A Real Job (9 page)

Stationary at the red traffic light at the pedestrian crossing in Parliament Street where Liverpool’s majestic Anglican Cathedral provided an impressive back-drop, David turned and looked at Debbie. ‘As you told me that’s where they were the last time they were operating in Liverpool, they most probably wanted to find somewhere safe and familiar with.’

‘It could be, but now we can do something about it. I definitely think O’Byrne and McElvaney are on the mainland to carry out some preparation work for one of the Irish dissident groups. Having seen you, while they’re in Liverpool it’ll make them more cautious when they move about. I think that’s given us some breathing space. It gives us time to make some more enquiries and my colleagues who are tailing them can link into Jenny Richmond’s enquiry in London.’

As the lights changed to green, David moved off and said, ‘What’s bothering me is if they’re operating with any others we don’t know who could have been tailing us. I tried to get in touch with George again this morning to tell him what happened, but he’s had his phone switched off all weekend. When you were having breakfast, I rang Steve again.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He took Lena and the kids to her mother’s yesterday just in case. After dropping them off he went to the office, got his gun then stayed at his house last night in case anyone tried anything, but he said it was quiet. He suggested we meet up with James O’Leary. He’s a snout we used when we were investigating PIRA.’

‘That makes sense. Do you still have his details?’

‘No, but it won’t take us long to find him. Being Sunday, Jimmy won’t have changed his habits that much. He’ll be in Reilly’s Bar in Manchester. Steve and I went there for a drink a few months ago and saw him as every Sunday he meets up with his Irish ex-pat mates. I just need to square it off with George, but I can’t get through to him and there’s no reply on his phone at home.’

‘If you don’t get through to him, do you want me to come with you?’

‘No it’s OK,’ David said lighting a cigarette while stationary at the traffic lights on Edge Lane before driving onto the M62 motorway to Manchester, ‘When Steve and I go to Reilly’s, we’ll make it look like we’re going for a drink. If we get the chance, we’ll have a little word with him. He knows O’Byrne and his cronies and he still owes us one. First, we’ll call in at the ISB office, Steve’s meeting us there. We can make a few enquiries before we go and find Jimmy O’Leary.’

‘While you’re doing that, I’ll dig around the MI5 and CTU files.’

‘That’d be great,’ David said accelerating hard away from the traffic lights. He just wanted to get onto the M62 motorway so he could arrive at Manchester’s ISB office as soon as he could.

Chapter
Seven
Reilly’s Bar, Manchester City Centre, Sunday, 1
st
July, 14.30
hours
 

Walking into Reilly’s Bar from the bright sunlight, it took a few moments for David and Steve’s eyes to adjust to the dark. Illuminated by low wattage light bulbs and only having a couple of windows, the amount of light coming into the bar was limited due to the drinks and satellite television sports promotion posters plastered over virtually the whole of the windows. David viewed Reilly’s as one of those plastic Irish theme pubs. The walls were covered with pictures of the ‘old country’, the odd shillelagh, a couple of team photographs of Ireland’s rugby and football teams along with a huge Irish tricolour hanging behind the bar. Throughout the weekdays this was accompanied with what Hurst referred to as Irish ‘diddley’ music piped through the pub’s sound system. It was nothing like the Irish pubs he went to when he visited his family in County Mayo, but on Sunday afternoons there was a degree of authenticity about the place. It was traditional for many of Manchester’s ex-pat Irishmen to meet up for a few drinks and have a good craic, accompanied by live Irish music that still made the hairs on Hurst’s arms and neck rise as his Irish heritage rose to the surface.

Walking up to the bar, the musicians started playing, ‘The Boys of the Old Brigade’. ‘I hope they’re not playing that for our benefit,’ David said.

‘Do you know this song?’

‘It’s an IRA rebel song. I hope we’ve not been clocked,‘ David said
taking out his wallet, ‘I’ll get these in. Do you want a Guinness?’

