Chapter 27.

Chapter 27. Saturday 8^th July 1972.

I met Denise on the following Saturday night and we repeated the pattern set on our last date. A few drinks, then back to my place early. I think we were starting to fall in love at this point, I know I was. I loved her easy smile and smooth white skin and the passion. We lay in bed, until just after eleven and then walked her round to the taxi office. The taxi came too soon for me, but she had to be home. I gave her two pounds to cover the fare and kissed her goodnight.

“I’ll see you on Thursday.”

The taxi roared off, I was left there watching it go.

On Sunday morning, Johnny knocked on the door. I was daydreaming about Denise and almost jumped through the roof, even though I had been expecting a knock.

“Are you not ready yet?” Johnny was carrying a small, cheap suitcase.

“What’s in the bag?” I pointed at the case.

“It’s the money for the boys.” He held it up.  “My Dad didn’t want to be carrying it around, so we’re taking it.  You’d better hurry up.”  

We entered the upstairs room of Jenson’s and there was a little cheer. Tommy was leaning on the back wall. Johnny walked over and handed the suitcase to him.

Tommy stood up, “Before I give out the money, I want to repeat,” he leaned on the suitcase, everyone’s eyes were on it. “I don’t want to hear of people throwing money around, shooting their mouths off, or any boasting. Remember if the boys,” he nodded in the direction of the police station, “get to hear of this, we could all go down for a long time.”   He sat down and opened the suitcase. Inside were brown paper bags, with names on them.

“There’s a bit of a bonus in each one, Jacky,” he said as Jacky went over and collected his parcel.

One by one, they collected their money, most of them quickly looking inside, but closing the bag quickly.  Counting the notes, I assumed, would come later, in private.

There was a good atmosphere in the room after that, everyone laughing and joking, before drifting off downstairs to have a pint. Some slipped away home.

“Come on, anyone. Play for a tenner?”  Johnny was up for some real pool, to the death.

For most of the afternoon, we played pool.

“Double or nothing”  we both called out, we didn’t care.  It started at ten pounds, but we’d won a couple with double or nothing, straight off and soon we were playing for eighty pounds.

The drink began to kick in, we’d been there for over four hours. The pub was full now of regular Sunday afternoon drinkers.

Over in the corner, a couple of friends of Danny Steele were watching, but we didn’t have a game with them.

A hundred and sixty pounds sat on the table, the money always had to be on the table, it was part of the game. Whether it was for a pint or ten bob, it had to sit there as the reward.

The game was cagey, safe from the start. Pocket blocking, leaving the man up on the top cushion, it was part of the game. It was also much harder, because everyone was watching by then, everyone knew that a month’s wages sat on the table and egos were going to get damaged.

Every shot was discussed, options, options, and options.

Old men, who played dominoes for two pence a point, started to go quiet. Top pool players, who played for clubs or pubs through the whole of Belfast sat and watched.

“Just lay that ball over the pocket,” Johnny whispered in my ear.

The beer was clouding my judgment. “But I could wrap this up, if I run down there and pot that, and then I’ll be on the black.”

“No, lay up,” Johnny insisted. My hands were sweating. The pub had gone very quiet.

“Where the fuck has this sort of money come from?”  The pub was so quiet every one heard the question.

“It’s the wage snatch money,” said a voice from the corner.

Johnny, like a viper was over and punched the man, one blow and he went down, he was wise to go down. I would’ve gone down just as easily, because everyone knew who his Dad was. Everyone knew it was not worth standing up to Johnny, the price was too high.

“Come on, play.” Johnny pointed at our opponents.

But it was not the game that was important now. No, what was important by then was everyone knowing where the money had come from.

Anyone, who would like to stitch Johnny, or his father or indeed me, now had that little bit of information they needed. We played out the game and we won, but we had lost.

Johnny hands were trembling as he collected up the pile of pound notes, we were out of there.

It was drizzling as we left.

I said, “Maybe we should tell your Dad.”   Johnny spun on his heels. “What? That we just won at pool, don’t be daft.”

“No, what really happened.”   We stood head to head.

Johnny knew that we’d done wrong. Johnny knew that apart from putting an advert on page one of the Belfast Gazette, we couldn’t have done much worse. We walked back to his house in silence.

