The first and most dramatic of these actions, which was mentioned briefly in a previous chapter, occurred on the evening of Friday, 8 May 1987, in the village of Loughgall, a picturesque spot on the back road between Portadown and Armagh. Loughgall was a suitable target for an IRA bombing as the village is known as a founding centre of Orangemen and its 250 inhabitants are almost exclusively Protestant. Twenty SAS troops were tasked to watch the Loughgall RUC station after the FRU had been tipped off that the IRA had begun a campaign of targeting police stations and security bases. The terrorists’ aim was to close these stations down, thus allowing IRA activists free access to roam the country with little or no hindrance. The promised attack on the small, insignificant, four-man Loughgall RUC station was the twelfth that year and the seventh in a two-week spell. Most of the earlier attacks had been made with home-made mortars and, though the police stations and bases had been hit, no one had been killed or injured and little structural damage had occurred.
The FRU had been unable to determine the exact time and date of the proposed IRA attack and the SAS had been warned they might have to endure a long stake-out. In fact, the very day after the twenty well-armed SAS men had moved into position in the fields opposite the RUC station, one observation post radioed that a suspect digger was rumbling down the road towards the target.
Because the FRU had learned that the Provos intended to destroy the single-storey building with one huge bomb, orders had been given to vacate the station. The FRU had also learned from their source that because the Provos believed an RUC station in a staunchly Protestant village might be strongly defended, they planned to take a large squad of well-armed men, just in case they ran into heavy arms fire. It was the kind of scenario that the SAS loved – setting a trap for a bunch of unsuspecting killers.
Silently, the SAS men, lying low in heavy camouflage behind the hedgerow across the road from the deserted police station, cocked their weapons – and waited. The yellow digger trundled towards them with a driver and two men in boilersuits standing on either side of the vehicle, their faces hidden with masks. They were carrying AK47s. Twenty yards or so behind the digger a blue van followed as though in convoy. Then it overtook the digger and came to a stop smack opposite the police station, almost in touching range of some members of the SAS patrol. The driver of the digger slowed almost to a halt and turned towards the entrance to the deserted police station and, with the three men still on board, smashed through the barbed-wire perimeter fence and trundled on towards the two-storey white façade. Seconds before the digger crashed into the building, the three men jumped off and ran back towards the road through the gap in the fence. Asthey ran out, the rear door of the van opened and half a dozen men, also dressed in dark boilersuits and wearing masks, jumped out. All were carrying weapons, some with AK47s, others with handguns.
No warning was given to the Provo gunmen, no effort was made to arrest the bombers. Instead, the SAS opened fire, pouring hundreds of rounds at the men, determined to wipe out the entire IRA unit. Some took refuge behind the van and returned fire but the majority, realising they had been caught in an ambush, simply ran for their lives. Suddenly, the air was rent with the most enormous explosion and the entire roof of the RUC station was lifted off. Thousands of tiles and blocks of masonry were hurled into the air and came crashing down amongst the Provos and the SAS troops. Shielded by the van, five IRA gunmen kept up a sustained defence but as some SAS troops left their positions and circled the van, the gunmen found themselves surrounded and totally exposed. They tried to make a run for it but without success. One by one they were gunned down as they fled, given no chance to surrender. Eight IRA men were killed in total. Not one escaped. And, more importantly, there were no demands for public or police enquiries. A lesson had been learned.
Perhaps the most high-profile operation ever undertaken in the thirty-year battle against the IRA occurred not in Britain or the Province of Northern Ireland but in the British Crown Colony of Gibraltar. The SAS shot dead three unarmed members of the IRA in an operation which caused uproar in Britain, with arguments for and against the operation raging for weeks in the media and, more importantly, in the House of Commons. It quickly became obvious that the killing of Mairead Farrell, Danny McCann and Sean Savage could only be described as unlawful. No attempt had been made to arrest or apprehend them. There were no explosives in their car though the British government had claimed it contained a massive bomb, and none of the dead was armed. It was soon apparent that the entire operation had been planned and ordained by the Thatcher government as an example to the IRA that Britain would use all means at its disposal to attack and kill terrorists whenever and wherever possible.
To the FRU, working in Northern Ireland, the ruthless killings also showed the aggressive methods now being taken by the government in its bid to defeat the IRA. The government had not been slow to learn the lessons from the Stalker affair which had aroused heavy, critical media investigations. That singular experience had shown the politicians that when the RUC took tough, hardline action against the Provos, the political fall-out was far more difficult to contain than when the army became involved in such tactics. Although the Provos had undoubtedly been armed during their attack on the Loughgall police station, no attempt whatsoever had been made by the SAS to arrest them. The soldiers had simply laid an ambush and mowed down the gunmen and bombers with heavy and sustained fire.
