Ravenhill_Jackie Shaw Book

by John Steele

  So they’d rammed him. Jackie wondered what damage an armoured Land Rover would do to a Ford Sierra.

  ‘Has it created a crowd? Crime scene?’ He worried that word might filter back to the lower Ravenhill, where his car was still parked at the gates.

  ‘A couple of drunk gawkers but nothing major. At this time of night,’ Gordon checked his watch, ‘the good people of Belfast are in their beds.’

  It was a little after one a.m. Jackie felt very tired. ‘And my car?’

  ‘Unmolested, where you left it.’

  Gordon took him gingerly by the arm and led him to a bench. Uniforms continued to mill around them.

  ‘Aren’t you wondering why we’re here, Jackie?’

  He had been so glad to see the unit and Gordon in particular that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He said as much.

  ‘Anonymous call, Confidential Telephone,’ said Gordon. ‘Referred to E Division at Castlereagh. You were named as a target for PIRA. It went through to Special Branch East in case E3A had any relevant intelligence on IRA hit lists. That’s when the Branch boys on duty heard your name and one, my superior, realised the target was one of our own. He called me, a Land Rover patrol was diverted to your father’s house and, thank God, saw a suspect vehicle parked at the gates of the park. When they relayed the licence number your name came up on the database and we sent in the MSU boys.’

  ‘And here we are,’ said Jackie. ‘Any idea who called it in?’

  ‘None. We’ll have more information soon, but the officer who took the call has been pulled for some other detail for an hour or two. Any idea why you’re being targeted by the Provisionals, assuming they don’t know you’re a police officer?’

  ‘This is just a theory, but a young man was shot dead a few weeks ago on the Albertbridge Road. A young Catholic. I’m thinking James Cochrane took it to be one of Tyrie’s crew was the shooter. My name must have come up and maybe they thought I was a soft target in comparison to Billy or Rab.’

  ‘It’s possible. We’ll get the Provos back to Castlereagh for interrogation and see what we can get out of them. In the meantime, I can pull you if you want. Just say the word.’

  Christ, thought Jackie, just one word and this would all be over. He’d be back at the Branch, probably transferred out of Belfast for operational reasons and his own safety. He could begin learning how to be a human being again. No more living life as a shadow.

  But what would happen to his father? There’d be questions, and Tyrie’s mob wouldn’t be gentle in the asking. The job would remain unfinished and the whole pack would be free to ruin the area and its people. There’d be more lives taken or destroyed. And he’d never see or touch Eileen again. He laughed at himself. It wasn’t until he caught Gordon’s concerned look that he realised it had been aloud.

  ‘Sorry, Gordon, I’m just a bit shaken. Can these boys be trusted to keep their mouths shut?’

  ‘HMSU? Oh, aye. We’ll have them sign the Official Secrets Act and scare the bollocks off them. They’ve barely had a look at you.’

  ‘Then I’ll be all right. If anything, this might strengthen my position within Tyrie’s crew, local folk hero and all.’ He stood. ‘I was meant to be meeting Rainey at the arms bed in Cregagh Glen. He’ll hardly be there now but it might be an idea to check. Confirm he’s at home if he isn’t up the glen. If he wasn’t named in the call, he’s probably not a target, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure.’

  ‘Will do. You sure you can maintain your cover?’

  ‘Aye, we’re lucky this was contained in the park.’

  ‘What if your car was spotted at the gates? Local UDA won’t think that’s sus?’

  ‘I’ll just tell them the truth. I thought I had a tail, parked at the gates and hopped it into the park. Rainey’s going to want an explanation why I didn’t turn up at the bed but they know I’m on a hit list anyway.’

  A uniformed officer approached them. They discussed forensics: they would be in and out of the park before it opened to the public again. There was speculation as to how contained the situation on Park Road was. A chopper was now up, hovering at a discreet height and distance, seemingly over the Stranmillis area across the river but actually monitoring the park area through the powerful military surveillance equipment on board. The players were arriving at Castlereagh and word got through that, through heat-imaging equipment on another helicopter flying over the hills, it was apparent Rainey wasn’t at Cregagh Glen. A team on the ground was finishing up a sweep of the area too. A fly past would establish if he was likely at home through a count of warm bodies in the house.

