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by Brian Godfrey


  “Nothing really, but just a heads-up – it’s about our friend Coughlin.”

  “What about him?” Martin wanted to get away, but needed to know the gossip.

  “Well, apart from being a former IRA bomber, it seems that Coughlin has stolen someone’s identity, and the deceased man’s wife is not happy, he has utilised the dead man’s bank account but this access is now closed. The police are involved and I for one need to locate him.”

  “Thanks, George, but he hasn’t turned up here, and if he does I will certainly contact you.” Martin felt a tingle of disgust as he lied openly.

  He wanted to end the call and move on; he was late and now annoyed, but he carried on the conversation under duress. “You know, George, although Africa is huge, gossip travels for miles; the travelling fraternity exchange news quite inexplicably in this part of the world. If he gets within a hundred miles of here we will know and I will pass on the information.”

  “I understand, Martin. Sorry for repeating myself. I will let you go, but ring me even if you hear only a peep.”

  “OK, George.”

  Martin replaced the phone, and was out of the door in a flash. He hoped that he had not been too brusque with George, and he did feel a hint of guilt.

  Sarah's Predicament

  Sarah Siddons felt better. She had got matters off her chest with the police and they in turn had helped her straighten things out with her affairs. She had capped Barney’s access to her deceased husband’s accounts and the use of his passport was terminated.

  She was not totally convinced that her actions reflected what she really wanted. She still had feelings for Barney, but out of respect for her husband, Charles’s memory did not warrant any association she might have had with an IRA agent.

  Once again, her life became mundane: her weekly meeting’s with her friends was not stimulating enough, she clearly felt that someone else was taken from her.

  37

  In New York,

  November 1981

  Hugh McGirk was agitated. It seemed that his organisation was in turmoil – had all those years of conflict been wasted? The dreams of an integrated Ireland governed by the Irish were fading into the past. He began to wonder if the current political situation would ever resolve the differences between unionists and nationalists.

  His senior, the IRA chief of staff, had made it clear that there would be no let-up in hostilities with the British until Sinn Fein had a firm political foothold in both the European Parliament and the Northern Ireland Assembly. McGirk had noted that the chief of staff had stood down prior to the Assembly elections. It seemed he had other things on his mind – perhaps a step into the political forum?

  The army council up to this time had been kept busy by the prevailing friction that was pursued by both sides. There was a violent tit-for-tat between nationalists and unionists, and this escalated with the hunger strikes in Maze Prison during the spring of 1981. In support of the strikers the IRA retaliated with a symbolic assassination of a prominent unionist, but during this action an innocent caretaker was also killed. As unfortunate as it was for the caretaker, the beginning of the end of hostilities in Northern Ireland was becoming a realistic prospect, with both sides starting to come to their senses.

  A common factor in this game of war had been car bombings, but now even those seemed to be a thing of the past. It was necessary that agents from both sides maintained discipline; what was not wanted at this stage of the peace talks was an overexuberant member overstepping the mark and taking military action without permission.

  The IRA had grown up over the years, from a clumsy novice into a highly efficient organisation. They continued to plan for war and there would be no let-up for the time being, and they continued to procure expensive armaments that would warn the British that they still meant business.

  A good example of their intent occurred in the 1980s when the IRA spent two million pounds on a single deal. This consignment consisted of many sophisticated items, including ground-to-air missiles, bomb-carrying drones, and automatic assault weapons. It was an expensive business, and because of the huge costs involved the expenditure needed to be controlled carefully against income. There were also other costs that needed to be accounted for, including salaries for unemployed members, car purchases, safe houses, propaganda and party election campaign expenses, and these too needed to be balanced against income. An impressive range of methods helped to maintain this balance of payments, including tax fraud, protection rackets, gambling machines, pubs, taxis, and a reliable income from the many Irish organisations around the US that collected from the public on a continual basis.

  There is one character that appears in any major conflict. The defector, the supergrass or the rat – whatever name they go by, they are loathed by those they work with. Their duties are despised and cast a shadow over normal soldiers; they leave behind a stench called distrust; they sell their soul. It is a sinister side of war and in Northern Ireland at this time it was no different; there were defectors on both sides who conspired against their own kind.

  In the Provisional IRA the grass, or more appropriately the rat, sells his information for money and will ask for immunity for turning in Queen’s evidence. But being a grass is dangerous: if found out, there is no mercy, and they expect their end to be more than painful.

  Crime in the IRA is categorised into four groups: petty, serious, rape, and crimes against the IRA punishable by death. The latter applies to the supergrass.

  Of the punishments themselves, some are grotesque and too hideous to mention. One particular method made famous during the Troubles was that of ‘kneecapping’. The victim was identified and taken to some desolate place. They would be stretched out on the ground and the next stage of punishment depended on the seriousness of the crime. For a minor offence the victim would be shot through the thigh, then he was shot through the back of the knee, then through the backs of both knees, and if the crime was judged to be serious, the victim was shot through both knees and both elbow joints.

