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I was weary when I arrived, but couldn't wait until the next day before I saw the address Id come to see. When I got there I stood at the front of an old, partly stone building on a corner (below No.30), it had double doors and keypad entry. I stood there feeling as if I was in the correct place, but NaStudio was around the corner. What I didn't know at the time was that I was stood at a building housing girls that I'd been in contact with. I went to the multistory building identified as NaStudio by a small plaque at one of its two entrances. It appeared to be closed. Enough for one day. Over the next few days I did walk-bys. First I went from southern end of Vishnevskogo to north. I noticed a character stood at the southern end, he looked as if he was up to no good. I went past the NaStudio forecourt & as I approached the first building I had visited when I arrived the one with the stone features on the corner (No.30) a man in his early twenties with goatee beard came & stood opposite it, leant on the railings of the Karpovka river which flowed by, & smiled up at a window. A girl came out of the building & met him. They both headed past me towards NaStudio walking slowly in conversation. The man looked cheerful, the girl deeply depressed. I thought the reason for the drawn out walk could well be that it was the only opportunity the girl ever got to be outside.

Next I decided to go in, in faith that I'd be all right. I walked into the left hand entrance. It led to a reception area to my left, an office ahead, & a stairway leading upward between. I smiled at the reception girl 'NaStudio?' I said. She said something in Russian, I asked if she spoke English. She motioned that she couldn't understand what I was saying. To me she looked scared, perhaps I did, & it was a reaction to that, I don't know, I didn't think I had. A man came down from the stairway looking surprised and interested. I could've tried speaking to him, but I didn't like the look of him very much. It was about 8pm when I tried the other entrance. It was Keypad entry with intercom. I spoke into the intercom to a mature sounding lady who again didn't speak English, she seemed to find our exchange amusing. After a minute or two a man in a suit walked up to the door. I asked him if he spoke English. "Yes" he replied politely, to my relief. I said I wanted to spend some time with a girl. "Sure", he said, "what flat number?" I told him I didn't know which flat, I gave him the real name of one of the girls from pornication. "OK" he says, then craned his neck forward to see what my carrier bag contained. I opened it up obligingly. The plan was to escape with a girl using a concealed weapon, one who I could identify as a captive. He typed a number into the keypad & led the way in.

Google cover up: Top left - NaStudio in a map accessed in 2004

Top right - NaStudio missing from Google maps (accessed 09.02.09)
Bottom right - Visible where it should be on the Google earth satelite image using false street name (accessed 09.02.09)
Bottom left - Multimap satelite image, NaStudio visible with original street name (accessed 10.02.09)

The part of the dog leg shaped building nearest the river is where I found office & prison entrances with the forecourt used as a car park. Yahoo! & Google are rival organisations but close ranks & aid each other in the burying & hinderence of information like that you will find at this website.

        Inside were a lift & a staircase which led up. We took the stairs a short way up, past flats with thick metal security doors of a standard you'd expect to see on a large safe, until we arrived at one with a spy hole. He made a call on his mobile phone & the door was opened by a man shorter than myself, but broad & powerful looking. Shirt off, he resembled a medieval jailer. Unlike the man in the suit, he didn't look friendly at all. The suited man went inside asking me to wait where I was. Some time went by & I became jittery I went out to a shop around the corner to get some beer. I don't know how I thought I'd get back in, but as I arrived back at the door a young girl was approaching it ahead of me. The door swung closed very slowly, & I reached it & went back to where I'd been waiting. It seemed that some were arriving of their free will. I supposed that's likely how it would begin (that turned out to sometimes be the case, although I found this site luring those interested in learning Indian sexual massage techniques). I knocked on the jailer's door. He opened looking at me in an aggressive fashion, standing deliberately beyond my reach, & poised to slam the thick door quickly should the need arise. I asked if he had a bottle opener. "Net", he said bluntly, then closed the door. I was later to be told that this is the man whose job it was to flog the girls if they were caught speaking of their captivity to outsiders. The suited man emerged cheerfully, I offered him one of my beers, but he declined & pleasantly said goodbye. I waited there for three hours before I finally accepted I wasn't going to be allowed to see anyone & went back to my hotel. While I'd been waiting, on the half hour I could hear the entrance door open, & a male & female would enter chatting, this happened three or four times. They would get into the lift & travel to the floors high above.

