A Real Job (7 page)

Moving slowly from stall to stall, David saw his mother pick up and look longingly at a dress. ‘That’d be nice for Peter’s do tonight. What do you think Siobhan?’ Mary said holding the dress against her body.

‘It’s beautiful Mum, you’d look great in it,’ Siobhan replied.

‘I’ll get it for you,’ David said, getting his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

‘No. it’s alright love. Put your money away and spend it on Debbie.’

‘Mum, please! I love to spend money on the women in my life. Let’s see if we can get you some nice shoes and a bag to go with it.’

The stallholder overheard their conversation and whispered into David’s ear, ‘It’s seventy quid mate.’

Knowing it would cost at least double that in the stores in Liverpool city centre, David took seventy pounds out of his wallet. Handed it to the stall holder he said, ‘I’ll take it.’

Mary turned to David and said, ‘Thanks love. I’m getting a bit hungry, shall we go to the café for breakfast?’

‘Good idea Mum,’ Siobhan said, ‘I’m getting a bit wall eyed, how about you Debbie?’

‘I am feeling a bit peckish.’ As Debbie spoke, David and Siobhan exchanged a look only a sister and brother can as Siobhan stifled a giggle at Debbie’s cultured English accent that was so unusual to hear at the market.

Entering the café, Debbie was struck by the strong odour of fried food that she found slightly repugnant. Conscious she was pulling a face and not wanting to offend her hosts, she hoped no one had seen her as she followed Mary and Siobhan to the rear of the café, where they sat at a table. Mary said, ‘Tea all round?’

As they sat down, Debbie and Siobhan nodded in agreement but David said, ‘Coffee for me please Mum.’

Patting David’s hand Mary said, ‘Coffee and three teas it is.’

As the three women were talking about the clothes they had bought, a bored David was staring out of the large window by the door when his gaze was caught by a man talking to a stallholder. Disbelieving what he saw, his heart began to pound and beat faster as colour drained from his face. Recognising Rory O’Byrne, David’s blood ran cold. After what happened when he and Steve saw McCrossan in London, his first thought was O’Byrne must have been following him and his family as they made their way through the market. Seeing O’Byrne, David was convinced the IRA were definitely going to carry out the death threat.

Not wanting to say anything that may alarm Mary and Siobhan, David tried to catch Debbie’s eye, but she was too deeply engrossed in the conservation between the three women. Concerned for the safety of the women and suspecting O’Byrne was armed, he began looking around the cafe for anything he could use as a weapon. Being off duty, he and Debbie were unarmed. Apart from items of cutlery, there was nothing to hand he could use to any effect to protect his family. As he continued to watch him, Hurst decided if O’Byrne made a move towards the door of the cafe he would get up and rush the Irishman. Knowing it was potentially fatal to himself, he thought it was the only effective way of preventing O’Byrne getting in a shot towards the three women. His mind working frantically, he saw O’Byrne’s calm demeanour suddenly became animated. Clearly, he was angry at something the young stallholder said to him. As he watched the two men argue, he felt his mother nudge him in the ribs, ‘David, Siobhan’s talking to you.’

‘Sorry Siobhan what’s that?’ David said keeping his eyes fixed on O’Byrne.

‘I said how, oh I give up. Obviously our small talk’s boring you.’

‘Not at all,’ David replied, ‘it’s just I’m sure I’ve seen an old school mate out there I haven’t seen for years. Come on Debbie I’ll introduce you to him.’

‘But your breakfast will be here in a minute,’ Mary said as David got out of his seat.

‘Don’t worry Mum, we’ll be back by the time its ready,’ David said as Debbie stood up to join him

By the time they walked out of the café, O’Byrne had moved away from the stall and was walking off through the market towards Liverpool city centre.

‘Who’s this friend of yours,’ Debbie asked.

‘It’s Rory O’Byrne. Now don’t tell me they’re not calling in the death threat. He was talking to the stall holder outside the cafe. This is not a coincidence,’ David said taking hold of Debbie’s arm, ‘he’s walking off this way. Ring up for some back up just in case and follow me.’ Debbie looked up but only having seen old criminal records photographs of him she struggled to see him. Noticing Debbie was struggling to identify O’Byrne, David said, ‘He’s the dark haired bloke walking past the blag DVD stall by the bakery shop, wearing a light blue shirt and jeans.’

