Paradigm – Chapter 3

The Trip to Belfast

The rest of the week passed in a blur.  All I could think about was the coming Saturday.  Even the thought of alcohol after hours of tedious lectures couldn’t break me from my slumber.  Instead I stayed in my room sometimes studying but often just staring at the wall. Occasionally one of my PA’s or my flatmate Lucy would come in to see if I was alright.  It was unusual for anyone to spend so much time studying at the start of the year let alone me.

 

But I knew that I was doing the right thing even if it was by default – saving my money and making sure I was in good health for when I met this Jimmy guy.  I had to be in top shape and ready for the unknown.  Eventually the week passed and I found myself nervously trying to sleep the night before I was due to leave.  I thought about all the events that led to this point; my beautiful sister Karen whose vitality had been so cruelly and violently extinguished; then my first meeting with the dissidents on the grounds of the college as we came to our understanding.

 

It did not prove conducive to a good night’s sleep and I felt restless and tired the next morning.  But I tried to think positively, it would be all over in a day or two.

 

I anxiously watched television waiting to Jimmy to arrive; flicking through the channels hoping to find something at least mildly interesting to take my mind off things.  But there was nothing.  Then I could hear the house doorbell ring.  Although expected, it felt sudden and my heart seemed to skip a few beats as I heard footsteps moving towards the door.  I would have driven out in the wheelchair only the sitting room door was closed.

 

Then the front door opened and I could hear my father and Jimmy exchange pleasantries in the distance.  I tried to reclaim my composure remembering I had to act like I knew him well.  Then the sound of talking stopped and I began to wonder what had happened.  A few minutes passed before I heard something in the distance.  Within a few seconds they both entered the sitting room with Jimmy greeting me in a thick Dublin accent which I now recognized as being more specifically from North Dublin.  He was wearing a dark black jumper with jean looking worryingly nothing like a student.

 

“Hows things Alano? – Are you ready to go?  Your father was just showing me the set up for the van and your hoist.  Those are some fine ramps you have,” Jimmy said in a thick Dublin accent.

 

I smiled trying to maintain the false pretence and said I was really looking forward to the trip.  My father then interjected to ask Jimmy which roads he was going to take and double checked that he had the correct insurance.  Jimmy reassured him that he knew the roads well and there wouldn’t be any problems.  We then headed out to the van where I drove up the long ramps and got clamped into the van.  With that we said goodbye to my father and we were on our way.

 

After going a short distance Jimmy stopped the act and began to speak more candidly.  Still he couldn’t seem to shake his positive attitude; he used to be a PA for people with disabilities so looking after me wouldn’t be a problem.  He couldn’t understand how I ended up as his partner on the mission but everything would be fine.

 

Then in what must have been a break in the code of omerta he said they must be hanging something over me too.  That I was far from a classic IRA operative; from a good background not even considering my disability.

 

But I said nothing in reply.  It could all too easily be a ploy to test me.  So, I simply replied to get on with it; neither confirming nor denying his thoughts.  It was best to be an enigma. Then I asked matter of fact what time we would arrive at our target; I would not be easily fooled.

 

He replied that he didn’t know; that we had orders to take a detour.  The Chief Commander wished to discuss the mission with us first.  Not exactly what I wanted to hear but there was no point complaining.  I had never felt such sadness to see Mullingar fade into the background.  Soon we were driving along through narrow windy roads and through villages I didn’t recognize.

 

Fortunately Jimmy liked the CD that was in the van so that helped to pass the time.  I could feel myself warming towards him but tried to fight it.  He was not the kind of person I wanted to like.

 

After about forty minutes of driving we pulled into a house with a farmyard.  This wouldn’t be good for my wheelchair I thought to myself.  We drove to the rear of the premises and Jimmy immediately got out of the van to open the rear door of the van and put down the ramps.  As he began to take the clamps off the wheelchair I could hear the sound of footsteps in the distance which then came to an abrupt halt.

 

I then reversed out of the van with Jimmy’s guidance hoping all the time that one of the ramps wouldn’t slip to be met by three men in typical IRA regalia wearing military uniforms with balaclavas. There were no hugs or warm embrace.  Jimmy and one of the men immediately headed off leaving me with two of the men.  After a few minutes I asked where we were but they just completely ignored me.  An age seemed to pass before they returned with Jimmy carrying a brown bag.  They finished talking as they approached me.  But even in the distance I recognized the thick Ulster accent of the other guy.  It was the same man I met in the car park in UCD to arrange the hit.

 

Jimmy said it was time to go and as I drove back up the ramp the other three men left.  With a big smile Jimmy told me that they wanted to put a device in my wheelchair but that he had just about convinced them it was a bad idea.  All I could say was a very relieved “thanks”.

 

“What’s in the bag?” I inquired meekly.

 

“You know what’s in the bag!  Don’t play the innocent with me,” he replied giddily, “I’ve just heard all about you.  You’re a right dark horse.”

 

Then he affectionately patted me on the side of the face and said it was time to go.

 

It would take another two hours for us to reach our destination.  I had wondered if we would encounter difficulties trying to cross the border but there was no checkpoint.  The only noticeable change was that the Irish language no longer appeared on any of the signs and the speed limits were in miles per hour rather than kilometres. Then the Union Jacks and Tricolours appeared. It was as if buildings and pavements were themselves nationalist or unionist.  Every square inch was fought over.

 

The landscape itself was very beautiful.   I found myself captivated by hills and valleys, it was just a pity about the people.  I wondered how many people had died fighting over each hill down the centuries.

 

It was a relief to finally reach Belfast as I was tiring of the journey and needed the bathroom.  It was a sunny day and the beautiful red brick buildings that I guessed were from Victorian times were a sight to behold.  There was evidence of the conflict everywhere with flags on most of the buildings.  Suddenly I became conscious of the van’s southern registration and wondered what the likelihood of coming under attack would be if we stopped on the wrong street.

 

Finally we reached our destination right in the centre of Belfast.  It was a large modern looking hotel with a packed car-park to the front.  Jimmy cursing under his breath grew increasingly frustrated trying to find a wheelchair parking spot and joked; it would be no harm to blow the place up.

 

Then as we neared the front entrance and without hesitation, he got out of the van shouted that he would be back in a minute.  So much for not drawing attention to ourselves I thought to myself.  After a few nervous minutes he replied that they had a wheelchair parking spot behind the hotel.

 

At this point I didn’t care where we went so long as I got to a bathroom fast.  Another few minutes later I was de-clamped, and out of the van, finally able to feel the sun upon my face.

 

Jimmy shouted that he had already got our keys and so we headed to our rooms.  There was a lift just inside the door and we headed to the third floor and after quite a long walk through what seemed a maze of narrow corridors we reached our destination.

 

I immediately felt a sense of relief when we reached the room which was spacious which would help with the hoist and that the beds had legs for the hoist to go under.  Jimmy switched on the television for me before returning downstairs to get my hoist and the device.  I flicked through the channels using the remote but there was nothing interesting on.

 

When he returned I no longer had any fear of the device.  It was just about getting into the hoist and onto a toilet.  Fortunately, Jimmy knew what he was doing and I only had to give him some guidance with which hooks of the sling to use; then finally relief.