by Chris Ryan
'Sounds as though their intelligence is shit-hot,' I added. 'They must have people all over the place. I mean, we know they've got men in London, but it looks like they've got Swindon sewn up, they've spent a lot of time at Chequers . . . They can put guys in wherever they need them. The question is, how the hell do we respond?'
'We can't handle this on our own,' said Whinger.
'Got to tell the incident room and the head-shed.'
'We'll call them in a minute,' I agreed. 'Fraser's going to do his nut. He's been wittering on about a shoot in London - but wait till he hears this.'
Tony, practical as ever, asked, 'What weapon are they proposing for the shoot?'
'There's something here…' I flipped back a couple of pages and read out: '“The sniper weapon will be collected from a transit hide, details later.”'
'Gotta be some weapon, to be effective at the range they're talking about.' J
'Wait a minute,' said Whinger. 'It's not that fucking great five-oh they had in Ulster, is it?'
'Could be,' I told him. 'Could easily be. SB had wind that some big cannon was being brought over, or maybe had been brought over already.'
'A five-oh!' Tony whistled. 'That's something else.'
'We're jumping to conclusions,' I said. 'But that's what it sounds like.'
Everyone in the Regiment who'd served in Ulster knew about the fearsome rifle with which members of the security forces had been taken out in the late
264 eighties and early nineties. It was so accurate that it could hit a man at a thousand yards, so powerful that a round would go straight through a flak-jacket and blow the wearer away. The guy using the weapon had become such a menace that the SAS had twice tried to get him. They'd set up special patrols that appeared to be from the green army, in the hope of luring the .sniper to take a shot and give his position away, but by a combination of luck and guile he'd always evaded them and had never been accounted for.
'If they're talking about a range of six hundred yards,'
said Tony, 'that's peanuts for a weapon of that calibre.'
'All right,' I said. Somehow, thinking about the big rifle had suddenly cleared my mind. A flash of intuition had shown me the way ahead. But all I said for now was, 'What are we going to suggest?'
'Suggest?' Whinger looked baffled. 'Who to?'
'The head-shed and .Special Branch.'
'Isn't it up to them to suggest something?'
'I mean, are we going to have a crack at this or not?'
'At what? Sorry, Geordie, I'm not with you.'
'The shoot. Why don't we go through with it? Keep the charade going. Tell the PltkA we're on-side with them for the big hit.'
The others leant back in their seats with expressions of amazement on their faces. Stew said, 'You have to be joking.'
'The bastards have me over a barrel. The only thing we can do is play for time, right up to the last second.
We know the search for the hostages is closing in, but we're not at the end of it yet. It's the only option I have.
It's the zero option.'
'Take it easy, Geordie,' said Tony. 'Don't tell me you're going through with this?'
'Of course I'm not. But I might as well pretend I'm on, just to play the PIILA along.'
This time nobody spoke. They all stared at me in silence as if I'd flipped completely.
'Listen,' I continued, 'everything's gone brilliantly so
far. The whole idea of the intercept was outrageous, but we hacked it. Nobody got hurt. No security leak.
Nobody any the wiser. One van wrecked, but so what?
We've had fantastic back-up from the Regiment and the police. And from the politicians, come to that. And the Prime Minister. If we just stay cool, we can carry the process one stage farther.'
Whinger shook his head. 'I still don't get it. Unless you do drop the guy, how are you going to make the PIRA hand your family over?'
'It's all a question of timing. We buy more time by shaping to go through with the shoot. In the two days between now and the second ofJune, SB may crack the puzzle.'
'Time . . .' Doughnut said suddenly. 'Did Andy get
a device on the PIRA car, I wonder? If he did, Special Branch may have a breakthrough already. The car may have led them to the hostage location.'
'Possible,' I agreed. 'Look. I'm going down to camp.'
'Now?' said Whinger. 'It's two o'clock on Sunday morning.'
'The incident room will be manned. They need to know about this soonest. After all, this is a national emergency - or about to become one. And the head- shed need to know that Ostrich is blown.'
'Ostrich!' exclaimed Whinger. 'What a fuck-up!'
'You didn't leave the Libyans a little present after all?'
I went. 'Like a copy of the head-shed's secret telephone directory?'
'Piss off, mate.'
For a few seconds silence prevailed. Then Stew said, 'The powers that be will never sanction a phoney shoot.
It's too dicey. They'll tell you to screw the nut on that one.'
'Why?' I challenged him. 'Hitting a guy at six hundred yards does take a bit of doing. But missing him - that's a piece of cake. If I'm holding that rifle, I can tell you, the. man'll be as safe as houses.'
'Sorry, Geordie.' Whinger shook his head. 'I still don't see how this is going to work.'
I cleared my throat and started again. 'We show Farrell these orders, right? We tell him we're prepared to go ahead. But he has to come with us on the shoot, so he can see for himself what's happening. You with me?'