I tried again, “I think your dad has to know.” 

“No, it’s nowt to do with him.”   Johnny was getting mad, his quick temper ready to blow.

“When do we go and see Jonas then?”   Johnny didn’t want to think about this either, I could see him building up a head of steam.

“Look we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”  I patted him on the shoulder. He was happier to leave things for a while.

“Aye, see you tomorrow.”   He went into his house,

I continued on to No. 37. On the way back I decided that I was not stopping in that house that night.

Up in my bedroom, I quickly lifted the carpet.

“Get me Simon Adder please.”  I waited, it seemed like forever.

“What’s up?”   It was Simon. I quickly told him what had happened in Jenson’s. About the pool game and the remarks and Johnny punching someone.

“So?” Simon wanted to find out how I felt about it.

“Well, I think people will be talking.”   I made it a bit clearer, “I think they’ll be talking to the police, or someone who might want a piece of all this money.”  There was one of Simon's little silences.

“The RUC are involved in this, you won’t be able to save me from them.”   Silence again.  I continued, “I need to know, if you’ve heard anything from the police?”

“Just the normal intelligence coming in,” Simon was being guarded, “but I’m monitoring it all, they don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”  I heard Simon shuffling some papers,   “They’ve got a lot of men on the job. What could you expect?”

I’d heard enough. “Okay, but I want you to come and get me if things turn sour; I’m not sitting in jail for years waiting for you lot to get me out.”

“All right, phone in later today, I’ll have a full update.”

I put the phone down and took out all of the money and the pistol, from the hole in the floorboards.  Then I got my suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and quickly packed the few clothes I had. I threw all the money and the pistol, into the suitcase as well.

It was still only five thirty in the evening, as I strolled along to the taxi office.

“Hi, I’m going to Newtownards, my Gran’s ill. But I don’t want to stay at her house it stinks, so I was wondering do you know any bed and breakfast places there?”

The taxi driver smiled,   “Sure I know few, I used to live there.”   We set off.

“So what’s wrong with her?” The taxi driver was just trying to be friendly.

“I think it’s a heart attack, but I’m not sure. It sounds like she might not last long.”   It took twenty five minutes, but eventually we pulled up in front of a pub. The driver jumped out and disappeared. I sat and waited.

“Come in kid.”   The driver was tapping on the door, I followed him inside. There was a strong smell of beer and dust, men sitting quietly nursing their drinks. The landlady was behind the bar.

“It’s thirteen shillings a night.”

“That’s fine.”   What else could I say?

“And one and six for breakfast.”  She was trying to earn a bit more, once she’d seen how easily I had taken the price.

“Fine.”   I started to get some money out.

“And if you want the room to yourself, it’s another two bob.”   She was on a roll, a good little bonus.

“Fine.”   The taxi driver was beaming and the landlady too.I paid her for three nights.

She looked at the taxi driver, “What you having Billy?”

“Just a double.”   She turned to Billy, and gave him a look, but she gave him a double, anyway, but out of the cheap whisky optic.

As she led the way up the back stairs, I gave her the story about my Gran to explain myself being there.

“So I don’t think she’ll last long, the dear old thing.”   She showed me the room. It had two beds. A double and a single, with a wardrobe, because of the shape of the room was half in front of the window.

“You must be in by closing time and breakfast isn’t till nine, we don’t get up too early and no lady visitors.”   She stood there watching, to see if I accepted these late instructions.

We both went down stairs; Billy was just finishing his whisky. I gave him a ten bob tip.

“Do you want another?” I offered Billy a drink.

“No, no, well okay then, just a double.”  I also bought the landlady one and got myself a pint of shandy. They exchanged glances at my choice of drinks.

Billy had one more before he left, explaining that he’d got a long night ahead of him.

I sat in the early evening, reading the local paper and finishing off my drink. Later, I went upstairs and had a look round the bedroom. I needed somewhere to hide the money and the gun. The wardrobe looked good, at first glance, but it was full with someone else’s clothes and sheets and blankets.

