Hi, I'm off today, so I'm off to Scotland to sing with Dave and Phil. We may records something. We'll see.
I've also made the font bigger on the book, chapter 11 is very short. It seems like people are reading it.
My hand is not working to well, but they play good stuff, I'll just sing. I have to back for golf at 9 on the Thursday, so Phil (who's not the best getter upper in the world will just have to get up).
Chapter
10. The same day.
“Billy….
Billy.” I was being shaken gently and wakened by Simon Adder. I sat up and
stretched.
“Whoa
that’s a nasty bump.” Simon sat back on
a chair, while I gathered my thoughts.
“I fell
over while we were on the barricades in Aberckon Road, it was chaos and I was
trampled under foot. I thought I was a goner.”
I liked
to exaggerate and I wanted to make sure he realised how hard it was out there.
“Can you
remember where the training camp was?”
Simon needed to catch up, he needed information.
“Of
course I can.” I became indignant.
“We need
to get you back to Holywood and debrief you.”
“Hey,
hey, I need an alibi if you’re going to make me disappear for a while. These
people are not stupid.” If I’d got to go
back and face these people, I wanted a good cover story.
“We have
a choice here, we could release you and you could make your own way back, or we
can cover your back by putting someone in Crumlin Road for seven days with the
story that you attacked a screw.” He was testing my feelings on the subject.
But he needed to know my decision. “It’s your call. What do you want to
do?” I took my time weighing things up.
“I need
to make my own way back. It sounds tempting to have seven days out of it, but I
need to get back out there before I lose my nerve.”
There was
silence while we both pondered as to what to do. I wondered if Johnny and the
car would still be around. Would it be
safe for me to walk through Derry on my own? If we put someone in Crumlin Road,
as me, would we be able to keep my identity a secret?
“You
know, I was only put on the buses as an observer.” I looked at Simon. He thought for a while,
choosing his words carefully, he knew I needed some encouragement.
“I know,
but because of the situation here, we don’t have many people on the ground. We
have the R.U.C., but everyone knows them and their judgment is clouded by past
prejudices. We have informers, but who can trust them?” Simon lit a cigarette and leaned back. “And we have plants like you and by chance
you have dug the deepest in the quickest time, we could not have planned
that.” He looked at me, right into my
soul and I knew I had to go on.
“I feel
as though I’m going too fast, that I’m out of my depth.” I dropped my head, I felt weak.
“Go for
the jail option then. We can get a cover body in jail for you and you could be
back in Holywood in two hours.” He
could see the strain on my face.
“No, it’s
too risky. If word gets out that it’s not me, bang.” I made a pistol out of my hands. “I’ll push on.” I stood up and put my jacket on. “If my ride
has gone, I may need a lift to where I can get a bus back to Belfast.”
We left
the office and walked down to the main door. It was drizzling as I walked down
the road, trying to get my bearings. As it happened, I was very close to the
home of Seamus. The streets were still full of people. There were army vehicles
patrolling but not many other cars on the streets. I was not absolutely sure
which door we had gone into, I just had to guess. The man who answered pointed
to the next house along, when I asked if Seamus was in.
“Fuck me,
it’s the hero.” Seamus bellowed into the
house, when he saw me at the door. Johnny was the first to look over Seamus’s
shoulder.
“Get the
lad into the house.”
Hugh
patted me on the back as we got off the street and into the house, everyone
asking what had happened.
“They had
me standing against the wall for hours.”
I was making it up on the spot.
I
mimicked the interrogator. “What you
doing here? How did you get here? The whole fucking lot, I told them I came on
the bus for a day trip.” Everyone in the
room was looking at me, as though I was some sort of hero.
“Come on,
let's go to the pub.” Johnny wanted a
drink after the day’s events, everybody agreed and we poured out of the small
terrace house and walked round the corner and into a bar.
“Here’s
the boy who kicked fuck out of the army.”
Hugh was holding up my arm, I wanted to just keep a low profile. Not
much chance of that though, the beers just kept coming. We carried on
re-writing history all night, by the end of which, we had ripped down the
barricades and seen off the army, the prods, everyone.
We left
the city by roads going north, which meant a long detour through Strabbane. We
managed to get petrol once over the bridge, just scraping the money together
for a few gallons.
“Fucking
seven and six a gallon, the robbing bastards.”
Johnny always worked out how many pints he could buy for the same money.
I fell asleep in the back. Hugh woke me outside my front door, it was still
raining, and I let myself in. The seal on my door had been broken. I went
gingerly up the stairs, all my senses wide awake, but nobody was there. I went
into the bedroom and looked under the floorboards as quickly as possible.
Sunday
6th June 1972.
“I’m back.”
Simon was on the other end of the phone. I told him how we got back and
how I had been greeted as a hero.