        I did some walking past & some hanging around, but I was unable to see any further girl transfers. One evening I sat where they would pass with a bottle of beer & the hood of my coat up, but they had me moved on by a policeman, who then went inside to speak to them. Another evening I went a short distance into an alley from where it was possible to see the entrance to NaStudio, there was someone skulking in the darkness so I went out. I went up this alleyway a different evening, this time it was empty. I looked around a bit in the courtyard it led to. A weedy looking young man came in after me laughably trying to intimidate. Another evening I walked around the rear alley of NaStudio to have a look around. The man I'd seen hanging around on the first day appeared at the alley entrance protesting at my presence there, I went up to speak to him but he'd hid somewhere or skulked off. I'd first booked into Hotel Moskva, which was miles away, I was walking & would often get back very late. There would be a group of weary looking prostitues in the lobby in the early hours, I was a bit disgusted at the time, but of course I know now that they would not be free to go. They would be contained just as I have found myself contained, to be delt with at an opportunity. I went to the cheaper LDM hotel a short walk from NaStudio. It was opposite a police headquarters, there were twenty to thirty police cars parked outside. That's handy, I thought, but the short distance led to my very easy location.

        Beyond the Karpovka river, on the other side of the street was a derelict building (No.43). I gained access to it via some kind of delivery hatch at its rear, into a basement. I crept slowly up its staircase, there was a light on a couple of floors above. I moved up slowly & quietly. When I got to the light It was a bare bulb in the stairway, as I'd thought, just on to deter would-be intruders. There was a table & chair there. On the table was a syringe in a plastic container which contained engine oil. Leaning against double doors was a shovel. The message bold enough, if we catch you sleeping in here we'll inject you with oil & bury you. No prizes for guessing who owned this building. I went over rubble to the top floor with an excellent view of the street with the old corner building. It was a very good vantage point. I watched all evening & into the early hours. Every half hour on the half hour lookouts would appear in the streets & alleyways below. A man would arrive & look up at the window, of the corner building, as I'd seen before. Then either a girl would be sent out to them, or they would leave after about five minutes. They were being led to & from NaStudio, & between the other large buildings within view (No.s 26, 30 & 32).

        They seemed to own the whole area. Sometimes a man or large woman with a dog would be sent across the street first. I later learned that the dog was supposed to be trained to stop them running. I thought that must be a bluff, the dogs looked too old & soppy to me. The mood of transfer was no longer relaxed, the escort was running ahead far enough to turn the key to the lock & open the door at the arrival of the girl.

Heaven & hell: Saint John female monastary opposite the NaStudio owned block is a bridge too far. The area of railings to the left is where I've seen lookouts, dog handlers & escorts waiting numerous times. (The Monastary is street No. 45)

Reducing time on the street by a few moments. An ambulance showed up at the corner building which seemed to drop someone off or take someone on board, I couldn't see because it was obscuring the doorway. I'd see this ambulance again in Vishnevskoko ul. overlooking transfer another evening. I wished I had a van, I could leap out & drive off with one of them. I had some money but I had no clue where to purchase a van, things were done very differently in Russia to England, nobody spoke English away from the touristy areas. I thought I might move into this building, however I was somehow spotted from a window opposite on the first night. This was surprising because I was looking through two panes of dirty glass with no light on & they were some distance away. I was bored waiting for activity in the street below & was scanning the rooms for clues to whether this building was involved. In a window directly opposite mine (No.28) there was an amused looking man, & behind him a horrified looking woman. I guessed they'd seen the reflection from my binocular lenses & thought they'd caught a pervert. Time to go.

