Howard shuddered, but he still wasn’t convinced. He could feel a growing sense of panic in his stomach and he tried to quell it. “Now that we know of the IRA involvement, perhaps we should be looking at the possibility of alternative targets,” he suggested.
“British, you mean,” said Sheldon. Howard nodded. “Agreed, but I think we have to assume that the President is at risk, until we know the full extent of the IRA involvement,” he said.
“What about former Presidents?” asked Howard. “If Saddam went for Bush in ’93, maybe he’ll try again.”
“Bush’s people have been informed and he’ll be keeping out of the public eye for a while. The same goes for high-ranking military officers. But the President can’t do that. He can’t hide.”
Howard felt a sudden wave of apprehension. He sensed the assignment getting out of control; there were so many angles, so many things he had to do, and he was beginning to fear that the job was too much for him. He picked up the files and went back to his office. In the old days he would have reached for a bottle to kill the butterflies, but he hadn’t touched a drop for almost four years and had no intention of starting now. He sat down heavily at his desk, looked at his watch and pulled open his bottom drawer. In a slim black book he found mention of an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting which was due to start in an hour’s time. When he’d first stopped drinking, he’d attended an AA meeting pretty much every day. The clinic which Theodore Clayton had sent him to made giving up easy, it was as secure as most Federal prisons and Howard had been under twenty-four hour a day supervision while he underwent detoxification. Later, while he was in group and individual therapy, there was so much to do that he didn’t have the time to miss drinking. The clinic, hidden away on an exclusive estate to the south of Phoenix, prohibited visitors or any contact with outsiders for the first month, and it forced him to address his alcohol problem and to accept that it was an illness, not a weakness.
When he left the clinic, thirty pounds heavier and feeling better than he’d felt in more than five years, his counsellor’s last words were a reminder to attend daily AA meetings for at least a month. Howard remembered how he’d smiled and shook the man’s hand, thinking that he had his alcoholism licked. Within three hours the craving for a drink had reduced him to a cold sweat and shaking hands and he’d reached for the slim black book.
Now, he attended AA meetings at least once a week, more if he was gripped by the craving for a drink. An hour. He had time to call New York first. He picked up his copy of the FBI’s internal phone directory and looked up the Bureau’s Counter-Terrorism unit with responsibility for the IRA. He found it under Counter-Terrorism (Europe) and saw that their office was based in Federal Plaza in Manhattan. The director in charge was listed as O’Donnell Jr, H. C. All the FBI’s offices were linked through a secure internal communications system so he could phone internally and not have to use an outside line. He dialled through to O’Donnell’s extension but after six rings it was answered by a secretary who informed Howard that he was out of the office. Howard ran his finger down to the list of agents in the Irish section and asked for the first name there: Clutesi, D. The secretary transferred his call and this time a bored-sounding man answered. Howard identified himself and explained that Ed Mulholland had sent over files on Bailey, Hennessy and the Jackal. He asked the New York agent if he’d check two more names for IRA connections: Rich Lovell and Lou Schoelen. Neither was known to Clutesi. “You want me to try the RUC or MI5?” he offered.
“RUC?”
“Royal Ulster Constabulary,” explained Clutesi. “The Northern Ireland police. They’ve got a hell of a good intelligence network. And MI5 is the British Intelligence Service, they keep their own files on Irish terrorists. We’ve set up a system for information-sharing. I can run all the names through their files.”
“Pictures, too?” asked Howard, pulling his own computer terminal closer and switching on the VDU.
“Sure,” said Clutesi. “It’ll take time, though. Our computers aren’t linked yet, we have to do it through messengers. The MI5 files might take a bit longer than the RUC. They seem to be dragging their feet lately. Politics, you know?”
“I understand,” said Howard, who wasn’t sure that he did.
“Do you know much about the IRA?” Clutesi asked.
“Not much,” admitted Howard. “Just what I read in the newspapers.”
Clutesi laughed. “Yeah, well we both know how reliable they are, right? I’ll send you a couple of recent background papers the CIA put together. I think you’ll find them useful. And I’ve a briefing paper our director, Hank O’Donnell, wrote for internal consumption last year.”