“When are
you due back on the buses?” I thought
hard.
“Tomorrow,
middle shift, eleven thirty I think.”
“Well we
need you in here as soon as possible for a report, it may take some time.” Simon pushed.
“Well I’m
knackered; I need a kip before work. I can't see where I can fit it in for
days.”
“No, we
need you in now.” Simon was positive
about this, but my batteries were running low.
“You’ll
have to cover my shift tomorrow and give me a cover story.” I always had to look after my cover story.
“Oh
that’ll be easy, just get to bed and I’ll get that sorted.”
I put the
phone down, had a bath and then open a packet of soup. There was no bread, but
I did have some crackers which had gone a bit soft, but I was famished. Even
though the bed was cold, I soon warmed up.
Monday
5th June 1972
I was
fast asleep when the front door was smashed in and big boots stamped up the
stairs. When you think you're going to die, the rush of adrenaline makes your
mouth go dry, you have the strength of five men and everything appears to
happen in slow motion. My blankets were ripped off, showing the world that I
slept in my vest and underpants and I was still wearing yesterday’s socks. My
clothes were thrown at me, as they shouted and bawled at me to move myself. I
was pushed down the stairs with shirt still unbuttoned. The vigilantes were out
quickly, there were three Land Rovers with soldiers deployed in the street on
the corners and in a defensive position, the vigilantes were shouting and
banging dustbin lids, people were pouring out of their houses.
I was unceremoniously thrown into the back of
one of the Land Rovers and driven off. I still did not understand what was
going on, but when we arrived in Holywood barracks, Simon was there to meet me.
“Sorry
mate,” he said, as he helped me out of the back of the vehicle. We went up to
his office, then up to the main op’s room. I looked at the clock on the wall;
it was five thirty in the morning. Captain Lunn from the SAS was there.
“Hello
Deery.”
“Hello
Sir.” He flicked the switch on the
kettle and sat down on one of the chairs. Simon followed me into the office and
patted me on the back. “Well done, but
we have to get things recorded before you forget. We’ll start with the mug
shots.”
Over the
next five hours Simon, Lunn and I went over the events of the weekend, careful
notes were taken, mug shots were scrutinized and maps were studied. There was
constant stream of coffee being supplied by one of the office crew.
I told
them of the strange Hunter figure, who never spoke. I recounted all the
practices in training and described all the men I had worked with there. They
were very interested in Noel Dougal.
Then we
went over the events in Derry, addresses and characters. By eleven, my
concentration was flagging.
Lunn
looked at his watch. “Well, that’s enough for now, Simon can you find a bed for
Deery, I don’t want him with the lads.”
Simon
said he would find a spare bed in the mess and as we got up to leave Lunn said,
“Well done Deery.”
“Thank
you Sir.” I could feel myself blushing,
he shook my hand. “Go and get some sleep
and be back here at four, that gives you five hours.” Simon led the way.
We went
down to the cookhouse, which was always busy, men coming in from patrol, men getting ready to
go out on patrol. There was a continuous flow of troops being fed. I had
forgotten that I now looked like a tramp, my hair long, I hadn’t had a proper
shave, sideburns down past the bottom of my ears and my clothes could have done
with a good boil wash. There was also the matter of the dirty bandage on my
head, covering the two stitches on my eye brow.
Simon
walked in and loaded up his plate, I followed a short way behind, feeling a bit
self conscious. Men were looking at me, some of them seemed to half recognise
my face.
“We don’t
serve civvies in here mate.” One of the
cooks, was in one of those moods.
Simon
lent over the counter, “Shut up and serve and don’t ask questions.” The cook put a fried egg on my plate. “Can I
have two?” I held my plate out whilst I
loaded up with beans and a couple of sausages. We sat down at a table in a
corner.
“So who
do you think the Hunter is then?” Simon
opened up the conversation.
“I don’t
know, but he was not the normal run of thugs. I never spoke to him, he always
kept himself to himself and he didn’t come with us to Derry.” I loaded my mouth again.
Simon was
looking into the distance, thinking. “It’s a pity that the Derry thing came up,
you may have found out more had you stayed longer at the farm.”
There was
more silence as we ate and drank our tea.
“What
will happen to the info I’ve given?”
Simon thought for a while.
“We’ll
pick them up one at a time and they will be interned.”
I thought
about this for a while. “I hope it can’t be traced back to me? If you pick up
everybody I come into contact, with it won’t take them long to figure me
out.” I was starting to get nervous and
looked at Simon for reassurance.
“We’re
not that stupid and anyway it takes months to find out their movements, so they
can be lifted.” He wiped the last bit of
sauce off his plate with a piece of bread and popped it in his mouth. “Most of
them will just go on the watch list.”
We walked
back to the quarters and Simon let me have his bed, throwing a sleeping bag at
me.
