As a result, the FRU, the RUC Special Branch and the JIS were put under increasing pressure to find good, reliable informants who could keep the authorities abreast of the operations being planned by both the UDA and the UVF as well as any small, wayward Loyalist paramilitary organisations which were also becoming active. At that time the UVF had a hard core of about eighty men and the UFF about sixty. Both hardline groups had access to a few handguns and machine pistols, one or two sub-machine-guns and two light machine-guns. The security chiefs were desperate to know the Loyalist potential for causing mayhem. They needed details of the Loyalist organisations, the personnel, finance, planning and, above all, the availability of weapons, ammunition, Semtex and detonators, the four vital elements necessary if they were to become a serious terrorist threat. The intelligence they were receiving from touts on the street was pathetic.
From their previous enquiries over the years the RUC Special Branch had learned that the UDA had never had the capability of causing real trouble in the Province, or of launching a prolonged onslaught, because the organisation had been so open and amateurish. And they knew that the UDA were short of weapons, ammunition, Semtex and detonators. But the fact that the UDA, the UVF and the UFF had closed ranks, and become more secretive, made it imperative for the authorities to find out what was going on behind the scenes. Telephone taps were put on all known UDA phone links and on the homes of high-ranking UDA officers. But this bugging produced little information of any real worth either; the UDA were finally learning.
Someone in the FRU remembered Brian Nelson and wondered if he was still in contact with his old friends back in Belfast. Perhaps the UDA had called on his expertise in their hour of need. In desperation, it was decided to try and contact Nelson to see if he could become the FRU’s link to the new, secretive UDA leadership. MI5 asked MI6 to trace Nelson in West Germany and, if possible, supply a phone number. They knew he was living in the Munich area and the request was passed to BND, the West German secret service. Forty-eight hours later, Army Intelligence in Belfast had the correct number.
That initial phone call to Brian Nelson at his home near Munich appeared to be a disaster. Nelson was drunk and spoke incoherently, hardly making any sense at all. The call, of course, was taped in the FRU’s Ulster headquarters and even when they listened to the replay it still made little sense. Nelson kept saying that he was still in contact with the UDA but was now also dealing with some unknown organisation called the Grey Wolves. At that time no one in Army Intelligence in Northern Ireland had the slightest inkling of the identity of the murderous Grey Wolves. But MI5 did. As soon as they heard Nelson was involved with both the UDA and the Grey Wolves, they urged FRU officers to fly Nelson secretly to London.
Sean and John, the two intelligence officers who had handled Nelson in Belfast, flew to Heathrow and met their former contact during the last two weeks of September 1986. The three were driven to one of MI5’s safe-houses in Knightsbridge, an apartment on the fourth floor of a small block of exclusive flats. Nelson arrived somewhat the worse for drink, which was further exacerbated by the cupboards full of beer, wine and spirits at the safe-house.
In his more sober moments, Nelson explained to Sean and John about his relationship with the Grey Wolves. It appeared that many of the workers at Nelson’s West German firm were Turkish and some had a close association with this ultra-right-wing terrorist organisation. The Turkish migrants were constantly being asked to purchase handguns from the thousands of US servicemen living in West Germany. These they would then smuggle to their terrorist friends in Turkey. Nelson also confirmed to Army Intelligence that the UDA were still in contact, phoning him every few weeks. After two days of debriefing in London, Nelson flew back to resume his job in Munich. MI5, of course, had secretly taped Nelson’s conversations.
After that meeting, MI5 now became more than interested in the UDA’s former intelligence officer, realising he could be of considerable use, hopefully leading them to the politicians and behind-the-scenes leaders who were the real power in the new, streamlined and dangerous UDA. In a desperate bid to prise Nelson from the Force Research Unit’s grasp, MI5 surprisingly offered the Belfast floor-layer privileged Agent status, which would mean a handsome salary, a pension and a secure future. MI5 intended to push Nelson into the high reaches of the UDA so that they would know exactly the thinking, the political ambitions and the plans of the main Loyalist paramilitary organisation.
