Chapter 14: Flight AL103

Norm Hailman was feeling nervous. He seemed to spend a lot of time feeling nervous these days. He was getting good at it, he thought. Sitting in a car outside the terminal at Dublin Airport, he was having a final chat with Danny Monahan.

“You’ll be fine. Easier than the job last week. You know the ground back in the UK.”

Norm wasn’t looking forward to the trip. In his bag was a packet of 500 forged male ident cards, destined for a contact in London. In his jacket was an Irish passport and flight tickets in the name of Terence O’Neil. In his hand was a cigarette he was dragging on to finish before heading in to the terminal.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope so. I didn’t pay all that cash to leave the UK in order to go straight back there.”

“Ah, it’s only two days. You’ll have no bother.”

‘Bother’ thought Norm. Was that a word for what had happened last week? They’d been running porno mags across the border near Crossmaglen. Their bit had gone OK and they had dropped off the crates but shortly after they’d got back over the border they’d seen flashing blue lights and heard sirens behind them. Word was an MCF patrol had intercepted the group coming to pick up the stuff. There had been headlines in the Ulster papers a few days later, “Seditious Filth Pedlars From The South”, “MCF Foils Porn Pirates” and “Smuggled Smut Undermines Respect Agenda”. Norm thought that was a bit strong. They were just trying to let a few men have a bit of a better time than they were getting.

Danny had been philosophical about it. “Most of the lads got clear, I hear,” he said. “They’re worried someone on their side may have been a bit careless but they’ll take another shipment as soon as we can get it to them. All that publicity will have helped fuel demand. I reckon the price just went up a bit.”

It was going to feel strange being back in London after eighteen months. A lot had happened in the time in between. No least was that someone he knew had tried to blow up the Prime Minister and members of her cabinet in Fordswell. For a short time, Norm had wondered if the New Order Government might collapse but it had quickly become obvious that the attempt had failed and it had only tightened the grip of the party. Although David Anders had been convicted alongside three co-conspirators, the press regularly carried theories of wider conspiracies. Norm hadn’t mentioned to Danny that he had known David, it would only have complicated things, he felt. As far as the bombing went, there had never been any suggestion that the police might be looking for him in relation to that but he still worried that he might be on some sort of watch list for that as well as for absconding.

For Norm the worst part of the trip was the Customs and Immigration desk at London’s Gatwick airport. His passport seemed to work OK but he could almost hear himself sweating as he walked through the “Nothing to Declare” customs channel. He checked the signs in the arrival hall, “Information for New Arrivals – Advice For Men Travelling Alone”. He didn’t want to get caught out by any change in the regulations since he’d last been here and besides breezing past the signs might have attracted attention. Nothing much seemed to have changed. He’d just have to be careful to stick to streets where men were allowed, stay off woman-only buses and trains and make sure he was indoors before the time of the male curfew. An ominous note at the bottom of the sign said, “Male Control Regulations have been in force in the UK for two years now. Police officers expect visitors to be aware of and comply with these regulations.” Waving his Irish passport wouldn’t get him out of trouble with the MCF if he put a foot wrong. In a dispenser beside the sign were pamphlets providing guidance for visitors. He picked up a copy.