Authors: David Lowe
Alan picked up the glass of single malt Scottish whiskey he was drinking and handing the can over to David, said, ‘Cheers, here’s to an event free evening.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ David said opening the can, ‘I don’t know if George showed you the security around here, but anyone who wanted to do any damage would struggle to get anywhere near the hotel. A sweep was done on the hotel this morning and again at six this evening where nothing was found.’
‘Good,’ Alan Trevelyan said gesturing with his hand for David to sit down, ‘and Jenny Richmond told me you had some action earlier across the road when you arrested one of the IRA men who had a sniper’s rifle.’
‘It was one of the two men we’ve been after that did the murders over the last couple of days.’
‘From what George was telling me,’ Alan said reaching into the mini-bar for ice to put in his drink, ‘you’ve had them on the back foot over the past few days.’
‘You could say that, but I wouldn’t be complacent. There’s a few of them still out there who can do some damage.’
‘So, what’s the plan for this evening?’ Alan said sitting down in a chair next to David.
‘Basically you’re to enjoy yourself while I keep an eye on you. I don’t want you getting involved in anything.’
‘That’ll be rather boring for you.’
‘Not a bit,’ David said placing the empty can on the table in front of him, ‘I’m also helping the rest of the security team in keeping the place safe. But don’t worry. I’ll keep a special eye out for your safety.’
‘Let’s hope all goes well tonight,’ Alan said looking at his watch, ‘it’s half six. If you’re ready, I think it’s time I went to join the party and start suffering small talk.’
* * *
Making another delivery at the hotel, Mahoney approached the rear of the Grosvenor Hotel. He looked at the clock in the van’s dashboard. It was approaching twenty five to seven in the evening. He knew this would be the last opportunity to plant his explosive device in the kitchen area before Prince William arrived. On route to the hotel, he stopped and taking out the small bomb, attached the timer, setting it to go off at seven. Mahoney drove off and slowed down at the police cordon. He raised his ID and security pass to the same police officer he had passed through for each delivery. By now it was no more than a cursory show of the identity documents. Not only was the officer getting to know Mahoney, as it was getting busier, seeing the same personnel from Henderson’s coming and going from the hotel, he was becoming complacent. As he did on the previous two occasions, the officer did not even make Mahoney stop or check the documents. Seeing Mahoney hold them up, he waved him through the cordon.
Being close to the start of the banquet, there was buzz of intense activity as he drove to the rear of the hotel. The officious security guard guided Mahoney into the only vacant parking place. Once parked, he got out of the van and walked towards the rear doors. As he did the guard shouted over to him, ‘Alan, there’s more deliveries on their way, so be as quick as you can.’
Having told the guard on his previous visits what a good job he was doing and how he did not envy being in his position with all the responsibility he had, the guard mellowed towards Mahoney. ‘I will,’ Mahoney replied with a wave, ‘but I’m going to be a bit slower on this one as I can only bring in two trays at a time.’
‘OK, but be as quick as you can. As you can see, with the deliveries being more frequent it’s getting a bit congested.’
Opening the back doors, Mahoney checked round him. The other drivers, the security guard and police officers were too busy with their own roles to pay him any attention. Placing the device in a side pocket of the overall jacket, he took out two trays of food and carried them into the hotel kitchen. To an outsider, the kitchen looked like chaos rather than an organised catering operation. It was bustling with delivery drivers returning to their vans, shouts from the senior chefs to the junior staff to speed up the food preparation and waiting on staff picking up trays of canapés. Mahoney asked one of the junior chefs where she wanted the trays of food he brought in. Pointing to a gap on one of the work-surfaces next to her, he placed the trays down watching the staff in the immediate area where he was standing. As it was close to the time the Prince would be arriving, they were all busy. Making his way out of the kitchen, he took the device out of his pocket and in one swift move, placed it by one of the ovens he identified on his previous visits into the kitchen as an ideal location. Being gas ovens, he knew the explosion would rupture the gas pipes that in turn would ignite leaking gas causing an even larger explosion.
