Forget Bodie and Doyle, the real professionals are here

EVERY discipline has its crack troops, who are called into action for the key projects.

You want to send specialists behind enemy lines to disable their radar systems? You need the SAS. You need to take out an enemy destroyer in a South American dry dock without leaving a trace? We recommend the U.S. Navy Seals. You have to get the president of the United States across London as quickly as possible? Then you need to call in the SEG.

You may not have heard of the SEG – or Special Escort Group – but that’s the way its riders like it, because anonymity is the key.

But its members could well have crossed your path. If you’ve been held up at a junction in London by someone who looks like an ordinary police motorcyclist as a limousine slips by, you’ve probably seen the SEG in action.

It protects the royal family and is responsible for the safety of presidents, prime ministers, ambassadors and other dignitaries visiting the UK. The aim is simple – to move very important people from A to B as safely and unobtrusively as possible.

And with the help of their BMW bikes, they have perfected the art of controlling traffic.

The project began in 1953 when Yugoslavian president Tito came to the UK. High levels of security were needed to move him across London and police motorcyclists from all over the capital teamed up to offer protection.

This was repeated three years later when Soviet leader Nikita Kruschev paid a visit to the capital city. For many years afterwards, police motorcyclists were used for these occasions.

But by the late ’70s, demand for escorts was growing rapidly so the SEG was created.

If you’ve ever gone near London, you’ll know what a nightmare it is to fight through the traffic. And the longer a visiting president or Prime Minister is stuck in jams, the softer the target is for terrorists. Those long, black cars need to keep on moving and this is where the SEG comes in. And I was lucky enough to be allowed to witness it in action.

The SEG is a select band consisting of just 34 Pcs, five sergeants and one inspector. They are all trained to the highest standards of riding and driving and work mostly in teams, depending on the assignment.

Our particular assignment was to escort someone – I can’t tell you who, for security reasons – from Claridges Hotel in Mayfair to Gatwick Airport. The pick-up was at 8.15am and the journey would take an hour, according to Insp John Gouldsmith.

To me, there was no way that journey could be completed in an hour. At that time of day, London would be at a standstill – and Gatwick Airport was halfway to Brighton.

Even with the traffic-busting capabilities of bikes, there are traffic lights, impassable queues and other hazards to hold you up. I calculated that even the SEG couldn’t get the journey time below an hour and a half.

I travelled to Claridges with Pc Steve Plank, by car. He and I were to observe the journey from the rear and act as the ” tail ” .

When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was the immaculate appearance of the BMW bikes. They were special R1100RS/R1100RT hybrids unique to the SEG and much less colourful than a normal police patrol bike. There’s reflective material stuck on the panniers and front mudguard. But that’s all.

Buttons on the handlebars operate radios, using the SEG’s dedicated channel, which has a range of around a mile and a half.

I was surprised when the car organised to pick up our VIPs – a stretch Daimler – was late. Well, it never had the SEG to escort it to the pick-up point, did it?

But as soon as it arrived the action began. A signal was given and three bikes simultaneously fired into life. The road was blocked behind while another rider ” took the junction ” up ahead. I just loved the SAS-style military speak.

The third SEG rider – usually the senior man in the team – took on the role of the ” Easy Rider ” , which involved positioning himself in front of the limo and guiding it along.

As the limo pulled out, following the Easy Rider, and we slotted in behind, I heard the command ” offside approach for next ATS ” . I soon realised what that meant – at the next set of traffic lights we’re going on the wrong side of the road! Yee haa! Imagine having a licence to do this every day at rush-hour. You’d never suffer road rage again. It might be a different story for other people, though!

The junction ahead was controlled by one of the riders, while the third – who had leapfrogged his way from the back of the group to the front – had cleared a path through the oncoming traffic so the Easy Rider was able to guide the limo through swiftly as frustrated commuters could only look on with envy. Damned VIPs!

Time and again the riders carried out the same procedure and we crossed London without stopping once. Until today, I thought only our feathered friends could do that.

No mad speeding or crazy, courier-type manoeuvres were necessary – all the SEG had to do was keep moving steadily through the traffic and make sure every move was executed safely and cleanly. In fact, for most of the time, we were travelling between 25-30mph.

But then, this may not have been the most urgent mission undertaken by the SEG. I got the impression these boys could have U.S. president George W Bush through the city quicker than Hannibal Lecter working through his starter.

It was the best teamwork demonstration I’ve ever seen, keeping the escorted vehicle moving at all times. Rather like competing in the Paris-Dakar Rally, it’s not speed in short bursts which determines the quickest overall route. Instead, it takes consistency, calmness and anticipation. To finish first, first you’ve got to finish – and all that.

It’s no job for a track day demon. It wouldn’t look too good if the Prime Minister’s car crashed because you were getting your knee down at the Pall Mall roundabout while passing Blair’s stretch limo.

