by David Lowe
‘OK, but I won’t be with Steve. I’ll come down with one of the other lads I’m working with. Are you OK with that?’
‘Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. You’ve always been a good friend and you do a good job, don’t forget that. I trust you. Whatever happens in the future, remember old Jimmy sees the value in what you do,’ and Jimmy abruptly terminated the call.
David put his phone back into his chino’s pocket and told Gary Baker about the call, ‘. . . he’s a top informer so if it’s alright with you I’ll take Tony and nip up to Salford. We won’t be long. I reckon we’ll be back in just over two hours.’
‘If he gives you something to help on this operation, it’ll be worth the trip,’ Gary said, ‘and don’t rush, take as long as you like to get it done. We’ll be fine here.’
* * *
With no current intelligence to work on, Debbie was on her own playing a card game on the computer in Alec Harvey’s office waiting for George who was being interviewed by Professional Standards at Cheshire’s headquarters on the floor above the ISB department’s suite of offices. As McCullagh was still in his office, Debbie decided to wait until George returned before going back to the hotel to catch up on some sleep. As playing the game was only making her feel even more sleepy, she went onto the Internet to see what was on e-Bay when there was a gentle knock on the door. ‘Come in George,’ she said keeping her eyes on the computer screen.
As the door opened, a familiar Irish accent said, ‘It’s not George, it’s me.’
Debbie looked up, and saw DI McCullagh enter the office. ‘I’m sorry about what happened earlier this morning,’ he said standing on the opposite side of the desk to Debbie, ‘I’ve just heard what happened to David’s sister last night. It was wrong of me to sound off at him.’
‘That’s alright, you weren’t to know,’ Debbie said seeing through the contrition the DI was displaying, ‘With everything that’s going on we’re all tired and that makes us all that bit more tetchy. What can I do for you Michael?’
‘It’s like a ghost ship in the office with everyone out and about. If you’re not too busy, I was wondering if you could give me a lift into the city centre. I’ve just received a call from the Grosvenor. They’ve got a temporary security manager starting today as the regular one broke his leg playing five-a side football last night. It’s the last thing I need right now, but I’ve got to go through the plans with him for next Tuesday’s visit. If you’ve got a few minutes, I’d really appreciate it if you could run me up there.’ He looked at the computer screen and added, ‘Doing a bit of Internet shopping?’
‘I’m just killing time until George finishes with Professional Standards,’ Debbie said, willing George to return and help with the dilemma she found herself in.
‘If you’re in the middle of purchasing something I’ll understand if you can’t drop me off, but it’ll only take ten minutes or so.’
Knowing there was no good reason to refuse him, she could do with McCullagh remaining in his office until George joined her so they could arrest him. Thinking how it was only a short trip in the car to take him to the Grosvenor she knew he would be there for at least an hour. This would allow her to stay close by and get George to meet her after he had finished with Professional Standards. Not wanting to give him any cause for suspecting they were onto him, picking up her mobile phone off the desk she stood up and said, ‘Yes sure. I take it you want to go right now?’
‘If you could, that would be great.’
Walking through the main office, McCullagh said, ‘Where’s David? I’d like to apologise in person to him for my behaviour this morning.’
‘He’s still out and about somewhere with Gary’s team,’ Debbie said not wanting to reveal too much.
‘That’s funny,’ he said opening the main ISB office entrance door for Debbie, ‘I’ve just spoken to Gary and he said he’d gone off on an errand.’
Debbie walked out onto the main corridor and said, ‘That’s news to me.’
‘Gary said something about him having to go off to Salford,’ McCullagh said as they made their way out of the main entrance to Cheshire’s headquarters, ‘They must be making some progress on finding the outstanding targets on our patch.’
Debbie knew David was on his way to Salford as he phoned her earlier to say that Jimmy O’Leary had called to arrange a meet with him. She also knew David instructed Gary and his team not to give any details, no matter how slight to anyone else in the office, including DI McCullagh. Pointing to her black Saab convertible parked close to the main entrance, Debbie said, ‘This is the car.’