  ‘And we need to process your weapon,’ said the uniform, ‘as you discharged it tonight. It’s been recovered with the other firearms but I can’t return it to you at the minute. It’s been taken to the lab at Belvoir by one of the back-up units.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Jackie. ‘I suppose I’ll have to go to Castlereagh now for statements if I’m to be back on the road in the morning. I’ll go in through the back door incognito and I can pick it up there or draw another weapon when I’m done with the debrief.’

  Gordon nodded and the uniform strolled away with the practised insouciance of law enforcement the world over.

  ‘Do you want a lift in my car,’ said Gordon, ‘after you drop yours at your father’s?’

  Jackie lit a long-awaited cigarette and drew the smoke long and slow down into his lungs. Poison never tasted so good, he thought. ‘I’m all right, Gordon. I’ll drive back to my da’s to look in on him, see he’s okay, then drive over to Castlereagh myself. There’ll be nobody about at this time of the night.’

  Gordon looked uneasy but gave a curt nod and, hands on knees, rose wearily from the bench. ‘Some Branch guys have arrived, men I trust. I’ll tell them to shadow you from a distance.’ He held up a hand in anticipation of an objection. ‘Better to be safe than sorry.’

  Jackie, exhausted, relented. ‘Aye, all right,’ he said. They strolled to the path where an ugly, clumsy struggle had been fought less than an hour ago. Jackie looked at the rough surface and thought how easily his body could be sprawled there now, nothing more than a precursor to a chalk outline. He caught Gordon’s elbow and said, ‘Thanks, mate.’

  ‘Somebody was on your side tonight,’ said Gordon, eyes rolling to the heavens.

  ‘I’m just glad you were.’

  They left him to walk back to the gates alone. When he looked back he could see nothing but the blur of heavy shadow, reaching into the sky, of the treeline, but he knew they were there, watching.

  It was an effort to haul himself back over the gates. The car coughed to life and Jackie drove the short distance back to Bendigo Street. He parked a couple of doors down from his father’s front door as the space in front was occupied by a hatchback. Sticking out like a sore thumb among the smaller cars of the neighbours, a Range Rover was near the corner of the street at the Ravenhill Road end. A flicker of annoyance: this was probably the Branch detail, most likely E4A surveillance men. They used Rovers when on jobs in the surrounding countryside. Could they be more obvious? He felt uneasy as he clambered out of his car, now without a weapon. As he approached his father’s house, he caught a flutter of movement in the Range Rover. If they were his babysitters, they’d signal, maybe flash a torch or interior light.

  Then the Rover rocked slightly. Someone was moving inside. The wise move was probably to continue as though unconcerned, keep the vehicle in his peripheral vision. But Jackie was tired, his nerves beyond frayed. So he stopped and squinted, staring hard at the car. The interior was too dark to discern shapes.

  He knew the Provisionals rarely had a second team on hits. They lacked manpower, due to the small cell structure they employed. He began walking to the house again, fumbling for his door key. His heart was moving through the gears and he fought to calm his movements. As he reached the house he heard the hollow click of the Range Rover’s door opening. Adrenaline began to kick in again and he turned. Jackie wouldn�
�t put his father in danger. He would fight, rush whoever was slamming the driver’s door shut. If it was a plain-clothes detail, they’d identify themselves. If not, it was one-on-one.

  An irate voice hissed, ‘Where the fuck have you been?’

  The venom was a verbal slap. He peered through the dim light in the street. Tommy strode up to him with a full head of steam.

  ‘Why weren’t you at Cregagh Glen? Rainey sat up there for well over an hour waiting on you and the fat fucker started bending my ear when you didn’t show.’

  Jackie spat the words. ‘Somebody was following me: the Provos, if Ruger’s warning is true. I had to shake them off.’

  He’d only spoken with Tommy a couple of times. Now the quiet man tutted, a sharp spit of annoyance. It sparked something in Jackie, the irritated sigh that followed like flint on tinder.

  ‘Sure, I’m sorry my need for self-preservation held up my date with Ruger. What’s he got for me, some out of commission piece of shit that’ll misfire anyway? Too bad the Provos didn’t shoot me the night and save youse all the bother of staying up past your fucking bedtime.’

