by David Lowe
‘The bloke they’ve got in Chester is the one they talked about the most.’
‘So it’s definitely a male officer?’ Steve asked.
‘Yes, he’s a police boss and according to them, he’s got access to all sorts of information. Rory bragged how he’d been helping them for years. He even mentioned this David Hurst. He said a few years ago, this bizzy from Chester sent a message to get the Manchester bizzies away from where they were hiding out leaving just two bizzies at this house. He said they found one of the bizzies hiding in the back garden of the house Rory and his mates were using, right where this Chester bizzy said he’d be. Before they could kill him, Hurst crept up on them and shot two of their mates. He was still really pissed off over that. Since then Rory and Danny really hate Hurst.’
Realising the officer Pickup was talking about that was going to be killed was him, Steve felt his stomach turn. Andy noticed Steve go pale and continued to lead the questioning. ‘Take your time and think really hard for me. Is there anything else that either Rory or Danny said about this officer from Chester that’s passing information onto them?’
‘Not much, only that he was a paddy like them.’
‘What do you mean by a “paddy”?’ Andy said.
‘You know, someone from Ireland. And, Rory was bragging about how they had a virtual free hand working in Liverpool and Chester because of him. That’s it. There’s fuck all else I know about him.’
‘Do you know of any jobs they were planning?’ Steve asked.
‘I don’t know any details, but they were talking about the big one in Chester that’s happening next week. That’s why they wanted Hurst out of the way and this Chester bizzy had made all the arrangements for it to go off. There was something else they mentioned about the Manchester music festival next week at City’s ground. That’s all I know, apart from the fact that Morrissey’s doing a gig at the festival. It’s the one that’s advertised all over the place.’
‘Michael you’ve been a great help and unless you have anything else you want to say, or if Mister Harris has anything he would like to add, I suggest we end this interview and see what we can do for you,’ Steve said, switching off the video and tape recorder while Andy Curtis went out of the room to call for a custody assistant to place Pickup back into his cell.
While they were waiting for the custody assistant, Pickup looked up at Steve and said, ‘I’ve just realised something. Your name is Stephen Adams and you’re from Manchester aren’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘No offence’ Pickup said studying Steve’s face. ‘But guessing your age, you’re the Steve Adams, Rory and Danny were talking about. It was you that Hurst saved when they were going to kill you at that house in Manchester isn’t it?’
‘It was,’ Steve said standing up as the custody assistant entered the interview room. ‘Go with the custody assistant Michael while I have a chat with Mister Harris to see what we can do for you.’ Steve looked at the custody assistant and said, ‘He’s been very helpful. Is it alright if I give him a cigarette and he goes to the exercise yard for a smoke and then can he have a cup of tea?’
‘Seeing how he’s been a good boy, that’s no problem,’ the custody assistant said as Steve took out his packet of cigarettes and handed Pickup a cigarette. Handing the custody assistant his lighter, he said, ‘He’ll need this as well, just pass it back when he’s done.’
As Pickup was being escorted to the exercise yard, the two officers and the solicitor walked down the corridor into a briefing room by the custody officer’s desk. Closing the door behind them, Steve said, ‘I’d say your client has the defence of duress per minas Mister Harris.’
‘I agree with you,’ the solicitor said, ‘what do you propose we do?’
‘I suggest we give him forty-seven three police bail and put restrictions on his movements, including a surety,’ Steve said.
‘Considering what he’s been arrested for, that seems rather lenient DC Adams. What’s your motive?’ Mr. Harris asked.
‘My concern is having members of the Real IRA still out there and the damage they can do in the next couple of days. I was thinking of asking Michael to be an informant for us. We’d need him out as soon as possible if he’s to be any use. Of course, I’ll have to square this off with the SIO first. In his favour is the fact Michael’s been more than co-operative. I get the feeling he’s not too happy with what he’s mixed up in and that might make him willing to co-operate,’ Steve said.