'More or less.'
'Also we tell him that, immediately after the shot, things have got to happen fucking quick, or we'll be nicked in the park at Chequers. That means that he's got to give the word for the release of the hostages the moment the shoot goes down.'
'So?' Whinger still looked highly sceptical.
'The head-shed briefs the Prime Minister. On the morning he's to take a wander out on to his terrace, as per normal. By then we're in an OP, watching the house. We fire a single shot, close past him. At the crack, he drops and lies still. As soon as Farrell sees he's down, he gives the order for the hostages to be handed over at a prearranged lV.'
'How's he supposed to communicate?'
'Over my mobile.'
'And how does he think he's going.to get his own arse away out of the park?'
'We'll tell him to have his guys lay on a chopper.
They can hire one to come in and pick us up. We'll fly out together. Then, later, we ditch him. I need to think that bit through…'
Whinger shook his head again. 'They'll never buy it.'
'*Who won't?'
'The police, for one. Can you imagine them letting a leading IRA player creep up on the Prime Minister with a bloody great five-oh rifle? The very idea'll send them fucking ballistic.' He broke offand screwed up his face in his efforts to imitate a plod on the beat: ' “Hexcuse me, sah. Before you pull that triggah, may I hinspect your firearms certificate, please?” For fuck's sake!'
'Farrell won't have the rifle,' I insisted. 'I'll have it.
That's the point. There'll be two of us with him, one to mind him, one to shoot.
'In general, if we seem to be co-operating with the PIRA, we'll keep the lid on the whole thing. There'll be no risk to anyone. On the contrary, by agreeing to go through with the shoot, we'll bring a serious threat under control. We'll take possession of a dangerous weapon, and with any luck we'll bust the London ASU in the process.'
I looked round the tired faces, and thought I saw a couple wavering. 'What if we refuse to co-operate?' I persisted. 'Number one: I don't get the hostages back; the PIRA will kill them and dump them in the river.
Number two: we're stuck with Farrell. Number three: the PIRA still have the rifle; the shoot will go down anyway, probably at some later date. The security forces will be left with the same problem. The threat may be deferred, but it'll still exist. The London ASU will remain intact, and they may easily get t
he Prime Minister in the end.'
'Well, whatever,' Tony began cautiously, 'you better move pretty damn fast. There's less than two days to get organised. If we pick up the weapon at all, we've got to test-fire it someplace. Farrell will insist on that.
Otherwise, how in hell are we supposed to know where it's shooting?'
'Good point. That's why I'm heading for camp right now.'
'Want me to come with you?' asked Whinger.
'Thanks, Whinge, but I'll be OK. You might be needed here. I'll probably get my head down in the sergeants' mess for a couple of hours, then come back first thing in the morning.'
'What if Farrell starts asking where you are?' Stew asked.
'Tell him I'm asleep,' I said. 'Or just don't tell him anything.'
For a quiet take-off, I rolled the Granada down the hill and started the engine by letting out the clutch in third gear when I reached the gate at the bottom of the drive.
Then, as soon as I was under way, I called the incident room on the mobile and got a duty officer strange to me.
'Geordie Sharp,' I said. 'I'm coming in. There's been a big development. I'll need to speak to Commander Fraser. Can you get hold of him?'
'Not to worry,' came the answer. 'He's here already.
I'll put him on.'
'Geordie?' came Fraser's voice. 'Where are you?'
'Heading your way. I'll be there in half an hour.'
'What's new?'
'Can't tell you from here. Any luck with that car?'
'Yes and no. Tell you when I see you.'
'OK… and listen.'
'Yes?'
'I need an urgent meeting with the ops officer.
Yorky Rose as well. Can you alert them?'
'Right away?'
'Afraid so.'
Rolling into camp at three in the morning made me feel I was back at the start of the whole drama, back to the night we had got in from Bogotfi and I found my family gone. That now seemed as though it had been light- years ago. The last two days and nights alone had been so full that I felt I hadn't seen Stirling Lines in months.
By the time I ran up the stairs to the incident room a full reception committee was there to meet me: not only the SB team, but Mac Macpherson, Yorky, and the CO. The only man anywhere near correctly dressed was Fraser, in a shirt, tie and pullover; the others had track suits or sweat tops over what looked suspiciously like pyjamas. As always, there Was a brew on the go.
We had no banter or pissing about, but went straight into an informal O-group - and you could have heard a mouse fart in the next county while I explained what had happened.
When I started to outline the programme for the Chequers shoot I was seriously worried Yorky might explode; he turned red in the face and his eyeballs rotated at high revs. In fact, such a proportion of what I said was so utterly outrageous that all of them, one after the other, soon looked close to apoplexy. I don't know who was most agitated - Fraser, when he heard that we'd met Marry Malone in the railway yard, or the CO when I told him that Operation Ostrich had been blown.