I returned to the derelict building the next day. I climbed through the hatch, a little concerned that the lid which stayed up well with its rusted hinges before was now moving very freely. Also a curtain had twitched at a nearby flat as I'd made my way through the broken fence. I wasn't happy with the way things were going. Once I was inside I heard a loudish noise from upstairs. I thought to myself that I'd been there for hours the previous evening & hadn't heard a thing. It seemed to me somebody hearing my entrance was trying to avoid a confrontation by scaring me off. I left & didn't go back there again. It seemed then that the man who saw me at the window that night mentioned it to Mafia, meaning another huge building almost certainly belonged to them, it was looking like the whole block & beyond. I went to the rear of one of the smaller buildings involved (No.32) to where I'd seen a girl I knew being taken. There was a doorway which I pulled open. Inside was the fuse box & electrical main switch. I planned to return & sabotage the electrics. I returned that night to find one of their puny lookouts inside, who awoke when I opened the door. I smiled & said hello, he sat up bleary eyed. I closed the door & went. Another evening I was in the darkness of the alley which overlooked NaStudio entrance when a middle aged man in a woolly hat saw me. I'd seen this man before overseeing girl transfer with the dogs & at the NaStudio entrance. He was facing me, he began to use his mobile phone & looked up at the window of the room where I'd met the jailer, who wasn't answering, to woolly hat's frustration. I Went back to the hotel.

The next evening I was pretty demoralised. It just wasn't coming together. If I was in the street anywhere near the place they wouldn't bring anyone out. I'd only managed to see a girl I recognised once. I knew I couldn't go back there the next evening, so about the time I'd usually leave I went instead to the front of the hotel with a bottle of my favourite Russian beer 'Stepan Razin'. It was a lovely evening. Instead of walking on as I usually would when I came out of the entrance, I turned & sat on a wall. As I turned I saw an adrenaline rushed man come light footed from the side of the hotel in my direction. He had both his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, & was tense. He stopped in his tracks about four or five meters away as soon as I saw him, quickly turning his head to one side avoiding eye contact. It was very obvious he was going to knife me from behind had I not turned. It looked as though he was clutching knives tightly in both hands inside the pockets of his 3/4 length black leather coat. This seemed the standard item of clothing for Russian men, as long boots were for the women. I wondered if part reason was that it's difficult to stab through leather. I had the bottle in my hand. He didn't look up as I half circled him back into the hotel. This was my first experience of an Assassin, the first of many I'd see, who like this one would generally completely lose interest when they couldn't sneak up on me. As time has gone by I have seen dozens of Assassins, they usualy look unemployable for any other kind of work, dim witted & most of the time puny, but sometimes they are big, almost always looking the ex prison convict, sometimes with the bad skin of a drug addict, when not scruffy having bad dress sense. They are men of no notable ability, and if they cannot pull a sneaky knife when you are not looking they are useless. I was very surprised that he was going to do what he was doing with a police headquarters overlooking the scene. It shows just how bad corruption is in the area, that he felt he'd get away with it anyway. They'd prove very much more cautious when I left Russia. Next day I was met out front safely by a cab & moved to another hotel.

Tallinn Estonia

I'd seen the corruption problem in Russia first hand, I'd been there just 3 weeks but had twice been robbed by police. Once they stole my wallet during a stop & search on my way back to my hotel in the earlyhours, & the other time they stopped me & extorted money before they would let me go. I hear it can be worse if you are female. I don't want to say all of them are bad, some are good I'm sure, but I've been told that jobs in politics & security attracted people who knew there was money in bribery & wanted to be a part of it. What usualy happens is that organised crime is tolerateted through greed & fear. Fine upstanding Russians in positions of power are very likely to be killed if they are preventing people from making this kind of money. What happens if you filter out the upright in power? You eventualy get what you have, what one native described to me as "hell risen up".

Having visited the offices of a major Moscow newspaper, (where I'd heard there was a brave reporter who was famously persecuted for publicly declaring the corruption of the Ministry of the Interior) & had the promise of a letter passed to a governor I left the country for Tallinn, happy that things were turning out OK. Although a nice place I became bored waiting for good news. With finances also dwindling & knowing returning to NaStudio would achieve nothing, I started walking south. I'd stop at Internet cafes along my way to do some sly talking in the Yahoo! chat rooms with captives that I knew. I'd do it once & then be on my way for a week. Doing that used to draw the attention of those monitoring then I'd be gone so that there was nothing for them to see. A few months down the road I became concerned that investigation into NaStudio appeared to be going rather slowly. I Sent an email to President Putin, & wrote a letter that I would post once I was over the border with Poland, so I wouldn't be intercepted by Mafia approaching a crossing point, I'd change direction a bit when I was across. That'll get things moving I thought. The Yahoo! chat rooms had become full of Mafia pretending to be girls I knew, with female chat names & using phrases similar to ones used by the girls, they were asking me where I was, trying to find common ground for chat from information gathered from friends. They were obvious, they would come to me in a girl's clothes & expect me to kiss them. ICQ chat was full of impostors too, although I'd never used it before. I could see that my girls were also there performing their spamming duties. The enemy would also be in the Christian Yahoo! rooms raking for me.