‘If you hear from your old friends in the UDA, don’t forget to give us a call, will you?’ he was asked as his FRU handlers gave him two hundred pounds for his forty-eight-hour stay in London.
‘I won’t forget you,’ Nelson replied, ‘if you promise to look after me well.’
‘That’s a deal,’ he was told.
When Nelson flew out of Heathrow, however, British Intelligence was no nearer to discovering who was in charge of the new, secretive UDA. In fact, unknown to British security chiefs, a small band of six diehard Loyalists had taken command of the UDA and were determined to rip apart the entire structure and rebuild the organisation from scratch. But this time there would be professionalism and, more importantly, secrecy. All contact with RUC Special Branch and military personnel was banned and only the six diehards knew exactly what was going on. They would become the Loyalist equivalent of the IRA’s Army Council and their commitment would be as unswerving as that of the staunchest Provo officer. Officially, the UDA boasted a membership of 20,000 in 1986 but this was trimmed, almost overnight, to a hardcore of just two hundred dedicated men. And these men were split into cells, self-contained units of six or eight, who were directly answerable only to their commander. No one had any idea of the membership of the cells except the commander. No lists were made; no records were kept; no names were filed on computer.
The British secret services knew that the UDA had access to funds. They believed Loyalist finances were in a healthy state, for over the years revenues had increased from protection scams on building sites, from fruit-machines in Loyalist clubs and pubs, from Post Office robberies and from wealthy Protestant businessmen who wanted no change in the status quo. But the secret services had no idea where the Loyalists were trying to buy arms and ammunition from. MI6, Britain’s overseas secret intelligence service, was alerted to check any leads with right-wing terrorist organisations, particularly in Europe and the United States, which might think of providing Ulster Loyalists with the necessary arms and equipment. But the feedback to the TCG in Belfast was slow while the situation on the streets was deteriorating.
Meanwhile, the UDA High Command was working overtime. They knew their military wing had to be properly equipped with modern arms, reliable information and genuine Semtex if they were to pose a serious threat and answer any challenge they might face. By the spring of 1986 the UDA had access to hundreds of legally held shotguns and legitimate rifle club weapons but only about 150 handguns and sub-machine-guns, the majority of which had been manufactured secretly in the workshops of two of the Province’s largest employers, Short Brothers and Harland & Wolff. No one could be sure, however, if those home-made weapons would prove sufficiently reliable on an active service operation. Trusted UDA officers were dispatched to Dublin to make secret telephone contact with various right-wing underground terrorist organisations in Europe. They did not dare phone such organisations from anywhere in Northern Ireland for fear of being tracked by the intelligence services, their phones bugged, their plans revealed.
At first, the UDA concentrated on former contacts in various European countries including Turkey, Italy, Portugal and Spain, as well as various right-wing groups in the United States. After months of phone calls, hundreds of faxes, detailed lists of weapons and promises of end-user certificates, the UDA’s search for a reliable weapons and ammunition supplier had come to nought. It was then that they turned to right-wing Afrikaners. And, for the first time since the search began, it seemed the South Africans were not only in a position to supply all the UDA’s requ
irements but were more than happy to do so. The Afrikaners believed they were helping their blood brothers in Ulster who, they reasoned, were only defending themselves and their families from the terrorists of the IRA.
The UDA realised that dispatching one of their own trusted officers from Belfast to South Africa on such a secret assignment would probably alert the security services. They were well aware that constant surveillance was kept on everyone travelling between Ulster and the UK mainland, as well as between the north and south of Ireland. The UDA presumed that MI6 kept a close watch on Dublin airport too. They realised that if one person had to make numerous overseas trips to attend various meetings, suspicion would quickly be aroused. They did not underestimate the capability of the British secret services and they envisaged handing over hundreds of thousands of pounds, collecting the weapons and ammunition and then finding an HM Customs reception committee waiting for them back in Ulster.
