57
and moved outdoors.Heshavedhishair,for
easycleaning.Hegottoknowwhichdrop-in
centresletyouusetheir addressfor post.He
becamearegularatachurchwheretheycook
breakfastforthehomeless. Anypossessions
thatdid notfitinhisrucksackwere
temporary.He becameaconfidentnavigator
ofashadow London,favouringplaces where
otherpeopleweren’t:boiler rooms,back
staircases,parksafter dark,thetopsoftower
blocks.Ingood weather,he campedon the
heath,becomingfamiliarwithits night-time
rhythms.Butafteryearsofthis,he wondered
aboutsomethingmorepermanent.Insteadof
“parkingup”,asthejargonhadit,whatifhe
parkeddown?
Inthemonthsbeforehebrokegroundonhis
bunker,Van Allenpreparedpracticedigsand
equipmenttests.Between 2 013 and 2015, workingwithan
accomplice,hedugaseries ofholesacrosstheheath.Eachwas
the exactsizeofawheelie bin–becausethat’swhat they werefor,
thebins buriedupright,withtheirlids stillaccessible, making
themidealforstorage.TheaccompliceinthisworkwasaPolish
labourer,thenin hismid-30s,calledMarekWójcik.(Hisname
hasbeenaltered.)AccordingtoVanAllen, Wójcik hadbuilding
skillsthatmeshedwellwithhis ownimprovisationalbravado.
Overbeersonabench,thetwodiscussedanambitiousdig.What
do youthink?Start tonight?“Sod it,”VanAllen said,“whynot?”
Inafringeofscrub,he hadhackedintoahugeblackberry bush,
hollowingit outusing bolt-cutters. The sitewasclosetoacluster
oftheirundergroundbins,filled withamiscellanyof tools and
buildingmaterials.Thetwo
men got intoanightlyroutine,
waitingtill midnightbefore
diggingforanhourormore.
It couldbehell.Theyhadto
hackthroughtreeroots,and
clawoutstonesbyhand. When
it rained,theyspentagesscoopingoutwetclay.
AllveryGreatEscape,VanAllen thought,oncethey were about
6ft down:deepenoughtostartinstallingtimberstruts.Van Allen
mixedwaterfromtheheath’s bathingpondsandsandfromthe
carparkwithcementtomakeconcreteforthe wallsandfloor.
Timberslats formed theroof,whichwasfitted withinsulation
andaflush,hinged hatch. Hereplanted hawthorn bushes around
the clearingasfortification.Flatsquares ofchicken wire, sprinkled
withfertiliser andseed,allowedgrass togrowover the roof.Soon
it washardtotellwherethe ancientheathended andthenewplot
began.After twomonths ofwork,theymoved in.
Van Allenhad never identified muchwith the downcast-in-a-
doorwayimage that some of the charities pushed. Hewas
homelessbuthehad atravelcard,abike,abank account. He did
not doubt that his“Wombling” hadbreachedparkrules, but it
washim trying something. Hisshow of nerve.Byt he timeof the
snowinDecember 2017, he had been getting awaywith it longer
than heever expected.Then one night, heclom ped his wayback
to thebunker and foundalaminatednotenearthe hatch. The
park rangers hadfinallychosen their moment.Int he note, hewas
encouragedto move on, andperhaps approach his localcouncil
or ahousing trustfor helpwith accommodation. He recovered a
few possessions, but otherwiseleftthe bunkerwithout another
look. Days later,amini-diggertoreupthe clearing.
If Van Allen hadtaken thenote’ sadvice ,thatmight havebeenthe
end of thisphase of his life.Asitwas, he andWójc ik tookup
camping again,pitchingtents in the scrub near thestora ge bins.