McCullagh walked to the front passenger door and waited for Debbie to unlock the car. ‘Nice motor. MI5 must have a healthy budget to afford cars like this?’
‘It’s mine, not the firm’s,’ she said getting into the driver’s seat.
‘Thanks again for this,’ McCullagh said as he got into the passenger seat next to her.
* * *
Driving onto the car park at the apartment block of Salford Quays, David saw marked police vehicles parked outside with a uniform police officer unravelling crime scene tape to the entrance of the flats. ‘I hope it’s got nothing to do with Jimmy,’ he said to Tony. Driving up to one of the marked police vans, David stopped the car and switched off the engine. As both the officers got out of the car, David got that dreaded feeling something had happened not just to his informant but to an old friend. Walking up to the uniform officer standing at the communal entrance he produced his warrant card and said, ‘DS David Hurst, GMP Special Branch. What’s happened?’
‘I was told to expect you. DCI Johnson is upstairs at the flat where we found a body . . .’
‘It’s not Jimmy O’Leary is it?’ David asked.
‘It is,’ the young officer said, who looking at her young features and the smartness of her uniform, David thought must still be in her probationary period. ‘DCI Johnson was trying to call you earlier, but he got no answer. He told me to tell you that when you arrived, you’re to go to straight up to the flat.’
‘Thanks. What’s your name?’ David asked, as the officer was writing down the fact he was entering the flat on the crime scene log.
‘Alison.’
‘Thanks Alison. Tony, you go back to the car and raise Gary. Tell him my informant’s been murdered and that we might be a little longer than we expected,’ David said. Running up two steps at a time up the stairwell, he took his phone out of his pocket to see the battery had gone dead. ‘Shit,’ he thought, ‘I forgot to charge it up last night.’
Walking out of the stairwell onto the landing, he saw DCI Tim Johnson standing outside the entrance to the flat. On seeing David, he walked up to meet him. ‘David, I’m sorry. I know Jimmy was an old friend.’
‘It’s gut wrenching Tim. I’m sorry you couldn’t reach me. The battery’s gone on my phone. I forgot to charge it up last night.’
‘I knew it would be something, it’s not like you to ignore calls.’
‘What happened?’ David asked, hoping Jimmy did not suffer.
As the two officers walked towards the flat, Tim said, ‘The forensic pathologist thinks he was on his knees when he was shot through the back of the head.’
‘That’s an IRA style assassination,’ David said entering the hallway of the flat.
‘It looks like it,’ Tim said, ‘but that’s not all. Whoever did it left a piece of paper on his body that said “Special Branch DS Hurst’s Tout”. Not only do we have an IRA style assassination, by using the term “tout” and not grass and the likes, we also have their term for an informant. That points to someone from this Real IRA investigation you’re on and I think it’s someone who’s ex-PIRA who did it. We’ve already bagged the note, so I’m afraid you can’t see it.’
As they walked into the living room, David looked down and saw
Jimmy’s body lying on the floor with a large part of the back of his head missing. David paused for a moment as he looked around the room at the blood splattered patterns on the walls.
‘Messy isn’t it?’ Tim said, ‘it was a double tap to the back of the head.’
‘And it’s worse when it’s someone you know,’ David said as tears started to well in his eyes. Gathering his emotions together, he said, ‘As I walked in, there didn’t seem to be any sign of a forced entry?’
‘There’s not, so we’re assuming Jimmy knew whoever it was that killed him. We got the call about forty minutes ago. The neighbour in the flat above heard the gunshots and called the police. Although she wouldn’t be pinned down, the forensic pathologist reckons that would have been around the time when he died.’
Staring blankly at Tim, David said nothing for a moment. ‘The bastards! It was just over forty minutes ago when Jimmy called me. He said he was at Reilly’s in the city centre. He always went there on a Sunday afternoon to meet the other Irish ex-pats for a pint. There’s no way he could’ve got to the flat from the time he made the call to me, to when he got shot. He must have been here all the time.’
