A Real Job

by David Lowe

  ‘You’d better be telling the fucking truth fat man or you’re dead,’ Maguire said, ‘now, where’s the key to the door we’ve just come through?’

  ‘I, I’ve got them here on the key ring attached to my belt,’ the guard said fumbling as he tried to quickly detach the keys from his trouser belt so as not to anger Maguire any further.

  ‘Hurry the fuck up and find the key, then give it to my mate here so we can lock the door,’ Maguire said.

  Sensing the armed Irishman’s patience was getting even thinner, the guard’s whole body was shaking making it harder for the guard to find the key. ‘Come on you fat fuck, stop stalling,’ Maguire shouted at him.

  Finding the key, he held it up and said, ‘Here it is.’ Mahoney snatched it out of his hand, went over to the main showroom door and locked it, putting the key into his pocket. As he did so, the security guard said, ‘I know you two, you’re the wanted bank robbers that were on the telly last night.’

  Maguire laughed and said, ‘What are you going to do about it? Fucking turn us in?’

  The guard looked down and nodded he wasn’t. ‘Have you got security cameras in this showroom?’ Mahoney asked the guard.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Turn them off,’ Mahoney said.

  ‘No,’ Maguire said before the guard could move, ‘leave them on. You see my fat friend, we’re not bank robbers, we’re the Real IRA and I want recording what happens. I want to show people that you don’t fuck around with us.’

  The security guard slumped to his knees. Through fear he was unable to control his bodily functions. Letting out a loud rasping fart, the guard defecated in his trousers as he said, ‘Oh Jesus, you’re going to kill me aren’t you, just like you did those coppers.’

  Being the closest to the security guard, Mahoney raised his hand to his nose and winced as the pungent odour hit his nostrils and said, ‘The dirty fucker’s only gone and shit himself.’

  Maguire walked up to the guard, pointed the pistol at his head and said, ‘Why are you shitting yourself? I said I wouldn’t kill you if you did as I said, didn’t I?’

  Not able to look up, the guard mumbled, ‘Yes. What do you want? Do you want the keys to one of the cars that’s for sale? There’s a nice BMW out there?’

  ‘Do you think I’m a fucking thief?’ Maguire asked angrily, ‘I kill people for my cause, especially those that don’t do as I say. Now stand up.’ As the security guard picked himself up, Maguire asked, ‘Is there a closet or a small side room we can put you in. You see, we just want to get away from here and we don’t want you found until later this morning by those that work here.’

  ‘So you’re not going to kill me?’ the guard asked once more.

  An exasperated Maguire said, ‘Are you a fucking thick shit all your life or do you have a day off? I said I wouldn’t kill you if you do as I say. Now is there a room we can put you in, tie you up and lock it so when you’re found we’ll be well gone.’

  ‘Yes, the stationary room. It’s just down that corridor there on the right by the main reception desk,’ the guard said feeling a little less nervous that he was not going to die, ‘the key’s hanging up behind the reception desk.’

  ‘Get the key and don’t press any alarm buttons or you’re dead,’ Maguire said. As the guard leant over the desk to get the key to the stationary room, Maguire asked, ‘Are you married with kids?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got three kids, two boys and a girl.’ the guard said holding the key.

  ‘Lead us to the stationary room,’ Maguire said, ‘that’s nice, are they young?’

  ‘The two boys are seven and six,’ the guard said walking tentatively to the room, ‘and my daughter’s three.’ As the guard got to the stationary room, he unlocked the door, opened it and switched the light on.

  Maguire pushed the guard into the room and looked at it, ‘Perfect,’ he said, ‘now turn round and go onto your knees.’ The guard did exactly what Maguire said. Once on his knees, the Irishman closed the door leaving just the two of them in the small room and said, ‘So it’ll be nice when you’re reunited with them in heaven.’

  Turning round his ruddy complexion turned white with fear as he looked at Maguire. ‘But you said you wouldn’t kill me.’