‘I can see why you want to use my client in that way, and while I have some reservations, I can see time is against you in your investigation. You’re proposing a generous outcome, but releasing him on police bail may look suspicious to his associates on the outside, especially this Murphy character. If you bail him forty-seven three, they’re more likely realise he’s confessed everything he knows about them. That would put Michael in great danger whether or not he acts as an informant. I have an alternative solution.’
Surprised at how cooperative this defence solicitor was, Steve and Andy listened intently as Mister Harris gave his proposal of how to deal with Pickup, ‘You and your SIO should think about approaching the CPS and get them to agree to charge him with attempted kidnap. I’ll submit a bail application at court tomorrow morning. In the meantime it might be worth you speaking to the CPS recommending they don’t oppose the bail application too vigorously, as I’m sure someone associated with the Real IRA will be in court monitoring what happens to Michael. It would look far more authentic if it looks like he got lucky in getting bail at court. I’ll contact the CPS and inform them that I’ll be submitting the defence of duress at his trial based on what he’s just told you. Of course one problem will be the magistrates on the bench. They may knock back the bail application. If the CPS prosecutor is aware of what we’re doing, I’ll make sure the bail application is worded in such way it’ll tug at the magistrates’ heart strings. You know the usual mitigation, how Michael’s been out of trouble for a number of years, how he’s the only income earner supporting his dying mother, that sort of thing. How does that sound gentlemen?’
Knowing having a defence lawyer willing to be so co-operative was too rare an opportunity to pass up, Andy said, ‘Never mind us appearing generous, your suggestion sounds a much better alternative.’
‘Good. As I really do see the bigger picture in all of this, I’ll do all I can to help you. I don’t want the Real IRA starting a bombing campaign over here either. Should he get bail, what will you be asking Michael to do as your informant?’ the solicitor asked.
‘See if he can get in touch with Murphy and if he does, to find out as much as he can. No doubt Murphy will want to see him if he gets out and find out what happened. We can use that opportunity for Michael to get out of Murphy as much as he can without putting him in too much danger,’ Steve said.
‘That seems reasonable. If you like, I’ll go and see the custody officer now and request a briefing with Michael and I’ll get the ball rolling by telling him what you intend to do. I’ll recommend to him that he co-operates with you, and, of course, this will help him at any subsequent trial in getting the right protection should he go to prison. There is another alternative to consider if he gets bail and once he’s finished doing what you want him to do as an informant, why not consider witness protection? That’s something your SIO could put to the CPS. If he exposes the Real IRA’s plans on the British mainland, it could entail the CPS being agreeable to giving him a new start and a new life,’ Mister Harris said.
‘There’s a lot to think about there,’ Andy Curtis said, ‘Once you’ve had a chat with Michael, let me know what he intends to do. If he’s happy to be an informant, then I’ll speak with the SIO so he can get the wheels in motion, even if it’s under witness protection.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nero’s Coffee House, Eastgate Street, Chester, 10.50
hours, Sunday, 7th July
Walking into the coffee shop in Eastgate Street, in Chester’s city centre Debbie saw George sat at the rear of the shop reading a newspaper. Catching his eye, she gestured if he wanted another coffee. He nodded he would. Knowing George was partial to cappuccino, she ordered him a large one and a skinny latte for herself. Once served, she took the coffees over to where George was sitting. ‘Hi George, thanks for agreeing to meet up. I got you a large one as I’ve a feeling we’ve got a lot to discuss following the events of last night as well as this morning.’
Putting his newspaper down, George ripped open two sachets of sweetener. As he poured the contents into his coffee, he said, ‘That’s an understatement. It’s really moving at some pace at the moment. I take it you got the full report of Pickup’s interview from Steve Adams?’
‘Yes,’ Debbie said stirring the sweetener she added to her coffee, ‘What do you want to discuss first, the fact the SIO has agreed to Pickup being an informant or the information from Pickup that leans towards my thoughts that McCullagh’s the mole?’
