A Real Job (40 page)

‘I remember him now. We worked with the Gardai as well and we didn’t find him, but we did find the Greyhound Racing stadium and that little community cinema where we lifted that bloke, what was his name?’ David thought for a moment, ‘. . . Steven Friel. He was a quartermaster for PIRA.’

‘That’s the job and then after lifting Friel, with the RUC we housed and arrested Maguire at that farm just outside Derry.’

‘That’s right,’ David said remembering the incident, ‘are we lifting them as well?’

‘We’ve got a slight snag there. Three hours ago we went to the address in Winsford they were staying at, but they’d gone. We did lift the couple living at the house. They’re in the cells here at Chester. It’s the wife that’s got the connections not the husband. They only got married a few years ago and the husband had no idea about his wife’s IRA past. Once he found out why he was arrested, he’s been shitting himself so much that he’s more than willing to co-operate. Once they got booked in, he requested to see one of the officers involved in the investigation, so I went to see him with Andy.’

‘They’ve been married for three years and I don’t think they’re going to be celebrating their fourth,’ Andy said as David put the kettle on to make him and Tony a coffee, ‘The poor bastard’s got no form. In fact, he’s never even had a parking ticket. I did feel sorry for him. He told me and Steve when Maguire and Mahoney arrived at his house, his wife told him they were friends of his wife’s cousin from Lifford who needed a place to stay as they’d got a job on some building site in the area. While they stayed with them, the husband said he began to get suspicious. He said that some of the things they talked about just didn’t add up. According to the husband, they were coming and going from the house at all sorts of hours. There were no regular hours he would have expected from someone working during the day. His suspicions were confirmed when he came home from work early last Friday and overheard a conversation Maguire and Mahoney were having in the kitchen with his wife. He heard them talking about hits they had to make, picking up their gear, getting their money and laying low for a while. He thought they were drug trafficking.’

‘He also told us of a list of addresses they were using that he found in the bedroom they were using. Because he was so suspicious about them, when he was alone in the house on Saturday morning he used the opportunity to search the room,’ Steve said, as David offered to make him and the others a drink, ‘No you’re alright thanks mate. As I was saying, he copied them down as he thought these were addresses connected to drug dealers, so we’re checking them out now.’

David took a sip of his coffee and said, ‘Why didn’t he contact the police earlier if he was so unhappy about Maguire and Mahoney staying with them?’

As David and Tony sat down, Steve said, ‘He guessed from what they’d been saying, they would be leaving any day and once they did, the husband said he was going to contact us then. He didn’t want to do it while they were staying with him, as his wife would know it was him that grassed them up. Once we told him who they were and what ruthless bastards they are, he went as white as a sheet.’

‘What’s the latest we have on these two?’ David asked.

Andy picked up one of the briefing sheets his team had put together on Maguire and Mahoney and handed it over to David saying, ‘Maguire’s forty-five years of age and, as you know, he was a member of PIRA’s Tyrone brigade. He joined PIRA as a youngster in the early nineteen eighties, initially operating mainly from Strabane as it’s only a stones’ throw away from Lifford. As usual, they started using him as a runner, carrying messages and equipment between cells active in Northern Ireland. He became a PIRA marksman and was deployed in the eighties on the British mainland. Being involved in the job, you know he was arrested in 1992 by the RUC for conspiracy to assassinate John Major at the spring Conservative Party Conference that was held in Manchester, when he was Prime Minister. He got a twenty year sentence for that and other jobs the RUC found that literally had his fingerprints all over them. He was later released following the Good Friday agreement in early 1998. Since then he remained in Northern Ireland working as a van driver for a major retail company. He’s stayed out of trouble since his release, but Murphy made him a substantial financial offer to come out of retirement.

‘Mahoney’s thirty-nine years of age and was recruited into the Belfast PIRA brigade in 1990. Again, he cut his teeth in various operations in the Province, but became a member of a cell on the British mainland involved in the bombing campaign during the build up to the 1997 General Election. He was given a ten year sentence. Released in late 1998 as a result of the Good Friday agreement, his specialty is explosives.

‘Before we arrived at the Winsford address, we reckon either Murphy or McCullagh warned both Maguire and Mahoney to get on their toes. On top of that, we’ve found from one of the two we’ve arrested in Liverpool, they were to move out today anyway to prepare for their stage of the operation.’

