A Real Job Read online

  A REAL JOB

  a david hurst story

  david Lowe

  AuthorHouse™

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403

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  Phone: 1-800-839-8640

  © 2012 by David Lowe. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Published by AuthorHouse 07/31/2012

  ISBN: 978-1-4678-9684-9 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4678-9685-6 (e)

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  This book is printed on acid-free paper.

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  Contents

  List of Acronyms, Abbreviations and UK Police Jargon

  Chapter One Crumpsall, Manchester, 22.40 hours, 25th October 1996

  Chapter Two Warwick Lane, London, 17.10 hours, Wednesday, 27th June, present day

  Chapter Three Residents’ Bar, Strathmore Hotel, Kensington, London, 19.25 hours, Wednesday, 27th June

  Chapter Four Dingle, Liverpool, 15.40 hours, Friday, 29th June

  Chapter Five Great Homer Street Market, Liverpool, 09.15 hours, Saturday, 30th June

  Chapter Six Isaac Street, Dingle, Liverpool Sunday, 1st July, 12.15 hours

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

  Chapter Eight GMP Special Branch Offices, Monday, 2nd July, 09.00 hours

  Chapter Nine Starbucks Coffee Shop, St. Anne’s Square, Manchester city centre, Monday, 2nd July, 10.35 hours

  Chapter Ten Manchester—London Train, Tuesday, 3rd July, 10.55 hours

  Chapter Eleven Warwick Lane, London, Tuesday, 3rd July, 18.35 hours

  Chapter Twelve Euston Station, London, Wednesday, 4th July, 09.25 hours

  Chapter Thirteen The Atrium Club, London, 19.20 hours, Wednesday, 4th July

  Chapter fourteen GMP’s Special Branch Office, 09.30 hours, Thursday, 5th July

  Chapter Fifteen GMP’s Special Branch Office, 16.30 hours, Thursday, 5th July

  Chapter Sixteen GMP’s Special Branch Office, 18.30 hours, Thursday, 5th July

  Chapter Seventeen Crossmaglen, Northern Ireland, 08.10 hours, Friday, 6th July

  Chapter EighteEn ‘Yew Tree Farm’, near Inishkeen, 09.40 hours, Friday, 6th July

  Chapter Nineteen MI5 Offices, Belfast, 13.45 hours, Friday, 6th July

  Chapter Twenty Cheshire’s Special Branch Office, Chester, 19.32 hours, Friday, 6th July

  Chapter Twenty-One Declan Murphy’s House, Frodsham, 20.45 hours, Friday, 6th July

  Chapter Twenty-Two The Bull Public House, Yoxall, Staffordshire, 22.05 hours, Friday, 6th July

  Chapter Twenty-Three Murphy’s Business Offices, Runcorn, 09.40 hours, Saturday, 7th July

  Chapter Twenty-Four Cheshire Constabulary’s Special Branch Offices, Chester, 15.40 hours, Thursday, 6th July

  Chapter Twenty-Five DCI Harvey’s Office, Cheshire Constabulary’s Headquarters, Chester, 19.25 hours, Saturday, 6th July

  Chapter Twenty-Six Diamonds night club, Albert Dock, Liverpool, 00.40 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Twenty-Seven Poppythorn Lane, Prestwich, Manchester, 06.15 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Twenty-Eight Suspect Interview Room, St. Anne Street Police Station, Liverpool, 09.30 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Twenty-Nine Nero’s Coffee House, Eastgate Street, Chester, 10.50 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Thirty Car Park outside Cheshire Police Headquarters, 14.30, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Thirty-One Park Road, Liverpool, 15.10 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Thirty-Two Special Branch Office, Cheshire Headquarters, 19.05 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Thirty-Three Special Branch Offices, Cheshire Headquarters, 19.15 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Thirty-Four Murphy’s house, Frodsham, 21.05 hours, Sunday, 7th July

  Chapter Thirty-Five Room 405, Grosvenor Hotel, Chester, 06.30 hours, Monday, 8th July

  Chapter Thirty-Six Number One Court, Liverpool City Magistrates Courts, Dale Street, Liverpool, 10.15 hours, Monday, 8th July

  Chapter Thirty-Seven Main Dining Room, Grosvenor Hotel, Chester, 06.30 hours, Tuesday, 9th July

  Chapter Thirty-Eight Thomas and Harvey’s Solicitors’ Office, Eastgate Street Chester, 12.35 hours, Tuesday, 9th July

  Chapter Thirty-Nine Custody Office, Deva Road Police Station, Chester, 13.25 hours, Tuesday, 9th July

  Chapter Forty DCI’s Office Cheshire’s Special Branch Department, Chester, 15.00 hours, Monday, 9th July