‘That’s important. What did he say?’ Tim asked.
‘He said he had to see me urgently as he had news about what’s going down with the Real IRA targets we’re dealing with and he said he was having a ciggie outside Reilly’s and that I was to meet him here at the flat. There was something else. Jimmy’s always been full of the old Blarney, but he went on about how he saw me as a good friend and how he valued what I did, as well as the fact he trusted me. It was how he said it that had me thinking, it was in a real sentimental way and then he abruptly ended the call. That’s not like him. He’s not sentimental at all and he always says good-bye along with some smart arsed comment. This time he didn’t.’ David paused for moment. He looked at Jimmy’s body, picturing what Jimmy’s last moments must have been like.
‘A penny for them,’ Tim said, ‘What are you thinking?’
‘It’s a fucking set up. They got Jimmy to call me so I would be out of the way in Chester. They’re up to something and that something’s happening right now. I reckon it’s also a warning. That’s what Jimmy must have meant when he said I had to watch my back.’
‘Seeing O’Byrne escaped from hospital a few hours ago, it could have been him that killed Jimmy?’
‘He’s what?’ David exclaimed, not believing what he had just heard.
‘Didn’t you know?’
‘No,’ David said shocked at hearing this.
‘As the Branch officers outside O’Byrne side room went to the toilet, he whacked the other Branch officer sitting by his bed, took his clothes, wallet, mobile phone and warrant card and ran off through the fire escape.’
‘When was this?’
‘Around half eleven this morning apparently.’
David looked at his watch. It was half past two. ‘It could have been him. He would’ve had enough time to steal a car and drive over from Liverpool, but the question is how did he know Jimmy was my snout? I suggest you get some of our lot down to Reilly’s straight away and question all the Irish punters in there. I’m with one of the Cheshire lads and we’d be more than happy to help,’ David said hoping the DCI would agree.
‘As you’ve a personal involvement in this death, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Apart from that, you’re needed back in Chester,. You could be right, it was a ruse to get you over here so you’re out of the way with what they plan to do next.’
‘I’ll make my way back to Chester now,’ David said as it dawned him that McCullagh was still in the Branch office in Chester with Debbie and George.
Chapter Thirty
Car Park outside Cheshire
Police Headquarters, 14.30,
Sunday, 7th July
As Debbie put the key in the ignition, she felt something push against her ribs. Looking down she saw McCullagh had a 0.38 revolver pointed at her. ‘Don’t fuck me about and do what I say,’ he said, ‘slowly, hand me your pistol.’
Debbie reached between her suit jacket and blouse where her 0.22 automatic pistol was in its holster. Holding the butt with the thumb and index finger, slowly she took it out of the holster and handed the weapon over to McCullagh, who put it in the foot-well of the front passenger seat. Praying for someone to pass by, especially George she said, ‘So you know that we know what you’ve been doing.’
‘What do you know that I’ve been doing?’ McCullagh asked.
‘That you’ve passed on intelligence reports to the IRA during your time in Special Branch.’
‘Well done. It’s only taken you bastards around twenty years to find out. I’m a proud Irishman. When I was eighteen, I got a job on my uncle’s farm in Enniskillen. That’s when I joined the Provisional’s. Being an unknown boy from the south with no criminal record, my brigade commander decided I’d be more useful if I joined the police in England. Being a small country force, Cheshire seemed a good choice and I worked my arse off to get into the CID so I could join Special Branch. Coming from Ireland they snapped me up for undercover work on the Provo’s. What they didn’t know I was working undercover for them.’
‘When did you realise we were onto you?’ Debbie asked, her mind working on how she could get out of this situation alive.