Putting the briefing sheet on the desk he was sitting by, David looked up at Andy and said, ‘Which I presume is Tuesday’s Royal Visit?’

‘That’s what we think,’ said Andy, ‘Unfortunately, the two being interviewed know very little about what they’re up to.’

‘Even if we break them down they won’t be able to tell us,’ David said, ‘but how did they know that Maguire and Mahoney would be moving out today if they didn’t know much about their operation?’

‘It was something to do with them all meeting up later in the week to get back to Ireland. Apparently they all had to make the same RV point in Anglesey where they were to sail back to Ireland. I don’t know the full details, as back in Liverpool they’re still being emptied out.’

‘If you lot are all here,’ David said, ‘who’s doing the checks on the addresses you’ve found?’

‘George told Cheshire’s chief con about the list of addresses,’ Steve said, ‘and she volunteered uniform officers to check them out, using the ploy they’re on a summer crime prevention initiative to give out advice. You know the sort of thing, telling residents that even though it’s hot to keep windows closed when they go to bed. Apparently they’ve already got a load of crime prevention leaflets to hand out. So it won’t look like they’re searching for Mahoney and Maguire.’

David put his coffee down on the desk and said, ‘That sounds dangerous. I mean, these are two old pro’s that won’t bat a fucking eye lid about killing bobbies.’

‘George agreed it seemed a good idea, as Maguire and Mahoney wouldn’t want to show their hand just yet. George and the bosses are working on the assumption if uniform officers call at the addresses under the pretext of a crime prevention initiative, then in all likelihood, our two targets are likely to play along,’ Steve said, ‘and the plan is, if the uniform bobbies see our two, they leave the scene and radio in their location.’

Shaking his head in disbelief that George would go along with such a plan, he said, ‘Talking of George, where is he?’

‘He’s in the DCI’s office with the chief con and the commander of the Regional Counter-Terrorism Unit,’ Andy said.

‘I don’t like this plan of using unarmed uniform bobbies. It’s far too risky,’ David said, ‘After my snout being shot today, O’Byrne escaping from hospital and Debbie being taken hostage by McCullagh, it’s too dangerous. For fuck’s sake, at the moment our targets are running round like cornered wild animals.’

‘Talking of Jimmy, I was gutted when I found out what happened,’ Steve said, ‘From Tim Johnson’s initial reports it looks like it was a PIRA man who we don’t know of yet that did it.’

‘It wasn’t O’Byrne then?’ David said looking surprised.

‘It doesn’t look like it,’ Steve said, ‘during the briefing earlier, George told us he was speaking to Tim Johnson. He followed up on your suggestion they go to O’Reilly’s and speak to the Irish ex-pat’s. They were reluctant to speak at first, but when they found out Jimmy had been killed some of them said O’Byrne had been nowhere near Reilly’s today. A couple of them discreetly added they’d been contacted personally by Declan Murphy asking them to do a little job for him. All they knew was it had something to do with a pay-back from the old days. Tim’s assuming that whoever killed Jimmy is a former Provisional living in Manchester that also got a call from Murphy and agreed to do the deed.’

*     *     *

‘Jimmy, Jimmy it’s the peelers!’ Mahoney shouted from the bottom of the staircase of Leafield Farm’s farmhouse to Maguire who was sorting out their equipment in an upstairs bedroom, ‘They’re coming down the lane towards the house.’ Located six miles from Chester and used as a holiday let by a company in which Murphy was a director, Murphy arranged for Maguire and Mahoney to use the farmhouse under the name of Carter. Having a four hundred yard driveway to the approach to the farmhouse that nestled among a clump of sycamore trees, both men arrived at the farmhouse earlier that morning in a green Vauxhall Astra hired under the name of one of Murphy’s subsidiary companies. Although any movement in the immediate area around the farmhouse was hidden by the trees, the two Irishmen could not avoid the car from being visible to anyone approaching the final fifty yards down the driveway. Knowing the car would give away someone was using the farmhouse, Maguire came running down the stairs. Pushing Mahoney to one side, he looked out of the kitchen window that faced the approach to the farmhouse and said, ‘How the fuck do they know we’re here?’

