Roman Quaedvlieg - Tour de Force: My history-making Tour de France

Roman Quaedvlieg was always destined to make a mark. As a rookie policeman on the mean streets of Fortitude Valley in the dying days of the Moonlight State, his first arrest was Brisbanes most wanted escapee. Three decades later, he found himself navigating the corridors of power in Canberra.

Tour de Force charts the years in between, during which he truly sees it all: from policing on the beat to going undercover with bikies and gangs, from running covert operations at the Australian Crime Commission to exposing major drug importations while working for Customs, and from leading the operation to turn back boats on international waters right up to being appointed as the very first head of the Australian Border Force.

Roman Quaedvliegs story is one of a tough, resourceful and disciplined policeman rising through the ranks to the very top of law enforcement in Australia. This is a personal and political story that exposes a deeply conflicted national security system and doesnt shy away from his notorious sacking from the top job.

I was lying on the road next to my car, which was parked in Sydneys inner south. The road felt cold and several cars drove too close to me for comfort. I remembered a scene from my uniformed policing days where a teenage boy had been run over and killed after falling drunk on the roadway, and moved in as close as I could to the car.

I activated my iPhone torch, noticing the time was 9.21 p.m., and scanned the under-chassis looking for a magnetically attached transmitting beacon. I checked both sides of the car, particularly the passenger side, where the paparazzi would have had more time and a better opportunity to attach it. I checked the wheel wells, the rear bumper and under the front grille. There was no device, but it wouldnt have been the first time Id found one. In my line of work, paranoia is the norm.

I got up, dusted off the grit and looked through the front windscreen. My girlfriend, Sarah, was watching me while messaging friends, updating them through the multitude of social platforms she uses.

Sarahs court matter for allegedly disclosing confidential information had been mentioned in the Downing Centre Local Court earlier that day. Reporters knocking on the door at her old house the previous day had failed to find her. But then a gaggle of reporters and photographers had descended on her mothers house, where we were staying. It seemed getting a photograph of Sarah was a matter of national importance. I knew wed be relatively easy to find so Id warned the neighbours, who texted saying there were a handful of snappers outside with large cameras; one of the cameras was set up on a tripod on the footpath.

I hoped I could get the media reps to go away by calling their bosses, many of whom I knew very well. One of the reporters had identified herself as being from The Australian , so I called a long-time contact at the paper, senior journalist Paul Maley, and registered my displeasure, refusing an interview. Paul came back to me a short time later saying the crew would stay until they had a shot of Sarah. We were offered the opportunity to stage a candid shot Were going to get you eventually, I was told but Sarah wanted to maintain her privacy.