Guy Fawkes Day

by KJ Griffin

  Chapter 15: Guardian Offices, London Docklands: 18 October

  Chapman put the phone down feeling cautiously optimistic. All around him the newsroom was in its usual afternoon mayhem. Archives had just rung off; they had put something together on Aidan Hennessy.

  He had been too busy over the last three days to do any more than place a call to Sakura Bank. And that call only confirmed what he expected to hear: Sakura had no Yamaguchi on its UK staff, nor would any of Sakura’s employees be involved with the launch of Ramliyya’s British-based investment bank.

  More worrying than this discovery was Sophie’s inexplicable coolness. Every time he had called her since Wednesday, she had been distant, vague and crotchety. Yes, Sophie had admitted, she would be staying on at Al-Ajnabi’s mansion. No, she had not seen her host recently; she hadn’t slept at Folly Bridge since Darren had left her on the sofa on Wednesday. That part had particularly stung, for guessed he knew what that meant. And now, for no reason he could understand, Sophie seemed to hold him responsible for whatever was rankling her so badly!

  Wincing to think of Sophie snuggled up again in Marcus’s bed, Chapman left his desk and nose-dived to the basement. He had decided not to tell anyone at the paper about his special interest in Al-Ajnabi—not that there were scores of fellow hacks scrapping for leads on Ramliyya or its special envoy. Press interest in the Ramli contracts had died down very quickly, as it usually did with good or financial news. By now, further announcements from the Ramli Embassy were making only small snippets among the home and business news.

  When the Ramli Embassy had first announced its British investment proposals, the Independent had published a small feature article on Ramliyya. But as the Ramli government craved secrecy rather than exposure, it had been tacitly understood by Britain’s media barons that sotto voce or silence was perhaps the best way to keep the Ramli cash flowing in. Nobody wanted to scare away those daft Arabs and their pots of gold. Picture editors who had been asking each other earlier in the week for shots of the, ‘Raghead wot’s come over ’ere to splash around all the dosh,’ were now saying, ‘Al-Who? Who wants to know, anyway?’

  The research assistant handed Chapman a modest sheaf of photocopies and Guardian back issues, most of which dated back to the late 1970’s. Hennessy’s name had been highlighted on the photocopies; Chapman had to sift through them several times to arrange them in chronological order.

  The first papers confirmed his suspicions: Hennessy was certainly IRA, or ex-IRA, just as Sophie had hinted over lunch in Little Clarendon Street. He pored over the papers carefully, looking for clues that might lead him to Al-Ajnabi.

  Wow! The journalist’s hand froze as he turned the last page. It was a photocopy of a Guardian front page. ‘Army Massacres Twelve in West Belfast,” ran the headline, sprawled over the top of a gruesome photograph showing bodies lying in a rain-swept street. It was the Falls Road Massacre.

  Hennessy’s name appeared highlighted in a parallel column, adjacent to the main story that covered the massacre. Chapman pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose and hunched over the article:

  Falls Road Gunmen Arrested after Firefight

  In a dramatic sequel to the massacre of twelve civilians on the Falls Road, two suspected IRA gunmen were cornered and later arrested yesterday evening, following a firefight with security forces.

  Soldiers of the Parachute Regiment spotted two men among a crowd of civilians fleeing the gunfire on the Falls Road. The paratroopers chased the pair along the Springfield Road, before cornering them in a house in the Ballymurphy area.

  A firefight broke out between paratroopers and gunmen, forcing residents to keep undercover while reinforcements from the RUC sealed off the area. Shooting continued for forty minutes until the two gunmen ran out of ammunition and gave themselves up to army and police.

  The two men were later identified as Brian O’Shea, aged 42, and Aidan Hennessy, aged 22. They have been charged with murder and possession of firearms.

  Second Lieutenant Max Clayton, the officer in charge of the platoon that captured the men, said that he believed the gunmen were responsible for the fatal wounding of a paratrooper, Private Wayne Mitchell, earlier on the Falls Road. This incident is understood to have provoked the return army gunfire that resulted in the tragic civilian massacre.

  Chapman was delighted. Sophie had been right to suspect Hennessy, even if this confirmation didn’t help explain why the Ramli special envoy would be harbouring a known terrorist in his private house.

  Sifting through the documents, Chapman continued to chart the progress of Al-Ajnabi’s guest through the British judicial and penal systems. In the October after the Falls Road massacre, Hennessy was sentenced to eighteen years for attempted murder and possession of firearms. O’Shea got life for the murder of Private Mitchell. Both men served their time in the notorious H-Block of Long Kesh.