Poland

I stopped off at a town with Internet access & did some preparation for renewed assault on NaStudio. I found contact details for about 1000 attendees from around the world of an anti trafficking conference. Since so many countries were listed on the 2257 document, I would write to all of them asking them to help if they could. I worked out that at the current rate of disinterest, if I wrote to 1000 at least 20 people would reply eager to help. I had written to very many organisations & received only a few replies, but as it turned out they were processing the information, passing it on. They should have replied though I thought. How was I supposed to overcome a failure if I wasn't kept informed of what had & hadn't been done? I logged into Yahoo! chat & spoke with captives half leaving email in my account to be read, & half making comments in the chat room in pleasingly fluid yet cryptic conversation. I was told not to do it because word of such a mass mailing would cause retribution. I was later to find out that the next day one of the girls had been stabbed trying to make a run for it. The cut was clean however, & she made a recovery. I was right about the dog, it didn't do anything.

Warsaw

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                I arrived in Warsaw 5th Nov 2004. I found an Internet cafe in a shopping centre not too far from my hotel & was happily sending email to the girls in Russia for a couple of days. One day as I descended the Escalator to the Internet/centre toilets/car park entrance area, two men at a single computer stood out. They looked Russian, dull worn black clothing, 3/4 length black leather jacket on one of them, generally looking as if they'd no money, no western style to their hair. It was unusual to see them here, so I took a look at their computer screen as I passed by. They were using Yahoo! chat. One looked totally spooked about something, the other who was doing the typing looked shifty, & familiar. I gave them a warm smile as I drew their attention, booked in for an hour, & sat down at a computer. The shifty guy got up, spoke to the girl at the counter, & then he & his companion left. He returned my smile in the reflection of my computer screen as he passed by. What had he said to the girl? it was prepay, use & leave. I logged into my my mailbox, it was empty, I was used to having a reply waiting for me. What was wrong? . I realised who the shifty one was, & my stomach turned. I knew those narrowed eyes. It was my would-be assailant from outside the St. Petersburg hotel.

        As I traveled back to my hotel I passed two others. Both had a young male in the street eyes fixed on the hotel entrance. This caused me concern. When I arrived at my hotel there was a group of young lads hanging around a short distance from the entrance, showing far too much interest in me. I got inside & immediately shaved off my beard. I had to go out, get to an Internet cafe in town, & warn the girls that I knew we'd been rumbled. I put on my other coat & went out, the group of lads had gone, great! No, there they were, in the next street. One of them looked, then quickly turned his head & held the gaze of one of his companions, neither said anything. I passed them. I found an Internet cafe I hadn't used before & I sent a mail in purple, which meant trouble, & 'write to me now & then!' in red, which meant 'no'. I logged into Yahoo! chat. There was a warning there for me, the chat name 'Midnight tears', a reference to my former chat name 'Midnight express', it was subtle as always, necessarily, but in the light of what was happening it was clear. I sent another mail that I'd about done shopping & that I was at the train station. Both statements true, but I wasn't going anywhere. I didn't go back to my hotel that night. I remembered That in St. Petersburg the guy had only hung around outside the hotel one day. I returned to the hotel in the early daylight hours of Sunday morning. I was sure nobody was watching. Inside I went to sleep, & didn't leave the Hotel that day.