  ‘I lied,’ Maguire said. Squeezing the trigger with a double tap to the guard’s head, the guard’s body slumped to the floor. Opening the stationary room door Maguire walked out. Looking down, he saw remnants of blood splattered on his clothes. ‘I’ll just go to the bog and wash the fat man’s blood off my clothes,’ he said to Mahoney who was standing outside the room.

  While Maguire went to the toilets, Mahoney ran over to the main door of the car showroom and unlocked it. Tentatively, he walked along the front of the building and looked down the road towards the roadblock to see if there was any reaction from the officers at the roadblock to the shooting. Knowing that having both doors closed would muffle the sound, he still wanted to take no chances. As it looked like none of the officers had reacted, he went back into the showroom as Maguire came out of the toilet. ‘That’s better,’ Maguire said, ‘unlock the back door so we can get to that canal barge before the sun’s up.’ As Mahoney tried to find the right key, Maguire walked up to one of the security cameras and gave a two-fingered salute.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Room 405, Grosvenor Hotel, Chester,

  06.30 hours, Monday, 8th July

  The Z-cars mobile ring tone punctuated the silence of the hotel suite in which David and Debbie were fast asleep. Realising it was his phone, coming out of a deep sleep David fumbled for it on the bedside table. Picking it up he rubbed his eyes. Yawning, he saw it was George ringing him. Noticing it was six thirty in the morning, he answered the call, ‘Hello George, something’s up for you to ring this early.’

  ‘I’m sorry to wake you, but Maguire and Mahoney have committed another murder.’

  Wiping the sleep from his eyes, David sat up in bed, ‘One of ours?’

  ‘No, it was some poor security guard at a car showroom on the outskirts of Chester. The cleaner arrived just after six this morning and couldn’t find the guard. As he normally sits at the reception desk when she gets in she thought he’d gone to the toilet. When she was going to the cupboard containing her cleaning things, she saw a pool of blood coming from under the stationary office door. Unable to find the key to the room she called the police. Two of the firearms lads from the roadblock down the road attended. They forced the door open to find the poor bugger laying there having had a double tap to the back of the head. Just like the poor policewoman they killed yesterday, the poor sod must have known what was coming as he literally shit his pants.’

  ‘The fucking bastards. What do you want me to do?’ David asked getting out of the bed.

  ‘Get showered and meet me in the hotel foyer. I’ll be there in around half an hour, so I’ll ring you when I arrive. I’ve also called Steve in, as I want you two to go out and about in Chester this morning to make some enquiries for me.’

  ‘Do you want me to go to the scene?’

  ‘No, that’s all sorted. We can have breakfast at your hotel where I’ll go through what I need you to do this morning.’

  Getting clean clothes out of the chest of drawers David said, ‘How do you know it was Maguire and Mahoney?’

  ‘The firearms lads checked the security camera footage. Although it was dark, you can make out their silhouettes. Then as they’re leaving Maguire walks right up to the camera and as cool as you like flicks the V sign. From the timing on the footage, that was around half three this morning. Obviously he wanted us to know it was them.’

  * * *

  During the breakfast briefing George brought David, Steve and Debbie up to date with the shootings. He told them Merseyside Special Branch called at the address in Childwall and arrested Sheila Coleman and Murphy’s w
ife, but following a search of the house they found nothing more than a suitcase containing clothes for her and Declan Murphy. After the briefing, George ordered David and Steve to check all premises in Chester city centre, especially those close to the Grosvenor Hotel that would make an ideal spot from which to make an attack on the hotel. A city centre full of historical buildings, some built in the 1530’s during the reign of King Henry VIII, the officers were walking along Chester’s famous two level streets built in the mid-seventeenth century. After checking premises for nearly two hours, they were walking down Eastgate Street towards the Grosvenor Hotel. Rubbing the back of his right hamstring Steve said, ‘This hoofing it round’s killing my legs. I think I’d rather be cooped up in some tiny obs point than walk up and down these fucking stairs. I know it’s quaint and all that, but why did they have to have so many stairs?’

  ‘Stop your whining,’ David said as they approached the junction with St. Werburgh Street that led to the thousand year-old Chester Cathedral. Having been pedestrianised, David thought how this would help eliminate terrorists parking a vehicle containing explosives close to the hotel.

