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.
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