Authors: David Lowe
‘You’re likely to get a long stretch for what you’ve done. Think about it, you’re getting no younger and telling me about Mahoney will help you when your time’s up for consideration for parole. No one’ll know if you told us anything. It’ll be recorded on our files and no one else will see them apart from the parole board,’ David said.
Maguire shuffled his chair away from David and Steve and looked at the wall opposite him. Deciding not to say anything else, he began to sing the playlist of U2’s Joshua Tree album to himself to help him blank out their questions.
‘For the benefit of the tape, Jimmy Maguire has turned his chair away from myself and DC Adams and is staring blankly at the wall,’ David said, ‘Jimmy, what makes you think that if you told me what Mahoney was up to that you still couldn’t trust me?’
Maguire stopped singing the U2 song, ‘I still haven’t found what I’m looking for’ in his head. Turning to look at David, Maguire smiled at him.
Blowing his cheeks in frustration, David said, ‘The time is fourteen twelve hours. It’s clear Jimmy Maguire is not prepared to answer any of the questions that I or DC Adams will put to him. Therefore, this interview is being terminated.’ David pressed the stop button on the tape recorder and the video, and took out the tapes. Sealing one of them, he informed Maguire that one of the two tapes would be sealed and kept as a record of the interview and that it could only be unsealed by an order from the court. He invited Maguire to sign the seal. Still staring at the wall in front of him, Maguire started to sing out loud, ‘He still hasn’t found what he’s looking for.’ Ignoring Maguire’s antics, David went through the motions of explaining that a transcript of the interview would be prepared from the working tape.
Maguire’s behaviour was sorely testing David’s patience. Handing Steve the tapes, he got up from behind the desk and walked behind Maguire. In one swift action, David placed his right arm through Maguire’s armpit, while placing the palm of his hand on his right cheek. With his left arm, he grabbed Maguire’s left cheek, holding him in a vice like grip. Maguire tried to shout out, but could not utter a sound. ‘Right you murdering bastard, we’ll do this interview old style, just like the way you killed those two police officers, Mrs. Clancy and that security guard,’ David snarled at Maguire, ‘One move by you and I’ll break your fucking neck. Here’s your new option. Do you want to speak to me or shall I kill you?’
Maguire knew David could easily break his neck. As Maguire tried to speak, Steve said, ‘Let him go, he’s trying to say something.’
David released his grip just enough for Maguire to speak. ‘You’re good Hurst. I’ll give you that. I knew you wanted to kill me. The feeling’s fucking mutual. I’d love to kill you and that slapper of a sister of yours. Her name’s Siobhan isn’t it?’
Rage came across David. Sensing his DS was about to lose his temper, Steve grabbed David’s hands saying, ‘Don’t Davey. That’s what he wants.’ As Steve restrained David, Maguire leant forward in his chair, turned round and spat in David’s face hoping this would goad the DS even more into giving him a good kicking. He was ready to make a complaint of assault against the officer. David pushed Steve’s arms back. Taking a handkerchief out from his trouser pocket, he slowly wiped the spittle from his face. As he did so, Steve took hold of Maguire’s arm and putting him in a restraint, stood the Irishman up.
David said, ‘You’re right Steve, that’s what he wants.’ As he walked up to Maguire, the Irishman mouthed the word ‘loser’. His patience expired, David sharply raised his knee and connected directly onto Maguire’s testicles. The blow was so hard it caused Maguire to double up in agony as his breath involuntarily left his lungs. ‘I might be a fucking loser in your eyes, but I’m not the one wearing my bollocks like a dickie bow and I’m not going to be spending the next thirty years watching my arse in the showers in prison like you are. Take him out my sight Steve.’
* * *
Introducing himself to the delivery van supervisor under the name on his false ID, Mahoney said, ‘I’m Alan Rowntree from the Liverpool depot. Is there anything you want me to take over to the Grosvenor?’
‘Your timing’s a blessing. We’re run off our feet at the moment. Take those boxes over there,’ he said pointing to a large collection of cardboard boxes next to a row of Transit vans emblazoned with the Henderson catering company logo, ‘and put them in the Transit next to them. It’s only napkins and stuff they need for setting up the banqueting room. There’s about six hundred attending the reception. Apart from making sure we get the stuff over to the hotel so the room’s all set up, we have to make sure the food gets there on time. Here’s the van key and your dispatch notices.’ The delivery supervisor handed over the keys and documents to Mahoney and said, ‘The Transit’s all fuelled up so you should be all right for the whole shift. I take it you know your way around Chester?’