“I’ll
come and get you at three thirty.” I
went to sleep thinking about everybody I had just fingered, and how deep into
all, this I was getting.
Inside
Lunn’s office, he and Captain Ellis were pouring over the weekend’s work. They
were both coming to the same conclusion, which was that I had got myself into a
position that could have taken years to achieve.
“We must
look after this boy.” Ellis nodded, Lunn
went on, “I want an around the clock watch on his house, with a rapid response team
ready to go in at the first sign of trouble.”
Ellis looked at the notes.
“I see we
have a telephone landline directly to our office and two microphones in the
flat and the Police Station is directly opposite.”
Lunn
thought for a minute. “How do you think
Simon Adders is handling the situation?”
Ellis pushed his glasses to the top of his nose, to give himself time to
consider the question.
“Simon
has a good relationship with Deery and seems to bring the best out of him, but
he does have four other operators to run, but his others haven’t made any
breakthroughs like Deery.”
Lunn made
some notes. “Well ask Simon to
concentrate on Deery, even if it means he has to lose sight of the others
somewhat.”
In Lunn’s
report, which would eventually end up on William Whitelaw’s desk, the good work
being achieved was mentioned, even they were coming from a long way back. There
was a long passage about Agent alpha7, my code name.
I was
awake when Simon came in shortly after three thirty.
“God you
need a bath, mate, it stinks in here. I’ll get you a towel and soap.”
My personal hygiene had slipped quite a bit
over the last few days. I chose to have a bath because of the bandage on my
head, but oh it was nice to lie there in a bath nearly full to the top. Not for
long though, I had to get a move on. I only had five minutes to get to Lunn’s
office. I arrived there still damp.
We went
over the mug shots again. They definitely wanted a picture of the Hunter, he
was the unknown person and part of the story, but either he had no driving
license, or he was not from Ulster. All
driving licenses in Northern Ireland had a photograph, with a copy on file,
which was a great source of intelligence, but try as I might I could not find a
photo of him.
“We want
you to go in the slow lane for while.”
Lunn knew things had been moving too fast, I knew what he meant. “Obviously take your chances while they’re
there but just keep your head down a bit.”
It was good advice and I wanted to slow things down myself. I determined to be as invisible as possible,
and just watch was happening, but I didn’t write the script. I had been in the
press twice recently. I had been the only person to be arrested in Derry on the
day and I didn’t want to be on the fast track. But the script was being changed
all the time.
“How are
you getting back?” Simon thought he was
being helpful.
“How
would anybody lifted by the army get back?”
I looked him in the eye. “Well I suppose they would make their own way
back.” He answered.
“Well
there you go then.” I was slipping back
into my other persona.
It was
nine eleven and there was a bus in sixteen minutes back to Belfast, so I had a
smoke as I walked to the bus stop, it was drizzling but somehow it helped to
clear my head. I didn’t know the driver, which spared me the obligation of
standing at the front of the bus explaining what had been going on.
Tuesday 6th
June 1972.
Stepping
off the bus, about 150 yards away from my flat, the drizzle had turned to rain,
it was just getting dark and I wished I had taken Simon’s offer of a lift home.
I had a sense of foreboding as I approached the corner and saw my front door
was ajar. I didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t wide open, but as I got
nearer I could see the lock was broken. I remembered the army had smashed their
way in to lift me. God that seemed days ago that had happened. I stood at the
bottom of the stairs and listened, no sound, no light. Slowly and with my heart
in my mouth, I went up the stairs. Bravery is doing what you don’t want to do
and I did not want to go up those stairs. I switched on the light in the living
room. The place was a mess and the television was gone. I listened, all was
quiet. I switched on the light in the kitchen, the toaster was gone. The
bedroom was a mess but at least the carpet was still in place. I lifted it and
the floor boards. The phone was still there, good.
“I’m just
checking my phone is still working.” The
duty clerk had answered very quickly. “Is Simon there?”
“No.”
“Well can
you tell him that I have been burgled and I’m still checking out what’s
gone.” The clerk sounded as if he
didn’t give a flying f. about me and my problems.
“Will
do.”
I checked
the flat over, someone had gone through there quickly. It was not too bad,
socks and underwear on the floor. I couldn’t remember how tidy the flat had
been but was sure I hadn’t left them lying around. And then, how much had the
army done. I had the feeling that the T.V. and toaster were enough for the
people who had entered and then a quick exit. Not much use calling the police,
but I could feel my anger rising. I went down and had a look at the lock on the
door. Why did I think the army would have made good, after they had kicked my
door in, most of them would not have known who I was, so why should they? I
went back up stairs to the phone.
“Can I
have Simon now” There was a brief pause while the duty clerk passed the phone
over to Simon.
“Yes.” Simon sounded unconcerned.