‘I see him,’ Debbie said taking her mobile phone from out of her jeans pocket, ‘you go, I’ll follow a few paces behind you.’

Having to weave through the large number of shoppers, some pushing prams as if they were battering rams, the Irishman’s progress was slow. Both were careful not to get too close knowing if O’Byrne looked behind him it was likely he would recognise David. While following him the Special Branch officer was constantly thinking. If O’Byrne was after him, why was he walking out of the market? The shouts of the market stall holders drumming up custom became a blurred background noise as all of Hurst’s senses were focused on his old adversary. A thought crossed his mind causing the hairs on his body to stand up. O’Byrne could have been with accomplices he did not know of and pointed Hurst out to them so they could walk up behind him and make the hit. Instinctively he turned round to see if anyone was following him and Debbie. Looking behind him, he saw Debbie talking on her phone when he felt a sharp pain in his right shin.

‘Watch where you’re going,’ a woman pushing a pram said angrily as Hurst reached down to rub his leg.

‘Sorry love, it’s my fault,’ he said not wanting the incident to escalate into a row that would bring attention to others nearby. As David looked up, O’Byrne had stopped walking and began to look behind him. Quickly moving to the side into an aisle of stalls, David stopped by a pet food stall as Debbie walked past him. She did not look at him as she stopped by the row of stalls that was selling women’s casual wear. Both were watching O’Byrne without bringing attention to themselves when Debbie called David on her mobile phone.

‘Can I help you mate?’ the pet stall owner asked David.

‘No it’s alright, I’m just looking,’ David said keeping his gaze focused on O’Byrne while answering Debbie’s call.

‘I’ve contacted a couple of my colleagues I know who are on an operation close by in Liverpool,’ Debbie told David, ‘They’re making their way to the market now. Stay where you are. As O’Byrne doesn’t know me, I’ll follow him until they get here and they can keep an eye on him.’

‘I’m not leaving you out here alone.’

‘He’s moving off now,’ Debbie said putting down the top she was holding at the stall. ‘I’ll be alright. I’ll call you if I need you. For once, do as you’re told.’

‘But . . .’ David said as Debbie had terminated the call. Frustrated, he knew she was right. Stepping away from the stall, he kept himself out of sight as best he could while watching Debbie follow O’Byrne when the thought came to him that the Irishman might have purposely lured Hurst away from his family to allow O’Byrne’s associates to get to his mother and sister. Forcing his way through the crowds, he quickly made his way back to the cafe. Running through his mind was the thought it could have been the young stallholder working by the cafe that O’Byrne ordered to do the hit on his family. Perhaps that’s why they argued knowing it would attract his attention and he would follow the Irishman leaving his family behind vulnerable to a hit in the cafe. Slowing down, he walked to the entrance of the cafe. Glancing through the window he saw Mary and Siobhan eating their breakfast when his phone rang. ‘Debs.’

‘He’s got into a black hackney cab and driven off towards the city centre. Stay where you are and I’ll meet you.’

‘I’m by the entrance to the cafe,’ David said taking a step back from the cafe entrance so Mary and Siobhan could not see him.

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I thought it might be a ruse by O’Byrne to get me out of the way, knowing I’d follow him so someone else he’s with could get Mum and Siobhan.’

‘OK, I understand. My colleagues are going to chase up the taxi company and see where the driver takes O’Byrne. You go and join Mary and Siobhan and tell them you were mistaken about it being your old school friend and that I’m just getting some make-up. I’m by a cosmetic stall now so I’ll pick up a few bits to convince them.’

‘Good idea,’ David said as they terminated the call. On entering the cafe, he glanced over to the young stallholder. Paying David no attention, the officer took in the stallholder’s features. There must have been some reason why he was talking to O’Byrne.

*     *     *

Outside the cafe David put his hand on the bags Mary was carrying and said, ‘Give me your bags Mum and I’ll take them home for you. I’ll get off now and join Dad for a pint.’

‘Thanks love,’ Mary said and she looked at Debbie and Siobhan, ‘What time will we be home girls?’

Siobhan answered first, ‘That depends if Debbie’s got use of David’s credit card. If she has, I reckon we’ll be gone until its maxed out.’

‘Very funny,’ David said, ‘Do you need more cash Mum?’

‘I’m fine love,’ Mary said, ‘but thanks anyway. Tell your father we’ll be back by two this afternoon. Now give your mother a kiss.’

