DENIED AREA OPERATIONS 169Approximately one hour before the BREN, I’d ditched my vehicle in the
parking lot of one of the dozens of large, anonymous Stalinist “Blok”
apartment complexes scattered throughout nearby Novi Beograd (New
Belgrade). I’d quickly moved away on foot from my dark blue Peugeot after
conducting a two-hour vehicular SDR and concluding I was black. I spent
the final hour before the meeting on foot, to put distance between myself
and my car and to continue to confirm my black status. Should the SDB
happen to spot my vehicle after I’d parked it in that sea of cars, they’d likely
assume I was inside one of the many Blok apartment buildings.
Hoofing it back to my car after the BREN via a different, more direct
route, I continued to look for surveillance. Along the way I breathed a pre-
liminary sigh of relief, having correctly concluded the man behind me was
a ghost. But I was not yet out of the woods. I was an American CIA officer
walking the back alleys and deserted side streets of Belgrade with a gym
bag full of top secret SDB documents. There would be no plausible deni-
ability if I was caught, no innocent explanation. Until I safely delivered
the documents to the station the next day, HITCH and I were both at risk.
All seemed quiet as I approached the overflowing Blok parking lot.
After visually scanning the area for any signs the SDB may have staked
out my parked car, I ducked into my vehicle and headed for home. The
final hurdle was to make it back across the Sava River and up through the
pitch-black Košutnjak forest to our comfortable duplex without incident.
My greatest fear—other than leading surveillance to an agent meeting—
was becoming involved in a post-BREN traffic accident that might render
me incapacitated or unconscious. The police would inevitably come across
the gym bag, which would lead to my arrest and expulsion (along with my
family) from the country. It would also lead the SDB to HITCH, and he
would pay a much heavier price than me.
On my way home, I listened to the same SDR soundtrack I always lis-
tened to after agent meetings, Traveling Wilburys Vol. 1. It was admittedly a
silly superstition, but why take a chance by changing a successful routine?
Fortunately, once again, I made it home safely and without any signs of
surveillance. (Thank you, George, Tom, Bob, Roy, and Jeff, for your music
and your good luck.)