  The name of Second Lieutenant Max Clayton reappeared several times in connection with Hennessy’s trial. But the most curious piece was an article entitled, ‘IRA Prisoners Allege Army Brutality.’

  Again from the Guardian, the item concerned a litany of alleged brutalities by British army soldiers against Republican prisoners. Hennessy’s name was highlighted for him in yellow marker. Chapman read on with interest:

  More recently, the CO and two NCOs of D Company, The Parachute Regiment, already under investigation for their roles in the Falls Road Massacre of April last year, are facing an internal army enquiry into allegations of torture.

  The claims were made by two Republican prisoners, Brian O’Shea and Aidan Hennessy. The pair allege that they were subjected to assaults and degrading treatment at the hands of army interrogators, while being held at the Lisburn army barracks in North Belfast under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. The Commanding Officer, Major Douglas Easterby, denied the allegations and stated that the internal army investigation would clear him and his men of any wrongdoing.

  And so it obviously did! Well, well, well, Mr. Easterby Senior—I never knew you were mixed up in the Falls Road Massacre, Chapman muttered aloud to himself. And allegations of torture as well!

  Not that the incidents seemed to have done Easterby’s army career much harm. On the contrary, he been promoted to Colonel in not long after the Falls Road massacre, before retiring from the Army to embark on a civilian career that had taken him to the peak of British Defence Systems.

  After his imprisonment, there were only a few mentions of Hennessy. His name appeared in connection with renewed H-Block ‘dirty protests’ and hunger strikes, but thereafter the information petered out. That was it.

  Chapman pushed the papers to the side of the desk and ruffled his curly hair. What had the former IRA man been doing since his release? Were the authorities looking for him again? There were a few calls to make from his desk upstairs.

  Chapman took the stairs, giving him time for private thought before the rush of the newsroom. The details of Hennessy’s arrest and conviction were simple enough—nothing curious there. In fact, apart from the dubious pleasure of finding Marcus’s dad’s name in less-salubrious surroundings than the New Year’s honours list, everything so far was tame; nothing that would explain why Prince Al-Ajnabi should wish to entertain on old Republican lag in his house, or might have common cause with such a guest.

  No, he was missing something vital. There was a relevance to Hennessy’s story that he was not seeing yet. And Chapman could not shake off the impression that Al-Ajnabi had deliberately set him up for this, had wanted him to check out Hennessy through Sophie. If this were true, he had to see things through Al-Ajnabi’s eyes.

  Why had the Ramli given Sophie Hennessy’s real name but had used an alias to cover “Yamaguchi”? Come to think of it, didn’t Sophie say that she had not been given the names of any of the other guests at Al-Ajnabi’s party? That was obviously Al-Ajnabi’s intention. Sophie had met Hennessy twice. He was someone she was supposed to remember. The others were meant to remain ano
nymous.

  Maybe I’m reading too much into this, Chapman thought as he fetched a coffee from the machine and joked with a few colleagues en route to his desk. But back in his seat, he decided to give it one last try and called a number at the Home Office. Eventually he was put through to the same woman, Mary, who had helped him before. She took down Hennessy’s name and promised to call back soon.

  Stories of the turmoil in the Asian stock markets had absorbed his full attention when the phone rang back more than an hour later.

  ‘You did say Aidan Hennessy?’ Mary asked dubiously.

  ‘That’s right. Arrested after the Falls Road massacre. Convicted in October of the same year. Served eighteen years in Long Kesh.’

  ‘Yes, that’s him. What did you want to know about Mr Hennessy?’

  “I wanted to find out if Hennessy is still wanted? Do you know if anyone is looking for him now?”

  Mary stifled a little giggle. ‘No, I shouldn’t think so—he’s dead! Died in a road accident near Ballymena eighteen months ago.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  She was.

  Stammering with surprise, Chapman was about to put the phone down. But suddenly, one last question sprang to mind.

  ‘Hang on a minute, Mary. Do you have a description of Hennessy in your records?’

  ‘Description? Yes. Hang on a second while I bring it up on screen. Here we go: Height six foot one; dark hair; brown eyes; prominent nose—do you want more?’

  ‘No thanks Mary, that’s fine.’

  Chapman recovered his composure enough to give Mary some ear-massaging, then rang off. He stared blankly at the busy computer terminal on his desk while he collected his thoughts. There could be no doubt that the ‘Hennessy’ Sophie had met was not the man who had served eighteen years in Long Kesh. But Chapman was pleased that he had been right about one thing: Al-Ajnabi had wanted him to check out the Hennessy story, and the Ramli’s invisible hand had been guiding his efforts so far. The question was, why?