostel too had one who kept asking me where I was going & wanted to check my wireless settings on the laptop I'd bought in town. When I'd gone into the shop I'd asked for a laptop to be ordered with English Windows installed. Three young men came in looking tense & asked something of the man who was serving me in Arabic. He answered in Arabic rather nervously "blah blah blah Laptop, blah blah Windows". The young man nodded & they left. "They were asking about me" I said to the man. "I told them nothing!" he said. It took a day longer to arrive than I was expecting & was a different model, of course I expected it to be fully rigged, sorting that out now.


        I spent most of my time in Bethlehem & Jerusalem. I promised a lady in Bethlehem that I'd tell people about the way things are for Arabs there when I left. She told me that some of the smaller villages around Bethlehem have little or no food because they are not permitted to travel to work & that the children have to huddle together to keep warm. I've heard of much more serious oppression, like the execution of the five year old son of a friend I made by Israeli soldiers & the general kind of harassment the Germans perpetrated against the Jews in 1937 Germany is ironicly the norm. I hear the trouble began in 1948 when large numbers of Jews came & threw Arabs out of their homes, claiming the land to be theirs (having been gone 1000 years). I counted three refugee camps around Bethlehem still there. While it's true the land was promised to the Jews by God the fact is that only a tiny percentage of Jews believe in God. The way I remember it is that when Moses was leading them there, those who preferred to follow the golden calf were slaughtered on the way. There has always been a smaller Jewish presence alongside Muslims & Christians. The Arabs are a very welcoming people & it's my opinion that if things had been done properly in 1948 they would be welcome there. I think they created the security situation they have.


        I returned to England after a couple of months, where I am at this moment trying to draw attention to what I've written here. I bought myself an old London black cab, which like my camo equipment in Israel draws attention to me in everyday movement, but if I ever want to disappear for something important I have the option to drive to London & do that more effectively. I've found myself under very close & more refined observation. One Mafia worker had bragged online about seeing me post a letter via a camera set up in a car. I had posted one, & I checked nobody was watching. Conversations in the house are now being eavesdropped. Also mail to the house has looked steamed open & resealed.


       On getting back from my Holy land trip I had to wait to raise resources for a new campaign, in silence because I stayed with family who's condition was that I did not use their home as a base for anti Mafia activity. I used Internet access at the local library. A couple of times I saw assassins loitering in the carpark, also one coming towards me as I walked my dog, crossing the road is usually enough to deter them, they won't follow knowing there will be a fight involved. This time as I came over the brow of the hill I noted two convict types waiting in a car & looking surprised to see me. I knew they'd had back up not far away on previous occasions, could be it's always the case. At the library I gathered the email addresses of possibly interested faculty members at Universities in the US & Canada, since Canada has a related problem. Possibly interested I took to be lecturers & students in Human rights, Womens studies, Law, Political science, communications, criminology, Internet & journalism. I asked them to help me by forwarding to collegues & authorities, also I knew that leading human rights academics were advising on UN policy & figured that likely all of these people were either in a position, knew of someone who was or would be in a position to make changes. Also of course I gather addresses of police, politicians & NGOs. I got several thousand but there was a fair bit of interferance with uninversity staff contact details & setting up of fake sites in the weeks I did it. I found in contacting so many I ran the risk of junk mailing which isn't ideally what I'd like. What I began to do was reload windows then drive off to a new spot in town where I could pick up wireless Internet access with a range extender. It's been just about impossible for one reason or another to use the internet & be guaranteed that my activity is not monitored in some way. They saw a large proportion of the addresses I intended to use, not all because the ones I wanted I'd written by hand into a notebook, not onto the computer, & kept the notebook in a safe, but they saw which sites I'd been to & I had to assume they'd be putting out junk mail to bury it. I avoided junk mail folders by making up my message groups of 77 differently constructed emails which said roughly the same thing. I sent them together in a few minutes using 'Windows mail' to get it done & get offline as quickly as possible, before a vehicle pulled up close by with nobody emerging, which was guaranteed if I hadn't driven elusively.