“I want
my front door repairing, now.” There was
a pause, I sensed that he would be looking at his watch and thinking things
through.
“Someone
has been through the flat and my TV’s gone. To the best of my knowledge, I
don’t think they found my phone.”
“Can you
wedge the door for tonight?” I could
feel my blood pressure rising. I felt at that moment, that it was just me
putting in all the effort.
“No, get
some handy man from the camp down here, some engineer, anybody who knows how to
fix a door with a new lock.” Now that’s
not the way to talk to an officer, but needs must. I wanted that door fixed
before I went to bed. I had plans for the evening.
“I’ll see
what I can do.” I had to bite my
tongue.
“No
Simon! I want this fixed to night, I’ll be out for an hour.” I slammed the phone down.
It was
still drizzling as I walked around to Johnny’s house. As I was knocking on the
door, I looked up the street; vigilantes were standing on door steps and I knew
I was being watched. The door was opened by Tommy O’Neil; he was a thick set
man, who always wore a tie, but never looked smart, but again, never untidy.
“Come in
boy.” He had a newspaper in his hand.
He was not the type to relax too often, keeping up with the news, was the
nearest he would get to relaxing.
“Johnny,
your mate's here.” O’Neil shouted up
the stairs.
“Who?”
“The
Deery boy.” I could hear Johnny getting dressed.
“Sit
down.” O’Neil pointed to a chair on the
other side of the table to him. This was a big test for me, I was sitting on
the other side of the table of the most powerful man in East Belfast, commander
of ‘C’ Coy and union rep for the bus depot, obviously a man who takes the
rights of the workers seriously. It would be hard to pull the wool over his
eyes. I needed to be on my guard.
“What’s
happening?” It was a simple question,
but it opened up a can of worms for me.
“Well, I
was lifted by the Army, they must have been informed by people in Derry and
while I was answering questions in Holywood, some twat has emptied my
flat.” I looked at him to see how this
had gone down. He pulled on his pipe and thought for a while.
“Did they
take much?” I thought he would have
started his questions with the knock to my head, or what had the Army wanted
with me, or how did the training go, but no, he started with the only thing he
didn’t know about.
“Well the
only things that seem to have gone are the TV and the toaster, but they‘re not
mine, they belong to the landlord.” At this moment Johnny came downstairs.
“What’s
up?” Johnny opened a bottle of beer and
sat down at the table.
“The
bastards have robbed me, my TV’s gone and they’ve been through my house and the
army lifted me for over a day, questions, questions, questions.” There was a silence.
“Johnny,
go and find Spencer, see if he’s seen anything.” I was way down the pecking order from Tommy
O’Neil, but he obviously he felt he had to help this new young lad. Johnny was
not in the mood to go round the streets at this time of the night.
“Get to
fuck, I’m away to my bed.” At this
point Tommy’s voice took on a menacing tone, Spencer was a local fence, selling
a bit of this and a bit of that, and he always knew what was going on in the
area.
“Oh shit,
it’s pissing down.” Johnny clearly
didn’t fancy running around at that time of night. He took another pull on his
beer and slammed the door on his way out. He had been away for no more than
three minutes when he returned with a name.
“Danny
Steele.” Johnny looked at his father,
O’Neil sucked on his pipe.
“Well I
might have guessed, right up his street this one.” Tommy turned to me.
“Do you
want me to have a word?” He didn’t know
what was running through my head. He didn’t know that I was going to make my
mark that night or die. I had a plan.
“Where does
he live?”
“He’s a
tricky feller; he has a lot of family near by. It’s best I sort this one out
for you.” O’Neil sucked his pipe some
more. I turned to Johnny.
“Where
does he live?”
“I’ll
come with you. I’ve had a few run-ins with this twat.” Johnny pulled on his coat and we left the
house, but he first picked up a heavy stick from behind the door.
We didn’t
have to go far, just round into Moira Street, which was close to the bus depot.
We didn’t
knock on the door. The lock didn’t give much resistance, one kick and the door
flew open. We walked into the house, down a small corridor and into the back
room. These were very small houses, two
up and two down. Danny Steele was well named, the house was stacked with stolen
items.
It was a
shambles. There rolls of lead rolled clearly off a roof, old bikes, even the
engine of a motor bike in the corner. Steele had a knife in his hand and his
back to the kitchen door. We hadn’t left him enough time to run into the
kitchen. My TV was on the floor and the
toaster on the table. It only took me moments to spot them.
“What the
fuck do you think you’re up to, you cunt?”
It was Johnny’s way of letting him know we weren’t happy with him.