Gibraltar, however, was a different matter. The British government argued that the SAS had been forced to kill because it was believed the terrorists were about to detonate a huge car bomb. But this was untrue and the government knew it was untrue. They were trying to defend the indefensible, which is why they received so much criticism both domestically and from international civil-rights organisations.
The members of the Force Research Unit involved with handling Agent Ten-Thirty-Three were also aware of the escalating number of Republicans, IRA activists and Sinn Fein members who were being killed. Senior MI5 political officers in Northern Ireland knew full well that British Military Intelligence was working hand in glove with the UDA whose gunmen carried out these murderous activities. And it seemed that the more the FRU became involved with Brian Nelson and his UDA paramilitary thugs, the greater the number of Catholics that were targeted. It was not only the entire Force Research Unit who was aware of what was going on; the RUC top-brass as well as the RUC Special Branch were becoming increasingly concerned that the killing of Catholics and Republicans, including IRA, INLA and Sinn Fein personnel, was being orchestrated not just by the ineffectual Brian Nelson but by much more powerful forces in the Province, forces which were using Nelson simply as a front man to carry out murder.
Chapter Ten
The Murder of Patrick Finucane
The cold-blooded murder of Patrick Finucane in the late 1980s aroused extraordinary anger and passion in Northern Ireland. A leading member of the Province’s younger generation of solicitors, he was gunned down in front of his wife and three young children as they ate their Sunday lunch at home in north Belfast.
Patrick Finucane was just thirty-eight. He had fought for the rights of disadvantaged Catholics since the troubles began, and frequently represented Catholics and Republicans who had been arrested and charged with all manner of crimes, including offences under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. He made no pretence of doing otherwise. But Finucane knew his law well and fought tooth and nail for his clients on every occasion, as any good solicitor should. His profile rose significantly during the 1980s as he defended more Republicans, some of them members of the IRA. He even challenged the British government when he figured prominently in the ‘shoot-to-kill’ inquest held in Craigavon. On that occasion he represented the family of James Gervaise McKerr, a victim of one of the controversial RUC shootings described in the previous chapter, who was gunned down in cold blood by the RUC’s HMSU following a car chase near Lurgan in November 1983.
When the RUC officers eventually stopped firing and
examined the bodies, McKerr and his companions, Burns and Toman, were found to be shot to pieces, their bodies riddled with bullets, barely recognisable to those relatives who were asked to identify them. The RUC’s extraordinary attack on the car seemed even more questionable when the police found no weapons in McKerr’s car or anywhere along the road down which the men had driven. There was every possibility that the men had indeed been unarmed, and yet the RUC assault team had responded as though they had been involved in a heavy gun battle.
On that occasion Pat Finucane challenged the Coroner, arguing that the RUC men implicated in the killings of McKerr, Burns and Toman should be brought to the Inquest to give evidence. This demand was refused at first but Finucane’s legal argument finally won the day and the officers were forced to give evidence.
As the result of his successful legal challenge, more Provos and Republicans facing charges in the criminal courts asked to be represented by Pat Finucane and he earned a reputation throughout the Province for his skill as a solicitor. Needless to say, this reputation, also meant that the young solicitor was seen as a thorn in the side of the Establishment, the British government and, more importantly, the Protestant Loyalists, many of whom seemed to believe that the Catholic minority were guilty of all terrorist crimes unless proved innocent.
In September 1987 Brian Nelson asked to see his handlers on an important matter. They met, as usual, at one of the safe-houses and sat down for a chat.
‘What’s up?’ he was asked.
‘We want information,’ he said, ‘information on the solicitor Patrick Finucane.’
‘Why is that?’
In a belligerent tone, Nelson replied, ‘Because we know that he’s not just a lawyer but a mouthpiece for the Provos. We believe that Finucane is a fair and legitimate target; he’s one of them and we want to target him.’
‘Well, what do you want from us?’ asked one of the handlers. ‘He is a very well-known public figure; his face is known to everyone in Belfast. There’s no need for us to supply you with pictures or a montage of the man.’
‘We know that,’ said Nelson, ‘but we wondered if you could help us with his everyday movements, so we could be sure of getting him. After all, he is a legitimate target.’
‘We have no reason to believe he is a member of the Provisional IRA,’ said one handler. ‘Do you have any such evidence?’
‘Not exactly,’ admitted Nelson, ‘but we know he’s one of them – he’s always in court defending the Provos and hardliners.’
Somewhat exasperated, one handler said, ‘But that’s his job – he’s a lawyer; he’s perfectly entitled to defend whoever he wishes. You can’t go around killing lawyers because they defend people in court. Everyone is entitled to be represented in court when they are charged with an offence. Just because one lawyer specialises in defending Provos does not necessarily mean that he too is a Provo or even a Republican. He might just want to see fair play.’