‘They might not do. It could be a routine check.’

‘They don’t do routine checks on holiday lets. They’re looking for us,’ Maguire said, his mind working overtime on how they could avoid speaking to the police officers when they knocked on the door. ‘From the moment we got over here, this job’s turned to rat-shit. They’ve either been tipped off or they’re checking out all properties in the area for us. I’ll stay by the bottom of the stairs. You answer the door. If they got nosey, I’ll blow the fuckers away.’

‘Let’s pretend we’re out.’

‘You stupid fucker,’ Maguire said putting rifle-slug cartridge shells into the pump-action shotgun he was holding, ‘our car’s outside, so they know someone’s here. Even if we pretend to have gone out, with the car outside, they’ll do a check on it as well as look around the house. If they get suspicious, they’ll enter and find the explosives and the guns. We can’t take the chance.’

‘We could get them into the farmhouse, tie them up and leave. By the time they’re found, we’ll be well clear of here. I’m getting too old for this shit now. Why don’t we forget the job and just fuck off back home?’

Maguire could not believe what he was hearing. Glaring at Mahoney, he said, ‘And what do we do when we get back? How can we face our mates? We’re here to do a job, so I say we kill them, fuck off from here and find somewhere else to hide for a few hours before going into Chester. We only have to hide out for a day. They’re parking up by the door now. Don’t open the door until I say.’

The police car stopped outside the farmhouse and two uniform officers got out. One walked over to the Vauxhall Astra and began to look around. As she was doing this, she started checking the registered keeper with her divisional control room. The second officer approached the front door and knocked. Stood at the bottom of the stairs, Maguire raised the pump action shotgun to his shoulder and pointed it towards the door, saying, ‘Take the door off the latch, then stand well back.’

Mahoney took the snick off the door latch. Leaving it slightly ajar, he ran back behind Maguire. Cautiously, the officer pushed the door open. As the door opened fully, he saw Maguire pointing the shotgun at him. All the officer could focus on was the end of the barrel of the shotgun. Unable to move through fear, no matter how hard the officer tried, no words would come out of his mouth. Maguire said nothing. He cocked the weapon. The spine shuddering sound of the round entering the chamber caused the officer to freeze. Maguire pulled the trigger. The single rifle slug shot pierced the officer’s body armour, entering the centre of the his chest. As the body armour was only designed for a knife attack, the rifle slug shot cut through it as the impact hurled the officer backwards onto the path in front of the door.

As soon as he fired the first shot, Maguire cocked the weapon again and ran out of the house looking for the second officer. He did not have to look far. Seeing her colleague being blown away, she knew she only had seconds to assess the situation as Maguire raised the pump action shotgun to his shoulder. Her eyes fixed on the weapon and knowing Maguire had a clear shot, the thirty-two year old officer that joined the police in her late twenties fell to her knees screaming, ‘Don’t shoot me. I’m a mother, please, don’t shoot me. I’ve got two young kids, please don’t kill me. Take my radio, take my phone, just leave me here and drive away. Take the police car. Please don’t kill me.’

Slowly, he took a few more steps towards her saying nothing. Standing above the officer through the flood of tears Maguire could see the fear in her eyes. Keeping the pump-action shotgun pointed at her, Maguire smiled. With tears pouring down her cheeks, she pleaded once more with him, ‘Please don’t kill me, I’m a mother, my kids are only little.’

Maguire stopped smiling. ‘Fuck you and fuck your kids,’ he said impassively then pulled the trigger. As she fell onto the ground, he could see she was still breathing. Albeit shallow breathing, it was enough for Maguire to know she was still alive. He stood over her. Feeling great pain in her spine, she turned her head to look up at him. Without saying a word, Maguire cocked the weapon again, placed the tip of the barrel against her head and pulled the trigger. As the bullet entered her body it caused it to jump as if she convulsed. Walking back, towards the male officer he cocked the weapon again as he heard Cheshire’s control room calling the officer on the his personal radio. ‘Charlie Mike two one, come in. Charlie Mike two one, come in please. I have the details of the Astra you wanted me to check, is everything OK?’ With a look of disdain for the officer, he pointed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger once more. As if to admire his handiwork, for a few seconds Maguire looked at the two prone, lifeless bodies.