by David Costa
Reece brought them up to date with the intelligence he’d received from Mary. ‘We don’t know the numbers, exactly who they are, or even how they intend to carry out the attack, but we do know the lead terrorist is an Irishman called Sean Costello originally from South Armagh. We have old photos of him which I’ll have distributed to you. We have border agencies checking for arrivals and CCTV from Ireland. We will also be checking the CCTV around the area of the Conference. The photo and the information aren’t for distribution to the press at this time. Geoff, I’ll send the rest of my team to meet with you guys later so that you’re all familiar with each other. We will be out on the ground getting to know the area around the Conference and I recommend you do the same but keep it low key. If these people are already in the area, they’ll be switched on and on the lookout for anything out of place and could potentially know some of our surveillance techniques.’
‘We can make the Conference zone airtight,’ said Lockwood.
‘I know, but that would do two things: Alert the press and spook the terrorists. That’s why the PM has rejected any such overkill in security measures. His own security detail will be aware of a threat increase but nothing more specific than that. Our job is to find these people and stop them before they even get close to him. I’ll keep you all updated on any new intelligence we receive, of course. Our communications will be filtered through London and here. Don’t underestimate these people. They are determined and more than experienced in what they do, our job is to stop them.’
‘Mr Reece,’ said Lockwood. ‘Please give your team members one of these.’
He handed Reece black armbands with the word Police in large white letters written on them.
‘They won’t protect you from bullets but in a confusing situation they might just save your life.’
‘Thank you. May I suggest we meet back here tomorrow at 1800 for any updates? If there’re any questions I’ll try to answer them?’
No one spoke. Reece knew from experience that the CQB team would spend their time checking equipment, comms, and maps, getting to know the targets and the target area. Questions would come later if they needed to know more.
‘Just one more thing, Mr Reece,’ said Lockwood. ‘All this interagency stuff in such a small area worries me. My central command room is in the city and yours is here. I don’t want us all shooting at each other by mistake.’
‘As I’ve already said, Commander, I am in total control of this operation. Everyone will be told what they need to know and if I want people to stay out of our way they stay out of our way. I will, however, let you send one or two officers from your communications team to work here and they can keep you up to date with anything I see fit. The operation code name is Longshot. If that word goes out over your network, everyone should be aware that Special Forces are on the ground and they’re to hold fast and wait for my instructions.’
‘I’m happy with that. Here, you better have these as well.’
Lockwood handed Reece two key fobs.
‘There are two black, unmarked, Range Rovers fully fuelled and ready to go outside for you and your team.’
‘Many thanks, sir, now we can get out and about right away.’
‘I must warn you, Mr Reece, my men will be especially alert anyway so please ensure that your people don’t bring themselves to their attention unnecessarily. Your organisation is unknown to us. London told me not to ask questions, throwing the Official Secrets Act at me, so I’m not asking any questions. I’m just going to assume that you’re part of the Security or Secret Service. I’m not happy. I don’t like secret soldiers in the middle of my operation and I told them so. But there it is, I’ve been told I have to accept it. I only ask that you keep me informed and in the loop as much as possible.’
‘You don’t have to worry about anything that’s my job, just do what I tell you and we’ll all get along nicely.’
Lockwood looked shocked at being spoken to this way but decided not to make an issue of it. He turned left.
Reece knew Lockwood wanted to know who Reece and his people belonged to. Lockwood didn’t need to know, nor would he ever know who SG9 and the Department really were. The MI5 cards were for such an occasion; giving Reece and his team the freedom of movement they needed. Anyway, the names on the cards were false though the cards genuine, a gift from MI5 to Jim Broad for use in just such an operation.
‘Geoff, are your team familiar with the general area of the operation and how to get there quickly?’
‘Yes. From the maps and aerial photographs, but the city roads can be busy at times, so we’ll be out in vehicles at different times checking routes and traffic. We have the Puma on standby, so we can rope down if needs be and the Commander has allocated us a room in the Conference building itself where I’ll move some of the team when the PM is in the city.’
‘Good, I’ll have one of my team to come in and establish comms links. Now, we’ll get out on the ground ourselves then I’ll get back to you later.’
Reece went back to the SG9 team who were now settled into their section of the hanger. They were sitting round the small table where he joined them. After bringing them up to date on his discussion with Lockwood and the SAS team he told them what was next.
‘Right, let’s get out and see the lay of the land. April, you’re with me for now. Joe and Steve, you take the other Range Rover. First stop for me is a decent coffee shop, I need a fix. Joe, can you link all our comms before you go, including through London?’
‘Not a problem,’ said Joe.
The mobile phone in Reece’s pocket came to life. Looking at the screen he saw Mike.
‘I have to take this,’ he said as he walked outside the hanger putting the phone to his ear. As he pressed the answer button, his heart raced a little.
‘Hello!’
‘Oh, Joseph, I’m glad I got you.’
‘I told you, I’m always free for you.’
