by Matt Johnson
A faint smile appeared on the Commander’s lips. It puzzled me.
‘That’s what I was starting to think,’ I said.
There was a long pause. Was Grahamslaw trying to make me more uncomfortable, or thinking about what to say next? He was a professional, his expression didn’t give him away.
‘Were you aware that another old colleague of yours was killed a couple of weeks back?’ he said at last.
My stomach shrank. ‘No … who was it?’ I blinked rapidly, trying to think.
‘Iain Blackwood.’
I knew the name. In the early eighties, Blackwood had been a Staff-Sergeant and in charge of the quartermaster stores at Hereford. ‘You mean Mac Blackwood?’ I asked.
‘That’s him. He’s dead, too.’ Grahamslaw stared at me intensely. He was looking for a reaction.
‘What happened?’ I asked. ‘Last I heard, Mac was in South America.’
‘Blackwood was blown to bits by a suicide bomber in India, just after he’d arrived in the country.’
‘What was he doing there?’
‘No telling. He was a mercenary, so we can assume it wasn’t a tourist visit.’
‘Mac wasn’t at the embassy … Maybe it was just a coincidence.’
‘And maybe his name was on one of those files you’ve been told about? You got any better ideas?’
‘Only the embassy connection. But even then, I’ve struggled to think of any real motive. I’ve thought about it hard, and the only thing I can come up with is that one Arab who survived our attack. Do you know what happened to him?’
‘Still in prison, last I heard. I’ll check though,’ said Grahamslaw.
‘I’d appreciate that. You have any plans to offer me protection?’
Grahamslaw’s face relaxed. He remained serious, but looked more reassuring. ‘We’re going to have to do something. When you get home tonight, I suggest you start packing. Have you mentioned anything to your wife?’
‘Not yet, I was sort of hoping you would nick the terrorists before that became necessary.’
‘Well, you’d better start thinking about telling her soon. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can sort something through Witness Protection, maybe a safe house. You can use that until this is all over.’
‘Thanks, but I have my own plans. I’ll move my wife and kid to her mother’s. I’m gonna be taking some leave. Lie low. Wait until you’ve sorted things out.’
‘You sure?’
I nodded.
Grahamslaw took a deep breath. ‘OK, it’s your shout, but whatever you do, make sure I know how to contact you.’
There was no telling who now had the information contained in the stolen files. If nobody apart from me knew where we were, we would be safe. ‘I can’t fight them,’ I said. ‘So the best I can do is hide. Escape and evade, just like the old days.’
Grahamslaw offered me his hand. ‘I never did get a chance to thank you guys for what you did at the embassy. By the time I arrived at Regent’s Park Barracks, Maggie Thatcher had well and truly stolen the show. Now’s my chance to repay a debt.’
‘Not to me, sir. I was just a desk jockey. Hardest job I had was making sure the beers were ready for the lads when they got back from Prince’s Gate. It was the assault teams who did the tough bit. For now, just keep me alive. That’s all I ask.’
‘OK, Finlay, you can go, just keep in touch.’
We both stood and Grahamslaw saw me to the door.
As I headed back to my office I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. At least I’d been able to put my theories about the embassy connection to one side.
The moment I had seen Grahamslaw, I had imagined that he was going to confront me with pictures of my clandestine meetings with MI5. That hadn’t happened. And I also now knew what Monaghan had been saying was true. It seemed there wasn’t a lot that Grahamslaw didn’t already know. I was impressed by him. If things turned out badly, he was someone I could do with keeping on my side.
Chapter 40
As soon as Finlay closed the office door behind him, Grahamslaw picked up the telephone.
Mick Parratt answered almost immediately. ‘How did it go?’
‘Good. He fell for the MI5 bluff and he paused to think a lot before answering questions. My guess is he was trying to work out how much I knew before answering.’
‘So we got what we needed?’
‘Mostly. Not all good news, though. I’ve confirmed the SAS link and also an interesting fact that both the dead lads and Finlay were on Operation Nimrod, the Iranian Embassy siege.’
