Bearings: The Compass Trilogy Part One

by Mr Iain F Johnston

  “Thanks Charlie…”

  Charlie dialled Casement aerodrome and asked for Norman…

  “Norm we need you back here laddie, things are moving. We have two in detention in Germany, the Section Chief, the Section Head and I are travelling over there after Catlin has been interrogated. There is a chopper coming for you at 1400, you should touch down at London City at 1530…”

  “Ok Charlie, there isn’t much going on here. I have the paperwork tying up some loose ends and I think we are fairly certain the car fire was O’Hanlon even without the evidence yet. I’ll be ready…”

  The line died, Charlie hung up… “Sarah, I’ll be back in an hour…”

  Five minutes after Charlie left Robin stepped out of his office into an empty ops room he saw Sarah and walked to the boards…

  “Where are we…?”

  “The Section Chief and Section Head are en route to the farmhouse, Norman is preparing for his return. McQueen and the lilywhite are being detained at RAF Bruggen and O’Hanlon was cooked on the M1 north of Belfast, Oh and Charlie has nipped out to buy a few things for his German trip…”

  “His German trip…?”

  “Yes, he is travelling with Iain and Chris to Bruggen later today to interrogate Backpack. The air transport has all been arranged at Brize sir…”

  “I could have stayed at home… Excellent…! Sarah the Foreign Secretary is popping over at 1600 to discuss Starling and such. I hope you’ll be ready for the briefing…?”

  “Yes sir, Norman will probably be back by then. He can fill in the blanks regarding Stakeholder…”

  “Very well…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  To visitors and onlookers, the Farmhouse was just that, situated on the outskirts of the small village of Stotford, north of Stevenage. The buildings had been used to interrogate political prisoners for twenty years. Surrounded by farmland and with the nearest inhabitants nearly two miles away, these buildings were very much self-contained. A small welfare team including medical staff, security and facilities worked three eight hour shifts. There was always something going on here. The two vehicles were parked inside one of the barns which had a tunnel leading to the farmhouse. Chris and I talked as we walked…

  “Catlin has already proved he’s weak by the level of compromise. Thirteen thousand pounds is not a great deal of money to sell your colleagues and country out for, that’s life changing for all the wrong reasons. I think we can exploit that, Chris…”

  “One thing which worries me…? Why do all this when the Building Society had agreed to lend him the money, they’ve confirmed that… Is there something else…?”

  “What else…? Anything on the wife…? I know she was once known as a bit of a goer, like, but all that stuff seems to be in the past... Grab Steve, we’ll have a coffee first…”

  We were seated in the deserted canteen, three at a table fit for eight in a room that could house forty. Steve pulled up a chair noisily and said…

  “You two don’t know do you…”

  Chris and I looked at each other before I replied…

  “We don’t know what…?

  “I can’t believe that it hasn’t filtered down to you… She made a few mucky movies, hard stuff too with men and women… it was about

  ten years ago now. Box found out and spoke to us and we dealt with it… They stayed together but I don’t know how, I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it….”

  Chris nearly spilt his tea…

  “Jesus…! Why Steve, were they skint or something…?”

  “No, she said she was bored and wanted something a little bit more spicy and always wanted to have ago with a bird… She was quite brazen about it too…”

  I found it unbelievable…

  “Why didn’t the stupid cow just pick up some tart and bring her home when Catlin was working or was it all part of the thrill…?”

  “Must have been… Shit…! I bet PIRA have got a few copies and have threatened to release them, that was why he didn’t go to the society for the money...”

  “Blackmail…? No… The unknown male on the telephone said he went to them… Not the other way around…”

  “Yeah Chris but, they could have got it out there that they had copies, knowing he would compromise himself…”

  “True Steve, but then he should have spoken to us… Pointed the finger at said PIRA bastard and we’ll have done the rest…We would have done something for him…Surely…?”

  Chris had said the final part with a degree of sympathy… I pushed my chair back and stood…

  “Come on; let’s have a chat with him…”

  The room he would be interrogated in was also his cell. It was dingy, very dirty and had a very small window which only offered

  the illusion of light. The thick stone walls hadn’t seen a paint brush since the industrial revolution it seemed and there was a distinct smell of rodent in the air. A metal bed had been bolted to the floor in the far corner and the mattress was a one piece foam affair with a brown blanket and a pillow which you wouldn’t even class as a thin cushion. In the centre of the room was a steel chair and table again both were firmly bolted down… A bare sixty watt bulb hung from the centre of the ceiling… Well, it wasn’t supposed to be the Ritz…

  I started…

  “Rod before we start I need you to be clear on a couple of things. There will be no appealing to my good nature, there will be no empathising and there will be no seeing it from your point of view. I am here to get answers from you any way I see fit. There will be no fag, drink or toilet breaks until you give me what I need…”

  He hadn’t raised his head once. He just continued to look at the floor…

  “Why did you accept the money from PIRA rather than the building society, they’d already agreed to lend you the money…?”

