“I think they’re on to me, so I do. They’ve been in my house and following me and my boy…”
“Calm down… No one is following you and no one has been in your house. They would raid it in daylight to show everyone how powerful they are…Anyway, we’d know, trust me. Now finish your fuckin’ tea then finish your fuckin’ job…!”
McQueen glared at him as he fidgeted with his jacket and with his right hand passed a thick envelope under the table then slid it along the wall. McQueen retrieved it in the same surreptitious manner…
“Here’s the money, a grand in sterling. You change it however you want. There’s a car in the multi storey at Smithfield Square the same as before. The payment for the house has already been taken care of locally so all you need to do is get your arse over there then get the keys for the two buildings. When you hand them over to us you’ll get your ten grand. When you get that, I suggest you seek alternative accommodation preferably over the water…”
Declan O’Hanlon had always been low profile. He was the owner of a shabby bookmakers shop on Mill Street in Newtownards. He’d never publically nailed his colours to any mast, never been seen in known public houses or bars and had never had a POI enter his business. Usually dressed in a suit of questionable origins, he was wearing what he thought was the ideal disguise: a pair of Blue Jeans, a white T shirt, with white Nike training shoes and a tan three quarter length leather jacket. The fact that he was bald and drove a red Jaguar which had been lowered with a front valance, fitted with special alloy wheels and a boot spoiler seemed to be lost on him. He wasn’t classed as a real threat however he was watched periodically due to his occupation and the suspect individuals who could frequent such establishments…
He had been a voting member of PIRA since 1968 and he had been one of their money laundering men ever since he set up the bookies for that single purpose in 1980. He was also known to like the ladies, particularly the type of ladies you pay for. This was how he became acquainted with McQueen until he was advised who her big sister was, that she had a long reach and what would become of him and his family if he did not cease and desist forthwith. He thought of himself as an important link in the PIRA chain and was grateful for the warning, a warning most never receive… He was very wrong…
The pressure he was under from a certain quarter was equally as great as the pressure he was exerting on young McQueen. Little did he know but he needed her to come through for himself just as much as Angela McQueen needed to come through for the cash.
On her last jaunt McQueen had planned her previous route herself, as she would on this occasion too. The only instructions she’d received were to travel via the UK and visit Bezold to pass on two A4 envelopes to her. There was no such instruction this time. The “German Plan” had now been scrapped; there was a feeling among the campaign leaders in Ireland, Continental Europe and further afield that Bezold was being kept a close eye on and maybe even being investigated by the BND… When visiting her sister this time she would travel direct to Genk to collect the keys for a small lock up and an adjoining house which had direct access to the N75 in Bokrijk which was to the west of the city, a steady two hour drive to the port of Zeebrugge…
Naively she thought she would return to Belfast collect her money then vanish. She was unaware that PIRA did not let go of their mules that easily especially one whose famously incarcerated big sister had encouraged the brigade to exploit.
The money would allow her to move on, start again and in England. Why not…? She thought she was by no means a bad looking woman; she had noticed the way the officials at both ports had looked at her. She had a good figure too and knew how to dress to make the most of it although even at twenty two, the rigours of her profession were beginning to show. McQueen had also decided to leave the boy behind.
She pushed her chair back noisily and stood up, startling an old man slurping his tea at a table in the corner by the counter…
“I’ll be seeing you Mister O’Hanlon, so I will…”
His response was a grunt… “The female is leaving.”
“Did the subject pass her anything or vice versa…?”
“Negative on the pass…”
The female officer replied before she carried on…
“Have we seen her before…? Isn’t she Donna McQueen’s sister…?”
The male driver of the car was squinting to get a better look…
“Yes, yes it is. Her name is Angela, I think. The last job the previous Chief did was command a team that sneaked into her house.”
As the shadow had been designated low profile (LP) the two newest members of Belfast Station had been assigned. They had failed to bring the “bible” with them… A photo album which contained all the known POIs… They hadn’t brought it because they assumed it wasn’t required, treating the LP shadow the same as nipping to the corner shop for a packet of fags…
“That’s right, the new Chief went ballistic when he found out calling it the last waltz of a fading warrior. “There will be no place for him in the New Belfast we will all help create”, he said. He gave a wonderful speech. I think he’s a leader…”
The male frowned and replied… “I think he’s a wanker…”
The female looked at her partner sternly before replying…
“The “mark” is leaving…”
O’Hanlon was shadowed back to the bookies in Newtownards. He parked, then got out of his car and did something strange… Instead of unlocking the front door to his shop, he crossed the road and unlocked the vacant building opposite…
Mark Ward sat up in his seat, for him this low profile shadow just got interesting…
“Bugger this for a bunch of bananas…What’s he upto…? I’m going for a look see…”
Trish Bates, Ward’s shadow partner, looked at him annoyed…
“Mark, we have been instructed to return to Station…”
Ward got out of the car closing the door softly and walked to the empty shop. He was unable to see anything due to newspaper covering the full length glass door and store front windows he could however catch snippets of one way of what was clearly a two way conversation…
“Well when you top her you just make sure I’m well out of the way and you get the ten grand back.”