‘No kidding? We’ll need to follow that up.’
‘Yes, I agree. But that can wait. I found the source of the leak.’
‘Finlay knew about it?’
‘Only second hand. An old boss of his from the regiment told him. It seems to have come from that break-in a few months ago at the Special Branch office in Northern Ireland. Some army files were stolen, apparently.’
‘I thought nothing was taken?’
‘So did I, but I can’t say I’m surprised they covered it up. I want you to get over there and talk to the RUC, find out the truth. And, before you go, make a call to MI5. If there is an IRA cell out there with a list of targets, we need to know who they are.’
‘What about the MI5 office here at the Yard? Shall I ask them?’
‘No, leave them. I think we need to ask at a higher level. Try the section head of the Irish department. If you don’t get any joy with him, let me know and I will try one the directors.’
‘On it, guv.’
As he ended the call, Grahamslaw pulled a slip of paper from his wallet. On it was written a telephone number. He dialled it. The call was answered almost immediately.
‘Sir, it’s Bill Grahamslaw, SO13. It’s about the burglary at the Irish Special Branch offices earlier this year. I’m in receipt of evidence that suggests some sensitive files were stolen and that they may now have surfaced.’
Within thirty seconds of making the call, Grahamslaw had packed all the notes and papers he had available into a briefcase and was heading for the police station car park. He was on his way to see the Home Secretary.
Chapter 41
As soon as I was back in my office after my encounter with Grahamslaw, I left a message for Kevin to contact me.
He rang me back just a few minutes later. He was shocked to hear the news about Mac Blackwood.
‘Did Grahamslaw say anything else?’ he asked.
‘Yes, quite a lot. He knows about ROSE and he confirmed the story from Monaghan about an incident at a Special Branch office in Northern Ireland where there was a break-in.’
‘So, that confirms it. Monaghan is telling the truth.’
‘Probably…’ I paused. ‘I still have this doubt in my mind, though. Grahamslaw seemed convinced that nothing had been reported stolen.’
‘They’re covering it up. Nobody would want it going public that sensitive files were in the hands of the IRA.’
‘And that’s another thing,’ I said. ‘Grahamslaw implied that what’s being said on the news isn’t right. This isn’t the work of the IRA.’
‘What kind of bollocks is that? Look, I suggest we meet for a longer talk.’
I agreed. Kevin suggested that Harlow Common was as good a place as any. Hidden away in the dark, we would be far away from prying eyes. There was a car park in the centre shielded by some trees. I headed there as soon as I finished work.
It was dark when I arrived and the car park was empty. I switched off the engine, climbed out of the little Citroen and watched the stars as I waited.
A few minutes later, a familiar car pulled in. It was Kevin.
He got out and walked across to where I was standing. Even in the half-light, I could see that his normally affable face was lined with worry.
‘Monaghan’s come through,’ he said without any greeting. ‘Special Branch have housed the cell. It’s Declan Costello, remember him? Dominic McGlinty is with him and a sleeper called Mi
chael Hewitson.’
‘How do you know that? I only saw Grahamslaw this afternoon. I would have hoped he would mention it, at least to give me some reassurance.’
‘No idea … maybe it happened after you saw him. And I guess Monaghan has a source.’
‘I see. Well, I remember Costello, all right. Mad bastard. It was him that shot down the heli over the Armagh lakes. Maze prison escapee, if I remember right. Never heard of the others.’
‘McGlinty’s new. It was his brother that got himself killed by the ARV crew a couple of weeks back. Hewitson is a sleeper, a Londoner who they’ve brought in to do errands.’
We began to walk down a path leading away from the car park and deeper into the surrounding woods.
‘You had a chance to think about what I told you on the phone?’ I asked, ‘Grahamslaw knowing about the Special Branch break-in? What Monaghan said seems to be kosher.’
‘You doubted him? Christ, Finlay, is that why you haven’t relocated your family yet?’
‘Be fair, Kev. We both had our doubts, and I wish it were that simple. Jenny doesn’t know how we’re connected,’ I said.
