Belfast RulesChapter 5
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BELFAST 1972
The warmth of the changing seasons slowly thawed out Danny's bones in the spring of 1972. He was only just past the magic twenty-one and he felt like one of those old farts sitting on the cement benches to soak up the friendly sun. For some strange reason, he was off the birds and wasn't sure the reason why. Maybe the juices of spring would bring his libido back so he could pretend to be young once again.
He was sat in the little nook just inside the curtain-drawn window watching the street below. He didn't expect trouble but trouble always seemed to find him no matter where he went. His favorite handgun was scattered on his lap on top of the oily rag that he used to clean the nooks and crannies.
His last job was a bit of a cock-up but the mistakes were not his to own up to. The novice spotter was so nervous she didn't see the unmistakable look of the undercover police shadowing the target and he walked right into the middle of a glorious trap hot on the trail of the IRA shadow operations on the outskirts of Belfast. By the time he was alerted to the fact he was in the center of the net it was far too late to reverse course.
Danny shrugged his shoulders and continued to the target.
The pot-bellied and shifty-eyed O'Leary was oblivious to the danger. The truth was he was nursing a devil of a hang-over from the drink the night before. All he had on his mind was the first drink of the day and he was in a mad rush to get his legs in working order to make the short trek to the pub and get the show on the road. It was always that first drink that was the best and every pore in his dangerously overweight body was screaming in his brain to get a move on and tie the bloody shoes.
The cursed police handlers were all around him and he had reached a stage in the whole affair where they were invisible to him because they made him feel guilty for his devious informing on his friends and neighbors these past few years. It wasn't the cash they paid him for the information that had hooked him, it was the sensuous body of the young girl that had done the trick in turning him into a paid informer for the RUC.
Tim O'Leary hated the fact he was a stinking informer but he had to admit the way that female constable had ensnared him into his shameful work was a grand way to become a dreadful source of intelligence for the brutal police. His drinking had increased so drastically that most days he was in a haze of benign disregard and filled with self-hatred that made him seriously consider suicide.
He would have done exactly that except for the fact his mother told him it was the worst sin of all and he would never be buried in sacred ground if he took the coward's way out. Of course, he didn't realize that the determined gunman "Butcher" Hogan was approaching at that very moment.
The pair of house painters that were really RUC special anti- paramilitary members watched the stout man fumble at his front door locking it and nervously looking over his shoulder to make certain nobody was taking aim at his back. Their names were Mike and Pat and were each one not the kind of fellow that one would try to pull a trick on. They both had loaded machine pistols under their overalls and they knew how to use them most effectively. They glanced at Danny coming down the sidewalk in an unsteady gait and shook their heads in disgust at some fool getting a load on before it was even noon and a proper time for the drink. His disheveled clothing suggested he was on a bender that had started the previous day and was not ended as yet.
Danny was still in that period of his life when he was willing to take a huge risk to eliminate his intended target. The fact that a pair of policemen was guarding the target didn't bother him enough to halt his bullet but he was a bit concerned that there might be others that would present an obstacle to his escape from the target area. Still, a lot of planning had gone into this operation and he was the sort of person that finished what he started and hoped for the best.
His handgun came out easily and he quickly put one in the middle of O'Leary's chest and when he hit the ground, Danny double-tapped him in his head bursting it like a watermelon with the special bullets made for that purpose.
The pair of undercover police was a bit slow off the mark because they were caught off-guard but they made a valiant effort of it and had their machine pistols out and at the ready almost immediately.
It was a bit too late because Danny was shockingly too fast for them. He let them each have a round just below the knee because he didn't want to cripple them for life.
Mike and Pat fell to the ground. Their weapons clattered to the ground right after them and they lost all interest in avenging their charge against the IRA gunman. Danny was in full flight now and managed to make it to the corner before the any pursuit was mounted because he was using the lovely silencer that had saved him on several previous operations of a similar nature.
He merged into the crowd boarding the bus at the corner and was whisked on his way to the city center and outside the net that was alerted by radio to activate their roadblocks. Fortunately for Danny it was too late to interfere with the bus and all they were able to do was toe-tag Mister O'Leary and send the two RUC undercover lads to the hospital for some much-needed surgery on their legs.
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