‘I was wondering why you were still in the office. I knew you’ve been up all night and hadn’t had any sleep. I also knew DI Byrne was tied up with Alec’s death and you’ve no role in that. As the rest of the team are out, including your boyfriend, it dawned on me why you were still there. Knowing three of the boys were arrested in Liverpool last night, I had a feeling your suspicions would’ve been confirmed by one of the three telling you something when they got interviewed. Knowing Danny and Rory wouldn’t talk, I realised the weak link was Michael Pickup. I put myself in his position. If I was arrested and questioned in relation to acts of terrorism and my criminal past was only being a simple tealeaf, I’d shit myself. I’d deny anything to do with terrorism and tell you what I knew. I can’t take the risk what the other two told Pickup about me before they got arrested so I need some insurance and you’re it. When I called into Alec’s room and saw you on e-Bay, I knew you were killing time waiting for George Byrne to return. That’s not what someone does when they’ve nothing to do for a few hours and they’ve had no sleep’
‘I’m impressed.’
‘We haven’t got much time,’ McCullagh snapped back impatiently, ‘Get your mobile, switch it off and hand it to me.’
Taking the phone out of the driver’s door compartment, she did as McCullagh requested. Handing it over to him, she said, ‘I see you’re taking no chances.’
Snatching the phone off Debbie he said, ‘Mine’s switched off too, so they can’t triangulate our position and we won’t be using the fancy sat-nav you’ve got in your car either. Has the car got a tracker?’
‘No’
‘Good and I hope for your sake you’re telling me the truth. Switch the engine on and head for the A55. We’re going for a little drive in the Welsh countryside and no-one will know where we are.’
* * *
Driving back to Chester, David got Tony to put his mobile phone on the speaker system in the car and he called George. ‘George, its David Hurst. Are you still with Debbie or has she turned in for the day?’
‘No. After I finished with Professional Standards I went to Alec’s office where she was supposed to wait for me and she wasn’t there. Before I go on, is it safe to speak?’
Giving the phrase he used to confirm it was safe, he said, ‘It was Norman Whiteside who stopped Everton getting the treble in 1985.’
‘Now just stay calm with what I’m going to tell you, I don’t want you going off the deep end.’
‘What the fuck’s going on George?’ David said recognising the tone
in George’s voice that something bad had happened. Taking his foot off the accelerator and steering the car to the first lane he said, ‘Go on George, I’m still driving but I’ve slowed down. What’s happened?’
‘McCullagh’s the mole. With Debbie, I was going to arrest him after I finished with Professional Standards. As she wasn’t in Alec’s office, I asked if anyone had seen her. The only one who saw her was the security guard at the entrance to Cheshire’s Headquarters. She was with McCullagh and he watched them, get into her car. He said they had a brief chat before they set off. Her mobile’s switched off and she’s not answering her radio. On top of that her sat-nav’s also switched off, so we can’t find her position.’
‘Shit! I reckon he’s worked out you’ve found out he’s the mole and he’s on his toes. He’s probably conned her into taking him somewhere. Something’s not right. With Debbie’s poor sense of direction, she never switches the sat-nav off. McCullagh’s playing clever, making it hard for us to find them.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m on the M53 just approaching Chester. It’s just an idea, but have you tried her personal mobile?’
‘I didn’t know she had one.’
‘Very few do and hopefully McCullagh won’t know either. If I give you the number, don’t ring it. If she’s smart, she’ll still have it switched on. See if you can get it triangulated so we can find out where she is. The number is zero seven zero one four nine eight three one three five.’
‘I’ll get onto that now.’
* * *
Driving along the A55 on the approach to Holywell, Debbie asked McCullagh, ‘Where are we going?’
‘A little place just outside Holyhead. When we get closer, I’ll direct you. Today is my last day in the police, so I’m picking up my pension this afternoon.’
‘Who are you meeting?’
‘Seeing how I’ll be well gone before you can do anything about it, it’s Declan Murphy. He’s paying me off.’
‘Is that with the money he got from Al Qaeda?’