Then he heard…
“I don’t care what you do with the body, just get her here, get the keys then just after you hand her the money do her. Everyone knows what McQueen does so if you ‘cap her as well no one will be surprised.”
That was enough for Ward, he returned to the car took a breath to calm himself then drove away…
“We’ve got to inform Compass. They’re going to kill her…” “Really…? Who…?”
“Who…? The woman who was in the café with O’Hanlon…. McQueen that’s who…!”
“We should just inform the Chief, that’s the protocol…”
“Sod the protocol; I’m going to tell the people who will do something about it rather than some idiot who just keeps talking garbage about a new bloody Belfast…!”
“That’s unfair Mark. He isn’t just some idiot, he’s the way forward. Can’t you see that…?”
“The way forward…! Anyone who calls Charlie Haddon an old Warrior is not the way forward…”
*****
The Fourth floor of Birdcage had been transformed. Three offices ran around all sides of Robin’s to create a squared off letter “C” the space in the middle was the lift foyer which also had controlled front of house access.
The offices themselves were like working in a new building. The dirty old carpet tiles and window blinds had vanished to be replaced by a plush noise muffling beige carpet and blackout roller blinds. Two retractable projector screens were fitted snuggly to the ceiling and all the furniture was oak styled with matching filing and stationary cabinets. The desks were all kitted out with a desktop computer, telephone and the usual pen pots and in trays. Accompanying the desks were beige ergonomically designed office chairs
and a small nest of lockable drawers. New diffused lighting and magnolia walls helped to create a bright and cheerful area to work. The remodelling had been drastic too. The centre wall between the three offices on each side had been removed to create one huge flowing space separated centrally by five offices. These were occupied by me, Chris, Norman, Charlie and Sarah. Opposite these the contractors had constructed another three for Box, SO12, SO13 and when required C&E.
It was quite simply like working on a different planet.
I was no longer OC West, this was now under the capable hands of Raven, Vernon Hunter, and equally Chris was no longer OC East,
that was under the control of Jay, Rod Catlin. We also had a permanent presence from SO12 a likeable very able Officer named Steve Case and SO13, the certifiable Frank Whatley.
We had officially been live for four days. It was Thursday 9th March 1995…
*****
“Charlie, I have an officer from Belfast Station on line two who only wants to speak to you…?”
“Ok Holly put him through lassie, thanks…” “Mr Haddon is that you…?”
“Yes laddie, your soundin’ a wee bit breathless there, calm down…” “Sir, my name is Mark Ward I’ve been here a month sir…”
“Aye Mark, I know son take yer time, get it right…” “Someone is going to tap Angela McQueen sir…” “McQueen are you sure…?”
“Sir, yes sir, positive…”
Charlie thundered on his office glass partition, the rest of us moved rapidly in his direction…
“Fastest way from Aldergrove… Chopper…?”
Sarah leaned her head around the office door and replied
“Yes but via Troon unless we have a jet scheduled for Brize…” “Hold on Mark… Troon did you say…?”
“Yes. There are hourly flights there with two hourly flights south to Brize also by chopper…”
“Mark, have you told the Station Chief…?”
“No sir I haven’t… To be honest sir your lot were the only ones I thought of… He pulled her shadow two weeks ago, we clocked her by accident with our target subject sir then I personally eavesdropped on the dialogue…”
Charlie finished writing then held the sheet of paper in the air which read “A.M poss. 2T soon…!” This translated to Angela McQueen possible double tap soon… He then shouted…
“Someone get Brize Norton and a fast car…!”