‘Cheers mate,’ Steve said. Close to the door he saw what he guessed were a few tourists sitting having a drink. Looking over to the far end of the bar where the four piece folk group was playing on the small, slightly raised stage, as usual on a Sunday afternoon the Irish regulars were sat in a large circle in front of them. Jimmy O’Leary was holding court, laughing as he regaled tales of the old days with his fellow countrymen. Now in his early sixties, he had not changed much from the days when he passed on information about PIRA activities in the Manchester area to the two officers. Although going grey at the sides, he still had thick set wiry black hair. His large frame was much more rotund than it was, but he still had that glint in his eye and the friendly welcoming face with a large red nose brought on by years of drinking.

No one knew Jimmy was a police snout. Remaining proud of his Irish roots and having a genial disposition, many in the Irish community trusted him. If it was known Jimmy had assisted the Special Branch officers during the Troubles, he would have been killed and his body unceremoniously dumped in some building site. Being a police snout, or tout as the Irish called them, was one of the gravest sins an Irishman could commit against those that saw themselves fighting for Irish freedom. As a result, David and Steve remained discreet in their meetings with Jimmy during the Troubles. Knowing the great risk he was taking, the two officers had the utmost respect for him.

As David got served, he handed a pint of Guinness to Steve. Raising his own glass, he said, ‘Cheers, let’s hope Jimmy knows something about the boys we’re after. ‘

‘As he’s holding court, it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to walk over there right now. We’ll stay here and see if he comes over.’

‘The irony would be if O’Byrne and the boys walk in here right now,’ David said putting his glass down on the bar while wiping froth from his mouth.

Steve patted his lightweight jacket underneath which was holstered his pistol. ‘If they do, I’ll do what we should have done in ninety-six and blow the fuckers away.’

As Steve spoke, Jimmy O’Leary looked up and saw the two officers standing by the bar. Noticing them a couple of months ago when they called in for a drink, he made no approach to them then. This time he recognised the look in Hurst’s face that told him the officers were not on a social call. Having an idea why they were there, raising his voice even louder, in his thick Derry accent he shouted over, ‘There’s a Mayo man over there, let’s see what he thinks. Davey, come over here. We’ve a couple of boys from Wicklow calling you west coast boys for everything. Join us and bring that Englishman with you.’

Taken aback by Jimmy’s forthrightness, David smiled and said, ‘Only if you let me get you a Jameson’s and red Jimmy. I can’t come over empty handed.’

‘You see boys, yer man never forgets his manners,’ Jimmy said laughing even louder.

David ordered a double of the Irish whiskey in which the barman poured a small amount of the unique red lemonade. Picking it up along with his own drink, he and Steve walked over to the large circle of Irishmen.

Patting an empty seat next to him, Jimmy said ‘Sit down next to your old friend.’ David looked at the other men sat round the table. Some he recognised and knew were no threat, but there were a couple of younger men he had not seen before heightening his alertness. Instantly tempering his fears, he knew Jimmy would not place him in danger. He was taking in their features when Jimmy said, ‘This man’s from the Duffy family in Ballina. He might have been born in England, but at least he was born in Ireland’s second capital, Liverpool and he’s an Irishman at heart. That’s right isn’t it Davey?’

‘Is right,’ David said raising his glass to the all the assembled men.

‘So what brings you here?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Me and Steve thought we’d call in for a few drinks and catch up. We were in here a couple of months ago, but we must have missed you.’

‘I saw both of you, but I left you alone as it looked like you only wanted your own company. This time when I saw you both standing at the bar, it looked like you wanted to join the craic. How’s your Ma doing?’

‘She’s doing grand thanks Jimmy. I spent the weekend with her and my Dad and I’ve just come back from Liverpool.’

‘And I hope you went to Mass this morning?’

‘You should know the answer to that. Staying with Mum, I had no choice.’

All the men laughed and one said, ‘You see, we men think we rule the roost, but like all good Irish women, they tell us what to do.’

‘And there’s no harm in that. Family’s important, so here’s to our women, long may they tell us what to do!’ Jimmy said raising his glass. Leaning into David’s ear, Jimmy whispered, ‘Just like the old days, I have a feeling you’re here on business.’

‘Nothing gets past you Jimmy. I don’t think here is the place to discuss it.’

‘Do you still smoke?’

‘Yes.’

‘Let’s go outside and you can tell me what it is you want to know.’

David turned to Steve and said, ‘I’m going outside for a ciggie. Do you want one?’

Steve got up and joined the two men as they walked out of the bar and stood on the pavement outside by door next to the small stainless steel bin for cigarette ends fixed next to the door post. ‘So boys, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen those serious faces of yours.’