  Silence…

  “Do you know the telephone call you made from the ferry terminal was directly responsible for the death of Starling…?”

  This time it registered with him…

  “I didn’t make any call and Starling got on the ferry didn’t he…? “Ok, we’ll do it this way then…”

  I placed the tape recorder on the table and pressed down on the play button. Rod Catlin’s voice could be heard echoing off the cell walls. I then reached into the brown file and retrieved the photographs of him using the phone…

  “Your conversation informing PIRA of Starling’s presence was relayed to the ship... Starling was murdered in his cabin not six hours later…”

  Now, why did you take their money…?”

  He’d become silent again… Gloves off now, I tried a different method…

  I stood suddenly and explosively, grabbing him around the neck and dragged him to the wall… Continuing to clutch his throat, I raised him until he was on his tiptoes…

  “You need to talk to me you fucking moron… I’ll tie you to that fucking chair and let you watch while I do your missus, just like in the videos you treasonous little twat…!

  “What do you think you can do to me Jordan, eh…? You think those two will sit back while you strangle me…?”

  He had managed to gurgle the words out…

  “Well they aren’t moving are they…? The boss wanted me to bump you, so count yourself lucky… I’m a lot younger and fitter than you Catlin; I can do this all fucking day…”

  I released him, allowing him to drop to the floor as I returned to my chair… Calmly, I began again…

  “Were you trying to protect your estranged wife because they had those videos of her…? We’ve watched them all; she could be a star…”

  Bingo! His head raised and his eyes were blazing… As he tried to stand he responded…

  “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that…!”

  “Really…? I think we should invite her to the next section stag do, she’d go down a storm and probably go down on everyone there too…”

  “Bastard…!”

  He’d reached the chair,
steadied himself, and tried to take a swipe at me although he was too far away…

  “It’s a shame you couldn’t have reacted like this when PIRA came calling… You better start talking Catlin or we’ll have her down here stripped bare and then we’ll have the videos on the fucking Adult Channel…”

  With that final remark I stood, signalled to the others and left the room. Outside Chris touched my arm…

  “Fucking hell gaffer you don’t hold back do you…?”

  “What…? We’ll go back in a few and be nice to him… Take him a brew and a packet of fags. I’ll only start on him again if he doesn’t play nice. We knew where to put the knife and twist when Steve told us about the tapes… As I said he’s weak and besides we haven’t got time for this shit Chris, you said yourself something is brewing…”

  He was clearly seeing a side of me which he thought didn’t exist. Steve looked at me and nodded. We left it ten minutes then returned…

  “Fags and a brew Catlin, now where were we…? Oh yeah, your missus…”

  He stood again and stared at me…

  “Wind yer neck in, I can’t see why you’re doing this anyway even with the money she turfed you out…”

  I lowered my voice before continuing…

  “Rod, you should have spoken to us mate, Steve’s lads had dealt with it before they would have dealt with it again. If you’d pointed the finger, Chris and I would have sorted him for you or you could have done it yourself, we would have held your coat for you…”

  He looked up, defeated and totally dejected, we’d get it now…

  “I just couldn’t take it… The first time was bad enough… I know what you’ll say, “why not just leave her” but I couldn’t… If she hadn’t thrown me out I probably still couldn’t leave her even if she did it again…”

  Chris touched my shoulder to signal it was his turn…

  “They knew that mate, that’s why they targeted you… You’ve lost your wife, lost your job and freedom and she’s got your thirteen grand…It’s the reason why love is a four letter word. If you want payback now’s the time… Tell us who and I guarantee we’ll get the bastards for you…”

  “I can’t, they’ll do my missus…They’ll do my Mary…”

  “Catlin, they’ve left no loose ends on this one. You and your missus were for it anyway at least this way we can stop them…”

  He was weighing that up in his mind slowly, lighting another cigarette…

  “What’s the point, she’s gone and I’ll never see daylight again… Morris, it was Robert Morris. He’d come over from Holland, then take a trip somewhere, then see me and then get back on the Dutch ferry…”

  I stood turned to Steve and said…

  “He’s all yours fella, get someone on his wife too…”

  We got into the car and I dialled the Birdcage number and reached Charlie…

  “We have it Charlie… Robert Morris. He is based in Holland have Sarah speak to the AIVD there is a good chance of movement from that direction now Backpack has the keys…”

  *****.

  The two man team had visited Catlin’s apartment in a new complex in the heart of Hull’s historic docklands. He wasn’t home. They had come up empty handed at the ferry port too. Their orders had been simple; make it look like an accident. He was another loose end who could point fingers…