‘I’m in Belfast and I’m hoping to catch-up with Kevin O’Hagan. I have a few questions I need to ask him. In the meantime, I needed to bring you up to speed with something I’ve just found out.’
Reece listened as Mary continued to speak, telling him of her trip to Newry and her conversation with Maguire. Reece, like Mary, was concerned about Costello having a face change.
‘That’s very interesting. Do you think O’Hagan will know more?’
‘Possibly, it’s worth a try, you never know.’
‘OK, but be careful, don’t put yourself in any danger.’
‘I didn’t know you cared.’
‘You know I care, Mary, maybe more than you think.’
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone before she spoke again.
‘I care about you too, Joseph, maybe more than you think.’
His heart took that wee jump again and his mouth was dry all of a sudden.
‘Well, just be careful. Call me back when you catch-up with O’Hagan.’
‘I will do, bye.’
Reece stood for a couple of minutes after the click ending the call. His mind was racing through all the times he’d been with Mary McAuley. He knew he was trying to be professional, trying hard to keep her at arm’s length, but even without seeing her or hearing her voice he knew she’d found her way into his soul and he didn’t want her to leave.
Chapter Twenty-four
Mary McAuley was having similar thoughts. She’d wanted to hear his voice and see his smile, but for now that would have to wait, she had to find Kevin O’Hagan.
It turned out to be easier than she thought. When she called his number, he answered at once and informed her he was in the Belfast City centre shopping. They arranged to meet at the Castle Shopping Arcade in the Starbucks Coffee shop in one hour. This gave her time to get home and change into something a little more casual. Unlike with Paddy Maguire, this would be more business than seduction, so the clothes would reflect that. A dark blue trouser suit with a white blouse and now that the Belfast sk
y had turned grey, a casual, lightweight, waterproof jacket.
She found O’Hagan already sitting at a table, ordered a latte, and sat facing him.
‘What’s happening Mary?’
‘I’ve just been down to Newry for a bit of shopping and a catch-up with old friends. What one of them told me confirms what you were thinking. Sean Costello is definitely up to something big.’
‘What did you hear?’
Mary told him of her conversation with Maguire and the concern she had over what she’d heard.
‘Costello’s up to something, I just know it.’
‘I agree. It’s what we suspected. Our people in South Armagh say he cleared a hide and got in some sniper practice. The talk is that he’s up to something big but not on Irish soil as he’s completely disappeared.’
‘Maybe he knows better, Kevin, and he’s lying low.’
‘Whatever it is, if I know Costello, he won’t stop until somebody stops him. He won’t listen to reasoned argument. Either way, he’s determined to be a hero, dead or alive.’
‘My worry is that he destroys any good work the Peace Process has brought about.’
‘One thing I can assure you about, is that the people at the top won’t let that happen. Nothing will get in the way of that. Mr Costello is already a dead man. If the Brits or someone else don’t get him, we will. Look what happened to Eamon Collins.’
Mary remembered Collins only too well. He was another bastard who deserved what he got. Collins was a British Customs Officer living in Newry during the Troubles. At the same time, he was also operating as a Provisional IRA Intelligence Officer for the area. During his time, he’d set up many off-duty security forces for gun and bomb attacks, assassination but realistically plain murder. They were easy targets shot in front of their friends and families.
This had been one of the reasons she’d decided to help Joseph.
Collins used his cover as a Customs Officer to allow him easy access back and forth across the many border roads. Then, like many others, he came to the notice of Special Branch and was arrested. He broke under interrogation, spilling the beans on not only his own involvement and actions but naming many of his PIRA friends, leading to widespread arrests. Eventually Collins had withdrawn the statements that had made him a super-grass saying they were made under duress. The judge hearing the trial believed him and set him free. Following his release and the collapse of the case against him, all those he’d named also walked free. Collins was ordered by the IRA to leave the country and to go into exile on pain of death for his betrayal and was warned never to return. But Collins was arrogant and believed his past work for the cause would be enough to allow him to return from America where he’d been living. He returned to the family home in Newry after writing a tell-all book and taking part in a TV documentary about his days in the IRA. But he was wrong to think he was safe or would be forgiven. The IRA, especially the PROVOs, he’d worked with in South Armagh didn’t want to forgive or forget. One day, while Collins was out jogging near his home, he met with some of his old comrades who gave him a beating before plunging a large knife into his brain. Thus, all traitors of the cause meet their end. Mary knew the risks she took, but she took the risks to save lives unlike Eamon Collins who lived to take lives, even innocent ones.
‘I remember Collins all right. He deserved everything he got. I just thought you needed to know what I’ve heard as soon as possible.’
‘I know, and thanks for that. If you hear anything else about Costello, give me a call. Now, I must dash. The wife’s expecting me to meet her at Primark to help her spend more money. Don’t worry too much about Mr Costello, his days are numbered.’
‘Sure, Kevin, see you soon.’ She smiled.
