Вспомнил рассказ о добровольных побегах и их организации.

"The problem was, as both had been remanded for appearance in court, they had somehow to be got out of official custody. He could hardly adopt the simple procedure of taking them back before the magistrate and withdrawing charges, because permission for this would have been
refused outright by the Criminal Investigation Department and Policy hierarchy and even by others at a lower level.
So Winston concocted a plan with the help of his African personnel. He arranged for all four of the terrorist prisoners to be transferred from Mount Darwin to Bindura by truck... Winston would drive. Bindura was a bigger station and consequently more secure from the point of
view of holding important prisoners and the magistrate’s court proceedings could be held at Bindura more conveniently.
The two terrorists selected by Winston and his staff had both expressed willingness to change to the Government’s side when he had questioned them.
The plan was that on the way to Bindura... when they were only a mere five kilometres outside of Mount Darwin, just at the foot of Mount Fura in the unpopulated area around Thackaray farm, the two about-to-be-tame terrorists would ask their African Special Branch Sergeant guard if Winston would stop the truck so they could relieve themselves in the bush.
The Sergeant (naturally!) would agree and call out for Winston to stop. Winston, being an understanding Special Branch officer, would stop, the Sergeant and the two prisoners would alight, walk into the long grass, on the pretext of modesty, leaving the prisoners not scheduled
for escape still locked safely behind mesh in the back of the truck.
Then, when the Sergeant gave them a friendly wink, the escapees would rush into the bush, half-heartedly chased by the Sergeant for some two hundred metres until both pursued and pursuer were out of sight of the truck.
“They’ve escaped!’ the Sergeant would shout as he tore off into the bush. ‘They’ve escaped!”
Winston, to add authenticity, would then loose some gunshots into the air and add his
own shouts to the hue and cry... strictly for the benefit of the two remaining prisoners in the back. Having closed the curtain on this highly satisfactory theatrical performance, Winston would then drive off on the face of it to get assistanceб while another Special Branch
truck cruising behind, would pick-up the African Sergeant and the former prisoners, and the pseudo teams would be richer by the addition of two valuable recruits.

They drove out of Mount Darwin Police camp in a leisurely fashion and coasted downhill soon reaching Thackaray farm area at Mount Fura’s base, where things were scheduled to start happening.
But nothing happened, nothing at all, no one called out for permission
to relieve himself. Winston slowed his truck to almost walking pace and waited until they
were almost clear of the uninhabited area. He clearly couldn’t carry on like this, the situation was rapidly becoming ludicrous. He applied the brakes, stopped the Land-Rover and waited.
The Sergeant in the rear took the hint and glared nastily at the prisoners.
‘Anyone for a pee?”
The prisoners looked at each other shyly.
‘I do,’ volunteered two men almost in unison.
‘Not you,’ snarled the aggravated Sergeant . . . the wrong prisoners had volunteered.
The right prisoners looked at each other nervously, then hesitantly, very hesitantly raised their hands.
‘Two of the prisoners wish to get out and relieve themselves, ishe,’ announced the Detective Sergeant blandly.
Winston breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Good,’ he said lamely, ‘I’ll keep the truck stopped then.’
The Sergeant and the feet-dragging about-to-be freed prisoners, climbed from the back of the truck, which was then re-locked.
Both terrorists clearly of the impression they had been tricked and were about to be shot had to be almost dragged by the Sergeant held one by each arm until they were in the relative concealment of the long grass.
‘Now run,’ snapped the Sergeant angrily, shoving them into a reluctant
stumbling run. Winston Hart who had been keenly observing the proceedings with the utmost
disbelief waited until they were about ten metres away from the Sergeant. Neither, judging by the weak-kneed jog they had adopted, seemed set to break any athletic records.
“They’ve escaped!’ shouted the Detective Sergeant convincingly.
“They’ve escaped,’ echoed Winston thinly.
He leant out of the window and fired some shots into the sky to add his seal of authenticity to the escape.
Then, to Winston’s horror, as soon as they heard the shots, the escapees stopped dead in their tracks, shot their hands into the air in a clear gesture of surrender, and started jogging back to
captivity. The Sergeant doubled forward, cuffed them a couple of times and pushed them into some bushes to conceal them.
‘Well,’ announced Winston loudly, although very weakly, ‘I think we had better drive off and get some help so we can recapture those escaped terrorists, don’t you?’
His Patrol Officer companion nodded numbly, he was almost beyond words".