Danny had
the look of a cornered rat, he was terrified, which made him dangerous. A red
mist came down over me and I’m not too sure what happened next, but according
to Johnny, I pulled the stick out of Johnny’s hand and flew across the room
past him and smashed Danny’s hand, which was holding the knife. He went down
and all in one movement, I had my knee in his Adam’s apple. Two swift punches
to the face finished off Steele. Seconds
later, a woman came running in the room, yelling at the top of her voice. She
went for Johnny, but he had no compunction, he just backhanded the woman to the
ground. I turned back to Steele, who was still on the floor.
“If I see
you in my street again, you’ll be fucked, do you understand?”
This was
a power struggle. I wanted an answer from him and I wanted submission; it was
important that he knew his position in this matter. Steele nodded. He knew he
couldn’t keep out of my street, but he sure would keep out of my way for the
time being, until the tables were turned and he had more fire power than me. I
picked up the TV and told Johnny to get the toaster. We laughed and laughed all
the way back to my flat but as we approached, we could see an army Land Rover
outside my house, with squaddies posted all over the road. We both suddenly
went quiet.
“What’s
happening there?” I got the question in first.
I knew that the army were fixing my door, but I didn’t want Johnny to
find out how much pull I had with the army.
“Put the
toaster on top of the TV and get yourself away.
I’ll see you later.” Johnny
patted me on the back and turned for home. I managed to call out my thanks to
him just before he got round the corner. He gave me a wave and went on his way.
I pushed past the man repairing the door. The
TV was starting to get heavy and I struggled up the last few stairs. I was
really feeling the strain of the last four days and just sat on the sofa with
my eyes shut, till the engineer came up to join me.
“That’s
the best I can do.” He passed me three
shiny new keys on a ring. I went down with him to have a quick look at the job.
It was better than the original; the door appeared to close better than it had
originally.
Before I
went to bed, I lifted the carpet and picked up the phone.
Simon had
been waiting for a call. He wanted to know what had been happening. I told him
the story and Simon sighed.
“What’s
that for?” I said, I could feel his displeasure.
“Well,
don’t you think you should be keeping your head down a bit. You’ve only been
out there for a few weeks and you’ve been in the papers twice, arrested in
front of hundreds, hob-nobbed with IRA leaders, and been on training
courses. Don’t you think that beating up
the local hard man, may be just pushing too far.”
I was silent for a while. I felt as though I
had done something wrong.
“I had to
take my chances.” I said defensively.
“You're
right, and no one has done better, but try to slow down a bit. I worry about
you out there.
I still felt a bit down, as I put the phone
back under the floorboards and replaced the carpet.
But I set
my alarm clock and was soon asleep.
Chapter
11. Tuesday 6th June 1972.
When I
awoke I felt a lot better. I had a shower and a shave and took the bandage off,
carefully cleaning round the wound. It didn’t look too bad and I thought the
fresh air would help it heal more quickly. I nipped down to the Post Office
below for fresh milk, cornflakes and a small jar of coffee.
Sid, the
only Asian man with an Ulster accent, who was also my landlord, had a ready
smile.
“How are
you and how’s the door?” He had heard of
the damage done when it was kicked in by the army.
“Oh the
army had the wrong man, they were looking for someone else, and so they
repaired the door.” I tried to play
last night down.
“And how
is the new job going on the buses.” I
didn’t know whether he was just being nice, or trying to find out if I could
pay the rent, but he said it with a smile.
“Great, I
love it.” I paid, then left Sid to serve
his next customer and got back upstairs.
When I
arrived at work, Kerry was in the office; he was the spare driver, so was just
hanging around until needed.
“Wow,
what’s happened to your head?” I could
see the clerk, waiting to clock me on.
“Just
wait a mo.” I went over to the duty
clerk.
“Clock me
on for one hundred and four duty.” The
clerk gave me my running board for the day and I got my ticket machine out of
the locker. I went back to Kerry.
“I hit my
head on a curb stone.” I didn’t want to
go into it too deeply.
“Were you
pissed?”
“Oh
yes.” When you’re lying, keep it
simple. That’s my motto.
I wanted
to change the subject, so asked him if he’d seen the girls again.
“Oh
yes.” A big smile came across his
face. “I’ve got a date with the pretty
one.”
“They
were both pretty, are you blind?” I
wanted a piece of the action, “When’s your date?”
Kerry
gave a dirty little smile. “This
Friday.” He leant back against the
bench.
I had to
go. “Look I’ll try and catch you later. Let’s make it a foursome.”
He winked
at me.
I saw a
few of the faces of people who were wanted, later that day and I filed the
normal report. A pattern of their movements was emerging.
Chapter
12. Wednesday 14th June 1972.
There was
a knock at my door about that evening. I knew it would be Johnny picking me up
for a game of pool. We’d been playing most Wednesday nights, as well as at
work. I threw on my jacket, as I went down the stairs.
“I fancy
a night at Jenson’s.” Johnny looked at
me to see how this had gone down. I was not sure I liked it at all.