  In a strange twist of fate Mary Catlin had become more of a problem. The thirteen thousand pounds given to her husband had been counterfeit, it had passed muster in the hands of the teller at the Building Society, but more stringent tests would follow. It wouldn’t take long for the Metropolitan Police Fraud Squad to connect it to their deposit account… She had withdrawn two thousand pounds; she wanted an expensive holiday and had set her mind on Diamonds in the Maldives, a Thudufushi Beach water villa to be precise. She had of course decided that a new wardrobe would be essential too…

  Mary Catlin stood to the right of the glass bus shelters on Tindal Street in the centre of Chelmsford. She was hoping to flag a taxi however the one way system was always very busy as the streets junction with Bellmead was a notorious bottleneck… After a few minutes she decided to walk toward the River Can where traffic would be lighter…

  The cyclist had travelled a circuitous route riding up the pedestrianized High Street before making a U turn at the Market Street junction to head down Tindal Street… Bicycle couriers were now a common sight in the city of Chelmsford. The delivery companies had been encouraged by local government to employ them, no one gave them a second look which was an ideal cover for a group like PIRA… The rider would be away toward the Parkway duel carriageway and in to a waiting Fiat van before any Police would be in attendance…

  The front parcel box attached to the handlebars of the mountain bike held one item only, a self-cocking Cobra tactical crossbow. Weighing less than 800gms and only measuring 45cm X 15cm it was an ideal alternative weapon to an automatic pistol… It was also formidable, capable of firing a bolt up to 160ft per second or 110mph over 90 metres…

  The rider spotted the target, flipping the parcel box catches as he weaved through the stationary traffic. As she stopped to look over her shoulder the crossbow bolt entered upwards puncturing her right cheek, the velocity was such that it continued to forge its way upward exiting through the top of her skull and penetrating the adjacent shop door frame…

  Mary Catlin’s body acted like a plug had been pulled. There were no ballistic body movements as such, just head jerking as she dropped to the floor…By the time fellow shoppers had noticed, the cyclist was gone, continuing to weave his way through the traffic to the waiting van. Within four minutes the three occupants had turned left in the direction of Yeomanry Way toward the A12…

  Chris and I had just entered Waltham Cross when I received the call…

  “Section Chief…”

  “Chief…? It’s Steve, we were too late…” “Too late for what…?”

  “Too late putting cover on Mary Catlin… She was killed in Chelmsford about half an hour ago. We also think a couple of PIRA have been looking for her husband too. Two men were seen at his apartment door this morning…”

  “Ok Steve… Don’t tell Catlin until you have moved him to Paddington Green, who knows what he’ll do…”

  “Yeah got that Chief, I’ll give you the full story when you touch base…”

  With that the phone was dead, I turned to Chris… “Catlin’s Mrs was killed in Chelmsford at 1530…”

  Chris shook his head before replying…

  “Christ how deep is this…? What have we stumbled onto…? This isn’t about McQueen securing a safe house while visiting her sister, that’s a very tiny piece in a massively growing jigsaw… Something huge is being planned, so huge that no one involved is being left around when their part is done…

  You know what else is worrying…? We know nothing of the one’s involved so far, they’ve all been lilywhites, unknowns who can be easily removed when their job is done too…

  The RUC are going over all of O’Hanlon’s books and paperwork found in both houses. They had mentioned that there had recently been a fire in an oil drum at the rear of the Glenveagh property; I think we can guess what he was destroying… We’ve been too long looking the other way… PIRA have gathered and created active service units under our very noses as the Suits in Whitehall have been having their skirts lifted by Sin Fein. We have no idea how many times Morris has been back and forth or the whereabouts of Harraghy or Crown. We are miles away from sussing this one…”

  I had to agree with him. As we dug, the deeper their operation was looking and the wider our net was becoming. We needed more manpower…

  “Steve has been pushing for SO12 to concentrate on the movements of three known PIRA members living in a house in Chiswick. So far nothing, they’ve been as good as gold…”

  We sat in silence until the car reached the Birdcage. We had arrived just as Norman was opening the door. Once in our offices I let Robin know there
would be an updated walkthrough in fifteen minutes which would include the Foreign and now the Home Secretaries…

  We all congregated around the boards. It was clear that I would be flying this one solo…

  “Gentlemen, so far in the last twenty four hours we have seen an escalation in PIRA activity here as well as Ireland and Europe…

  Declan O’Hanlon; codenamed Stakeholder, a bookmaker from Newtownards was killed in his car just north of Dublin. We believe he was fleeing Northern Ireland as he feared for his life… We also believe he was laundering money through his bookmakers for a new PIRA offensive in the UK and once his role was complete his time had ran out…”

  I allowed the final part of this statement to register before continuing…

  “Angela McQueen; codenamed Backpack has once again travelled from Northern Ireland to Europe. She had stopped in the Belgian city of Genk to complete the rental details for a property in the suburb of Bokrijk. This property we believe is to be used as a safe house and storage depot for future PIRA activities…”