Authors: David Lowe
David and Steve were methodically widening the area of their search of Maguire and Mahoney around Leafield Farm. The more they searched, the more they drew blanks. With time ticking away, David was getting frustrated, a frustration that was enhanced by the tiredness he was feeling. Sat in their car ready to set off for the next farm on the list they had drawn up from the Ordnance Survey map of the area, David looked at Steve who was sat in the driver’s seat and said, ‘Knowing it’s likely we’d check every farm in the immediate area of the shooting, I think they’ve changed direction and tried to get a car in another area.’ Looking at the map, David checked the satellite navigation to see what their exact position was and said, ‘Put yourself in their shoes. If we want to steal another car, I wouldn’t do it where we are now. I’d get as far away as I could to another area, but one that’s close enough to Chester to find a place to lay low until tomorrow.’
‘That makes sense,’ Steve said getting out his cigarettes and offering David one, ‘What are you thinking?’
David took the cigarette, and lit it. Pointing to the map he said, ‘I suggest we head back to the A41 and check the farms in the Chowley area.’
‘We’ve got no other leads to go on, so there’s no harm in trying,’ Steve said looking at his watch, ‘Although it’s still light, it’s getting late. It’s half eight and they’ll want to get their heads down.’ Steve switched on the ignition and began to drive off.
Having rejoined the A41, they were heading slowly towards Chester. Having to keep turning off the A41 to check the farms in the area made frustratingly slow progress and still there was no sight of the two Irishmen. After half an hour of searching the area, they got a call from George to attend the report of a murder at Foxglove Farm just outside Chowley.
Arriving at the farm, Steve stopped the Special Branch car next to the uniform mobile parked by the farmhouse. Even though it was a sultry evening, David was putting on his jacket to cover the pistol he had in the shoulder holster when a uniform officer come out of the front door of the farmhouse and walked towards them. David and Steve stayed by their car as the officer approached, when he said, ‘Are you DS Hurst and DC Adams from Special Branch?’
Both officers took out their warrant cards and showed them to the uniform officer. After checking them, he said, ‘Thanks, I’m Ian Pointon the neighbourhood bobby for this patch.’ He started to walk off to the cowsheds followed by the two detectives. Pointing to a spot close to the cowsheds the young officer said, ‘The dead woman’s body is over here. It’s a bit messy I’m afraid. She’s taken a bullet to the head. Her husband and teenage son are in the house comforting each other. The son found the body and, as you can imagine, he’s really distraught at the moment. The dead woman is a Mary Clancy. She was forty years of age and a farmer’s wife. A lovely woman, in fact they’re a lovely family, just like most around here and she did a lot for the local community. I’m assuming it must be those Irish bastards that you’re looking for that did it. I’ve requested SOCO, the forensic pathologist as well as more uniform officers to attend to help seal off the crime scene. As most of them are tied up with the other shooting, I’ve got no ETA for them at the moment.’
‘Thanks Ian,’ David said, ‘Could you do me a favour? While me and Steve look around the scene ask the family if they heard or saw anything and if so, what time they did. Also, see if they’ve had a car stolen. Let me know as soon as you can, especially about the car. We reckon they’ll have dumped the Astra by now and they’ll be using the Clancy’s car. We need to get the car’s details circulated ASAP.’
‘Yeah sure, will do Sarge.’
As Ian Pointon walked back into the farmhouse, David and Steve carefully approached Mary Clancy’s body so as not to disturb any potential forensic evidence. Both looked at her body. ‘It’s them alright,’ Steve said studying the body of the dead woman, ‘It’s another classic PIRA shooting.’
‘I agree and there’s no sign of the Astra. I reckon they’ve dumped the Astra and using the Clancy’s car.’
‘If they’ve dumped the Astra, it won’t be far from here,’ Steve said standing by the body looking around the immediate area for any hard evidence. Studying the ground, Steve walked slowly away from the body. ‘The trouble is these baking hot sunny days are making everything as dry as a bone. It’s going to be hard to pickup any tyre tracks or foot prints.’ Pointing to the area around the body, he said, ‘You can’t make any out.’
‘You’re right,’ David said, ‘you never get wet and muddy weather when you want it. Once the circus arrives and an SIO’s in attendance, I suggest we go and look for the Astra.’