All SEG riders have complete confidence in their fellow members and the team works in total harmony. The journey was perfectly co-ordinated and a model of efficiency. As we sliced through the centre of the capital and into suburbia, London suddenly didn’t seem so big any more.

Now there was time to see the motorists craning their necks, wondering who was in the limo. Was it Michael Jackson? Eminem? Or just a dull diplomat throwing his weight around?

We were shooting every red light in sight, crossing junctions with oncoming traffic, but it didn’t make life much more horrendous than normal for the motorists whose paths we crossed. We were only working one junction ahead so they would only have to wait one extra sequence of lights before continuing into their morning clog-fest.

It’s an amazing feeling to be right in the middle of London’s rush-hour traffic and to be the only people actually moving.

A sense of snobbery creeps in as I watch ” commoners ” sitting gridlocked in the fumes. So imagine what it’s like for the SEG riders when they’re off duty, having to sit in traffic with the rest of us!

As we approached the M23, I thought about the VIPs inside the limo. I bet they were completely unaware of the operation unfolding around them – but that’s the way the SEG likes it. Every time the back man passed the limo on his way to the next junction, he kept a steady pace and stayed in a high gear, so those in the limo never once heard a noise or felt there was any panic.

There were no horns sounding or sirens wailing, just flashing blue lights and whistles blown when necessary. The idea was to slip through quietly and be gone by the time the public started to wonder who was inside the car.

It seems like a serious operation, but the threat of a terrorist sniper taking a shot at a VIP in a moving car is very real. Remember JFK?

The run was going well. The motorway signs said we were close to arriving at Gatwick – and we hadn’t stopped once.

The Easy Rider had controlled proceedings so well that the occupants sitting in air-conditioned comfort probably thought this was a typical morning’s run through London.

I had it on good authority that the kind of people the SEG is used to transporting don’t spend time staring out of car windows at the sights. They are usually immersed in meetings or telephone calls while on the move. I looked at my watch and realised that we would in fact make it to Gatwick in an hour – exactly as the SEG thought, and half an hour less than I’d predicted.

If this all sounds like plain sailing, it’s exactly that – at least compared to when the Russians or Americans come to town.

The last Russian convoy placed under the SEG’s care consisted of 23 vehicles. Of course, the Americans like to top the rest and when former U.S. president Bill Clinton dropped in, he often brought a coach full of journalists with him. If it’s a short hop across London, the head of the convoy can be at the destination when the tail hasn’t even left the starting point!

For these high-security jobs the SEG sticks the VIPs in its own armoured cars and also provides the driver. But a journalist like me could never get the security clearance to join a mission like that so our trip was of a lower priority.

Rather than providing the man behind the wheel, the limo driver was a hired hand. He was supplied by a private company the Government’s hospitality department uses whenever the need arises.

I should imagine this is one driver who doesn’t bore his mates down the pub when his first line is ” You’ll never guess who I had in the back of my cab… ”

We were getting near the airport when we saw another SEG team coming the other way. They had just picked up a VIP from Gatwick, who was in town for talks about an ” African situation ” . My mind went into overdrive wondering who it could have been. For the first time on this ride, I really knew what it was like for the motorists who sit and take guesses at who is behind the dark windows.

The SEG will only be deployed to escort those who really need it. One of the SEG’s most public assignments came when they escorted Princess Diana’s body from London to its final resting place at the family home in Northamptonshire.

That was back in 1997, but the image lives on of the outriders being almost buried in flowers thrown from bridges by mourners as they rode up the M1, mile after painfully slow mile.

The SEG’s method is very British – low-key. But it still works effectively compared to many of the methods used around the world.

The Americans, for example, have proved time and again that an entourage of 20 bodyguards doesn’t always keep away those intent on making a kill. It can sometimes act the other way, announcing a target and attracting attention.

But this British option is not just an escort service. If things go wrong, the riders have full bodyguard training and advanced weapons courses under their belts.

Their exterior calmness leaves you in no doubt they could have you trussed up like a Christmas turkey before you’d hit the ground should they need to.

The Gatwick junction was approaching and a ” hole was cut in the traffic ” to enable us to get from lane three to lane one of the M23 and then to exit the motorway.

Reaching the airport’s VIP area at 9.16am, I knew I had witnessed a special feat. The men in the car thanked the motorcyclists before disappearing off to their next meeting.

For the SEG, it was back to headquarters to await the next mission. As I prepared to head home, I couldn’t help thinking these boys had a pretty cool day job.

But as with any great skill, those who have mastered it can make it look easy.

To control London’s rush-hour traffic with just three bikes, and do it safely and swiftly, without causing any major panics and no accidents, is an art form.

So if you’re ever riding through London and see a police escort guiding a limo along – stop wondering if there’s a famous name in the limo. The real stars of the show are on the bikes.