  Chapter Forty-One Grosvenor Hotel, Chester, 19.02 hours, Tuesday, 9th July

  Chapter Forty-Two Belmarsh Prison, High Security Wing, 10.30 hours, Tuesday, 10th November

  List of Acronyms, Abbreviations and UK

  Police Jargon

  CPS

  Crown Prosecution Service (equivalent of the USA’s

  District Attorney)

  CO19

  Metropolitan Police’s Firearms Unit

  DC

  Detective Constable

  DCI

  Detective Chief Inspector

  DI

  Detective Inspector

  Drum

  Police slang for a house/flat

  DS

  Detective Sergeant

  Europol

  The European Union’s policing agency, staffed by

  police officers on secondment. Main role-intelligence

  agency and assistance to member states’ policing

  agencies in transnational crime and counter-terrorism

  FBI

  The Federal Bureau of Investigation, the USA’s federal

  policing agency that investigates serious federal crime

  and internal terrorist threats

  GMP

  Greater Manchester Police

  IPCC

  Independent Police Complains Commission

  Jack

  Police slang for a detective

  Lifting

  Police jargon for an arrest

  MI5

  The UK’s security service that investigate internal

  threats to the UK

  MI6

  The UK’s security service that
investigate external

  threats to the UK

  MO

  Modus Operandi—pattern of behaviour, usually

  associated with criminal behaviour.

  Obs Spot

  Police slang word for a location used by

  the police to conduct static surveillance

  PIRA

  The Provisional Irish Republican Army, a faction of the

  IRA that broke away in the late 1960’s from the

  IRA and was the main group active in acts of

  terrorism against Britain during the war in the

  north of Ireland 1969-1998

  Real IRA

  A breakaway group of the IRA. Following

  the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, its members could

  not accept PIRA signing up to it and continued to

  fight for Irish independence from Britain and a

  united Ireland

  PSNI

  Police Service of Northern Ireland

  Reccie

  Police slang for when the police survey an

  investigation scene checking out possible observation

  points, population and any potential danger spots.

  SB

  Special Branch

  S015

  Metropolitan Police’s counter-terrorism unit, the Met’s

  equivalent of the Special Branch

  The Met

  The Metropolitan Police

  Chapter One

  Crumpsall, Manchester,

  22.40 hours, 25th October 1996

  Death comes to us all in the end, but Detective Constable Steve Adams didn’t think it would come knocking so early in his life. Twenty-two years of age and only two months into his posting with Special Branch, at times Steve’s keenness to make a good impression bordered on recklessness. Being his first operation investigating four experienced targets of the Provisional IRA’s English Brigade planning to attack locations on mainland Britain, he knew the obs spot he volunteered to take was the most dangerous. Nestling behind a set of well established rhododendron bushes in the large back garden of an Edwardian built detached house, owned by an Irish republican sympathiser, unseen by the targets, there was the added peril of being out of sight of his colleagues.

  The four targets were not his immediate concern. Deafening bursts of static interrupting the constant radio traffic from his colleagues caused Steve to snatch the small receiver out of his ear. Replacing it, the radio went eerily silent. Frantically turning the channel changer back and forth to see if anyone could pick up his transmissions, Steve’s concentration switched from observing the targets to desperately getting his only lifeline to work. Ignoring the rule of not transmitting from his position unless he could draw his weapon and safely relay to other members of the team movement from the targets, Steve’s voice raised incrementally with each radio check. Cut off from his colleagues, the solitude increased his anxiety.

  Unaware of two pairs of hands reaching through the bushes towards him, in frustration Steve started tapping the radio. Suddenly aware of a rustling sound, before he could react two men grabbed him and dragged Steve out from his hiding place. Being in the darkest part of the garden, he could not see who it was. Caught by surprise, Steve began pulling back. With the men’s combined strength being greater, he couldn’t stop being kicked behind the knees. Causing him to fall, Steve made out the figure of a third man standing directly in front of him who started laughing as he said, ‘Just where we were told the fucker would be.’ Still too dark for Steve to make out who it was, the distinctive Belfast accent confirmed it was one of the four targets. Before he realised how life threatening this situation was, Steve’s world went black.