Interrupting their thoughts, Ian Pointon ran up to them shouting, ‘Sarge you were right, they’ve stolen Mister Clancy’s silver Ford Mondeo. The reg number’s Yankee nine four seven Kilo Delta Charlie. They’ve taken the keys as well.’
‘Thanks Ian. Contact your control room and circulate the vehicle’s details, but warn other patrols to relay observations only. On no account are they to approach if seen,’ David said.
‘Will do Sarge. I’ll go and rejoin Mister Clancy and his son.’
‘Good idea,’ David said, ‘Apologise to Mister Clancy on my behalf and tell him we’re not ignoring him. I just need to have a quick reccie over the crime scene.’
‘No problem Sarge,’ Ian said as he began to run back into the farmhouse.
Steve looked at David who was deep in thought as he looked around him. Taking out two cigarettes out from his packet, he offered one to David and said, ‘Here, have one of these and a penny for them.’
‘Cheers mate,’ David said as Steve flicked open his Zippo lighter and offered David a light. David lit his cigarette and blew out the smoke in a long thoughtful manner. ‘If we’re not careful we’ll be chasing our own tails with these murders and lose sight of Maguire and Mahoney. Both are experienced. They’ll know if they create enough mayhem, it’ll stretch our resources. If they carry on at this rate, all that’ll be left for Tuesday’s Royal visit will be handful of specials and community support officers along with a handful of SO15 officers from the Met who’ll know this area worse than us two. As they’ve shown us they’re prepared to use their weapons, they’ll also know unarmed uniform officers won’t approach them. On top of that, we don’t know where the fucking hell they are. They’ve still got a strong hand.’
‘What do you suggest we do?’
‘I’ll speak to George and suggest it’s time you and I went back to the hut to go through the evidence and intelligence we’ve got. Staying out here searching for these two, all we’re doing is rapidly disappearing up our own arses.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Murphy’s
house, Frodsham,
21.05 hours, Sunday, 7
th
July
The front door of Murphy’s house was forced open. Wearing protective equipment, armed officers from Cheshire’s rapid entry team ran into the house. As the officers made their way through the rooms of the house to make it safe for the Special Branch officers to carry out their search, their shouts of ‘Armed police, don’t move’ were audible to Gary Baker and Andy Curtis and the rest of their team waiting on the roadway.
Andy turned to Gary and said, ‘Not long before we see Murphy coming out of the house handcuffed ready for your team to take him to Chester for questioning.’
‘I know he didn’t pull the trigger, but that bastard’s responsible for killing those two uniform bobbies,’ Gary said watching the action at the front of the house.
As Gary spoke he saw Murphy’s eighteen year old son being brought out of the house by two of the rapid entry team, closely followed by the twenty year old daughter. Handcuffed, both were shouting at the officers as they led to one of the vans. The Special Branch officers could hear the daughter shouting, ‘You fucking bastards, do you know who my father is? He knows your boss, you’ll pay for this.’
Andy laughed, ‘Too right we know who your father is. He’s the one who’ll be paying for what he’s done.’ As he spoke, he heard the inspector of the rapid entry team request the attendance of the officer in charge of the search to enter the premises.
The two detective sergeants gave a puzzled looked to each other. Gary said, ‘Where’s Murphy? You don’t think they had to shoot him do you?’
‘No,’ said Andy, ‘we’d have heard shots if they did. Come on, I’ll come with you to the house.’ As both the officers walked down the driveway to the house, Andy radioed through to the rapid entry inspector, ‘Just to confirm sir, did you find Murphy in the house?’
‘No,’ the inspector replied, ‘just the target’s son and daughter.’
Andy looked at Gary who, with his team had been carrying out the static surveillance on the house. Before Andy could say anything, Gary said, ‘When his wife left earlier we saw Murphy in the bedroom window. Being short of units to follow her, the commander told us to stay with Murphy at the house.’
‘I wasn’t going to blame you Gary, but ask where the fuck is he?’ Andy stopped walking and radioed through to the inspector, ‘Have you checked the attic and the garage?’
Indignantly, the inspector replied, ‘Yes we have and as I told you, the house is clear and ready for the search.’