A senior member of the UDA came up with a possible solution. They could use someone they trusted to represent the UDA and act as an intermediary between Belfast and Johannesburg; someone who need never travel to or from the Province; someone who lived permanently abroad but who would be happy to assist the Loyalist cause. The UDA High Command decided that man would be Brian Nelson.
At the beginning of October 1986, Nelson phoned Army Intelligence headquarters in Northern Ireland and asked to speak to Sean. He had to hold for a couple of minutes before Sean’s voice came on the line.
‘Nice to hear from you,’ said Sean by way of introduction.
‘You asked me to stay in touch if I had any news,’ Nelson said.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ replied Sean, ‘what have you got?’
‘I thought you might be interested to know that my friends called me from Belfast last night,’ he said. ‘They want me to fly to South Africa to arrange an arms deal they’ve set up.’
The handlers listening into the conversation in their Lisburn headquarters could hardly believe their luck. Outwardly, Sean remained cool. ‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘Are you going?’
‘Yes,’ Nelson replied, ‘of course I am. They’re sending me the money for my return flight to Jo’burg and the whites down there will look after me when I arrive.’
‘Do you know when you’re going?’ Sean asked.
‘Not yet,’ Nelson answered, ‘but I shall be on my way as soon as everything can be arranged – the money, tickets and accommodation.’
‘Thanks for the news,’ Sean told him. ‘We’ll be in touch in a day or so. If you have to leave suddenly, phone us first. Remember, we’ll make it worth your while.’
‘I know that,’ he replied, ‘I won’t forget.’
Twenty-four hours later Sean phoned Nelson at his Munich apartment. He was calling after Nelson’s dramatic news had been passed to senior officers in the FRU, MI5 and the TCG, and a plan of operation had been thrashed out.
Nelson agreed to go along with the plan. Instead of flying directly to Johannesburg as requested by the UDA, he would fly via Heathrow where he would be met and briefed by British Intelligence.
Forty-eight hours later Nelson landed in London to be met by Sean, John and two MI5 officers. He was taken to the Post House Hotel near the airport, handed five hundred pounds in cash and asked to return via London on his flight back from South Africa to Frankfurt. He was then transported back to Heathrow for the overnight flight to Jo’burg. MI6 was ordered to keep an eye on Nelson during his stay in South Africa but not to approach him at any stage without first contacting headquarters in London.
Brian Nelson would spend three weeks in South Africa, meeting the Afrikaner leader Eugene Terre Blanche and staying weekends in the famous Sun City resort, which he loved. He drank heavily, visited the nightclubs and thoroughly enjoyed the South African hospitality. He also discussed the details of the £120,000 arms deal. It was arranged that the shipment would include a variety of weapons: AK47s from neighbouring Mozambique and Zimbabwe, Galliel assault rifles from Israel, as well as handguns, grenade launchers and hand-grenades. The end-user certificates – demanded by customs authorities throughout the world whenever arms were exported to another country – would be arranged by the South Africans and the shipment would go via Holland to Scotland before being transported to Northern Ireland.
Nelson returned to Heathrow and was debriefed by MI5 at the Post House Hotel, giving them all the information he had acquired during his stay in Johannesburg. MI5 gave Nelson a further five hundred pounds and he flew back to Frankfurt a very happy man. He was beginning rather to enjoy the lifestyle of an international intelligence agent, being treated with great respect by powerful leaders in foreign countries, involved in international arms trading and enjoying as much booze, as many loose women and as much casino gambling as he wished during his time off.
It was at this point that the relationship between MI5 and Army Intelligence broke down. MI5 desperately needed Nelson back in Belfast where they believed he would be most useful on the political side, providing inside information not only on the UDA leadership and their plans but also on Ulster’s wavering and undecided political leaders. Army Intelligence, on the other hand, were keen to reinstate Nelson on the active-service, operational side of the paramilitary UDA, hoping he could return to his old job as intelligence officer so they would receive a constant flow of vital information on the group’s military activities, their planned operations and the gunmen and bombers who carried out their clandestine activities.