Jenson’s
was the meeting place of the IRA’s local leaders, the atmosphere was deadly. I
didn’t know if I was ready for it, but I knew I could just keep my head down
and play. It would be a good place do some observing.
“Yes
fine.” I tried to put on a smile, but
my heart sank at the thought of the night ahead. It was warm as we strolled
along. The vigilantes were out sitting on their doorsteps and we nodded to a
few of them. Our reputation was growing.
From the
outside of Jenson’s it looked derelict; all the windows were boarded up and
painted brown and the door had galvanized steel screwed onto it. Nobody was
going to break that door down easily.
We
entered, to find it was full. Johnny’s dad was in his usual seat over in the
far corner; a heavy pall of smoke hung in the air.
“I’ll
have a Murphy’s.” According to Johnny, I
was buying the first round. As I waited to get served, I looked in the mirror
behind the bar, to see if I could recognize anybody from the mug shots. But this was not the time to start eyeing
everyone up; they were watching me.
I nudged Johnny and told him to put his name
up for a game. He went and put a penny on the pool table, and then went back
and put another penny down for me.
I had
already picked out two known IRA men from the mug shots. It made me wonder how
they moved around so easily without being picked up by the army, but because
everyone left their doors open, they could duck into any house on the street
and be out of the back door, before the soldiers got anywhere near them. As
well, all the street lights had been vandalised long ago.
“Hi
Da.” Johnny acknowledged his father.
Tommy gave a nod, but clearly, had other things on his mind. I, on the other
hand, was looking around in amazement; it was wall to wall with all the people
you would not like to meet on a dark night, even if there had been no Troubles.
But in these times, they were the people who were doing the business, the
people who craved for and could indulge in violence.
We stood
at the bar drinking slowly, and I started to settle down.
Johnny
was on the table first; he got into a long drawn out tactical battle on the
pool table.
I got the pints in and stood watching from the
end of the bar. I was at this time, trying not to make eye contact with
anybody. Tommy O’Neil waved me over to his table. I picked up my pint and
ambled across.
“How are
you?” I said as I sat down.
“Fine and
you?” he replied.
“Oh my
head's getting better.” Tommy pointed
to the man on his right and introduced him.
“This is
John.” I looked towards him; I knew who
he was, John Anderson bomb maker and bank robber, he provided funds for the
IRA. He could have been anybody’s uncle or brother, the man who does the
plastering or roof repairs, but he was not. He was one of the most ruthless men
operating in East Belfast. He had big strong hands, broad forehead and had not
shaved for a few days. I shook his hand and told him my name; my hands were
damp and weak and I was breaking out in a cold sweat.
“So your
mother lives in Liverpool?” He was
digging into my past.
“Yes, we
did a runner from Belfast when I was about seven, but I never settled over
there, so after I got out of prison, I came back here.” Keep it simple, broad strokes, I thought to
myself.
“What
school did you go to? I’ve got a sister who’s a teacher up there.” John was digging deeper.
“Holy
Child in South Green.” John nodded his head, he knew the school. Johnny came up to the table and gave me a
nudge.
“You’re
on.” He handed me his cue. He had been beaten
and I was on the table. I was so relieved to get out of the line of questioning, but because my mind was not on
the game and my hands were shaking, I was soon beaten and on my way back to the
table. I sat down with Johnny at his father’s table.
“Did you
put your name down again?” I nodded.
“It’s
your round.” I nodded towards the bar.
Johnny went over to the bar. John Anderson had been biding his time to tell me
the news.
“We’ve a
special job for you and Johnny.” I felt
pleased that he was satisfied enough with my cover, to give the job to us.
“Don’t
forget me and Johnny haven’t finished our training.” I was trying to make excuses, but he cut me
short.
“Look
you’ll be able to do the job, but you won’t have enough time to do the buses as
well.” Anderson looked round at Tommy
and then round the pub, to see if anyone was taking any interest in our table,
but they were all getting on with enjoying themselves. He went into his pocket
and pulled out a big roll of five pound notes.
Without counting them, he peeled off about a third and whilst putting
the rest back in his pocket, he gave me the money. I was so surprised; he’d
only just met me. But I wasn’t sure about giving up the buses.
“I can’t
take that.” I hid my hands so I
couldn’t take the money. I looked at Tommy, hoping for some sort of help.
But he
urged me to take it. Tommy was in with
this plan, he knew what was coming, he must have also known what sort of job
Johnny and I were going to be asked to do. How much did Johnny know? At that moment
he came back from the bar. The pints spilt a bit, as he sat down. He must have
expected that I was fully informed, by the time he got back.
“Are you
in?” Johnny had known all along. He
hadn’t come here by chance.