  He walked up to Tommy and squared up. ‘And what’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back over in Mount Vernon playing soldiers with your mates in North Belfast? Why the fuck do we see you over here at all?’

  Tommy, seething, hissed, ‘Keep your voice down, Shaw. Don’t want to wake half the street, your alco da included.’ A finger drilled its way to Jackie’s chest. ‘And watch your mouth. I’ve people over here to watch my back.’

  Jackie had an image of Tommy’s arm around Rab’s shoulders in the Tartan Star Club.

  Then another, third body was there between them. It grabbed Tommy’s shoulders and gave a hoarse bark at the man. There was a mumbled dialogue of a couple of seconds, a brief shuffle of bodies, and then Danny Moore turned to face Jackie with an easy grin on his open face. They hadn’t met since the surveillance on James Cochrane’s home and he looked leaner and more confident than when he’d been working shifts at the bus station.

  ‘All right, Jackie, what about ye?’ he said.

  Jackie gaped, open-mouthed for a beat. He’d suspected Rab or Tyrie might have forced Danny’s hand in helping them out when they were watching Cochrane’s house. While Shanty had told him of Moore’s involvement in his punishment, Jackie never dreamt the man would be along riding shotgun with Tommy.

  ‘Danny, what are you doing?’

  ‘Helping out again. We’re fellow soldiers now.’

  Jackie flashed a look at Tommy, watching for a snigger or roll of the eyes, but the man was already stalking back to the Range Rover.

  ‘That’s shocking. About the Provos,’ said Danny, ‘but we’ll strike back for you. Tonight.’

  ‘So you’re in the organisation now? I mean a full member?’

  ‘Aye, had my ceremony this morning, oath and all. And here’s the best of it. We’re going to hit Cochrane. Now.’

  ‘Now? It’s two in the morning. When was this planned? When did Billy sign off on it? And where is Billy? Where’s Rab?’

  ‘Waiting for us. Get in the car and we’ll explain on the way.’

  It had been a long, fraught night and Jackie prayed the Branch undercover surveillance team was monitoring them. He had shot a man and almost killed another with his bare hands, things he hadn’t thought himself capable of. He knew every policeman, every soldier, questioned whether they could react if faced with a threat to life – and now he knew. He thought Danny Moore was no threat, but Tommy was another matter. Yet, if this hit was really going to happen tonight, he had to go along, because he had to prevent the murder. And that meant he had no choice but to hunch his shoulders, gesture for Moore to go first, and follow him to the car.

  #

  ‘The car,’ said Jackie, ‘whose is it?’

  ‘Fucked if I know,’ said Danny.

  They were approaching the Holywood Road. The Range Rover was stolen, of course. They’d picked it up somewhere in the affluent belt of housing that formed the Balmoral area of South Belfast. Jackie was in the back, Moore driving and Tommy brooding silently in the front passenger seat. Jackie couldn’t turn to see the view out the rear window and the mirror was at an awkward angle. He had no idea if his shadowers from the force had seen him climb into the Range Rover and were currently tailing them. They could be monitoring him from the air now; just because you didn’t see the chopper didn’t mean you weren’t under surveillance. But he couldn’t shake the niggle of doubt festering in his mind at the absence of the three major players: Sam Rainey, Rab Simpson and Billy Tyrie. They passed a brooding slab of concrete encircled with anti-blast bomb fencing with its huge iron gate: Strandtown police station. No sight ever looked more inviting to Jackie at that moment. He quizzed Moore on the plan of action.

  Danny had overheard a couple of co-workers at the bus station, republican sympathisers, talking about an Irish dancing competition being held in the town of Portaferry tomorrow. As the men chattered, James Cochrane’s name was mentioned. Cochrane had a niece who he doted on, a girl in her early teens who was a gifted dancer. She had entered the competition and Cochrane was staying in a small B&B near Portaferry tonight in order to attend the competition in the morning in support of his niece. It was the perfect opportunity to hit him. He’d have a minimal guard, and getaway would be easy as there was a scribble of country roads in the area, some not on the map, to use as escape routes. Rab, Billy and Rainey were going to meet them in Holywood at a small disused factory owned by a loyalist sympathiser on the shore of Belfast Lough. There, Rainey would arm them for the job. Danny had been promoted to the ranks of the UDA proper in recognition of his work in setting up the operation.