I got some websites up in Russian & Japanese which seemed to annoy the other side considerably. The reports of Human rights abuses I've been getting in the Roppongi district of Tokyo exceed those of NaStudio. I've been hearing that the problem in Japan is not so much the corruption as in Russia, but that authorities generally just don't care The US have threatened sanctions against them for thier apathy. I've been back to pornication which is still showing the Russian NaStudio girls as well as other girls in studios around the world, Czechs, slovaks, 'Eastern European' , 'European' (Bratislava, Slovakia) & a few others. They are all captive, but if you ask them they are being watched & aren't going say so, they sometimes will say the opposite under direct threat. Oddly sometimes that happens when they are not even near the keyboard. Some of the girls from Privatefeeds/pornication have been showing up on www.Livejasmin.com cams in between appearances, some of the Jasmin girls I've found to be free. There are as many as 2 Million Women & children in sexual slavery in the EU. I more recently came into a comprehensive list of addresses using captive women/children for p_rnography production in the US, Canada & many more in Europe, one of which (Totem Media) uses captive girls for it's 'Virtualgirl2' desktop poledancer/stripper program. Captive women are resident in hotels accross Europe, I can't put a name to any at this time, but I expect Russia & Eastern Europe to have many in their inner cities. I try to keep the length down here & don't like much revealing details of my recent activities, but if anyone is going to lend a hand they should know what I know first. I don't want anyone to do these things without knowing the risks involved.

VirtualGirl : Desktop dancers from captive women

They have even gone as far as altering websites of Russian goverment, NGOs, & the EU, changing contact email addresses in increasingly desperate attempts to stop me communicating. I also have to reload windows to be able to use a search engine without retrieving nothing but bogus websites. The most recent event other than the usual assassination attempts was the deletion of all of my web files following a new Russian translation mentioning Google affiliated p_rnographers "TCS Productions" in St. Petersburg. I've tried to discourage it by making duplicate sites as a deterant, Also I've had access denial & shortly after including Google on this website, an email from the "Google trouble shooting team" regarding an issue with an account I don't have. I needed to revist my translator, who as luck would have it worked from their house up a side street, so I'd been able to sneak there in the past. Now however I was being followed much more efficiently than I was accoustomed to, by SOCA. I recognised a woman driving by as I approached the house as an SOCA agent, wearing the kind of self gratified smirk I've come to expect when being caught out. I didn't know at this time that my surveylance was being shared with Mafia of the 'Google camp', but I found out when I discovered that SOCA had revealed to them where I'd been & that my campaign of many weeks had been useless because of a corrupted translation claiming TCS productions to be my friends. Images from my house including the bathroom images, taken without my consent have also been shared & posted on the internet. Google Mafia have been sharing what SOCA give them with anyone else who is interested. I began to wonder if this is why we have captive women in soho, London, because our security services are corrupted. I've had an unconfirmed report since that those of the 'Google camp' operate there. I remember years ago, when I was a lesser man that I went into one of the peep shows there, where you would put a pound in the slot & watch a girl for a minute or so. The girl I saw this time was foriegn looking & obviously very distressed at being in the cubicle, but I had no knowledge of sexual slavery at the time. SOCA have apologised for being in cooperation with Mafia, claiming it to be "political". The reason is, I can tell you, that their security is useless, that google know who their agents are & what they are doing & threaten them & their families, making them a very expensive arm of the Mafia instead of an antidote to it. I suspect a 'don't use guns or kill us & you can do about anything you like' policy. I know there to be a 'nothing to hide - nothing to fear policy', meaning that my every move is monitored & shared with Mafia. Mafia have always watched anyway, but SOCA are much better at it & do it within the law, so for example if someone called the police because they were in my bathroom installing a microscopic toilet pan camera, they would just flash their badge & walk off. They are also very good at gathering intelligence, which is of course then handed to Mafia. In serious cases they have shared my personal contact via text message etc. with UK females knowing that it would put their lives in danger, resulting in death threats. I even once had a cheerful SOCA agent looking over my shoulder at a cashpoint trying to get my PIN number for them, since I'm already in debt I could easily have become homeless again. Soca share information, sometimes hamper my activity & give me a hard time in order to put off attacks on their agents while still maintaining a security around me. There has been a breakdown in this security following my refusal to stop Russian language forum posts, which I know are neccesary to the freedom of Russian slaves. Soca have been putting me in increasingly dangerous situations to preasure me to comply, which I will not. This activity reached an unacceptable level when Having been ill for some time Soca claimed to have poisoned my food with Listeria, a potentialy fatal form of food poisoning. The way things were going I decided I was more likely to be their victim than that of the Mafia whose methods I am familiar with & asked them to take their guards & go.

Updates are usualy important recent information & so can usualy be found in the first few paragraphs of page 1. There are a few ways you can help, you don't neccesarily have to take risks. Just passing the link to those you know, or putting one on your website will help, nobody will take a contract out on you for that. Because of the ownership of search engines & influence they have over those they do not own, it's unfortunatly going to be difficult to find reliable related information.

Glory to the Father. In whose name all things are possible.

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