* * *
Alan Trevelyan was in the foyer of the hotel talking to other guests that arrived for the banquet reception. As David was watching, he could see quite a number of those trying to talk to Alan were what he referred to as brown nosing arse lickers. He watched as they hung on his every word and occasionally gave an exaggerated false laugh. Glancing over to the open main door he looked at the massed crowds outside the hotel. Children were at the front of the crowd waving small union flags, while adults stood behind them. The sunny weather and the anticipation of the Prince arriving enhanced the convivial mood the crowd were in. Looking back at the social climbers attending the banquet at the hotel, David tried not to let his disdain for them show on his face. Seeing the clock placed behind the reception desk, he saw it was just before five to seven. The Prince would be arriving any minute.
* * *
The manager of the Liverpool branch of Henderson’s caterers was on the phone to the delivery supervisor at the Chester office checking on the progress of the catering operation. The supervisor informed her it was going well, ‘And the four drivers you sent over from Liverpool have been an absolute god send, especially that Alan Rowntree. He turned up early and has worked like a Trojan. The other three had a few moans and I’m sure they were taking their time in between deliveries, but Alan’s there and back from the hotel in no time. He doesn’t grumble. He just gets on with it. He’s a credit to you.’
‘But I only sent three drivers over to help out. No Alan Rowntree works for us. What does he look like?’
‘Blonde hair and glasses, average height with a wiry build.’
‘Seriously Stephen, we don’t have a driver fitting that description working for us and certainly no one under the name of Alan Rowntree. Did you check his ID and his pass?’
‘Yes, it seemed fine. Do you think I should tell the police?’
‘I would, just to be on the safe side. There were no other Henderson’s offices sending you drivers were there?’
‘No. I’ll ring the police now.’
* * *
After receiving the call, Cheshire Police put the delivery drivers’ supervisor at Henderson’s caterers through to George. After hearing there was a rogue delivery driver, he put the phone down and got onto the radio immediately. ‘All units, observations for a delivery driver from Henderson’s. He’s a white male with blonde hair, glasses of average height with a wiry build. His ID will have the name Alan Rowntree on it. He’s not on the official list of delivery drivers and is to be stopped and detained if seen.’
* * *
On hearing George’s call, David ran into the kitchen area. There was no sign of Mahoney in his guise as Rowntree. Running out to the rear of the hotel, he saw the security officer organising the parking of the delivery vans and shouted over, ‘Have you seen a delivery driver with blonde hair, glasses, average height and a wiry build since you’ve been out here?’
He stopped assisting the van into a parking space and walking over to David said, ‘Who are you? Have you got ID?’
David got out his warrant car and thrust it under the guard’s nose. ‘I’m DS David Hurst, Special Branch, now, have you seen a driver with blonde . . .’
The guard interrupted saying, ‘I’m sorry detective sergeant. I’m sure you understand we’ve all got to check ID’s. You can’t be too . . .’
‘Shut the fuck up and just answer my question,’ David shouted over the guard, ‘Have you seen a driver from Henderson’s with blonde hair, glasses that’s . . .”
‘Yes I have and I’m not happy with your attitude.’
‘If you don’t tell me where you saw him, you won’t be in a position to have a fucking opinion about my attitude.’
‘He’s gone. His van’s broken down so he got a lift off one of his workmates to get back to the caterers.’ Pointing to one of the Transit vans, the guard said, ‘It’s that one there. You’ve only just missed him. He left a couple of minutes ago.’
David looked at the row of parked Ford Transit vans and said, ‘Which one was he driving’
‘That one of the far left.’
‘Get all of the staff out of the immediate area now.’
‘Why, what’s up?’
‘Just do as I say.’ David radioed through to George and told him of the situation with the Mahoney and the Transit van he left parked behind the hotel, ‘. . . it could have a bomb in it. I’ll get the area cleared, just get the other units to get everyone out.’
‘Will do and I’ll get the cavalcade with the Prince to make a detour and wait until we’ve secured the area,’ George replied.
Fighting his way through the melee of kitchen staff running out in panic to the rear of the hotel, David struggled to get back into the kitchen. In their rush to get out, pans and trays were being knocked over scattering food all over the floor. Thinking they were running towards the bomb, he tried in vain to get them to turn round and leave the hotel by the front. They ignored him. He turned to the security guard and shouted over, ‘Get the kitchen staff clear of the rear of hotel and down to the cordon where the uniform officers are and get yourself out of here.’