‘Yes . . . DI McCullagh,’ George said as he went to take a sip of his coffee, ‘that bastard’s had us all convinced he was straight. Whenever I look back on that night in ninety-six, I always thought it was a strange call that resulted in me moving the team away from the PIRA safe house. From the intelligence we had at the time, I thought it was safe to leave just David and Steve there. I take it David knows nothing of this yet?’
‘After the shouting match between the two in Alec’s office this morning, I did suggest to David that McCullagh might be the mole. You don’t need to worry about him. He’s out of harm’s way as he’s still out with Gary Baker and his team watching Murphy. So far there’s been no movement from him. According to David, he’s still at his home with his family.’
‘That’s strange. I thought there would have been some movement from Murphy by now. He must be aware of the Liverpool raid as well as the fact O’Byrne, McElvaney and Pickup have been arrested. McCullagh must have told him by now.’
After taking another sip of her coffee, Debbie said, ‘We just have to be patient.’
‘We’ve got to get McCullagh in before he can do any more damage. Now Cheshire’s Professional Standards and the IPCC have taken over the Alec Harvey situation, and the fact I’ve got no more to do with the Al Qaeda job in Manchester, I have a little more time on my hands. I suggest the first thing we do is work out what to do with McCullagh. Have you had any inclination what MI5’s views are from Jenny?’
‘She has the same view as you that we should bring him in today. Before we do, she wants to see if he makes any further contact with Murphy.’
‘McCullagh’s not going far. He’s on duty today and still working on the Royal visit. Mind you, I’m sure the plans he’s making for the visit is not for our benefit. That could be why Murphy’s not made a move yet, he’s waiting to hear from McCullagh. I suggest after we finish our coffee, we return to Cheshire’s ISB office and keep an eye on McCullagh. Once he’s made contact with Murphy, we’ll lift him.’
* * *
Pretending to be asleep in his hospital bed in a side room guarded by armed Special Branch officers, Rory O’Byrne had been conscious for some hours. It was quiet. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see a plain clothes officer sat at his bedside reading a newspaper. From the silhouette reflecting on the window of the door to the room, it looked like there was a second officer sat outside. He knew they would both be armed.
Although the back of his head ached, he knew it was not too serious an injury. Deciding to milk the opportunity of being in hospital, he continually worked on looking for an opportunity to escape. Laying there wearing nothing more than a flimsy hospital gown, he knew the hospital staff had undressed him and he had no idea where they put his clothes. As the bedclothes were not too tight around his body, he could move a little without it being noticed. The problem he had was how to detach the plastic clip on his left index finger attached to a monitor by his bed along with the two plastic attachments stuck onto his chest wired to a monitor checking his heart rate and blood pressure. On top of that, he was trying to figure a way of getting past the two officers and the fact he would need some clothes.
Keeping his eyes closed, visualising how he could get out, he heard the door to the side room open and a female voice say, ‘I need to go to the bog, will you be alright on your own with him for a couple of minutes?’
The officer sat by the bed put down the newspaper, looked over at O’Byrne and said, ‘Sure. He’s still out for the count. That must be some bang on the head he got. He hasn’t come round yet. After you’ve been to the toilet, could you get me a coffee?’ The officer reached into his trouser pocket and took out some change, ‘There’s a drinks machine around the corner from the ward.’
The female officer walked up and took the money. As she was leaving the room, she said, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
After hearing the door close, O’Byrne opened his eyes slightly. The officer resumed reading the newspaper. Only being a couple of feet away and sitting sideways to O’Byrne, he knew this was his chance to escape. Managing to quietly move his left hand onto his chest, he took the plastic suckers off his chest. The problem was how to get the clip off his finger preventing it making a clunking sound as it closed. Keeping his left hand under the bed covers, he moved the other fingers and thumb on his left hand to ease the plastic clip off. The bedclothes muffled the sound of the clip closing as it came off his hand.
