Dead Man Running: A True Story of a Secret Agent's Escape from the IRA and MI5 (25 page)

I advised Mary to get out of the flat at least until all the arms and Semtex had been removed and she said she would think about it but when I looked into her eyes it seemed to me that she had no intention of taking my advice. After I left her that day I realised that I had been put in a very difficult situation. I was working for the Special Branch who spent most of their time searching for IRA arms and explosives and now here was Mary telling me she had arms and Semtex hidden in her flat. I knew that I could not and would not tell my handlers what I had just learned but I decided to keep in contact with Mary and try to persuade her to move out or, better still, to persuade her IRA man to move the arms cache out of their home.

Mary told me later that she had moved out of her flat for a few weeks but then had moved back again. She also told me that Tom was still a very active member of the IRA.

After I left Northern Ireland and Angie had decided to return to Belfast with the boys, I would occasionally phone Mary simply for a chat. There had never been any suggestion of Mary and I being romantically involved but, nonetheless, there was a strong mutual relationship between us which had lasted for more than ten years. Whenever we had bumped into each other in the village that was Belfast we would always chat and exchange gossip and we both knew that we could turn to each other in times of trouble. I had enjoyed phoning Mary from my new home in England, asking her for all the latest gossip, finding out what was happening back in West Belfast and I felt a need to keep in touch, my way of wanting to feel I was still a part of the community where I grew up. She understood that and was happy to talk despite the fact that her live-in lover Tom was still in the IRA. But we never discussed my role as a Special Branch source, nor the fact that I had infiltrated the IRA and fed information to the authorities.

Before returning for my flying visit to Belfast I had thought long and hard about calling Mary. But I needed to talk to her and I hoped that it would be possible to find a way of meeting her without Tom finding out. I felt that because Mary and I had been such good friends throughout the years and the fact that I had never informed the Branch of the arms that her lover had stored in their Belfast flat, there was every probability that Mary might hold some information about my abduction. I just knew that if ever my name came up in conversation Mary would automatically have taken a mental note simply because of the friendship we had shared over so many years. I felt she could have been, in fact had been, my eyes and ears over the intervening few years and would know more than most of the tittle-tattle that members of the IRA spoke about me and my time with the Branch.

I decided not to phone her home but call her at work, something I had never done before. But this time contacting her created a far greater risk than ever before. I looked up the number of the shop where she worked as a sales assistant in Belfast city centre and called her on my mobile. Eventually she came to the phone.

‘
Mary.’ I asked tentatively, ‘can you talk?’

‘
Who’s that?’ she asked, obviously not recognising my voice.

‘
It’s Marty, your old friend,’ I said.

‘
Oh, Marty,’ she said, somewhat relieved. ‘What are you doing phoning me here at work?’

‘
I need to talk to you,’ I said.

‘
What about?’ she asked.

‘
I can’t tell you over the phone. I just need some advice.’

‘
When are you coming over?’ she asked.

‘
I’m here now,’ I replied.

‘
Jesus Christ, Marty, are you fucking mad?’ she said.

‘
No, I’m not. Are you still living with Tom?’

‘
Aye, of course; what makes you ask?’ she said.

‘
I’ll tell you everything when I see you,’ I replied. ‘Can you get away from work a little early?’

‘
Aye, I think I could,’ she said. ‘Why can’t you meet me in my lunch break?’

‘
Mary, are you crazy?’ I said. ‘I can’t just walk around that area. Could you come to Belfast central station and I could meet you there? It’s not so open. How about 4.30 at the entrance, is that okay?’

‘
That’s fine,’ she said.

‘
Mary, not a word to a soul.’

‘
Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘See you later.’

I drove into Belfast, my heart in my mouth, hoping that Mary was still the same trustworthy girl I had known all my life. I was glad I was driving a reliable and quite fast car, just in case I needed to make a quick getaway. I drove around the area for ten minutes checking if I could see any suspicious characters hanging around. I saw nothing to arouse my fears. Mary was standing just inside the entrance and at first I didn’t recognise her. As soon as I did see her I drove over and she jumped in, throwing her arms around me and giving me a hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek.

‘
It’s lovely to see you, Marty,’ she said and my fears subsided. Instinctively I knew this was the old Mary, the girl I could trust.

As I drove away from the station Mary began bombarding me with questions, wondering why I was risking my life returning to Belfast and why I needed to talk to her so urgently. I drove to Castlereagh, to one of the places where I had frequently met and talked to Felix during my four years working for the Branch. I thought we might be safe there though I conceded that I might bump into Branch officers debriefing one of their sources. But I reckoned I had less chance of being recognised by SB officers than my old muckers in West Belfast who had known me all my life. It was a chance I had to take.

‘
I’ve probably no need to say this, Mary, but I must ask you to keep secret everything I’m about to discuss with you. I must be able to trust you.’

‘
You know you can, Marty,’ she replied, ‘we’ve always been able to trust each other.

‘
Good, well listen; you remember my kidnapping and all that back in August 1991?’ I began.

‘
Sure,’ she replied, ‘it was the talk of Belfast especially since Chico and Jim were made to look such fools.’

‘
Well, I need to whether you heard anything suspicious about the abduction. Whether anyone found anything odd about it,’ I asked, speaking slowly and deliberately.

‘
You must be joking,’ she said, ‘we were all talking about how it was possible for Chico and Jim to walk you out of Connolly House and abduct you in broad daylight. I had no idea you were working as a double agent for both the IRA and the Branch, Marty; you must enjoy danger.’