  Consciousness slowly returning, distant incoherent sounds became louder and clearer as simultaneously a pain in his head became sharper. Slowly opening his eyes, Steve found himself lying on his side on the patio at the rear of the house. Remembering what had just happened, a power surge went through his body as his senses were heightened to the extreme. The limited light coming from the open back door leading from the patio to the kitchen confirmed it was three of the Irish targets who found Steve. With Sean McCrossan holding him down, straining his neck, Steve looked up to see Pat Quinn standing over him looking at something in his hand. Rory O’Byrne was stood next to him holding Steve’s Special Branch issue Berretta Cougar pistol. The throbbing pain in his head told Steve he took a blow rendering him unconscious during which time they must have searched him. Having been dragged across the lawn to the rear patio, Steve remembered from the operation’s briefing this was a blind spot to the neighbouring houses. Quinn looked at the pistol. ‘That’s Special Branch issue alright,’ he said handing it back to O’Byrne, ‘and just like our man said, this fucker’s warrant card says he’s in Greater Manchester Police.’ Quinn started kicking Steve’s back as he spoke, ‘So Stephen fucking Adams from Special Branch, we know you’re not alone. Where are the other peelers?’

  When Quinn stopped kicking him, Steve said nothing. The shock at hearing someone from Special Branch was passing information on to the Provisionals partly anaesthetised his discomfort. Taking his cue from Steve’s silence, O’Byrne started kicking him and said, ‘Yer man here asked you a question. Now fucking answer it. Where are the other peelers?’

  Looking up, he saw Quinn with his head slightly to one side gesturing he was impatiently waiting for an answer. This was the closest he had been to the Irishman. Ignoring the pain, Steve was momentarily fascinated at the hardness ingrained in Quinn’s facial features making the Irishman looked much older than twenty-five. ‘I’m not waiting all fucking night,’ Quinn said, once more kicking Steve at the base of his spine, ‘where’s the other peelers that’s watching the house?’

  With fear causing Steve’s stomach to churn, he felt physically sick. Knowing the Provisional IRA saw themselves as soldiers in the fight for Irish freedom, at the thought of being the next casualty in this war he began baulking. Now in a fight for his life, with bile he brought up dribbling from his mouth, his mind raced as to how he could get out of this situation. With Quinn continuing to kick him, Steve sensed McCrossan ease his grip on him. With his primeval will to live enhanced by the betrayal, he gathered a strength he never knew he had. Rolling away from McCrossan, Steve started getting to his knees. Being the first of the three to react, Quinn brought the officer’s resistance to a swift end. Pushing past O’Byrne, he quickly stepped over to Steve, pistol whipping him before he could get onto his feet. As a loud thud reverberated in Steve’s head, it was followed by a sharp pain and a loss of control of his limbs.

  Knocking him semi-conscious, being repeatedly punched about the head and body forced the conscious half to frantically but incoherently work overtime as the instinct to survive kicked in. Unable to think clearly, the shouts of his captors became inaudible to Steve’s ears. Helplessly groping around on the patio’s paving stones, the blow to his head seemed to cut off the signals his brain was sending to his legs. On his knees and scrabbling to pick himself up, Steve’s hair was violently pulled back. Struggling to overcome the fuzziness in his head he sensed something sticky trickling down the back of his neck. Reaching out to see what it was Steve’s
hand was forcefully pulled down by his side. Slowly, the myriad of flashing yellow dots punctuating his sight disappeared allowing him to see more clearly the stark reality facing him. ‘I’m losing my patience with you Mister Adams,’ Quinn said pointing a pistol at Steve’s head, ‘You’re fucking going nowhere. So stop fucking us about and tell us how many other peelers are watching the fucking house?’

  With the clipped Belfast accent enhancing Steve’s fear, as terror gripped his body numbness replaced the pain. Opening his mouth slowly, in a quiet drawl Steve, said, ‘The others have gone. There’s only me here.’

  McCrossan kicked Steve viciously in the ribs. Clutching his side, the detective let out a cry as he fell from the patio onto the cold, damp grass. Repeatedly kicking Steve with such force it lifted the officer’s torso off the ground, he shouted, ‘You’re a fucking liar.’

  ‘Leave him Sean. We’ll get nothing out of him that way,’ O’Byrne said, raising the officer back to his knees.

  Placing the tip of the pistol’s barrel against Steve’s left temple, Quinn said, ‘I fucking warned you, don’t piss us about, where’s the other peelers?’ The two men looked at each other. As Quinn slowly pulled back the pistol’s hammer his piercing stare betrayed an indifference if the officer lived. ‘This is your last chance. If you don’t fucking tell us, I’ll blow your fucking head off.’

  Knowing it would cost him his life, he was determined not to give them any information regarding the whereabouts of his colleagues. Looking up once more at Quinn then glancing over at the shorter but more stocky built McCrossan who was holding a revolver by his side, Steve tried to work out which one was going to carry out the summary execution. As he did, uncontrollable tears started trickling down his face. Annoyed at showing weakness in front of his adversaries Steve tried to remain dignified. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and mouthed silently to the mental picture of his wife and daughter, ‘I love you.’