Fraser muttered, 'Marty Malone!' in a voice he might have used if he'd won a million on the pools. 'This is the guy who's been masterminding the bombing campaign on the mainland. But so far he's always operated out of West Belfast, never dared cross the water. I'll bet my trousers it was him who brought the big rifle across.'
He took a deep breath and added, 'If all this resulted in our nicking Marty Malone - boy, would that be something! He's one of the most evil pigs in the whole organisation.'
Pemembering the lean, drawn look of the older man's face in the marshalling yard, I said, 'Maybe it was him who was down to do the shoot.'
'Possible,' Fraser agreed. 'In fact, more than possible.
The fact he's here at all means there's something really big in the offing.'
The Boss cried, 'God's boots!' Then, turning to Mac, he said, 'You haven't had wind of any leak on Libya?'
'Nothing at all.'
'Get on to the Finn immediately,' said the CO. 'See if they've heard anything.'
As Mac went next door to make the call, the Boss muttered, 'I don't believe there has been a leak. I believe the buggers are guessing, trying to bluff their way.'
'I tell you what,' I said to Fraser. 'It was that miserable girl of yours. It was her that dropped us in the shit on this one.'
'Well,' he went, 'it may have been. But I tend to agree with your commanding officer. All the PIRA heard was“ that you'd gone abroad for a few days. You could have been anywhere in the world.'
'That's right,' said ¥orky. 'They can make what they like out of what the woman said, but I'll lay a hundred pounds to a penny they haven't got a scrap of evidence to back it.'
'These PIRA orders,' said the CO. 'Where are they?'
'Here.' I opened the manila envelope and began to pull out the documents.
'Wait!' Fraser snapped. 'Prints.'
'I've handled the papers already.'
'Never mind. Forensic can try. Give them to Sergeant Alden. He'll photocopy them while we're talking.'
I handed the package over, and the tall duty sergeant took it out of the room. On the way he passed Mac, who came back in shaking his head. 'Nothing known to the Firm on Ostrich. Not the slightest suggestion of a leak. The Libyans are still blaming Mossad, and Egypt's denying all knowledge of the operation. But I've asked Gilbert to call first thing in the morning.'
'All tight,' said the CO. 'We'd better ring round to make sure everybody's ready with their denials - the FO for one.'
'I reckon you're tight about the PI1LA trying to bluff us, Boss,' I said. 'But even if you are, it doesn't make much difference. No matter how much or how little they know about Libya, they still have me over a barrel.
So what I propose is this…'
I launched into my spiel again - and the reception was much the same as in the cottage: a mixture of alarm and incredulity. At first the ruperts couldn't believe I was being serious. Yorky really thought I'd gone round the bend. He walked up and down at one hell of a pace, exclaiming, 'Eh, lad, you're in it now,' throwing up a pencil and, as often as not, missing it when it fell. His movements became so distracting that the CO told him for Christ's sake to sit down.
'As for Chequers,' I went on, 'the PIRA have really done their homework. You remember that fuss a few years back about getting a footpath diverted, so that it wouldn't pass so close to the front of the house? Well, that got done. But still the path is only five or six hundred metres from the terrace, and the PIIA have it all sussed out for a shoot from there. Everything's in those papers - distances, elevations, bearings, routes in and out, prevailing winds, security arrangements…'
As the logic of what I was saying got through to them, they all began to calm down a bit. The CO was the first to crack. 'In purely operational terms it's feasible,' he admitted. 'I can see that. I'd trust you to handle the shoot, Geordie. But we're going to have the devil's own problem selling it to Whitehall.'
'The point is, the situation hasn't changed from when we started,' I said. 'Except that now the person directly threatened is the Prime Minister himself. That makes it all the more important to go straight to the top.
He's the one at risk. It's him who'll benefit if we get these bastards sorted. If we take on the shoot ourselves, it'll increase our chances of busting the ASU.' I started going through the benefits of proceeding, as I had with the lads in the safe house: that we would hijack the PIRA's plan for the shoot, get the weapon, and so on.
'Geordie!' The CO scratched his head. 'I have to give it to you. You make everything sound dead simple.'
Now it was he who got up and went walkabout.
'What you're going to have to do is present an appreciation, in the normal way.'
'No time, Boss. If we're going to pick up the rifle, we've got to do it tomorrow night - tonight, I mean.'
'OK. That leaves the morning. I vote we all get our heads down for a couple of hours. Sleep on the problem, then have anoth
er brief. How about that, Commander?'
'Fine by me,' said Fraser. 'Just bear in mind that none of this caper may be necessary. There's a chance that we'll get to the hostages first. That car your fellows bugged has narrowed the field a bit.'