Under the double bed was thick with dust and there were some pieces of fishing tackle. The dust told me that no one went there very often. Under the single divan, were Wellingtons, waterproofs, long johns and fishing reels. I eventually went for putting the stuff under the corner of the mattress of the double bed. I laid the money and the gun as flat as possible, and then lay down on them to flatten them even more; I had a little sleep too.

I awoke not feeling very refreshed, groggy really. I washed my face in the tiny basin. Then I placed the suitcase on the double bed, so it would be the first thing seen as anyone came into the room. I took a matchstick and put it in the fold of the lid. If anyone opened the suitcase, the match would fall on to the bed and I would know when I returned. I left a five pound note on the top of the suitcase and memorised the exact position, just one more sign. Then I had a final look around the room, and tried to memorise how everything was placed. 

I went down stairs, the bar was busy. There were people playing all sorts of instruments, banjo, fiddle, guitar and whistles and some singing. I bought myself a pint and managed to find a seat. The night rolled on and the singing got louder and the songs became more rebellious. Last orders came and went, the beer continued to be pulled, the songs got louder, and it was a great night. As the crowd started to thin out, I made my way upstairs.  As soon as I entered the room, I knew someone had been in. The fiver was still there but was nowhere near where I had placed it. The match stick had fallen out and was lying on the bed. Someone had been in my suitcase. I quickly lifted the mattress up and saw the money and pistol were still in the same place. Then I looked round the bedroom, most things had moved, just a little bit here and a little bit there, but someone had been through this room. I sat and considered the implications, should I carry the money with me, it was fairly bulky, or leave it where it was. I fell asleep, still not sure what to do.

The next morning, when I awoke, it was still too early to get breakfast. I thought I’d have a nice lie-in. I put the radio on, to listen to the morning news.

BBC, Radio Ulster.

Over twenty men have been arrested in dawn raids throughout the province. The RUC stated that most or all the men involved in the wage snatch, which is believed to have netted the raiders over half a million pounds, have now been rounded up. The raids started at four in the morning and have been going on all morning. Chief Inspector Thompson of the RUC went on to say.........

I shot up in bed, my heart went into overdrive. I leapt out and got dressed. There was no sound of the landlady, or anyone else about. I made the bed; I didn’t want anyone else touching it. I quietly went downstairs and went to open the front door, but it was bolted, a strong iron bar was across it and there was a big brass padlock. I stuck my head into the bar; a strong smell of stale beer hit me. As I made my way back up the stairs, the landlady came out of one of the other bedrooms, wearing a dirty old dressing gown.

“It’s too early for breakfast,” she said, when she saw me.

“No, its okay, but I need to get to the hospital, to see if my Gran’s alright.

She padded down in front of me, carrying a large bunch of keys.

“Well, breakfast will be over before you get back.”

“I’ll be okay; I’m not sure when I’ll get back anyway.”   She slammed the door behind me. I walked down to John Street and waited for the bus back to Belfast. It seemed to take forever. I got off a stop early, so I could come in along Madrid Street. It gave me the longest view of my front door. I walked straight past, on the other side of the road. Everything seemed normal and I could just see that my drop trigger was still in place.

I made my way round to Johnny’s house and knocked on what was left of the door. 

Mrs O’Neil opened the door, she had clearly been crying. I could see the door had been smashed in.

“They’ve taken Tommy and Johnny.” I followed her into the kitchen.

“When did that happen?”

“Four o’clock this morning.”   She started to weep again; I waited for her to calm down.

“They searched the house, they turned the place upside down, and all of Tommy’s union papers have been taken. They even turned the bed, right over.”  There was a bit more sobbing, “I think they broke Johnny’s arm.”

I put the kettle on and listened, as she continued with her story.

“The house was full of the dirty army bastards, beating her family half to death and dragging them off, to God knew where.  Have they not been to your place?”   Her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know, I stayed at my Gran’s house last night, slept on the couch.”   It was the first thing that came into my head, “I might not go home now, I might just stay with Gran for a while.”   I tried to be calm her, “They may let them go, you know they’ve no proof.”

“They don’t need proof; they’ll be locked up in Long Kesh. I’ll never see them again.”   She started to cry again, I touched her shoulder, but she shrugged me off.

I needed to get out of there. I needed to talk to Simon. I now wasn’t too sure that Simon had been telling me the truth, or that I had the protection that he claimed.