When O’Hagan had left, she took her time to finish her latte, making up her mind what to do next. She realised that she’d taken the mobile phone out of her bag and had been holding it for some time. Her subconscious mind had already been telling her what her next step would be. Pressing the buttons, she sent a text to Joseph.
Need to meet, can come to you
A message came back almost immediately.
Can you get to Manchester? Can pick you up?
On my way, will phone you when boarding
Next stop Manchester and Joseph, she thought.
Chapter Twenty-five
The Hilton Hotel in Manchester is just like Hilton hotels the world over, clean, efficient, spacious, comfortable rooms, good staff, and pricier than they should be. The one on Deansgate filled the skyline of the city from miles around. Some would say it was ugly and not sympathetic to other architecture in the area like the Town Hall and Library in St Peters Square, but they were far enough away from the hotel not to matter. One of its main features was Cloud 23 the Cocktail Bar on the twenty-third floor with views of the city from the windows on the forty-seventh floor. With an indoor pool and fitness suite, Costello knew this would be the ideal place to relax while preparing for the task ahead.
After booking in, he found that his corner room on the forty second floor gave him the view he’d hoped for. From the window he could see through his binoculars the rear of the Midland Hotel and the top of the Conference Centre. What he could see only confirmed what he’d originally thought on his ground recce. The wind, the distance, and angle would all combine to make a shot from the Hilton almost impossible and therefore too risky if he was to be successful.
Chapter Twenty-six
Manchester was still in one of those autumn moods with bursts of warm sunshine in between the showers of rain. The temperature this time of year still wasn’t cold enough for a heavy coat so jeans and a light sweater under her green Barbour jacket covered all the points needed. Deansgate always seemed to have a gale force wind blowing down it but once you entered any of the side streets or squares, this died down and it could be pleasant again. She met Mohammad in a café that looked across the square at The Great Northern Tower Apartments.
The great thing about cities everywhere, she thought, was that no one pays attention to anyone else anymore. They are all lost in their own little worlds. They either had their heads down stuck in a screen or in deep conversation with someone else to the total exclusion to everything going on around them. Lyndsey was sure that this must make it very difficult for someone involved in surveillance. To blend in they would have to make themselves invisible to the people they were following. She supposed it could work the other way if she showed she was looking for surveillance following her and not blending in with the crowd making them aware she was being aware. It was a strange and dangerous game that the fox and hounds played out. One she’d played out on two continents coming close to capture occasionally and having to shoot one of the hounds when she was cornered in Mombasa. That was why her shoulder bag felt a little heavier. The .38 pistol added the extra weight but made her feel more secure. For now, she was sure there were no hounds.
‘As you can see from here,’ said Mohammad over his coffee, ‘the security for the apartments starts at the main entrance door with push button access. I’ve checked the square and there doesn’t seem to be any CCTV coverage of the door. I passed by the door earlier and there appears to be a camera inside covering the entrance. I think that’s so the people inside can see who has buzzed their apartment allowing them to buzz anyone in.’
‘While we’ve been sitting here, I’ve seen a few people coming and going,’ said Lyndsey. ‘How do we get in there when the time comes?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. I would suggest I knock on a few doors advertising my agency and hopefully I’ll get inside one for a look around. I would pay special attention to the apartments where we’d like the operation to go down from.’
‘It sounds easy enough but what about your exposure, your face, your business card?’
‘Don’t worry, my days here are numbered anyway and this operation will be the one to expose all our comrades whether they like it or not. We will shake their foundations so deeply they
would find me, so it’s home to Tehran and my family.’
‘Worst-case scenario, we go in the night before and take over the apartment and wait. All we’d need is two people: Sean and one other.’
‘It would have to be me. With my agency credentials, I would be able to give Sean the cover he needs to get in.’
‘No, we need you in the Midland and the Conference area, inside the security cordon. You can update Sean when the Prime Minister and his detail are moving towards the target area. There’s no photo on your business card so Imtaz can pretend to be you and go in with Sean the night before.’
‘What about you and Waheed, what will you be doing?’
‘Don’t worry I’ve been thinking about that, let’s just say I have a contingency plan which I’ll explain when we next meet up. Right now, I’ll finish my coffee, have another walk around, and meet Sean for a cocktail. You keep looking for ways to get us in that building. The easier the better, but no matter what we’ll be in there and ready.’
Not for the first time was Mohammad impressed by this woman. Her determination, her coolness, her total commitment to the cause and the task at hand. He had no doubt she was ruthless; ruthless enough to kill anyone who got in the way.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Costello sipped his Tom Collins, the gin refreshing. To his surprise, Lyndsey had settled for a fresh orange juice with plenty of ice. From where they sat next to the window, they had a panoramic view of the city at night. The drink added to the whole feeling of calm. Lyndsey had even smiled once or twice, something he couldn’t remember seeing from her for a long time. Maybe she was starting to feel more relaxed.
‘I’m glad I got here early enough to get the full lie of the land before they sealed it off.’
