At first, I tried to brush it off as paranoia. The car in my rear-view mirror had been there for 20 minutes, vigilantly shadowing my every move.
A black, high-powered saloon, sleek and intimidating, it seemed incongruous that it had any interest in me – a reporter in his 20s driving a tired-looking VW Golf. But when I turned left, the car followed. When I took a right, it did the same.
Perhaps it was a coincidence but a creeping anxiety told me otherwise. So at the next roundabout, I performed two full circuits.
Around I went, and around again, and shooting my eyes to the mirror, there my pursuers remained – two men I could barely make out in the growing dark of an overcast day – clinging to me like glue. My heart quickened, fearful of what I’d gotten myself into.
I was driving to see a trusted source who had tipped me off about the alleged Chinese spy and Prince Andrew confidant now banned from the UK.
The source told how the man, a little-known businessman at that point, had inveigled his way into the British establishment by wooing senior politicians and Royal Family courtiers. The details were as astonishing as they were sinister.
I had been investigating the case discreetly, discussing it with only my editor and the source. Days before the car pursuit, I received a troubling call from an unknown number.
A plummy voice told me he was representing the Chinese businessman and that his company had ‘learned’ I was looking into his client and his alleged links to the Chinese Communist Party.
The Duke of York with the alleged Chinese spy who has now been banned from entering the UK
Prince Andrew with Xi Jinping in the Great Hall of the People in Beijing in May 2018
Dumbstruck, I couldn’t think how he knew of my investigation.
He insisted his client was a reputable figure devoted to improving trade between the UK and China.
He tried to crack a few jokes but his chummy demeanour did nothing to mollify me. If anything, panic set in. He asked me to send any questions I had but insisted any suggestion that his client was an agent for Beijing was a smear.
His words were ringing in my ears as that menacing black saloon sat stubbornly in my rear-view mirror. Surely these two goons were Chinese agents? I gently put my foot down on the accelerator.
I felt like I had stumbled into a John le Carré novel. Should I call the police? My editor? A thousand thoughts ran through my head, including performing a screeching Hollywood-style U-turn.
If I continued, I would lead them to my source, which is perhaps what they were hoping for.
As I approached a set of traffic lights, green switched to amber – it was my chance to escape. I jumped the light just as it turned red. The saloon was too far back to do the same, so I breathed a sigh of relief as it receded from view.
I suspect the pursuit was little more than intimidation tactics. If the Chinese really wanted to spy on me without my knowledge, it could be easily done. This was about warning me to back off.
As Britain began to rethink the wisdom of former Prime Minister David Cameron’s ‘golden era’ of Anglo-Chinese relations, I’d spent months probing the web of suspected Chinese spies and influential British establishment figures.
Prince Andrew at the Guildhall in central London with Xi Jinping and the Lord Mayor of London before attending a banquet on October 21 2015
But the incident left me shaken and questioning whether, for my personal safety, it was worth it.
It appears now China has devoted years and huge resources to insinuating its agents into the heart of our way of life.
Hardly surprising it would seek to muzzle journalists intent on exposing its dark arts – though it must be said I’m writing this anonymously because of an absurd ruling by a UK court, preventing the publication of my name in relation to this man or material that could identify him.
But my frustration with the judiciary cannot match the alarm I felt in the crosshairs of the CCP. I was undoubtedly not the first to experience China’s bullyboy tactics aimed at cowing a free press, and I am sure I won’t be the last.
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