“Well I’m off now and I’ll try and find out what I can.”

She didn’t look up. The front door didn’t close properly as I left.

I decided to go over and see Jonas, after I’d phoned Simon. I hadn’t let him know where I was and I thought he would be worried. There was a line of four telephone boxes on Chichester Street and I had three two bob pieces in my pocket.

“Hello.”  The pips went and I pushed the money in.

“Hello, Holywood Barracks,” a young girl answered.

“Hello, could you please put me through to Intelligence on extension 3232?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Billy Deery.”

“One moment please.”   I heard buttons being pressed.

“Hello, Intel.” The speaker was obviously eating breakfast.

“It’s Billy Deery, can you get me Simon Adder.”

I could hear the buzz of conversation in the office,   “Lt. Adder, it’s Deery, he’s in a pay box.”

“Where are you?” Simon sounded a bit flustered.

“I’m in the middle of Belfast, I stayed out last night.”   I looked round to make sure no one was listening, “look have they done my place?”

“No, I called them off.”

“What, are you mad? If I don’t get lifted, I’m a goner. You either pull me out, or you lift me.”   I was fuming. Simon muttered something, I just hoped that now he realised his mistake.

I continued, “I’ve got a few things to do, but I’ll be back at the flat in four or five hours. Remember, you either pull me or lift me.”

“Fine, be careful.” He replied. I hung up.

I made my way to Divis Flats and knocked on Jonas’ door. I could see he was drunk, as soon as he opened the door.

“Everyone’s been lifted,” I told him. He looked unconcerned; his wages came from another source and as for the men, he could have another team set up, in a few days.

“Did you get followed here?”

“No, do you think I’m stupid?” Actually, I hadn’t even bothered to look once.

Jonas said “They want us to do a bomb disposal shooting, double money.”   He watched my face, to see my interest. It was all about money with Jonas.

He looked at me and said, “I need the gun.”   He took another pull at the bottle of beer. I wanted to stall. I needed to find out if Johnny was getting out.

“No way, we’ll be ready in two days, then we’ll be up and running as a team.”   I looked at him defiantly.

“Okay two days, then I go for the gun myself.”  I was out of there as quick as I could. I made my way back into the bus station and caught the bus to Newtownards.

Back in the pub, the landlady, asked how my Gran was.

“Not too good, I’ve been with her all day, she wants me to go back to Belfast and not hang around here.”   I watched to see how this went down.

“Well, I can’t give you a refund.”  She pointed to the beer pump and I shook my head.

“No thanks, I think I’ll just pack up and go.”   I went to my room, the triggers were still in place, so the first look round they’d had last night was enough.

I peeled back the mattress, the money and gun were still there.

I caught the bus, with a few minutes to spare and put the suitcase under my seat. I needed a safe place for the money. I wondered whether I could I trust Sid the shopkeeper, but decided not. I couldn’t take it home to No 37; they’d be searching that place in a few hours. I got off the bus in the town centre, still not sure what to do with the money. Eventually I decided that the warehouse where Jonas had left the gun on that very first day was as good a place as any. I strolled over, but before I went through the fence, I had a good look round to check that no one was watching.

The window had been boarded up again, but the board soon came off and I clambered in. The rickety old stepladders were still at the far end of the warehouse, there was one more rung missing, but it did the job. I hid the money and the gun and made my way back to No. 37.

I phoned to tell Simon I was back.

I made a cup of tea and watched the news on the television. Then, I started to think if there was anything else I didn’t want them to find. I hid the mugshot book under the floorboards. Finally, I poured the half pint of milk away, I didn’t want the smell of sour milk hanging around when I returned. I made two slices of toast with the last of the bread.

My eyes kept closing, so I went off to bed. I kept my clothes on though; I didn’t want to be dragged out in the buff.

When they did eventually arrive, it was just after three in the morning and as I was led out, the vigilantes were there to see it. Women came out onto the streets and banged anything that would make a noise, dust bin lids, pots and pans.  

“Leave the lad alone, he’s not done anything.”   They put on a good show, but then they always did.

I was taken out in hand cuffs and stuffed into the back of a grey Land Rover, soldiers stood around at the ready.