        When the time came I went to another Internet cafe in the city, one which was difficult to observe, it was beneath ground among the tunnels, & there were security men thick on the ground, who looked as if they had a keen eye for suspicious circumstances. I went to my mailbox to find many more messages than I was used to, & the coding was revised which was suspicious because I'd not so long ago got annoyed with them for the complexity & frequent revision of the code, which would take hours to decipher & often not make sense when put through Russian to English translation software. If they were caught they'd surely force them to reveal what It said anyway. I would need to visit a guest book site to retrieve the new. Also there were lots of Emails attempting to tempt me to follow links. I took them as attempts to obtain my IP address. One I had no reason to disbelieve said that the sender had been made an example of. Another read that one had been severely electrocuted, probably with a tazer of some kind. I felt foolish for my too obvious 'I'm outta here' response to warning.


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        I later went back into town. The British consulate was safest. That wouldn't be watched. It would normally have been closed by this time, but there was some kind of meeting going on upstairs, & young people were leaving in twos and threes. I went in past them, all the public PCs downstairs were off, and the lights out. I went up the stairs in the direction the people were coming from & found a public computer which was on, but had no Internet access. Nearby was an open plan office. I went in & sat at a desk. The staff computers had been left on, just the monitors were off. I sent an email to say that I was still in town, that I had run short of money & was waiting for someone to put some into my account before I left. I hoped this would cheer up my pursuers, & cause them to leave my friends alone. The security guard came by a couple of times looking at me in an odd way, but didn't say anything.

        No problems back at the hotel. The staff didn't speak English, but I managed to inform them that they should not tell anyone I was there. One day I passed by the entrance to the shopping centre with the Internet cafe where I had seen the Russian Assassin & picked up an obvious tail. A young man who reacted to my approach began to follow me up the street. I watched him first in the reflection of a car window, then in a shop window. His eyes were on me all the time. I pretended to see something interesting in a shop window & stopped. He had to keep walking & passed me. I could see he was itching to stop or turn around as he moved slowly & uncomfortably on, but he couldn't without looking very obvious indeed. While he was facing away from me I headed back the way I came among the people & around the corner. I passed the entrance again. There were two tramps stood opposite it. One pointed a finger & asked a question of some kind in an accusing manner. I shook my head & frowned at him moving on. I didn't want to speak that they'd know I was English.

        I planned that I wouldn't leave by the main road, but left by a lesser road going South, & after dark. Getting away from the city centre, a young man at a bus stop drew my attention. He'd pulled out a mobile phone, & was pacing nervously suddenly. I took a turn into a side street, up somebody's driveway into darkness, where I sat & rested. After about five minutes a car swerved into the street & sped up it. I was now a little more unnerved than I had been with the first man. I left the street back into the one I had originally been traveling on. The man was now standing with another, both were looking my way. I quickened pace & when the two of them had been obscured by a bend in the road, I crossed some railway lines to another road which ran parallel. As I crossed into it a car drove up the road very fast from behind me. It then braked hard, swerved in & parked in front of me a short distance. The driver began talking on his mobile phone, whilst at the same time glaring at me in his rear view mirror. OK, so now I knew I wasn't being paranoid. Up a side street walking as quickly as I could until I came to an area of trees. I went into the darkness, sat & thought. I was there about ten minutes. The streets around were quiet, the peace disturbed a few times by a car being driven quickly through them. Now I was going to find a route of minor roads SW to the river. Traveling anywhere between East & West, as the roads & trees dictated, but SW was my main course. There were a lot of wooded areas along my way. I pitched tent in one & slept. The area near the river was conveniently heavily wooded.

        I zigzagged my way there the next day. On my way I Noticed a light aircraft flying up & down the route I was headed on the previous evening. I tried to obscure myself, crossing the street, stopping at cover. My backpack

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would make me obvious. He continued as he had & I made camp at my destination. I lit up a huge fire at the base of a tree to make some tea

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& dinner, there was lots of dead wood lying around & I enjoyed a big fire. A plane flew over not far away, & I had a pillar of smoke going up, but I wasn't overly concerned. Anyone could be having a fire. About half an hour later I could see a white Transit van pull up, level with my camp on the dirt track. I knew he had to be there for me, my smoke was plain & there was nothing else around to be there for. A stockily built man got out & started dodging quickly in my direction. The van drove off. I poured out my water onto the fire, and to be honest was expecting the land owner to come tell me off. I began to pack up. He was a long time coming this man. especially since he'd seemed in a hurry. Fifteen minutes later, when I'd broke camp, he still hadn't arrived. Now I knew he was sneaking up on me. Glad I'd put the fire out, so he'd probably get lost on his way, I left. The woodland was dense, so I made camp again about 200 meters away, in a deep ditch, and covered my tent with branches. I was there a couple of days before a van parked conspicuously & at the other side of the river.