  As life became more civilised in the 1980s this type of punishment was dropped from the agenda. The supergrass situation was prevalent on both sides during the Troubles, but became even more prolific when the end was in sight and retribution loomed.

  If a disclosure by a grass was not corroborated after he had turned Queen’s evidence, the IRA called an amnesty. In this way the grass’s stories would be withdrawn and useless to the prosecution. The family of the grass would be in the line of fire.

  In 1984 Sinn Fein were making good progress but were still novices in politics. This was apparent when they did not understand why the votes for the European Parliament in 1983 were much greater in number than those collected for the Northern Ireland general election a year later. This phenomenon was diagnosed as ‘the unreality of expectations’.

  Ironically, within the European Parliament, Northern Ireland was regarded as one constituency with only three seats. They realised that their political fight must be carried out on a much broader front than first anticipated, although the setback was only temporary. There were other ways in which the nationalists could wield the power they yearned for.

  Sinn Fein were still trying to make their mark and were experiencing problems on the political front, but it was nothing compared to what their IRA brothers were experiencing whilst trying to procure arms at the sharp end of the campaign. On both sides of the Atlantic the USA/Canadian satellite surveillance team were closely monitoring the illegal arms trade, and they had identified two ships from the US crossing the Atlantic allegedly carrying arms. These two separate consignments were to anchor inshore off the coast of Ireland and transfer their arms to another ship, but the British authorities were tipped off and the vessels intercepted and their consignments destroyed.

  McGirk was aware of this situation. He was also smarting after the failure of his brigade’s operation in the Shetl
ands. He was a man who wanted success, and failure was not an option.

  Personally, he wanted to put things right. Perhaps another hit would make him feel better? It would satisfy his ego, and may also quicken up the politicians at Stormont.

  Both sides were sparring politically, each trying to sway the public and get a sympathy vote. Bobby Sands and his colleagues had made the ultimate sacrifice; they died for their beliefs. It was a sad waste of human life, and even more so that this should happen so close to the peace talks. Maze Prison was not big enough for Sands and his friends, and through a peaceful demonstration that hurt no one but themselves, using no bombs or guns, they died for what they believed in. It captured the public’s imagination, and they earned sympathy the hard way.

  McGirk drew a deep breath and stared far out of his window, deep in thought. It did not take him long to come to a conclusion, and he picked up the phone and rang his wife.

  “Hello, dear, it’s me, Hugh. Don’t pack the bags; we will stay a bit longer, in fact much longer. I will be home shortly.”

  Back in the Home Town, May 1982

  The Irish reporters were no longer working overtime; the newspapers did not contain the sensationalism that had existed in the 1970s. It was now down to mundane politics.

  Barney and his oldest friend Declan had known each other since childhood. They grew up together and joined the IRA for the same reasons. They had expected to become Republican heroes, but things had not turned out as they wanted, with Barney absconding from the army after losing his belief in their methods, leaving his friend to fend for himself. Declan did try and maintain momentum but failed in the eyes of the IRA and was captured by the security forces whilst making his escape from Shetland.

  The biggest change in Declan’s personal life was the termination of his association with his long-term girlfriend Bridget McClory. It seemed the right thing to do; after all, his life was one of risk and for this reason he did not want Bridget to be tied to him.

  It was after his internment in Wandsworth that he began to think of her often. He was feeling alone and vulnerable, and he wanted his girl back.

  In November 1981 he was transferred to Maze Prison near Belfast and resumed contact with her by letter. She did not visit him there, and had tried to sever all association with him after he disappeared without so much as a goodbye.

  As time went on and his story became public, she softened and even felt sympathy for him. She had remained single since his departure, not out of any feelings for him, but for the sake of their child, born nine months after Declan had left her. Since his arrest in May 1981 they had exchanged letters but she had never mentioned the child he had fathered.

  Bridget was Declan’s love, and Barney his best friend, and they filled his mind from morning to night. He wanted to know how his friend was. Where was he? Had he survived?

  He did not get many visitors; it seemed his friends and relatives had deserted him. If only he knew what had happened to Barney…

  The Wall, 1985

  In Russia the turmoil within the rural communities was becoming untenable. The people were growing restless; their collective strength greater. The old communist regime was teetering; Lenin had played his part and Stalin had destroyed it with his brutality.

  Students are always at the centre of public dissent, and in 1980s Russia it was no different. The country was at the point of a revolution and Mikhail Gorbachev, the president-elect, was standing in the wings, ready to change history.

  38

  The Trade Fair,

  March 1982

  Agricultural fairs are held in rural areas the world over. Initially established in medieval Europe, they have spread beyond all borders; where there is farming, there is a show. All over the globe farmers and associated companies market their wares; the trade fair is a platform of convenience, a way to show off commodities for sale, whether they are market equipment, animals or sport.

