Jack Slipper, who died yesterday at 81, achieved celebrity as the nemesis of the Great Train Robber, Ronald Biggs; a detective chief superintendent with the Flying Squad, “Slipper of the Yard” pursued Biggs around the globe after his escape from jail in 1965.

At times the pursuit took on the quality of farce, as when, in 1974, Slipper unsuccessfully attempted to bring the fugitive back to Britain from Brazil. Slipper wrote in his autobiography in 1981 that he had been forced to keep silent when some newspapers made him look like a rural sheriff floundering out of his depth in the sophisticated world of international crime.

The Great Train Robbery of 1963, in which 15 masked men robbed the Glasgow to London night mail train of L2.6 million, was widely called “the crime of the century.” Slipper was one of six officers of a special unit given the task of catching the perpetrators.

In 1964, Biggs was sentenced to 30 years in prison. But 15 months later he escaped by climbing over a 20-foot wall and dropping through a hole cut in the roof of a waiting furniture truck.

The fugitive made his way to Paris, where he had plastic surgery, and then on to Australia, but his cover was blown when his teeth were X-rayed by a dentist. Slipper set off to arrest him, but by then Biggs was already on his way to Brazil on a false passport.

There matters stood until, in 1974, Biggs let it be known that he might be willing to return to Britain in return for assurances that he would be granted early parole. At the same time, he was negotiating a lucrative contract with the Daily Express. The paper got its interview, then tipped off the police. Slipper went to Brazil and, attired in a tropical suit and sandals, arrested his quarry.

What should have been a triumph, however, ended in embarrassment after the Brazilians refused to allow Biggs to leave the country, and Slipper was photographed on the plane home snoozing next to an empty seat. The Flying Squad officer always insisted that the empty seat was not for Biggs, but belonged to another policeman who had temporarily vacated it.

Seven years later, there was another opportunity. A group of former Scots Guardsmen abducted Biggs, forced him onto a schooner and sailed to Barbados, where they presented him to the local authorities. Extradition papers were served, and Slipper was optimistic – but a court on Barbados decided to send Biggs back to Brazil.

Jack Kenneth Slipper was born on April 20, 1924 in west London, the son of a tradesman. He left school at 14 to work as an electrician. He then served for five years in the Royal Air Force in England and in Rhodesia. He had grown to 6-foot-3, and in Rhodesia he took up boxing, becoming light heavyweight champion of the British armed forces there.

On being demobilized, he joined the police in 1951 at age 27, and eventually the Criminal Investigation Department, Britain’s national crime fighting agency. In record time he joined the Flying Squad, the CID’s prestigious emergency response unit. He retired in 1979 to become a security consultant.

During his career Slipper had had a hand in solving some of the most spectacular crimes of his era – not only the Great Train Robbery, but also the 1966 murder of three unarmed policemen in Shepherd’s Bush, and the $21.5 million-Bank of America robbery in 1976.

In May 2001, Ronnie Biggs returned voluntarily to Britain, where, despite failing health, he was sent to prison to serve the remainder of his sentence. Slipper commented, “I never thought I’d live to see the day when Biggs would be brought to justice,” adding, “I bear him no grudges.”

Eight years earlier Slipper had traveled to Brazil to renew his acquaintance with the train robber, apparently out of curiosity. “I was glad I went,” he informed the press, “because I discovered that, while he wasn’t living like a pauper, he certainly wasn’t living like a lord.

“His villa was bog-standard [ordinary] and in the wrong end of town. His swimming pool was so black with algae even a stickleback couldn’t live in it. He was flogging T-shirts to tourists [and] spent most of his day trying to chip golf balls into rusty dustbin lids on the beach. We shared a beer, and I just had to ask him, ‘So Ronnie, does crime pay?’ He shook his head and said, ‘I’ve got nothing left.'”