        The next day I could make out two figures which from the big white trainers appeared to be young men. I crouched behind a tree for a while & watched, looking for fishing kit. None appeared. I left it a few minutes, then went back to see what they were up to. They had separated. One had moved a few hundred meters down river, & they were both crouching as if to present smaller observers, with their bright white trainers, & no cover, they looked very silly. A lorry parked up nearby on my side of the river. I had obviously been found we were in the middle of nowhere I was suddenly surrounded . I went back to my tent, cutting through a stream so as not to be seen by the teenagers on the other river bank & got packed up. On my way out I saw a footprint in the mud which wasn't mine. I'd been up & down through the mud all day, I knew this was fresh & very different to my own. It was headed towards where the teenagers had seen me. I looked but couldn't see anyone. I prayed hard for guidance out of there, & found it over a bank & through someone's farm.

        I didn't get far before I noticed a light aircraft behaving suspiciously ahead of me. It was flying along, then suddenly veered towards me as if the pilot was doing his best to pull some Gs. You see that kind of maneuver in an air display, but it's not something I'd seen in a modern light aircraft before. I slid down an embankment to some trees before it could level up from It's turn & see clearly. As it came by I moved around a tree that I was obscured by it's trunk. It came over me & into the distance. I left the path to some nearby woodland. Camouflaged my tent up with branches & remained there for three days to make them think they had lost me. Or at least spread themselves further & thinner. I could hear the constant drone of the light aircraft above from inside my tent. It finally had enough midday on a Sunday. The river was still in my way. I found a railway bridge to cross by. The road bridges in the area would be under observation. From there I crossed farmland & traveled through woodland avoiding roads, crossing them quickly if I had to.

        With Christmas days away and light snow I booked into a cheap hotel in Kielce. When I was ready to leave I posted Letters to the ,St. Petersburg administration. That is the local government, governor, vice governors & all other officials on their website. Whether they be in charge of press relations, traffic or whatever. I wanted everyone to know what was happening so nobody could easily ignore it. That'll fix them, I thought, & cheerfully set off down the main road south knowing I'd be far away by the time the letters arrived & confident that it would soon all be over.

        Roughly 20 miles from Auschwitz I encountered a huge sand quarry inside which was a gargantuan bucket conveying machine, which was made to look small by the vast quarry containing it. It was in my way, & I wasn't going to be able to walk around it. I didn't like breaking cover to cross it. Especially since there was a car parked up on the long access road overlooking it. It seemed to have no good reason to be there at all. I went down into it, across it, & up the other side. The banks at it's edges were steep. I'd read that it was best to traverse steep banks by walking up them at an angle, rather than trying to go straight up. So that's what I did, through young pine trees a little taller than myself, & when I arrived at the top I sat to take my standard 15 minutes rest. after about 10 minutes had gone by I heard a rustling in the trees on the bank I'd climbed. Then I saw the head of a smiling teenager. He was traveling up at the same angle as me, a little further down. My first thought was what on earth can this young man possibly be doing in this huge quarry? Of course there was only one answer. I judged from the time he took to show up he must've been either hiding in the quarry waiting for me to come by, or following about 1/2 km behind me. He was heading off In what must have appeared to be my direction of travel up the bank & beyond, so I went the other way.

        As I came within sight of the road through the trees I saw a purple coloured car driving unusually slowly. I didn't like it, I let it go by, then hurried across the road and into trees on the other side. About 100 meters into them, & not completely obscured, the car came creeping back along the road in the other direction. Through the woods led to another slightly narrower quarry, with some tree cover at It's bottom. again there was a car parked up in the middle of an access road overlooking the quarry. I made my way down only having to break cover briefly at the bottom. I found a large area of woods at it's other side, with a wide track heading as far as I could see in my direction. I traveled several miles until I came to an area of open ground which I certainly didn't want to cross in daylight. So I pitched tent & got a few hours sleep then began again about 3am through farmland in darkness. The good thing about Eastern Europe was that you could walk off road for a week & not be stopped by a fence around anyones land.