‘OK Sarge.’
* * *
George contacted the officer working by the cordon at the rear of the hotel and got the registration of the number of the van Mahoney was getting a lift in. Circulating the number to all officers in the area, he requested reports of sightings. Driving an unmarked ISB car with Ray Baskin, on hearing the call, Steve Adams said, ‘Keep your eyes peeled. If they’re going back to the catering agency depot, they’ll be coming towards us.’
* * *
David tried to get through to George on the radio, but was unable to cut through the frenetic transmissions of other units working in the hotel giving their updates. Looking at his watch, it was just turning seven o’clock. He ran through the kitchen now occupied by a couple of SO15 officers frantically searching for sight of a bomb. ‘Get out. It’s seven o’clock, the time the Prince should have been arriving. Mahoney only got access to the kitchens so if he planted a bomb in the hotel, it’ll be here. Get the fuck out of here now before it goes off,’ he shouted to the officers. The officers looked at him and began to move out of the kitchen.
Being the last one to leave the kitchen, David entered the corridor leading to the hotel foyer. Unlike the kitchen area, they were in no immediate hurry to evacuate the hotel. ‘Get out,’ David shouted as he ran towards them. Reflecting in the glass from the frames of the pictures placed on the wall in the corridor, he saw a bright white light coming from behind him. Flinging himself to the floor, he covered his head with his hands. He knew what was coming next.
Chapter Forty-One
Grosvenor Hotel, Chester,
19.02 hours, Tuesday,
9
th
July
Following an ear splitting explosion, the blast caused a hurricane style wind causing pictures on the wall nearby to fly off in all directions, closely followed by debris hurtling out of the kitchen. David felt something hit his back. He did not feel pain, just the searing heat of the object. After a second or two all went silent. As dust bellowed out of the kitchen area, the air reeked with the pungent smell of cordite. All David could hear was a muffled sound of the hotel’s alarms ringing. Wondering why they were muffled, he realised the explosion caused him to suffer temporary deafness. Feeling moisture all over his body, he knew the hotel’s sprinkler system had been triggered.
* * *
Returning to the Chester office to drop Mahoney off, the van’s engine started making a slight clunking noise. The driver said to Mahoney, ‘That’s all we need! As we’re close to the depot, I’ll limp the van in and I’ll see what’s wrong with it there.’
Mahoney produced a pistol from inside his jacket and pointed it at the driver. ‘I’ve got another idea. Stop the van and you can get out,’ his Northern Irish accent returning as he spoke.
‘What, what the . . .’ a horrified van driver said, ‘I don’t understand.’
‘There’s nothing to understand, drive into that side-road over there,’ Mahoney said pointing to a road coming up on the left. The driver turned into the road.
Unable to take his eyes of the weapon pointed at him, the driver swerved as he made the turn, nearly losing control of the van. Gathering control of the vehicle he said, ‘What the . . . what the fuck are you doing?’
‘Just pull over in that side road. You can walk the rest of the way.’
As the driver stopped the van, he said, ‘You’re one of those wanted men aren’t you?’
‘Shut the fuck up and get out.’
As the driver got out and started running away from the front of the van, Mahoney raised his pistol and fired three shots, two of them hitting the driver in the back. As he fell Mahoney ran over to the driver’s door and got back into the van. With the engine still running, he turned the van round and decided to drive a short distance away so he could get out of the Henderson’s uniform and make his way to Holyhead.
* * *
As Steve and Ray travelled out of Chester towards Henderson’s caterers, Ray looked down a side road and saw a group of people standing around a man lying on the pavement. ‘Go back and turn into that side road on the left. It looks like something’s happened,’ Ray said.
Slamming on the brakes, Steve caused the car to come to an abrupt halt. Putting the car into reverse gear, he hit the accelerator pedal hard causing the car to give out a whining scream as it went backwards towards the entrance to the side road. With the small number of people standing around the prone man only being a few yards away, Steve did not bother to turn into the side road. Both officers opened the car doors and ran over with Ray Baskin producing his warrant card shouting, ‘Police, what’s happened?’