Van Allen didnot mourn the lost bunker,butanewcomplacency
creptin,and theircamp startedtosprawl. They left out litter and
took morerisks .Van AllenandWójcik gotcarriedaway one
weekend and triedtoburyanenormousnew
wheelie bin–butit wasn’tajobthatcouldbe
finished in anight,andtheyleftithalfwayout
of theground where itwasvisible from
footpaths.Acoupleofnights later,afterhis
usualbeer,VanAllenwentup the hilland
collidedwithacrimescene.Uniformedofficershadformed along, snaking
cordonthatencircledthecamp.Later, police
woulderectblue- and-yellowforensic tents and
bringin dogs,detectivesandinvestigatorsin
boilersuits.“Youcan’t comethroughhere,”
Van Allen wastold. Heretracedhis steps,and
found Wójcikon theirusualbench.“What’s
allthisbollocksabout?” They agreeditdid
notlookpromising,asthey shared alastbeer
before goingtheirseparate ways.Van Allen
hadotherplaces hecould sleep –but through
theautumn, hekeptthinkingaboutthescale ofthatcrimescene.
He toldafriend,whohelpedhimfind outwhathadhappened
on theheath.Searchingonline,they foundastoryinthe local
paper thathadbeenfollow edup byTheSun,TheMirror and
theLondon EveningStandard. A“BreakingBad-style
makeshiftcrystal methlab”hadbeendiscoveredon theheath,
theyread.VanAllenturnedto Lim and said:“F***inghell.
Thisisaboutme.”Afterlyinglow for awhile,VanAllenwascontactedbypolice
inFebruary2 019 .Theyhad tracedhisnumber from anenvelope
theyfound atthe camp.Genuinelycurious, heasked: “What took
yousolong?”Hedidn’tknowit, buttheinvestigationhadaltered
since thosefancifulstories aboutadrugs labappeared inthe
papers.While diggingup the
camp,policehad foundan
improvised weapon,ahandmade
pipegun,buriednearoneof his
bins.Throughaseries ofsteep
escalations, thecase hadpassed
to officers from counter-terror
command.VanAllen wasarrestedandtakenforinterview,where
he denied anyknowledge ofthepipe gun: “I’vebeenon that site
forsevenyears andIdidn’t putitthere,” hesaid.Later hewas
toldthat smalltracesof his DNA hadbeenfoundonthe weapon.Van Allen’strialfor possessionofafirearmtook place insummer
2019 .Hislegalteamthoughtitwentwell,with even theprosecu-
tion’sexpertwitnesssayingtherewasno way totellifVanAllen
hadeveractuallytouchedthegun. Even so,hewasfound guilty
andsentencedtofive years. Hewasmoved fromHMPPentonville
toHMP Thameside, another concretebox.Notlongafterhe was
sentenced,Istartedtotakefrequentwalksupthe roadto the
heath. It tookafew attempts,picking through bramble, but,
finally, there itwas: ableachedlesionint he undergrowth,allthat
remained oftheold ranch. Pilesof br ancheshad beenput do wn
by rangerswhere thestoragebinsoncewere. Ihad adeepersense
that Iwas trespassing; afterwards,aranger said that,sinc eVan
Allenleft, another homelessperson hadclaimedthe patch.In prison, Van Allen startedworkingtowardsanappeal. Those
who spoketohim sa id heremained in decent spir its. Hissense
of humour,asblack asanight in abunker,was ablessing. There
hadbeenincongruous laughterathis trial ,too. Police, lawyers,
members of the jury–all chuckledtogether at hiswordier flights
while he wasunder interrogation. Atone stage, hespoke wistfully
of the oldbunker andits perfect location at theedgeofthe heath:
“Mypermanent desres,”hecalled it.“Just an idealspot. You
hadthe t rain st ation, youhad acafé, youhad aStarbucks, you
hadthe hospital, you had the168bus,the 24,the 46...You
couldn’t seeinfrom the footpath. Itwas bloodybrilliant.”Alongerversion of this articleappeared in TheGuardian.
©Guardian News&Media2020.Thelastword
21 March 2020THE WEEKVan Allen: borrowingapiece of London“It tookafew attempts, picking through
the undergrowth, but, finally, there it was,
all that remained of the old ranch”