I’d been used to dealing with. The other thing he did was drink, and whiskey was his favourite tipple.
We wouldn’t meet at the house very often, instead Ben would arrange for us to go to a hotel or somewhere on the coast. His favourite was the Londonderry Arms in Carnlough on the Antrim coast. He preferred lunchtime meetings, which was good for me even though it meant that I had to sit and watch him consume large quantities of Bushmills whiskey. I wondered why, with a house at our disposal, Ben preferred to meet at other venues, and I was soon to discover the reason. I was on my way to meet him on the Antrim coast one lunchtime and as usual turned right to head up the coast road out of Limavady, which went straight past the house. As I drove up the road, a red Peugeot came out of the gates of the house and headed back into Limavady, coming straight towards me. I had the shock of my life, for there in the passenger seat was Martin McGuinness, bent forward as if he was reading or looking at something on his knee. I quickly looked the other way in the hope that the driver (whom I couldn’t place) didn’t recognise me. As I drove towards Carnlough I could feel my right foot shaking on the accelerator and sweat running down the back of my shirt. A little further on, I stopped at a layby and got out to catch my breath. What the hell was Martin McGuinness doing coming out of an MI5 house? I was late for my meeting with Ben, who by now had consumed a considerable amount of Bushmills, and I didn’t share with him what I had just witnessed. However, a few weeks later I had an even bigger shock.
One afternoon after seeing Ben I was heading back to Derry to attend a meeting on Cable Street when I spotted Ben sitting in his car outside Martin McGuinness’s house. Ben had often told me that if he could meet McGuinness he ‘could put him wise’ and let him know what was really going on ‘behind his back’. I thought it was just the drink talking but here he was outside Martin’s house with no telling what he would do or say if challenged. He stood out like a sore thumb, and I knew that if Ben was caught it would only be a matter of time before he told his interrogators about his work, and of course about me. I drove past him, turned around and parked a few yards behind his car. I ran to the driver’s door and beckoned him to wind down the window. Immediately, I could see that Ben was very drunk!
‘Listen, Ben,’ I said with some urgency, ‘you’re sticking out here like a sore thumb and it won’t be long before someone arrives and will challenge you. So, for fuck sake get out of here before you get us both killed.’ That seemed to sober him up a bit because he started his engine and left.
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