It was nearly 1am on a cold November night and the pista at Luton airport was deserted. A private Jet just landed and taxied to a secluded spot near the perimeter fence. Two rented minibuses, their windows blocked out with white sheets, drove to the tail section where a narrow stairway was being lowered. Driving the first furgão, van was bodygaurd Steve Tarling with one thing on his mind- to get Michael Jackson off the jet as quickly and as secretly as possible. Custom and Immigration officers boared the plane to check documents and Steve moved in. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of...
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