“I don’t
know what the job is yet.” The money
was pushed into my hand; it was almost an acceptance of the job, but what job?
I took a
long slug of my pint, looking into the eyes of Anderson. In another time and
another place this man would not be doing these things, but you don’t get choices
sometimes.
Johnny
jumped in. “We have to look after
ourselves and fight for a united Ireland, Catholics have been held down too
long.” Johnny meant this but he was
also a loose cannon. He was really just looking for adventure in a drab cold
world.
I was
cornered, but also I had to think of what Simon would want me to do. He wanted
people on the inside. I felt he would be shouting for me to accept this, but it
was way past what I was expecting to do.
I put the money in my inside pocket without
counting it, I smiled as though I was happy, and shook the hand of all the men
at the table. I was dancing with the devil.
Johnny
sat quietly at the table, as Anderson explained what was expected of me.
“So,
you’ll look after the gun, make sure that all the exits are clear, and carry
the gun to and from the site. You’ll help to pick the best sites and don’t
forget that for every hit there is a bonus.”
Anderson carried on with his instructions, but my mind had gone numb. In
that pub, round that table, with everyone else enjoying themselves, I was being
give instructions, on how I was going to help a sniper to kill my own comrades.
“You knew
this was coming, didn’t you?” I
challenged Johnny.
“Oh yes,
it’s the best opportunity we’ll ever get.”
He was defiant.
“I don’t
see this as a job opportunity. I don’t see this as a career move. I see this as
getting way out of our depth.” Johnny
had a wild look in his eye.
“We have
to strike back at the people who attack us, we have to look after our own and
if that means the others, get hurt so be it. If you don’t want to get involved,
then you’re not the person I thought you were.” He went back to the pool table.
It gave me a little time to think. I would
never get another chance, to get this far into the IRA and I’d be able to bring
valuable information back; it was just a question of my morals. Could I really
go on active service for the IRA? Could I help to hunt down one my own
kind? I reasoned that if I didn’t do it,
someone else would and then again, it might lead to my gathering much more
intelligence, so it might lead to a quicker defeat of the IRA, an end to
hostilities. My speculations were brought to a halt by Johnny.
“You’re
on.” He stuffed a cue in my hand and
started to set the balls, he had won his last game.
“You’re
not chickening out are you?” He said it
with such fire, such menace, I was reminded what a wildcat he was.
“No,” I
said, “but you have to admit it’s not
every day you get asked to pack your job in and run guns.” He roared with laughter and hit the pool
ball right off the table. Another rebel song came on the jukebox and the beer
started to kick in. As I looked around the pub, I couldn’t believe that I had
come so far, in such a short time.
We
carried on drinking and playing pool, until last orders, and then we staggered
off home, back to our damp little homes.
As soon
as I got in, I went straight up the stairs, into my bedroom and onto the phone.
It was answered immediately.
“Get me
Simon.” There was a short wait.
“Hello?” Simon must have been quite close.
“I’ve got
a lot to tell you, do you want to do it on the phone, or shall I come in?” He was impatient to find out what had been
going on.
“Just
give me a brief outline on the phone. I’ll make a decision after that.” I told him the gist of what had happened. He
asked questions just to confirm certain points.
“So are
you sure it was Anderson?”
“Yes, I
recognized him straight away.”
“And how
much money did he give you?” I still
hadn’t looked, so pulled the money from my pocket. I put the phone down, while
I counted the notes. “Twenty three five pound notes.” I told Simon, leaving him
to work out how much that was.
“A
hundred and fifteen pounds.” Simon
mused, “A month’s wage.”
“I think
you should come in. I want you to look at mug shots and identify all the people
in the bar tonight.”
“How
shall I get in?”
“We’ll
pick you up at the corner of Madrid Street and Tower Street in twenty
minutes.” I looked at my watch.
“Don’t
leave me waiting too long, the vigilantes are always watching.” It was going to be a long night. I slipped
out quietly, crossed the road and passed Mount Pottinger Police Station.
You would
think there wouldn’t be much out there at that time of night, but you would be
wrong. Men were standing on their doorsteps, even though it was cooler by then;
they were fully alert, waiting and watching, all sorts of skulduggery was going
on. People were ready to go on to the streets, at a moment’s notice.
I came
out of the shadows and had walked through the back lanes for the last few
hundred yards. The car was stationary, with its engine slowly ticking over. I
jumped in the back door and rolled down onto the floor. The car pulled away and
I lay there while the car left the city and took the road to Holywood.
“It’s
okay, now you can get up.” With relief,
I recognised the voice.
I sat up
in the back seat, glad to get out from all the fish and chip wrappers and empty
cans of pop, I’d been rolling in on the floor.
“How’s it
going, hippy.” Brian was driving but he
also had Kelly in the passenger’s seat. He was happy not to be sitting in some
hide, doing something more exiting to help to pass the time.