* * *
Working their way through the evidence and intelligence relating to the shootings in the main Special Branch office in Chester David and Steve were interrupted by a door slamming. Looking up, both officers saw their DI storm out of the DCI’s office. Taking large strides, he walked purposively towards them. Holding his pipe in his hand, George shouted over, ‘You two, bring your cigarettes and outside, now!’
David took his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and he and Steve followed George out of the building where George was forcefully stuffing the pipe’s bowl with tobacco. It was a rare occurrence, but they knew their DI was in a foul temper. So much so even Steve kept any quips he had to himself.
For a couple of minutes the three stood there smoking outside the main entrance to Cheshire’s headquarters in stony silence. David was the first to pluck up the courage to break the ice and seeing George’s pipe had gone out he said, ‘Do you want a light George?’
‘Fucking incompetent pricks,’ George said snatching the lighter out of David’s hand. David and Steve knew something major had happened.
‘Who are incompetent pricks?’ David asked.
‘The officers in Cheshire’s Branch office, that’s who. They’ve just hit Murphy’s house and the fucker’s evaded them again! They’re so fucking useless, they couldn’t spot a whore in a brothel!’
‘That’s all we need,’ David exclaimed.
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ Steve said, ‘what happened?’
‘Baker reported that Murphy’s wife left the house in the Volvo earlier,’ George said taking a puff of his pipe, ‘We were going to order them to follow, but Baker said they could see Murphy in the upstairs bedroom window. As we were short on resources the regional commander gave the order to let her go and for Baker’s team to stick with Murphy. No car left after the wife’s, so right under the fucking noses of Baker’s team Murphy’s got out on foot somehow.’ Holding his pipe in his right hand, he clenched a fist with his left and said, ‘How the fuck could they let that happen. For Christ’s sake, its open country around the house and it was still light.’
As George let out his rage, David was thinking and said, ‘It’s not all open country round the house George. At the rear of the house on the left hand side of the garden, there’s a clump of trees next to a field that’s got a dry stone wall. If he was careful, he could get out unseen. It was a weak spot Gary and I identified. At least we know he’s on foot, unless he’s arranged for someone to meet him with some wheels.’’
‘But if he’s meeting someone, who is it?’ George said, ‘It’s got to be either his wife or someone who’s not in the system.’
‘I take it you’ve no idea where his wife is?’ Steve asked.
‘No we haven’t,’ George said.
‘This is just a thought, but he hasn’t moved from the house since he got home yesterday evening has he?’ Steve said, ‘and we’ve not been able to get into the house to and place listening devices so he’s had all day to make arrangements. As far as we know, he’s got a number of pay-as-you-go phones that are difficult to pick up. I’ve got an idea where his wife’s gone. We could try the address she went to the other day in Childwall in Liverpool. When we tracked her down that night, she went to a house occupied by a Sheila Coleman. I can’t remember the address off the top of my head, but if we contact DI Walsh in Merseyside, he can get a couple of his officers to check it out. When we checked it out the other day there was no intelligence to suggest any connections with Murphy’s activities, but one thing we’ve learnt about Murphy is he’s been busy recruiting old players from his PIRA days. We’re not losing out if we give them a knock.’
George’s demeanour changed and smiling at his DC said, ‘We’ll do that, but I’d still love to know how Murphy got out unseen.’
‘All I can think of is that before we lifted McCullagh he could have told Murphy the placements of the covert spots where Gary’s team were deployed,’ David said.
‘McCullagh, fucking McCullagh,’ George said aggressively blowing out more pipe smoke.
‘You can’t blame Gary Baker’s team for what happened,’ David said, ‘When I was out doing the static obs on Murphy’s house, I found it hard keeping a watch on every inch of the grounds surrounding his house. You’re frustrated and you’ve had a long day or have you forgotten, you were helping Alex out in Poppythorn Lane first thing this morning?’
‘True,’ George said, ‘First, I’ll pass Steve’s suggestion onto the commander and he can organise Merseyside to give that Liverpool address a call. Then, I’m going to call it a day and I’m ordering you two to do the same.’ Knocking out the spent tobacco in his pipe against the wall by the entrance door, George looked at David and said, ‘It’s about time you went back to Debbie to make sure she’s feeling better after her experiences with McCullagh earlier.’
* * *
‘Martin, you don’t know how good it is to see you,’ Murphy said throwing his holdall onto the back seat as he got into Martin Connell’s car.