Norman put his head around the door and said…
“Charlie, there’s a BAE due to leave at 1215. Aldergrove have said they may have a space and hold the flight…”
“Mark you have forty five minutes to get to Aldergrove and get on a jet to Brize Norton. We’ll have it off you when you’re here…”
“Yes sir, on my way…”
Charlie replaced the receiver walked out of his office and looked at the boards I walked over and stood beside him…
“Charlie, do we know why he hasn’t gone to Wright-Stevens with this…? It’s going to kick up one hell of a shit storm because he left the Belfast Station Chief in the dark…”
He reflected on that before offering a reply…
“He’s been there a month, clearly excitable and I could tell the adrenaline had kicked in. An Officer can make interesting decisions exposed to that laddie. A replay of the call will cover it…”
We had been joined by Chris and Sarah… Chris offered his take on it…
“Did you hear the speech that he gave…? The man’s a prat, all that New Belfast bollocks. I wouldn’t go to him with a torn sock…”
Sarah’s conclusion was a little graver however…
“He pulled a shadow off a known POI who has been acting suspiciously recently, why…? He wants to dick measure that’s why. He would rather threaten the integrity of our security than accept there are Sections who know better. If she’s been targeted for a ‘capping for instance it goes way beyond being a drug dealer or a Tom. After all, her sister still has influence…”
I put the telephone down saying
“I’m putting Starling on her now, he’ll be over the border and in Belfast by the time Ward gets here…”
Norman walked briskly over accompanied by Steve Case our SO12 liaison…
“Iain, Steve wants to offer something, official too if it helps the lad out…”
“Chief we’ll pick him up at Brize and bring him straight here rather than leave him to RAF transport…”
I could see he’d been giving it a bit of thought so I let him continue…
“One of our drivers in Reading could get there in half an hour if he clogged it with his blues on. Our argument would be that he’s got vital information which is imperative to a Special Branch live investigation. It’s not a lie or a sly move either. It will also have the benefit of us both being up to speed especially with all the services in on the INTEL take. What do you think…?”
“I think its bloody class Steve, carry on…” “Yes Chief…”
He walked off pleased. He’d only been in place for three days and was already getting his service directly involved. With the approving looks the others were showing I could see we all agreed that having SO12 and Steve Case in particular in this building would offer us an advantage. I walked in to Janet’s office and pointed to Robin’s door she replied with a nod.
“Come in…”
“Sir, a green Box officer in Belfast has contacted us with very important information. We’ve instructed him to board the next flight to Brize. Steve Case has tasked a specialised driver to collect him and bring him here. It involves subject Angela McQueen and a strong connection to the trip she made, the funding, also the possibility of a threat to her life.”
“Go on Section Chief, I‘m listening”
“Politically I’m certain there will be a little fallout over this…”
Robin raised his head and adjusted his seating position. I carried on…
“He came direct to us sir, well Charlie in particular… He bypassed the Belfast Section Chief. We have no clue in regard to his motivation for doing this apart from that he’s a month into his first official posting and one of Charlie’s last assignments was to train him…”
“Very well, let me know when he arrives, I want to be in on this too. I think I’ll have a chat with the Foreign Secretary so Home doesn’t mug him… Janet could you get me the Foreign Secretary please…? Thank you…”
“Carry on Iain, thank you…”
Chapter Ten
While waiting for Ward to arrive we requested the Box INTEL on O’Hanlon through official channels, also due to Steve Case’s immediate offer of assistance without first informing the Yard I also placed a call to his Commander John Shreve. My personal phone rang…
“Section Chief…”
“Yes, this is Martin Wright-Stevens; do you know who I am…?” “Yes Martin, you’re Belfast Station Chief, how can I help you…?” “You can help me by telling me where you get off ordering one of my
people to get on a bloody plane and why you want our information on that low life O’Hanlon…”
“Mr Wright-Stevens… I haven’t ordered anyone to do anything and the information request is part of an on-going investigation. We offered an officer an opportunity to speak with us in person to which he agreed. As you know Compass is a multi service operation which includes M I 5…”
“No, first you ask me…”
I was beginning to understand now why Mark Ward came to us. I’d had enough…
“Actually no, I don’t. I may inform you as a courtesy and if a may say, if McQueen’s shadow had still been in place we would have known where she was going and possibly the nature of the meeting…!”
He responded defensively…
“You’re overreacting, there is a ceasefire…!”
“Yes Station Chief, issues are also quiet in the Gulf at the moment too but our ground forces aren’t sunbathing and drinking Mai Tai’s… We require O’Hanlon’s package today… Good day sir…”
I wa
lked from my office to where Chris was filling the boards with McQueen’s bio’…
“Ward will be here in ten minutes, we’ve set up recorders for us ’12, ’13 and Box. I think we have our connection. I also have another thought but I want the others here before I share it…”
“Cheers Chris… I’ve just had Belfast SC breathing fire, I hung up on him. I’ve requested Ward’s packet too, I was wondering…”
“You were wondering about our Box liaison vacancy, it certainly would be easier than you having to speak to that prat…”
Bearings: The Compass Trilogy Part One Page 7