‘I’d like it to be a social call Jimmy, but something’s come up, or I should say, someone’s come up who we used to deal with,’ David said offering his lighter for Jimmy to light his cigarette.

‘I take it you’re talking about Rory and Danny. I heard those two boys were back this side of the water. Danny’s cousin’s working on the renovation sites on the old mills in the Ancoats and Bradford area. Talking to him the other week, I was asking how his family were doing and he told me Danny had come over the other week. He said Danny and Rory were working in Liverpool for some bloke based somewhere in Cheshire. Am I right? Is it those two you want to know about?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Spot on Jimmy,’ Steve said, ‘Davey’s already met up with Danny and Rory in Liverpool, but it wasn’t exactly a happy reunion. He beat the shit out of them in a pub in Liverpool.’

‘Jesus,’ Jimmy said looking at Hurst, ‘what the fuck happened?’

‘You remember after the shooting and the trial they made death threats to me. I thought they were calling it in,’ David said, ‘So I fronted them in a pub in the Dingle.’

‘You’re a brave man David Hurst. They’re a pair of evil bastards. I hope you left your mark on them?’

‘I did, but that’s not all Jimmy. Last Wednesday we were celebrating a couple of Al Qaeda boys getting convicted in a pub close to the Old Bailey when me and Steve saw Sean McCrossan. He let us know they intend to carry out their threat to kill us.’

‘What happened?’ Jimmy asked. Steve told Jimmy how McCrossan lured them out of the pub and shot at them. ‘Jesus!’ Jimmy said shocked to hear what happened, ‘I didn’t know Sean was back this side of the water.’ Then pausing for a moment added, ‘It wasn’t that shooting in London the news said was a robbery that went wrong was it?’

‘That’s the one,’ David said.

‘The report said they got away and there’s been a search for them in the London area. So I take it you want me to find out what Sean McCrossan’s up to?’ Jimmy asked.

‘If you could Jimmy,’ David said, ‘we think McCrossan’s active with the Real IRA and he’s set up a cell in London. We have no idea who the others in the cell are or where they’re staying.’

‘I’ll do what I can. One of the lads who’s not here today helped Sean McCrossan when he was in the Provisional’s. He might be able to help me. I know things have been hotting up back home with different dissident groups and the riots in Belfast, but things have been very quiet since the Good Friday agreement over here. Regarding Rory and Danny have you any idea what it is they’re over here to carry out?’ Jimmy asked.

‘No, we were hoping you could help us with that,’ Steve said.

After drawing on his cigarette, Jimmy exhaled the spent smoke. ‘I’ve no idea at the moment, but I’ll do what I can for you. I’d be surprised if it’s a major operation they’re intending to carry out this side of the water. None of the groups, especially the main ones like Oglaigh na hEreann that you know as the Real IRA or Continuity IRA have the financial muscle to fund operations on the mainland. While they could set up a small cell in London, they don’t have the clout up here like they did during the Troubles. I might have been out of things for a while, but that much I do know. As far I know, Danny and Rory have been legit for the past few years. With Sean coming from Armagh, I’m a bit out of touch with what he’s been doing over the last few years. I’ve only been able to keep in touch with the boys from Donegal, Tyrone, Derry and Belfast. You’re right about one thing, there are some that crossed the Provo’s during the Troubles who still end up on the missing persons list who are later found dead. You two look after yourselves and in the meantime I’ll dig around and see what I can find out. I’ve finished my smoke. If we stay out here any longer it’ll look suspicious. Let’s go and join the others and finish our drinks. Don’t worry. I won’t let it slip you’re peelers, especially with you being Special Branch. I take you’re both still Special Branch?’

‘Yes and Davey’s a DS now and I’m a DC on his team,’ Steve said.

Jimmy gently prodded Steve’s shoulder and said, ‘That’s because he’s got Irish blood in him unlike you.’ He started to laugh. ‘Come on boys, let’s forget our troubles and have a few drinks.’

Taking his wallet out of his pocket David produced one of his business cards. Handing it over to Jimmy he said, ‘When you do hear something, give me a ring. My mobile number’s on there, or, you can email me. My email address is on there as well.’