Indeed, so desperate was Army Intelligence to recruit Nelson to their cause that two handlers flew secretly to Munich to try and persuade him to return to Belfast and work once more for the FRU. By sending two handlers to Germany on such a mission was totally against Home Office orders, for no FRU personnel were permitted to operate outside Northern Ireland under any circumstances. At that Munich meeting Army Intelligence offered Nelson a deal: three hundred pounds a week cash, a reasonable saloon car, a house in Belfast purchased by Army Intelligence, and a cover – a job as a taxi-driver or whatever Nelson wanted to do. The handlers were surprised that Nelson did not require any arm-twisting. Without a moment’s hesitation he said yes and shook hands on the deal.
It was only after Nelson had agreed to join the Force Research Unit that he confessed that officers from MI5 had also visited his Munich apartment offering him a similar deal to work exclusively for them. Apparently, he had been surprised to hear from MI5 that they were offering him a job for life, with full pay and expenses as well as a pension to follow. MI5 had also offered to buy him a family-sized house in Belfast as well as a car.
But Nelson had his doubts about MI5, despite their surprising generosity. As he would say later: ‘I feared I would be desk-bound forever and I didn’t fancy that. Anyway, I didn’t trust MI5; they seemed to me to be a bunch of fucking queers.’
Before flying out to West Germany to see Nelson, the FRU handlers had heard that the UDA, happy and satisfied with the work Nelson had carried out so professionally in South Africa, had already offered him his old job back, and with a promotion. Now, he would be the UDA’s intelligence officer, covering the whole of Ireland, and he would be paid well too. From Army Intelligence’s viewpoint, the outcome was a great success, for not only had they succeeded in outwitting MI5, but Nelson would be back inside the very heart of the UDA with access to every area of the outfit. This time, the FRU believed, the information they received would be of the highest calibre.
But they needed a cover story to convince Nelson’s former friends and workmates in Belfast of the reasons for his return to the Province and how he could afford a new house and a car. At the time he and his family had moved to Germany, Nelson had vowed never to return to the city. Military Intelligence approached MI6 for assistance and it was decided to manufacture a win for Nelson on a weekly German lottery. MI6 approached their German counterparts, explained the situation, and they agreed to announce that £20,000 had been won by Brian Nelson, a Brit living and working in German
y. No money was handed over to Nelson, as FRU officers feared he might blow the lot on a Mercedes. The £20,000 would be used in fact on a deposit for a house in Belfast and to provide basic necessities like carpets, beds, a three-piece suite, a dining table and chairs, kitchen equipment and a washing-machine. In fact, an FRU officer purchased the house and equipped the place before Nelson and his family arrived back in Northern Ireland. With that lottery win Nelson could tell his mates back home how he had come by the money to pay for the family’s triumphant return to Belfast. When he arrived there in January 1987, with his family and their belongings, he was met and handed the keys to their new home, an end-of-terrace house in West Circular Crescent off the Springmartin Road.
Nelson arrived back home with his wife and four children in his left-hand drive German-built Ford Granada, a rather battered-looking vehicle, which he hoped to use as a taxi. Military Intelligence had decided that on his return their man would work as a taxi-driver, using his own vehicle and attached to a Protestant Loyalist taxi firm.
It had been decided that working as a taxi-driver was the best cover available for Nelson, not only so that he could drive around the city meeting people and gathering information but also because it showed that he had a job and therefore an income. Nelson needed to pretend to do some work, so that friends and neighbours would never wonder how he and his family managed to live from week to week on the dole.
The Ford Granada soon proved unreliable so Military Intelligence purchased a Mazda 626 for him, as well as a taxi-driver’s licence. From that time on, Nelson was officially employed as a freelance driver with Woodvale Taxis. In his vehicle was placed not just an ordinary two-way radio, used the world over by taxi firms, but a special one from which Nelson could pick up and listen to many other frequencies, frequencies given to him by his FRU handlers. In those first few months, when Nelson worked quite conscientiously driving his taxi around Belfast, he would legitimately earn about a hundred pounds a week. He was also, of course, still earning three hundred pounds a week from the FRU.
Ten-Thirty-Three Page 6