  It was plausible and a golden opportunity to take out a high-ranking PIRA officer with a minimum of fuss. The shooting might not be discovered for days if Cochrane was the only guest in the B&B and they abducted the owners – or worse. And it was also going to be a bitch of a job to stop them carrying out the operation, if he was on his own. Even these jokers could get the job done in a lonely area of the country with an isolated target.

  He cursed that he was so tired, and his judgement so blurred, by the trauma of the night and lack of sleep. A few hours ago, he was sitting by the water in a quiet fishing village, rather than calculating his chances of survival after one failed attempt on his life.

  ‘These boys you overheard in the depot, Danny,’ said Jackie. ‘Do you have names for them?’

  Moore flicked a glance at Tommy, who hunkered down further in the passenger seat.

  ‘Just first names. Patrick and Hugh.’

  ‘Local, from the Short Strand?’

  ‘Not sure, Jackie. I only know them to see, like.’

  ‘But you know their first names.’

  ‘They’re on their lanyards.’

  ‘Youse all wear lanyards in the depot? Drivers usually have a name badge.’

  ‘Aye, depot staff who don’t go out on the runs wear lanyards.’

  Jackie nodded. Danny’s eyes sought him out occasionally in the rearview mirror as they approached the lights at the end of the Holywood Road that would lead them onto the dual carriageway heading out of the city. Danny had resolutely avoided his gaze while answering his questions. Now he kept stealing glances at him in the back seat.

  ‘I don’t remember you wearing a lanyard when I picked you up on Mountpottinger,’ said Jackie.

  The eyes darted ahead again.

  ‘I take it off when I leave the gates. Can’t wait to get rid of it.’ A snigger, nervous.

  ‘But you still had your uniform on. Couldn’t you change that as well? Youse must have lockers in the depot.’

  ‘Enough!’ Tommy’s bark was like a rifle shot. ‘What are you, a fucking peeler?’

  ‘Fuck off!’ said Jackie.

  ‘Lads,’ said Danny, ‘c’mon, now. There’s no need.’

  ‘There’s every need,’ said Tommy. ‘This cunt never fit in. He’s never been one of
us.’

  ‘So what am I doing here?’ said Jackie.

  He sounded a little desperate and was angry at himself. ‘Well?’ he said, more controlled.

  Tommy sank down in the passenger seat again. The tall lights lining the central reservation swept over the windscreen like a visual metronome. The road was a straight shot from East Belfast to the commuter town of Holywood. After a time, an Army patrol in green Land Rovers, rather than RUC battleship grey, passed them heading into town. There was no other traffic. They drove by Palace Barracks, the largest military base in Belfast. Jackie watched as it slid past, a cross between an industrial and housing estate with observation towers and helicopter pads as added extras. Again, he hoped they were being surveilled from afar by a Lynx, although he hadn’t seen or heard one.

  ‘So, Danny,’ he said, ‘why have you joined up?’

  ‘Are we getting a fucking job interview now?’ muttered Tommy.

  But Danny said, ‘I want to do my bit, Jackie.’

  ‘Your bit of what?’

  ‘To defend Ulster, like.’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘The taigs.’

  ‘You work with the taigs, don’t you, in the depot? Do most of those boys look like we need defending from them?’

  ‘You know what I mean, Jackie.’

  ‘Sorry, mate, I don’t.’

  Tommy said, ‘He’s joined to keep Ulster British. And he’ll do anything to make that happen.’ The needle in his voice almost pricked Jackie as he sat in the back.

  ‘Do you think you could kill someone for Ulster, Danny? Like what’s going to happen tonight?’

  ‘Here, I’ve just joined, you know.’

  ‘Because you are killing Cochrane, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m not telling you again,’ said Tommy.

  ‘I mean, you’re setting him up–’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘Even if your finger’s not on the trigger, Dan–’

  ‘Shut up, Shaw!’

  ‘You’re just as responsible for his death.’