  David stopped walking and started looking along St. Werburgh Street as Steve pulled out a crumpled copy of McCullagh’s security report from his jeans pocket. Flattening it out, he began reading the section regarding the area of the city they were standing and said, ‘It looks as though McCullagh’s security assessment of the surrounding buildings are spot on. There are no empty premises and all of the owners or occupiers are those he listed. I’m bored, let’s go for a coffee.’

  Studying the buildings on the corner of St. Werburgh Street and Eastgate, David said, ‘We can go for a coffee later. Get your ciggies out. That’ll shut you up.’

  Steve took out his cigarettes and offering one to David, he said, ‘What’s bothering me is that Maguire and Mahoney could be watching us right now.’

  ‘They could,’ David said taking a couple of steps back as he continued to look at the building at the corner of St. Werburgh Street, ‘those bastards are around here somewhere. If I was to attack the hotel tomorrow night, I think I’ve just found the ideal location.’

  ‘Where,’ Steve said looking round.

  Pointing to the building opposite him, David said, ‘This solicitors’ office on the corner, Thomas and Harvey. The first floor office affords a good view across to the entrance of the hotel. Being at a slight angle and not directly opposite the hotel entrance, it would give an assassin an ideal shot at anyone getting out of cars pulling up, including the Prince.’ Followed by Steve, David walked over to the Eastgate side of the building. Looking across at the hotel, he added, ‘Can you see it now? It gives a great view of the hotel entrance. What does McCullagh say about the solicitors’ office in his security report?’

  Steve thumbed through the stapled sheets of A4 paper that formed the pages of the report. On finding the name Thomas and Harvey Solicitors, he quickly read what McCullagh had written, then said, ‘He says fuck all really. Just its location then adds that not being directly opposite the hotel, it poses no threat.’

  ‘That’s bollocks,’ David said taking hold of Steve. Positioning him at the corner of the building, he said, ‘Put yourself on the first floor, not only have you a great angle to get the shot in, you have the height as well.’

  Steve looked down Eastgate Street towards the hotel entrance and said, ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Let’s go in and have a look, I want to check out the first floor.,’ David said walking towards of the solicitors’ office door.

  As they entered the solicitor’s office the receptionist looked at both officers. Giving a forced smile she said, ‘Good morning gentlemen. Do you have an appointment?’

  A bespectacled woman with her hair tied up and smart in her appearance, Steve looked and guessed she was in her early forties. His first impression was that even though she looked her age, being a bit heavy in her make-up application, Steve’s first impression of her was that she was trying desperately not to look her age. As both officers produced their warrant cards, David said, ‘Good morning, we’re Special Branch police officers. I’m detective sergeant Hurst and this Detective Sergeant Adams. With Prince William’s visit tomorrow we’re checking all of the properties close to the hotel for security purposes. Can we have a chat with your boss so we can look around?’

  ‘We had a visit last Friday from Michael McCullagh that good looking Irish officer who works in Chester,’ she said, her eyes lighting up as she mentioned his name, ‘He’s an inspector, so if you don’t mind me asking what’s a sergeant and a constable doing checking up on us if a far more senior officer than you two has already carried out the checks?’

  Her barbed comments grated on David’s nerves. Taking a deep breath, he politely said, ‘It might of been his last visit to the office, but didn’t he tell you that we do last minute checks to see if anything has changed from the initial assessment?’ and David showed the receptionist the cover of McCullagh’s report bearing his name and title ‘Security Measures for Royal Visit, Tuesday 9th July’

  Pulling her spectacles down her nose slightly to focus her eyes, she read the cover of the report. On seeing the DI’s name, she said, ‘No he didn’t. In fact Michael said I should check out anyone who claimed to be the security services and if need be, telephone him to make sure. Can I have a proper look at your warrant cards please?’

  Both officers handed her their warrant cards. Satisfied they were genuine, she handed them back to the officers saying, ‘These are for Greater Manchester Police.’