‘
Did you hear anything else?’ I asked, ignoring her remarks about my reasons for working for the Branch.

‘
Marty, I could talk to you for hours about what everyone was saying but I don’t think it would help. I listened whenever the subject came up because of our friendship but I couldn’t even attempt to defend you because of Tom. He’s never had any idea, thank God, that we’ve ever met, let alone be good friends.’

She went on. ‘There was one night when I was with Tom and two of his IRA mates in a club and they were talking about you. They thought that Chico and Jim had thrown you out of the window because they had become increasingly nervous as the day wore on and the IRA security team had still not arrived. Another theory put forward was that the Branch had dumped you because you had outlived your usefulness.’

As I was digesting what she had told me, Mary asked, out of the blue; ‘Did you know many secrets then, Marty?’

‘
No, not really, I replied, laughing at such a direct question about such a highly secretive subject. ‘Nothing that wasn’t everyday work. All I did was tell the SB what the IRA were planning so they could step in and stop the killings.’

‘
I thought that’s what you were doing,’ she said, ‘but I could never say so because your name was shit after everything came out about you.’

‘
So you didn’t hear anything that surprised you?’

‘
Not really,’ she said, ‘but there was one point which people kept bringing up about you. They all said you were a hard man who would knock the shit out of anyone who got in your way. They wondered if the Branch became scared of you losing your temper if anything went wrong and giving someone a good hiding. Some even jokingly suggested that the reason Chico and Jim were sent to pick you up because someone at the top wanted you to give the two big-headed bastards a good thumping.’

‘
And what did everyone think?’

‘
They were all confused,’ she said. ‘No one was able to work out what really went on and why. It was because everything seemed so mysterious and bizarre that people talked about it for so long.’

‘
Can you think of nothing else?’ I asked, a little disappointed that she had not been able to give me a more concrete lead that might that might help me find out what really happened.

‘
Wait a minute,’ she said excitedly. ‘There was one more thing which I could not get out of my mind for a long time and which I thought was odd, even extraordinary at the time.’

‘
What was that?’ I asked.

‘
When Chico and Jim returned from the South some weeks after you jumped from the window the IRA sat back for a few days wondering if the Branch would come and pick them up. But nothing happened. Neither the RUC nor the Branch even bothered to question them and that aroused real suspicion in IRA circles. Everyone was talking about it, for it seemed so strange. After a few days Chico and Jim were picked up by the IRA security team on suspicion that they were working for the Branch. Some IRA people apparently believed that you hadn’t jumped out of the window but either Chico or Jim had let you go and concocted the story to make it seem dramatic. They were held and questioned for at least a day. Remember, Marty, Jim McCarthy had been kneecapped by the IRA for helping prison officers while he was in jail when all the other IRA prisoners were involved with the dirty protests. From the IRA’s point of view Chico also had a suspicious past because when questioned by police over a charge of attempted murder involving a British soldier he had admitted to being a member of the IRA. You know there was no worse sin that an IRA man could commit than telling the RUC they were a member of the IRA. Everyone was saying that neither man was considered trustworthy by the IRA leadership.’

‘
So have you any idea why they were sent to kidnap me?’ I asked her.

‘
No, Marty,’ she replied, ‘no idea at all. It seems so extraordinary, unless of course Chico and Jim were really working for the Special Branch.’

I said nothing to that line of argument but it was probably one of the most important pieces of information Mary was going to give me that day.

‘
But you’re not going to stay around here are you, Marty?’ she said, sounding concerned.

‘
No, I’ll be away in a few days.’

I dropped Mary back at the train station and she gave me some warm hugs and a couple of kisses on the cheek, telling me to look after myself. Her last words to me were, ‘Don’t worry, Marty; I’ll tell no one we’ve met. Take care.’

As I was driving away from the station I came to some lights that were at red. When the lights changed I was about to drive away when I caught the eye of a taxi driver who was travelling in the opposite direction. The man was looking intently at me. As he looked at me I saw his mouth drop open and then he shouted, ‘Marty, Marty McGartland . . .’ Fortunately the lights had changed and I drove away convinced the man was a member of the IRA, a man whom I had known when working with Davy Adams, Gerry Adams’ nephew, in IRA intelligence. At first I couldn’t recall his name and then I realised it was a man named ‘Billy’ who had known me quite well. ‘Fuck,’ I thought to myself, ‘he’s recognised me.’

I had first met Billy when he was working as a taxi driver with one of the many taxi firms which owed allegiance to the IRA. These taxis would sometimes be used to ferry men and weapons across the city. For many years the taxi firms had been a wonderful courier service for the IRA and the Branch believed that some of the firms were funded and run by the IRA hierarchy, frequently employing well-known IRA men who had been jailed for IRA activities and had been released. Understandably, these men found it very difficult, if not impossible, to find work or get a regular job because of their backgrounds. The IRA would give them jobs as taxi drivers so they could earn some money. They could also be trusted.

I was annoyed with myself for permitting someone to recognise me yet it hadn’t really been my fault. I told myself to keep calm and act accordingly. There was no direct threat to my security and the man Billy obviously had no idea where I was staying. Nevertheless, there was now an IRA man who knew I was in Belfast and driving around in a re Vauxhall Vectra. I had no idea whether or not he had managed to note the registration number but I was doubtful as there had been so many vehicles blocking his view of the number plate. Now I knew that I had to dump my hire car, and quickly.