“Oh, I’m
surviving but only just.” I didn’t want
to tell them too much, but I couldn’t think of any reason to hold things back.
“Are you
still on the buses?” Of course, they
wanted to know how I was getting on. They were probably jealous. Even so, I
didn’t think they would want to do the job, if they knew what was really going
on.
“Yes,
fares please ting ting.” I wanted to
create the impression that things were just ticking over and I was going in for
a normal debrief.
“You get
to meet some very nice girls on the job.”
I was trying to keep it all very superficial.
“Oh you
lucky fucker.” Kelly’s imagination went
overboard. “You’ve got your own pad
too, your own spider’s web.” Kelly
looked over the seat at me and grinned.
I thought
that if I asked them about their jobs, they’d leave off any more questions
about mine. “How’s it going on your
jobs?” There was silence, as they both
thought about it. Brian was first to answer.
“Well if
you like sitting in a car, with everyone around knowing just who you are, its
fine.” Kelly was nodding his head in
agreement.
“But
we’ve had our moments.” Brian tried to
make it sound exciting.
“Yes, the
time we walked in on a hold up at a Post Office on Castlereagh Road and the two
stupid arses who were doing the job, only had pick axe handles. We were there
with our Browning. We’d only gone in for a stamp. We managed to pocket fifty
quid each, in reward.” They both burst
out laughing.
We
arrived at the camp in Holywood and as we pulled in through the gates, the
guard gave me a long hard look. I didn’t carry any army ID, but was given the
nod.
Simon was
in the main office, as I walked in.
“Get the
kettle on.” He was smiling, he offered
me his cigarettes and I took one and he lit it. He was in a very good mood. I
looked round, it was busy. I could hear radio operators giving instructions to
units on the ground. There had been some small arms fire heard in the Divis
Flats area, patrols were checking people out on the streets, reports of a
shooting in the Markets area, and a Land rover had broken down along the Falls
Road. There were also reports coming in from static observation posts.
“So
you’ve been into the lions den, you’re trusted then?” I looked around the crowded operation
room. With me living in this cagey
double sided world, I found it hard to open up and tell the story. Simon picked up on this and took me down the
corridor to find an empty room. I was carrying my steaming cup of tea and a
cigarette was hanging out of my mouth. I
was still feeling the effects of the Murphy’s. Ellis’s room was not being used
and we settled down to talk about the new developments, Simon made notes whilst
I looked through the mug shots.
“I saw
him a few days ago in Moira Street.” I
pointed to a photograph of Billy Toolan, Simon leaned over and made a note on
his pad that Toolan used the bus at about eight in the morning to go into town.
He would be picked up at a later date and probably slammed into Long Kesh.
“Do you
know what you’ll be doing in this active unit?” Simon wanted to get information on the job I
had been given.
“All they
said was that we will be carrying a rifle for a gun man and we had to make sure
all the exits were clear. We will be picking the sites, or at least helping to
pick the sites.” I apologised to Simon
that I couldn’t be more specific. At that moment the door opened and Ellis came
in.
“Don’t
stand.” It had never occurred to me to
stand, so it’s a good job he had given us leave to stay seated. He sat down
beside Simon, who gave him a quick update.
“You’ll
have to run with this. It means, you know, that from now on, you have the
responsibility of being our deepest penetration in East Belfast. Tomorrow, hand
your notice in at the bus station.”
I sat forward, “But Sir….” He was ready for this.
“No buts.
I want you on hand there at all times,” he had already thought I would complain
and was ready “I want you to hang around in all the bars and clubs, rub
shoulders with as many as you can. Get your face known, use all the contacts
you have, make as many friends as you can.”
He gave
me a sympathetic look. It doesn’t happen too often in the army.
“The
Police Station over the road from you, has special orders to watch your
flat. If you ever feel the need to pull
out, you can be over the road in a flash and that will be the end of things.”
What
could I say? To pull back from this position, would be a missed opportunity. I
could see that. But why couldn’t it be someone else.
Ellis
jumped up and shook my hand. It helped to let me know, that they realized how
dangerous it was and it helped me to go that one step further. After Ellis had
disappeared, Simon said “Come on, are you hungry?” We went down to the OP’s room.
“Make
sure the transport is back here in fifteen minutes.” Simon gave the order to a radio operator,
pointing at his watch. We strolled down to the cookhouse, and after an early
breakfast or a late supper I jumped into the back of Brian’s car.
“Home
James.” I was feeling in a better mood,
but still apprehensive.
We chit
chatted on the way back to Belfast and it was nice to see them but it did not
take long to get back from Holywood so I was being dropped in a back lane not
far from Mount Pottinger in no time. The house was a bit cold but it did not
take long to get to sleep.
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