‘Well you’d better tell her … and sharpish.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘The way I see it, it’s got to be the IRA who nicked the ROSE files. They’ve got enough details to work out where we might be but not our home addresses. That means that they don’t have anyone inside the job. Our best hope is that this bunch are the so-called Real IRA. If we can take them out and recover the files, we might be OK. If the mainstream IRA have our names, well, we’re fucked, ceasefire or no ceasefire.’
‘They haven’t come after you. So what makes Monaghan say you’re a target, too?’
‘ROSE sorted both of us out with police jobs, boss. Stands to reason I’m at as much risk as you.’
Kevin seemed satisfied that he had it all neatly worked out. It was understandable – in a tactical situation, the first solution is often the best one. Thing was, we didn’t have all the pieces to the jigsaw. So there was no way we could really know what was going on, who was really behind the killings. The IRA explanation was just too easy. It wasn’t that I had any better ideas. Maybe I just had more imagination.
‘Mac Blackwood’s death came as a bit of a surprise,’ I said.
‘What happened?’ Kevin asked.
‘It was a couple of weeks ago, apparently. Grahamslaw told me it was a suicide bomber in India.’
‘India … no shit. Wonder what he was doing there?’
‘Mercenary work, Grahamslaw reckoned.’
‘Has it got anything to do with Bridges’ and Skinner’s deaths? I mean, it is the IRA we’re up against, isn’t it?’ Now Kevin sounded as uncertain as I felt.
‘I thought so too. Now I’m not so sure. Grahamslaw said it runs deeper than the IRA settling old scores.’
‘What did he mean by that?’
‘He didn’t say…’ I paused, looking into Kevin’s worried face. Should I tell him my suspicions? I decided he had a right to know. ‘There is one other thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I asked him about the embassy.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘It’s another connection – we were all on that job.’
‘Mac wasn’t,’ said Kevin.
‘That’s what I said to Grahamslaw. But then I remembered later that he did a lot of the research for me. He went and found another building with similar windows, for example. So we could work out the frame charges.’
‘Shit, I’d forgotten that. There’s me thinking it’s a simple case of an IRA grudge. Now you’re telling me it’s something to do with the siege.’
As we walked side by side in the dark, Kevin shoved his hands deep in his pockets and brought his shoulders up towards his ears.
‘It’s just a theory, Kev. But it’s a hell of a coincidence, Mac getting himself blown up just two weeks before Bob Bridges. I’ve been thinking about that one Arab who survived. I wondered if he was out of prison.’
‘Can we find out? I could call the prison service.’
‘They might report that you’d been asking.’
Kevin paused for a moment, deep in thought. He turned to face me. ‘So, even if SO13 make some arrests soon, we’ll still not be certain what this is all about?’
‘Unless they recover the ROSE files at the same time,’ I suggested.
‘And if they don’t, we still won’t know for definite who is behind it all. Costello will never talk and I doubt the others will, either. I think I agree with Monaghan … we should grab them ourselves, before SO13 go in.’
It was difficult to see Kevin’s features in the darkness, but something told me he was serious.
‘We won’t have long,’ I said at last, not believing I was even entertaining Monaghan’s and now Kevin’s ideas.
‘According to Monaghan, they’re not planning on immediate arrests. They want to build a picture of what the terrorists are up to, find out who their local contacts are.’
‘That’ll give us a chance to do something first.’
‘You’re in then?’ Kevin’s teeth and the whites of his eyes flashed at me.
I paused to think before replying. ‘I’m starting to come around to the idea. I’ll try and tell Jenny tomorrow.’
‘Monaghan will be pleased,’ said Kevin.
‘Won’t he just.’
We walked on a few paces, both of us now deep in thought. With each step into the darkness, I realised how limited my choices were. SO13, the people who could protect us, may not be able to fix this. Monaghan had been proved right and Kevin’s instincts were correct. If I was to stay alive, if I was to save Jenny and Becky, I couldn’t stay the comfortable Desk Inspector I had become. I would have to do something.