  The large agricultural stadium in Kitwe is sectionalised from the show grounds. It has its own access roads, a dedicated main entrance with ticket kiosk, huge terracing, and high-powered electrical facilities with control room.

  On a normal day, with the place deserted, the sun beating down, and wind and dust in your face, the stadium feels uninteresting, not worth a second look. But in the cool of the evening, with lights blazing, a buzz from the crowd, the roar of ten thousand fans, animation and happiness in their faces, it becomes a sight to enjoy.

  The show comes but once a year. It takes place in May, and the floats are individually sponsored, decorated according to a theme and manned by hundreds of children. For them and thousands of others it is a special time.

  Martin was concerned that, because his show was last on the Saturday schedule, any delay ahead of him would have a major impact, and he knew from previous experience that this was almost certain to happen. He decided to make arrangements so that this would not happen here; he could not deny his ten thousand fans.

  Martin’s philosophy was to eliminate any risk before it began, anything that was seen to be a problem, and if this meant making a ‘dash’ at the right time to the right person, then so be it.

  Any event held in Africa draws interest from anyone with power, especially if they can get something free, and promotions are no different. If it is an event that carries any esteem and is close to towns with good hotels the event will attract government officials that can take their girlfriends or boyfriends and get a good weekend at the promoters expense. They travelled from Lusaka with a guest and expected accommodation, meals and free entrance to the show. This was a request he could not refuse; it might attract trouble that he wanted to avoid, but for him it creates a lot of unnecessary expense against the shows budget.

  He did this to safeguard against any government interference, but now he wanted payback and would approach those who accepted his invitation after their receipt of their tickets and hotel confirmation.

  Now with the show still a couple of months away, Martin planned another holiday with his golfing friends to Zimbabwe.

  Early in March the four golfers, including the impossible duo of Martin and Charles, set off to Victoria Falls. It was a ten-hour journey and they hoped that Martin and Charles might find the trip as a way to bond a little. Jim, who was using his company Mercedes, drove them.

  They stopped on the Zambian side of the Falls and found accommodation in an old guest house. The rooms and bedding were spotless, the floors scrubbed so you could see your face in them. They rose early, the sun’s rays breaking through the skylight window and onto the breakfast table, and sat down for a modest but satisfying meal. Afterwards they drove to the Livingstone Golf Club, only a few hundred yards from the guesthouse where they were staying.

  Their first game was entertaining mainly because none of the players had previously experienced these particular conditions. The fairways were sparse, the grass having lost its battle with the hot sun. But approaching the first green they were confused as the flag was visible but the greens were not what they were used to. Only ‘oiled sand’ confronted them, putting was almost impossible, and a roller was required to smooth the sand after each putt.

  After the game they asked the club professional if this was normal and he told them that indeed it was in this part of the world. He added that Elephant Hills did have greens but a round would be three times as expensive as at the Livingstone.

  The Rhodesian Civil War occurred between 1964 and 1979, finishing a year and a bit before the golfers decided to play at Elephant Hills. The war was a complicated, triangular affair that involved the predominantly white government of Ian Smith, the African National Congress, and the People’s Revolutionary Army. It was basically a civil war made more complicated by the tribal situation between the latter two groups.

  After years of fighting commanders-in-chiefs signed a peace deal after the cessation of hostilities in March 1980; this occu
rred at the Lancaster Hotel in London far away from the place of war.

  Those that signed the deal were Ian Smith (government), Robert Mugabe (ANC) and Joshua Nkomo (PRA).

  The actual handover to the new ruling party took place in 1982 almost two years after the initial peace deal was signed.

  Even between the elections and the final peace agreement in 1980, a number of incidents occurred, one of which affected the four golfers about to play at Elephant Hills.

  Three months prior to the final peace agreement, the ANC fired a ground-to-air missile at an enemy aircraft flying low over Elephant Hills Golf Course. The missile, a heat-seeking device, locked on to the aircraft’s engines, but was diverted suddenly and instead picked up heat rising from the golf course kitchen. When the dust settled the bomb had wiped out the clubhouse, and killed nine people. Renovations were delayed due to lack of funds, and a temporary clubhouse was installed in the interim.

  The golfers enjoyed their weekend and the Falls looked magnificent; the spray from the water rising to the viewing points. Apart from encountering a spitting cobra who did not appreciate the four of them blocking his path as they strolled around the periphery of the Falls, nothing untoward happened.

  However, the most valued memory of their visit was the bonding between Martin and Charles. Even the eight-hour return trip could not devalue this.

  There was a downside to the holiday, and it came from an unexpected source.

  Jim, who worked for a Kitwe fabrication contractor, had used his company car for the trip, but this was seen by competitors to be a gift in return for commercial favours. Brendan and Martin were both clients and Jim had provided them with a holiday; it seemed a minor oversight when the situation first arose, but blew up totally out of proportion.

  After an enquiry Jim was released from his duties and flew back to the UK a few weeks later.

 

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