‘Yeah, no problem. I’ll get them over to the hotel right away and get back to you as soon as I can.’
‘You’ll have to. Two of the Chester drivers reported sick this morning.’
‘Not a problem boss. When do you think we’ll be doing the non-stop runs to the hotel?’
‘Are you looking to have a break already? You’ve done nothing yet!’
‘No, I’m just curious that’s all.’
‘I suppose from four onwards. Now you’ve got your pass haven’t you? The police won’t let you through if you haven’t.
Mahoney patted the top pocket of his jacket and said, ‘I’ve got it here.’
‘Good. You’ll have to go to the rear of the hotel. A system’s been arranged so we can have a continuous flow of deliveries. Try not to block the rear of the hotel with your van. Just do as the hotel security men tell you. They’re sorting out a system for the deliveries so it’s as smooth as can be with no hold ups. I’ll leave you to get on with it,’ the drivers’ supervisor said walking out of the garage area.
Mahoney packed the boxes into the back of the Transit van, secured the rear doors and drove off to the back of the hotel. The information the supervisor told him differed little from what McCullagh had briefed him. This first run was important. This was the time to assess the kitchen and spot the best place to plant the explosives to create maximum impact. As bomb dogs trained to pick up the scent of explosives were present inside the hotel, Mahoney knew he would have to plant the explosives during one of his last runs just before seven o’clock to coincide with the arrival of the Prince. He knew this was a time when the kitchen area would be full of catering staff, but placing the explosives while it was quiet on these first runs would run the risk of them being found. McCullagh was explicit when he told Mahoney the last sweep carried out by the security services would be just before six o’clock that evening. The other problem running through his mind was in not getting caught setting the timer.
Driving up to the rear of the hotel, he saw four uniform police officers at a cordon placed across the entry to the rear of the hotel. One stood in front of his van and raised his right hand signalling him to stop. Mahoney brought the van to a stop and reached for his ID and security pass. The officer walked up to the driver’s door window that Mahoney wound down. ‘Can I see your ID and pass as well as your delivery slip please,’ the officer asked. Mahoney passed the items to the officer. As the officer scrutinised the documentation, Mahoney knew this was the biggest test of whether or not this disguise and the false documents would pass for the real thing. Heart pounding and palms sweating, the officer taking an eternity to read the documents was getting to Maguire. ‘You’re one of the first vans from Henderson’s to make a delivery,’ the officer said handing back the documents to Mahoney, ‘Go straight on through here and one of the hotel security guards will instruct you from there.’
‘Thanks officer,’ Mahoney said. Releasing the handbrake, he slowly moved off toward the rear of the hotel.
As the officer told him, a security officer meticulously guided Mahoney into a parking space. This amused Mahoney as his was the only van at the rear of the hotel. Mahoney picked up his identity card, security pass and the delivery slip. Placing them in his jacket, he got out of the van to open the rear doors. Wearing a pristine uniform, the security guard approached him with a stern look on his face. ‘I need to see your security pass and delivery slip,’ the guard said officiously.
‘I’ve just shown them to the police,’ Mahoney said picking up two of the boxes from the back of the van.
‘You’ve got to show me as well,’ the guard said holding out his hand to receive the documentation, ‘it’s high security today. We’ve been told terrorists could be lurking around the hotel and I can’t take any chances. It’s more than my job’s worth.’
Thinking to himself this guard was exactly that, a jumped up jobs-worth. Not wanting to bring undue attention to himself, he reached into his top pocket and handed over the security pass and delivery slip to the guard. Scrutinising the documentation, he looked at Mahoney’s photograph on the security pass then looked at Mahoney’s face. Looking back at the photograph, Mahoney said, ‘Are you going to do this for every delivery? If you do we’ll never get the food in on time.’
‘I’ve got to be careful,’ the guard said handing the papers back to Mahoney.
‘I know you’ve got to get it right with the Prince coming. I’m impressed with the system you’ve organised for the deliveries,’ Mahoney said thinking what a tosser this guard was.