David kissed all three of them. As Mary and Siobhan started to walk away, David kept hold of Debbie’s arm and whispered in her ear, ‘Ask them to take you to the Liverpool One shopping mall in the city centre and I’ll go and see if I can get the details of the stall holder from the market security. I’m going to meet Dad, so I’ll you see back at their house later.’

‘OK. I got a text message from one of my colleagues that traced the taxi O’Byrne got into. He got out in Aigburth Road. Do you know it?’

‘Yes. See if you can get the actual location. Aigburth Road’s a couple of miles long and one end of it isn’t far from Mum and Dad’s. Take care and I’ll see you later.’

As he gave her a quick kiss, noticing Debbie was not with them, Siobhan stopped and turned round. ‘Hey you two, they’re be plenty of time for that later. Are you coming Debbie?’

‘Sure. You couldn’t take me to Liverpool One could you?’

David picked up the bags of shopping and made his way to the market security office. The office was no more than a tiny room, with just enough room to open the door. Seeing a security guard sat at a desk with his nose buried in a book while listening to what David recognised as the overture to Wagner’s Tristan and Isolda, it was not what he expected as he entered the office. Taking the short step from the door to the desk, a strong smell of stewed tea hit his nostrils as he produced his warrant card to the security guard who looked up and put his book on the desk with the spine showing. ‘Alright mate. I’m a detective sergeant from Greater Manchester Police and I’m undercover with some Liverpool colleagues. Do me a favour and tell me who runs the stall that’s directly outside the café?’

The guard reached behind him and took a well thumbed A4 notebook off a small battered wooden shelf. Leafing through the pages of the book containing the names of the day’s stallholders, he said, ‘that accent of yours isn’t from Manchester, you sound more like you come from Liverpool.’

‘You’re right, that’s why I was sent over to assist the Liverpool lads.’

Looking at the numerous bags David had, the guard said, ‘And you’ve plenty of shopping too.’

‘You’ve got to make it look real haven’t you?’

‘I suppose so. Here you go. It’s Michael Pickup, he’s a local lad. Seeing how you’ve got your hands full, I’ll write out the details for you. He isn’t doing anything dodgy is he?’

‘No, we think he served one of the targets we’re looking at and he could be a witness.’

‘We hate having any of the stallholders in trouble with the law.
There you go,’ he said passing David a note with Pickup’s details on it.

Taking the note off the security guard, David stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Thanks mate, it’s much appreciated.’

As David picked up the bags of shopping, the security guard said, ‘No problem, anytime. It’s a pleasure to help the boys in blue. It’s what I planned to do when I left the army, but the bullet I got in Northern Ireland put paid to that.’

Not wanting the security officer to end up giving him his life story, David made his way out of the office saying, ‘Thanks mate, I’ve got to go.’

*     *     *

After dropping off the bags at his parents’ house, David walked the short distance to the Wheatsheaf pub. As James had recently been suffering with a heart problem, he had that nagging feeling he would not get many more opportunities to do this, so he wanted to make the most of having a few pints with his father. Struggling to put to the back of his mind the fact it looked like the Provisional’s were going to carry out their threat, as he walked to the pub he kept trying to convince himself it was all a coincidence seeing O’Byrne. Running through the events at the market, O’Byrne behaved as if he didn’t know his old Special Branch adversary was there. That matched the findings from the intelligence analysis he, Steve and Debbie carried out Thursday and Friday morning. They found nothing to say O’Byrne had been in London and met up with McCrossan. He knew if O’Byrne had gone to London, he would have been in SO15’s system.

Entering the pub David saw his father reading a newspaper in his usual seat in the corner close to the far side of the bar opposite the large projection screen. Walking over to him he forgot how loud the footsteps banging on the old dirt engrained floorboards in this typical old Liverpool pub were. Small, with the bar area giving a U-shape drinking area with bench seats looking as though they were last upholstered fifty years ago along with small, heavy round tables, a number of stools, along with the smell of dried stale beer reinforced he was now truly home. Seeing the horse racing channel was on the large screen he knew why his father had a pen in his hand. Just like he did when David first started drinking in the Wheatsheaf, James was not keeping up with current affairs, he was studying the racing pages to select the horses on which to place his bets. Sensing someone approaching him James glanced up from his newspaper and said, ‘Alright son. I’ve already got you one in. How did it go with the women?’