Howard thanked Clutesi and told him he’d be in New York the following day. He spent the time before his AA meeting reading the files on Matthew Bailey and Mary Hennessy. Bailey was twenty-six years old and had been what the IRA call ‘an active volunteer’ since he was nineteen. The RUC had three warrants out for his arrest for a series of murders in Northern Ireland. He was involved in the ambush of two police officers who were gunned down with a Kalashnikov assault rifle, though there was some doubt as to exactly who pulled the trigger. He was also seen in an East Belfast police station shortly before a bomb exploded in the reception area, killing an RUC officer and injuring six members of the public. Another RUC officer was killed in a car-bombing and equipment similar to that used in the device was found at an apartment where Bailey was known to have visited. The evidence against Bailey seemed to Howard to be conclusive, but even more damning was the testimony of a highly placed IRA activist who turned police informer in 1993 and who had already been responsible for the trial and imprisonment of more than a dozen terrorists.
The file included a note from the RUC that Bailey had left Northern Ireland for the South, followed by reports that he had flown to the United States. An FBI anti-terrorist unit working on the West Coast had almost trapped Bailey in a sting operation to sell him a ground-to-air missile, but he had disappeared only hours before he was due to take delivery. The Counter-Terrorism (Europe) unit had reported seeing Bailey in New York at the end of the previous year, mainly entering several Manhattan bars known to be centres of IRA fund-raising. The last sighting had been in November. Since then, nothing.
Mary Hennessy was forty-nine years old and a widow, according to her file. Her husband had been killed in a shoot-out three years previously when his car was ambushed by what was believed to have been a Protestant hit squad. Liam Hennessy had been a leading Belfast lawyer but had also acted as a senior adviser to Sinn Fein, the political wing of the Provisional Irish Republican Army. The men responsible for the attack were never caught, and the file detailed a speech Mary Hennessy had made at the funeral in which she accused the British Government of conducting a political assassination. She believed that it was the SAS who murdered her husband as part of a British plan to obliterate the IRA as a viable terrorist organisation.
In the file was a separate FBI research paper which went into the alleged shoot-to-kill operation in some detail, though its resolution was inconclusive. What was known for sure was that some two dozen top IRA activists had died within a four-week period which followed the downing of a 737 airliner en route from London to Rome. The IRA had never officially claimed responsibility for the bombing of the jet, but the device was known to have been planted by a female bomb-maker who was killed when the SAS stormed the London flat which she and other IRA members were using as a base. Following the death of the woman, Maggie MacDermott, and her colleagues, a six-month bombing campaign came to a sudden halt, leaving the British authorities in no doubt that the IRA cell had been responsible. Several days after the downing of the jet, in which more than one hundred people died, two IRA terrorists were shot dead in a pub in Dublin by masked gunmen who were believed to be members of the Ulster Defence Volunteers, a Protestant para-military group. More assassinations followed and it seemed as if there was a tricolour-draped coffin being lowered into the ground every day. Several top-ranking IRA chiefs died in suspicious road accidents, running off cliffs at high speed or smashing in to trees on perfectly clear roads, and there were half a dozen supposed suicides, varying from a bathroom electrocution to self-inflicted shotgun wounds. Within four weeks the IRA was totally demoralised. Many of its members fled from Northern Ireland to the South or to the United States.
British newspapers ran screaming headlines about a shoot-to-kill operation being sponsored or encouraged by the government, but generally the press and the public seemed to think that whatever was happening was a just retribution for the terror the IRA had wreaked in the United Kingdom. That there was indeed a shoot-to-kill policy was vehemently denied by the Prime Minister and the Army, and no evidence was ever produced to prove beyond a doubt that the killings were government-sanctioned. However, one of the FBI’s analysts had run several statistical tests on the sudden deaths and determined that the odds of the twenty-four assassinations, suicides and road accidents occurring within a four-week period were of the order of six billion to one. There was no doubt that the killings were premeditated and the work of one group, but whether it was the SAS, MI5, the Army, or Protestant extremists, was still a mystery and one that was never likely to be solved. Whoever was responsible, the end result
