‘Not Al Pritchard, though,’ Harrison pointed out.
‘Ah,’ Nash said, ‘a slightly delicate matter.’
Jim Maitland intervened. ‘As Senior Expo, Al has his work cut out right now, Tom. Besides, you have a much wider remit.
Rather than invite antagonism between you both at an early stage, we felt it best that we establish your liaison role with us. You can report back to him on this meeting. That way he starts to see your value as an independent adviser rather than develop the notion you’re muscling in to take over the Section, so to speak.’
Nash motioned everyone to sit. ‘Help yourselves to coffee,’ he invited. As the insulated pot, milk jug and sugar bowl began the ritual hand-to-hand shuttle around the table, he began. ‘Today we have one overriding concern. That is to identify the structure of PIRA’s so-called AID AN active service unit operating here on the mainland and to hunt down those concerned.
‘Now, in broad terms, I can tell you that all security elements are putting pressure on the various agents and informers that they runin Northern Ireland. I have…’ Pause for a knowing half-smile here ‘…the dubious honour of trying to co-ordinate our own efforts with those of the Field’Research Unit, E3A of RUC Special Branch, and SIS south of the border — that’s not to mention any low-grade sources run informally by the Regional Crime and Intelligence Units or the TCGs. In fact, if one lowly Provo courier blows his nose, we want to know about it.’
‘Any luck so far?’ Maitland asked.
‘Only one strong possibility so far, but it is a good one. It’s not new, but that makes the gentleman concerned a major contender. The commander of Northern Brigade, one Patrick Francis McGirl went on the gallop back in late May. There was a rumour that he flew from Shannon to Paris, but Irish Special Branch have been unable to verify this. Nevertheless he is very much the calibre of operator that PIRA would need to manage the current mainland campaign. Needless to say SIS is organising round-the-clock surveillance of his home in Bundoran — but, of course, a bit late now that the proverbial horse has bolted. And, unfortunately, he’s not one of your new men who’s likely to phone home nightly to his common-law wife.’
‘If he does we’ll be on to him,’ the representative from GCHQ stated flatly. ‘We’ve extended the code range and the NSA is cooperating fully.’
The man did not elaborate that the Government Communications Headquarters at Cheltenham was using four filial Cray computers routinely to scan all UK telephone conversations at a rate of 500 million characters per second, which was the equivalent of between 400 to 500 full-length novels. ‘Key words’, including many that might be used as open codes, would trigger automatic transcripts that would then be referred to experts at the Defence Communications Network. While the BT switching centre at Oswestry monitored line phones, American satellites thirty miles in space relayed conversations on mobiles to the US National Security Agency listening posts in York and Morwenstow in Cornwall.
‘And, Jim,’ Nash asked, ‘what particular lines of inquiry are you following?’
‘Apart from the usual cooperation with Immigration we’re concentrating on the explosive mixture that was used at both Seven Dials and the flyover bombs yesterday. Huge amounts of ANS. As you know, that’s a fertiliser and icing sugar mix. The stuff had to be purchased somewhere and we’re in talks with manufacturers and suppliers to try and get a lead. But it’s going to be a long plod.’ Then he attempted to look more optimistic than he really felt. ‘We might have more luck with some of the electronic parts. We’re starting to get first forensic reports back from Fort Halstead and, again, we’ll be working back with suppliers and manufacturers in order to identify batch numbers. That’s worked before. Hopefully it’ll work again.’
Nash turned to Harrison. ‘What can you tell us about this AID AN bomb cell, Major.’
Harrison considered for a moment. ‘Well, the first time we received the AIDAN codeword in Belfast was at the tail end of March. And it wasn’t long before we realised it was different from all the rest. Not that the bombs were necessarily bigger or better than any others. It was more the methodical planning that went behind their use, always designed to create maximum disruption. There’d be no hesitation in spending time and effort on elaborate hoaxes or in changing the antihandling devices on a series of apparently identical bombs. It became like a game of cat-and mouse. As though someone was setting out to get us to lower our guard and make mistakes. The one thing we could be certain of was that there was something — real or hoax — where the warning said it would be. It became a sort of trademark. Of course, with AID AN, that was never even half the story. We soon recognised the campaign as probably the most serious we’d faced in a decade.’
‘And are we talking about the work of one active service unit?’ Nash asked.
‘Or even one bomb maker?’ Maitland suggested.
Harrison shook his head. ‘I really can’t be sure. What you’ve got to remember is that few AIDAN devices have failed to go off. Those that have, or those we’ve got to in time, offer mixed clues. Some have been fastidiously neat and precise whilst others have been a bit shoddy. One that failed to go off had poor connections. On another, I remember, the soldering on the universal counter was messy. That could mean the bomb maker was a novice or was perhaps nervous. Or old and shaky. Maybe he was wearing dirty spectacles and didn’t realise the poor job he’d done. Or he could just have sneezed in the middle of doing it. That could indicate the devices were made by the same man who’s just getting more expert as time goes on. Or, more likely, one man who supervises two or three others who do the constructing.’ Harrison gave a slight smile. ‘Either way, a splash of solder in the wrong place could have been lethal to whoever planted the bomb.’
‘That we should be so lucky,’ Nash said wistfully. ‘Unfortunately AIDAN hasn’t yet obliged us with an own goal.’
‘If it’s any consolation,’ Harrison said, ‘the more complicated a bomb becomes — like anything else — the more there is to go wrong. like any other equipment, civilian or military. For instance, compare old idiot-proof Eastern Bloc aircraft with American superfighters. Never mind the best, you know which ones are the most reliable’
As he stopped talking a brooding silence fell over the table. Nash was staring at him as though he’d seen a ghost, a half-smile frozen on his face.
‘Mr Nash?’ Harrison asked.
The MI5 man appeared to shake himself out of a trance. ‘Sorry, suddenly had a thought. Miles away. So, Major, what do you think we can expect next from our friend AID AN? Apart, that is, from the unexpected?’
‘That rather depends on what PIRA is trying to achieve…?’ He deliberately let the question hang. The talks, he meant. These goddamn secret talks that no one would mention. He’d seen all the AID AN warnings issued in Belfast and London. The Europa bomb. And now the parcel bomb sent to Abe Powers — according to Casey, the man whom the US President had at one time earmarked as a possible peace envoy to Ulster before the idea was shelved… The talks, they were the common thread. But clearly no one around this table was going to admit it in front of others. Feeling mildly irritated, he moved on: ‘All I can tell you is that most things AIDAN has tried over here have already been tried out in Ulster.’
Maitland sighed gloomily. ‘So they’ve had plenty of practice.’
The meeting ground on in tedious detail until lunch time.
As it broke up, Don Trenchard approached Harrison and Jim Maitland as they stood talking. ‘Tom, Nash has asked me to go over the list of all known bomb makers with you. Narrow the field a bit, if that’s possible?’