There was a slight movement in the corner of the guard’s mouth that resembled a half smile, as he responded to the Irishman’s flattery. ‘Thanks. It was me that told the security services this was the best system for deliveries. They were impressed. One slip up and the Prince could be in danger.’
As the guard walked away towards the police officers, Mahoney picked up the boxes and walked into the rear entrance of the hotel.
Chapter Forty
DCI’s Office Cheshire’s Special Branch Department, Chester, 15.00 hours,
Monday, 9
th
July
‘Well we half expected Maguire to say nothing,’ George said to David and Steve in what was DCI Harvey’s office, as the two updated him on the interview with Maguire, ‘Regarding your new duties for the rest of the day. David, you’re to go back to the hotel, put your black tuxedo on and report to Jenny Richmond. Seeing how you volunteered, you’re looking after my father-in-law for the evening, so make sure he doesn’t start interfering. He’s a strong character, so be firm.’
‘Don’t worry I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble,’ David said.
‘Good,’ George said, ‘and Steve, you go and get a bite to eat. Then, I want you out with Ray Baskin and the rest of his team on the hunt for Mahoney.’
‘No problem,’ Steve said, ‘I take it there’s not even been a sniff on his whereabouts?’
‘No, but the bastard’s got to be somewhere close,’ George said.
‘Seeing how forensics found that trace of semtex at the murder scene of the two bobbies, I take it we’re working on the premise Mahoney’s going to be planting an explosive device near the hotel?’ David asked.
‘We are,’ George said, ‘but as security around the hotel area is so tight, it’s going to be hard for him to get anywhere near. He can’t park any vehicles in the Eastgate area and the only persons with access to the hotel area are us, hotel guests and the guests to the reception and, of course, the hotel staff. Oh, I nearly forgot, there’s the agency staff from Henderson’s they’ve brought in to assist with the catering for tonight.’
David thought for a moment and said, ‘That’s a possible in for Mahoney, he could be with the agency staff.’
‘It’s a possibility,’ George said, ‘but security’s so tight, every time any of the permanent or agency staff move in and out of the sterile area, they’re checked out. Even with the twenty year photograph we have of Mahoney, he can’t have changed that much, so we should spot him. You’ll see how tight the security is for yourself when you get to the hotel. No one can fart without us knowing.’
‘Fair enough,’ David said, ‘I’ll get over there right now.’
* * *
Debbie entered the room at the Grosvenor she and David were staying in. Seeing him struggling to fix his bow tie, she walked over to him and said, ‘Come here, I’ll help you with that.’
‘Thanks love,’ David said turning round to face her.
As she tied the bow tie, Debbie said, ‘I see you’re looking after Alan Trevelyan tonight.’
‘That and keeping my eyes peeled for Mahoney.’
After tying it, she gently brushed it flat. ‘There you are. You look really smart. It really suits you.’
Admiring himself in a full length mirror, he said, ‘Thanks, it does doesn’t it’.
‘Stop preening yourself, Jenny wants to see you before you go to Alan’s room. It’s only for a two minute briefing and to pick up one of our covert radios.’
Attaching his holster to his shoulder, David said, ‘I’m under MI5’s control for the rest of the day then?’
‘You, along with the SO15 officers on duty at the hotel.’
Putting on the black tuxedo jacket, he said, ‘What are you doing for the rest of the day?’
Picking the odd bit of fluff off David’s jacket as she brushed him down Debbie said, ‘Sitting next to Jenny working on the intelligence as it comes in. So we’ll be in touch for the rest of the day. I was talking to Alan Trevelyan earlier and he’s more excited about what’s been going on than meeting the Prince, so do your best to curb his enthusiasm and try to make sure he doesn’t start interfering with our operation. Come on, I’ll walk down with you to the room Jenny’s using as her control.’
* * *
‘David, it’s nice to see you again,’ Alan Trevelyan said opening his hotel room door, ‘come in. Do you fancy a drink before we go down for the Prince’s bash?’
David walked into the room and said, ‘No alcohol for me thanks, but a Coke or something similar will do nicely.’
Alan Trevelyan walked over to the mini-bar in his room. Taking out a small can of Coke he said, ‘I’ll just find you a glass.’
‘It’s alright. I’ll drink it from the can.’