Dead Man Running: A True Story of a Secret Agent's Escape from the IRA and MI5
Martin McGartland
Language: English
Pages: 140
ISBN: B011DC0LCK
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
For more than four years Martin McGartland risked his life working undercover as a British agent inside the Provisional IRA. His first book FIFTY DEAD MEN WALKING describes how he was kidnapped by the Provos and taken to a flat to face interrogation and torture, knowing that execution would follow. So, in a desperate bid to save his life, he threw himself from a second-floor window of a block of flats and somehow, miraculously, survived. DEAD MAN RUNNING follows the extraordinary life of Martin McGartland after he re-settles on the mainland and assumes a new identity. It tells of the discovery that his abduction by the IRA was not as a result of Provo intelligence. He had been deliberately sacrificed by MI5. During his years in hiding in the north-east he was stopped, arrested and taken to court on scores of occasions, mostly on trumped-up offences. Poice lied in court in an effort to win convictions. Eventually, the Crown Prosecution Service, advised by MI5, ordered his trial for attempting to pervert the course of justice. McGartland was found not guilty by the jury in just ten minutes. Unbelievably, during the trial, Northumbria Police revealed McGartland's real name and his new identity.
sat on the sofa that night and I could see her shaking, trying to control her fear and emotions. There were tears in her eyes and I felt so terribly guilty that I had been responsible, utterly responsible for persuading her to share her life with me. I had never asked her permission to work for the RUC as a secret intelligence agent; I had never even hinted to her that I had joined the IRA. She had known nothing of my double life and had never asked me. Now, here we were hundreds of miles from
you want?’ I shouted, fearing that these could indeed be IRA gunmen. They somehow seemed shady, standing with their heads down as if not wanting to be recognised. ‘Are you Martin Ashe?’ one shouted. ‘Who wants to know?’ I called back, for I didn’t recognise either man. ‘We’re police officers; we want to talk to you,’ he said. ‘Have you any identification?’ I called down. ‘Yes,’ he said, and produced his police warrant card, showing it to me as I was leaning out of the window. I
dragging their feet, ensuring that my two identities and my address, which had been revealed in open court, should become common knowledge and not seemingly caring a damn what might happen to me in the meantime. Finally, on 11 June, I was informed that I would be issued with the necessary documentation to support a new identity but only if I agreed to accept certain terms. In September 1997, four months after my court case, Burton & Burton finally outlined the new terms on which they would
was expecting a call from you. You’ve come across for a visit.’ ‘How the fuck did you know that?’ I said, somewhat taken aback that news of my arrival in Belfast had reached the Special Branch. ‘Marty, you should know it’s our business to know everything that’s going on in Belfast,’ he said, and he laughed. ‘Do you know my whereabouts?’ I asked, checking what he really knew of my movements. ‘I know you’ve been back to your old territory, West Belfast,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Anything
requested or demanded. Sometimes I would lie awake at night believing I had become paranoid though my solicitor reassured me I had not. But my stream of legal problems was as nothing compared to those that unintentionally I had inflicted on my family back in Belfast. Of course I had been riven by guilt when I heard how my courageous brother Joseph had been taken from his home by a PIRA punishment team, tied up and bundled in the back of a van; taken to a lonely spot; tied to a fence and