‘Where’s the cell, then, Kev?’
‘Nightingale Estate, Stoke Newington,’ Kevin sound more animated now. He knew I was in. ‘Alma House. It’s a tower block, something like thirty floors, our boys are in a top-floor flat.’
‘On my ground? Bloody hell, right under our noses. Are all three of them there?’
‘Just Costello and McGlinty. Hewitson lives in Kentish Town.’
‘How’d the branch find them?’
‘Hewitson got himself nicked for flashing. SO13 let him run and followed him. The surveillance team saw Costello turn up at the house and then followed him to the flat. Bloody lucky they were.’
‘You seem to be well informed.’
‘Like I said, Monaghan has a good contact.’
‘What’s the chance of us getting near the flats?’ I asked.
‘Fuckin’ easy,’ Kevin was excited now. I couldn’t say I shared his feeling. ‘But the surveillance team will see us.’
‘I’ve an idea. Like I said, the Nightingale Estate is on my ground. I’m late turn tomorrow. I’ll wander over in uniform and take a look inside one of the other tower blocks. We get trouble with the pirate radio boys putting up aerials. I’m pretty sure that all the blocks are of the same type. If I get a chance, I’ll have a look at Alma House itself.’
I was drawing on my memory of old skills. As a troop commander I had been one of the operational planners. Now that we needed a plan to get at the terrorists, I knew it was going to fall to me to come up with one. This was why Monaghan had come to me. Kevin was the more deadly side of our little team. He would be the one to depend on in a fight. And he would do the interrogation. I couldn’t torture a man. Kevin could.
Within a few days, he probably would. I looked up at the strip of star-speckled darkness between the tree-tops and heaved a sigh. There was no other way.
Kevin broke my reverie. ‘But how the hell are we going to grab one of the paddies from under the eyes of Special Branch?’
‘I think there might be a way,’ I said.
‘I wish I could see it. They’ll have the SO19 firearms teams ready, surveillance teams all over the place. Christ, even if they don’t clock us going in,
we’ll never get out with them.’
‘I’ve got a couple of ideas. First, we only try for one prisoner. We pose as undertakers. Take an empty coffin in and a full one out. Might just work.’
‘That’s pants. Chances are we’d have our pictures taken as we left and there’s always the possibility we’d be compromised. What’s the second idea?’
‘Airborne approach. Heli-cable onto the roof at night. Take the target away tied to the cable. Keep the chopper high enough and they wouldn’t even hear it.’
‘Sounds simple.’
‘Best plans always are, old son. All we need is someone with a helicopter.’
Kevin sniggered. ‘A minor problem, boss.’
We sauntered back to the cars, chatting over the details. We’d need abseiling kit and a long enough cable. We’d also need an escape plan in case we were compromised. I promised to give it some thought. It was a familiar feeling – deep in the logistics, my confusion and fears seemed to have disappeared. I was now a full part of Monaghan’s covert operation.
Whether it was our age, the focus on our plans, or the cunning of the stalker, I don’t know. But neither of us saw the figure crouched in the darkness behind my car.
Chapter 42
Torchlight flicked between my face and Kevin’s.
I ducked down quickly. The movement drew the beam to me and in that instant Kevin lunged forward. There was a thud and a muffled cry as the beam suddenly swept skywards.
The torch fell to the ground. I reached for it and shone it in the direction from where I could hear Kevin struggling to restrain what sounded like an angry wildcat. I could see it was a woman. She was kicking and scratching at Kevin like a demon.
‘Get off me, you bastard!’ the figure screamed. I recognised the voice immediately. Jenny.
I shouted at Kevin to let her go. He didn’t react. I winced as I saw a fist connect with her face. Before he could do any more damage, I seized hold of Kevin’s arm and pulled him back. He tripped and fell onto his back. Sooner than I could blink, Jenny kicked him hard in the ribs and then piled in again. In the darkness, with only the torch to see by, I struggled to keep them apart.