  Putting his warrant card back into his jeans pocket, David said, ‘I admire your caution. Perhaps DI McCullagh forgot to tell you that in the Branch we operate on a regional basis. As a visit from the heir to the throne gets high priority security, we all work together.’

  ‘No, he didn’t, but I’d still like to ring Michael and check you both out,’ she said picking up the office landline telephone handset.

  ‘By all means,’ David said, ‘but he’s not in his office at the moment. Feel free to ask for Cheshire’s chief constable and confirm with her that Steve and I are from Special Branch and our role is carrying out final checks on premises near the hotel before the Prince’s visit tomorrow.’

  As David spoke, a man in his late thirties walked down the stairs leading to the upper floors. In a cut glass English accent said, ‘Ah, Julia, so you know her? She’s a good friend of mine. We’ve been to quite a few functions together. Shirley, as you’ve checked the gentlemen’s warrant cards and they asked you to verify what they’re doing with the chief constable, I think that’s sufficient.’ Walking up to the officers, he held his hand out, ‘John Harvey, senior partner. What can we do for you?’

  Shaking hands with Harvey, David noticed the quality of the cloth in Harvey’s suit as well as the smart cufflinks holding his shirt cuffs as *-he said, ‘DS David Hurst from Special Branch and this is DC Steve Adams. We’re here for the last minute checks on the security provision for the Prince’s visit. Don’t admonish your receptionist. She was right to check us out.’

  ‘It’s nice to see Shirley’s taking her responsibilities seriously,’ John Harvey said, ushering the officers with his hand to take a seat in the reception area, ‘We can’t be too careful in this current climate can we? It’s all over the press this morning how your lot foiled an Al Qaeda attack in Manchester and Bradford yesterday. Did it have anything to do with tomorrow’s visit?’

  ‘We can’t say at the moment,’ David said sitting down along with Steve and John Harvey, ‘But you’re right, you can never be too careful.’

  ‘So why isn’t Shirley’s new boyfriend, Michael McCullagh paying us a visit?’ the solicitor asked.

  David and Steve briefly looked at each other, surprised to hear McCullagh being referred to as the receptionist’s boyfriend. David responded first, saying ‘He’s on another enquiry at the
moment that’s linked to the visit.’

  In an over dramatic manner, John Harvey slapped his forehead with the heel of his right palm and said, ‘What was I thinking, of course he wouldn’t be available now. Being such a senior officer and having the responsibility of organising the security for such an important visit, it’s obvious he would send a couple of subordinates.’

  David gave a forced smile and said, ‘He’s far too busy this morning to do such tasks. That’s why he’s sent us to do the final checks.’

  ‘I take it you two want to have a look around the place once again?’

  ‘If that’s alright Mister Harvey?’ David said, ‘I wouldn’t like to disturb your business unnecessarily. I only want to check the offices on the first floor that overlook the entrance to the hotel.’

  ‘Ah,’ the solicitor said, making exaggerated gestures with his hands, ‘that’s where my office is located. Could you give me a few minutes before you check upstairs ? I have a call to make to a client. Once that’s done, my office is yours. Of course, I’ll have to be present while you check my office.’

  ‘I understand,’ David said, ‘We’ll only be a minute or two.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ John Harvey stood up and looking at the receptionist said, ‘I’m sure Shirley will get you both a coffee. Shirley, coffee for the officers please. I’d offer you something stronger . . .’

  Interrupting the solicitor, Steve said in a sarcastic tone, ‘But you know that we’re on duty. We haven’t heard that for at least twenty minutes!’

  Noting the tone of Steve’s voice, the solicitor looked down and stroking the back of his head, he said, ‘Yes, I suppose that last comment of mine was a bit clichéd. My apologies if I offended you.’ Bringing his hands together in a flamboyant style, he said, ‘I’ll be fifteen minutes at most, then I’ll buzz Shirley to send you up.’

  ‘Thank you Mister Harvey,’ David said.

  As the solicitor walked back up the stairs to his office, the receptionist got up from her desk and walked over to the filter coffee machine where she began to pour out the coffee. ‘Do you both take milk and sugar?’ she asked holding the coffee pot.