As he was free of the wiring to the monitor, O’Byrne opened his eyes to see the officer still engrossed in the newspaper. With great speed, he lurched out of the bed. Grabbing the detective’s neck it forced the two men to roll on the floor. Having the element of surprise, O’Byrne grabbed the officer’s chin with his left hand and using his strength turned it to one side. Making the officer use both of his hands to grab O’Byrne’s arm, with his right hand that was across his neck, O’Byrne used this opportunity to find his pistol strapped to his body. Grabbing the butt, he took it out repeatedly struck the detective’s head. As the officer lost consciousness, O’Byrne got up and picked up the chair. Quickly, he went to the door, wedging it under the handle.
Knowing he had no time to spare, he took off the unconscious officer’s shoes and socks, and the rest of his clothes. Being slightly larger than O’Byrne, the officer’s clothes would fit him, even though they would be a bit big. After throwing on the polo shirt and jeans, putting the socks and shoes on took a little longer. Keeping one eye on the door, O’Byrne cursed as he struggled to put on the shoes. The officer might be bigger than O’Byrne, but having a shoe size smaller, he struggled to squeeze the officer’s shoes on his feet.
Tucking the pistol down the back of his newly acquired pair of jeans, O’Byrne grabbed the still unconscious detective’s lightweight jacket off the floor and moved the chair from the door. Opening it slightly, he looked to see if anyone was approaching. All he could see were a couple of nurses tending to patients on the open ward. A few yards from the side-room to his right was a fire door at the end of a corridor. Being four floors up from ground level, he knew there would be a fire escape on the other side of the door he could use to get down and out of the hospital grounds. He opened the door fully, ran to the end of the corridor and put his hand on the metal bar to push open the fire door. As the door flung open, he momentarily closed his eyes praying no alarm went off. Once onto the fire escape, he began running down the metal staircase towards the ground level.
Running as fast as he could down the staircase, no alarm sounded and neither did O’Byrne hear any shouts. He knew that gave him a couple of minutes of surprise before any one realised he had escaped. Stepping off the metal staircase he ran along the side of the building towards the main entrance where he stopped running. Cautiously, the Irishman looked around the corner. To his relief, no police officers were in the area. Wa
lking past the main entrance doorway through a number of people entering and leaving the hospital, O’Byrne tried to slow down his breathing so it did not look like he had been running. As he did, he reached into the jeans and pulled out the officer’s wallet. In it was a couple of credit and debit cards, but more importantly, there was £75 in cash. Feeling something lumpy in the back pocket, he reached in and pulled out the officer’s warrant card. He knew that would come in handy. In the pocket of the officer’s jacket was a mobile phone still switched on. O’Byrne could not believe his luck. Scrolling through the text messages, his immediate priority was getting as far away from the hospital before the police started looking for him. Walking to a taxi rank, O’Byrne read a couple of text messages. Reading one in particular brought a smile on his face. Entering a cab waiting for a fare, what he read confirmed his suspicions as to how Hurst always seemed one step ahead of him.
* * *
‘Jimmy, how’s it going?’ David Hurst said to Jimmy O’Leary on his mobile phone after receiving a text message to call him.
‘I’m fine as always. Are you in Manchester?’
‘No. I’m elsewhere on surveillance. Have you got something for me?’
‘Yes and its important. I got a few snippets at Reilly’s Bar this afternoon that will be of interest to you. I see you and Steve were busy boys yesterday. I’m outside Reilly’s now outside having a smoke, so I can’t be too long on the phone. Is there any chance of you calling into the flat at Salford Quays this afternoon?’
‘Yes,’ David said looking at his watch, ‘If I put my foot down, I can be there within the hour.’
‘Good lad, there’s things you need to know that’s going to happen in the next few days. Also from what I’ve heard, you need to watch your back right now. I heard what happened to your sister last night. I’ll tell the boys at Reilly’s I’m feeling unwell and see you at the flat.’