Auschwitz

           I arrived in Oswiecem at 2pm, 20 miles was roughly my limit in a day with what I was carrying. I walked into a hotel that had separate groups of backpackers in the foyer, & asked the lady to book me in for one night. Behind her was a spectacled man in his mid twenties. He looked interested in my arrival. He went on to discreetly take out his mobile phone, round the corner of a doorway, say a single word & hang up. He then re-emerged looking pleased with himself. I would've walked out & gone somewhere else, but I was too tired. I went into town & found an Internet cafe that evening. I logged into Yahoo! chat, & entered the adult webcam rooms where I expected to find a friend. What I would usually do is log into one room with a name I thought would be recognised, then change rooms another twice in quick succession for further recognition. Then I would be silent & write down the chat names which might contain cryptic messages to decipher when I had more time. They were running a custom version of Yahoo! chat software which allowed them to see somehow who had just logged into whichever room. This could have been any one of a hundred. I guess the chat names & rooms must've been appearing on a list as people were logging in. Possibly to make sure every login was targeted for a porn link personal message. Their software also allowed them to join a room with multiple chat names. From time to time about six names would join or leave the rooms together, this was a single user.

        The message I got wasn't a pleasant one. 'Chewed up & spit out', & then I got the PM with link 'fuckingasshole.com'. The first a reference to an enforced abortion, & the second an accusation of my part responsibility for it. Which I couldn't accept. There were many people responsible for the death, from the corrupt officials to the guards to the men who gave the order to those who carried it out, they all take money to be a part of the system whether they are doing the killing themselves or not. The captives knew that when I used information their captors would usually discover who I'd written to, know the source of that information & hurt them. (I'd written to anti-torture organisations about the electrocution of a pregnant woman). It wouldn't be roses for me either, they'd discover who I'd written to & where I was when I posted the letter or sent the email, & come after me, I had to fight big. However as in war timing & life are big issues in deciding courses of action. I think that if I'd known it would die I might've waited until it was born in the belief it wouldn't be aborted, but it would've died later without a doubt, they kill small children regularly to punish resisting mothers. Babies are quickly replaced. It was snowing hard when I went to see the former concentration camp, which added to the grim atmostphere. I left the hotel & walked down the road until I could find a pathway by which to travel out of sight. I found a dirt track leading to the rear of some houses & a railway embankment, so I followed it. Getting away was easy.

        One evening I saw some distant hills & thought to myself, I'll get to those hills & then I'll make camp & do myself something to eat. It was taking a surprisingly long time to reach them. The reason became clear when I saw a cloud passing along some distance beneath their top. They were in fact small mountains, & a lot further away than I had estimated. It began to snow, which became quite deep. I was later to discover that mountainous areas suffer lower temperatures & more snow. I came to a point about 15 km from theSouthern border with Slovakia that I had to use a bridge, (If you are going to Slovakia there is a studio containing captive women & children used for pornography production here: Seberiniho 1, Bratislava, 821 03, Slovakia) which meant I needed to join a main road. I joined as close to the bridge as I could, & left the main road at my earliest opportunity. It all took about 10 minutes exposed. A car pulled in ahead of me. I don't know why, but even the way it pulled over looked unnatural. The man inside didn't get out, just sat. As I

approached a young girl came out of a house nearby. Ah! I thought, nothing going on here, he's waiting for the girl, but she just walked up the road. I looked back when I'd passed his door. He was taking out a mobile phone. I began to walk quickly to get into cover somewhere. 5 minutes later I'd left the road. A white Mercedes works van came speeding up the road & swung in at the foot of my hill. The driver got out & watched me travel, lighting up a cigarette. It was snowing hard, & cold. It wasn't an ordinary cigarette break to get out of the van, & as I saw in escaping Warsaw, he was accelerating very quickly for someone about to park. I stopped & waited to see if he would try to come up after me. He just stood.