The reaction of the Force Research Unit left Nelson looking somewhat down in the mouth. It was obvious that he had hoped for more support and assistance from British Intelligence. He was left in little doubt that targeting Finucane would not be appreciated by his handlers. They told him that if the Ulster Defence Association had any intention of targeting Patrick Finucane then he must inform Military Intelligence before any decisive action was taken. But, when he left them that day, Nelson’s handlers weren’t sure whether he really would tip them off if the UDA did plan to murder the lawyer.
Nothing more was heard from Nelson on the subject of Patrick Finucane for four months, and the FRU started to believe that their warning had been sufficient to persuade the UDA to abandon their plans to murder him. But then Nelson brought his name up again, reporting that a decision had been taken at the highest level of the UDA to target Finucane.
‘What do you mean?’ Nelson was asked. ‘We told you to steer clear of Finucane.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ replied Nelson, ‘but I can tell you that there is a plan to gun him down when he’s driving away from the Crumlin Road court-house.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I was told to carry out the recce,’ replied Nelson. ‘I’ve done that and reported back. Every evening after this case in which he is representing a Provo, Finucane leaves the court and drives along the Crumlin Road for a few hundred yards before turning left and heading along a side-road towards north Belfast. That leads to a Protestant area. Along that road he has to slow down and it’s there that we plan to ambush him. It’ll be a piece of cake. He never has any bodyguards and we have examined his car and found that it isn’t even armoured, so there should be no problem.’
‘When do you plan to hit him?’ he was asked.
‘Don’t know that,’ replied Nelson, ‘but very soon. We’re ready to go.’
After Nelson had gone, senior FRU officers were immediately informed and the facts were reported ‘as a matter of urgency’ to the TCG. The TCG officers were of the same opinion as the Force Research Unit – that everything possible must be done to stop the UDA killing Finucane. Orders were immediately issued to the army and the RUC to swamp the Crumlin Road court area and a square mile around it for as long as the current case was being heard. They were not told why they had to do this nor whose life they were there to protect. More importantly, the decision was also taken at TCG level not to inform Patrick Finucane that he had been targeted by the gunmen of the UDA. It was common practice not to inform people who had been targeted because they would then have been entitled to demand police protection. So many people were allegedly targeted by the terrorists that it would have been impossible for the RUC to protect them all. Instead, after evaluation of the circumstances, the RUC, often with the help of the army and the security services, found ways to prevent any action being taken – swamping the area with extra forces, for example, until it was judged that the danger had passed. There were hundreds of occasions when this policy was satisfactorily pursued.
In a bid to ensure Finucane’s safety, senior officers of E4A and the Det surveillance units were called to a meeting and told in no uncertain terms that the UDA had targeted Patrick Finucane and were planning to assassinate him as he left the court-house. As a result, both E4A and Det teams were drafted into the area and ordered to keep a close eye on Finucane as he went about his business. MI5 officers, the members of the Tasking Co-ordination Group and the FRU all believed that the UDA were deadly serious in their plan to murder Finucane. As each day passed and no attempt was made, the senior officers began to relax a little.
The day after the court case ended, Nelson returned for another visit, angry that his tip-off had resulted in a decision to prevent the killing of Pat Finucane. ‘If you bastards hadn’t interfered, he would be dead by now,’ Nelson raged. ‘You’re ruining my credibility, betraying our plans like that. What do you think would happen to me if the UDA thought I was telling you lot all our fucking plans? If you want me to keep operating, back off and let us do what we have to do, okay?’
The FRU officers tried to calm him down, explaining that killing a solicitor of Patrick Finucane’s seniority and notoriety was not a good idea and that the UDA bosses should think again before deciding to target him in the future. Nelson’s handlers also explained to him that they were duty-bound to pass to higher authority plans to commit murder, especially when the target was in Patrick Finucane’s league, a solicitor, a member of the establishment. ‘There are limits, Brian, to our work and to your work, and don’t you ever forget that,’ they told him.
Unknown to Brian Nelson, however, British Intelligence began to watch Patrick Finucane more closely, checking his friends and acquaintances, his meetings and the relationship between senior Provisional IRA officers and the lawyer. Intelligence services continued their surveillance of Finucane throughout 1988 and it appeared to them that he was working more closely than ever with IRA officers as well as Sinn Fein leaders. They discovered that meetings were often held after office
hours, and away from Finucane’s own Belfast offices, at which he and senior Sinn Fein/IRA activists would discuss a range of topics which were not strictly related to legal matters.
Reports from intelligence agents were passed to the Joint Irish Section showing Finucane’s growing closeness, for no apparent good legal reason, to known IRA activists. Suspicions that he was in fact an unofficial member of the Provisional IRA grew stronger, though there was never any proof whatsoever that Finucane was ever involved in advising Provo leaders on targets to be attacked, discussing possible targets or in any way condoning attacks by Provo gunmen, bombers or active service units.
Six months after the abortive attempt to kill Finucane in September 1987 Nelson once again raised the solicitor’s name with his handlers.
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