Dead Man Running: A True Story of a Secret Agent's Escape from the IRA and MI5 by Martin McGartland Page A

The Interrogator was a balding, well-built man in his 40s with bright intelligent eyes. He told me that if I was ever suspected of being involved in the IRA the RUC could arrest me and hold me for seven days before I was charged or released. He warned that in that time the CID would question me non-stop, taking it in turns to wear me down, trying to catch me out, break me. He warned me, ‘Their intention will be to break your spirit so that you will tell them everything they want to know; details of operations, of bombings, the names of other cell members and even names of your friends and relations. But it will be your duty to tell them nothing, absolutely nothing. And I’m going to tell you how to do that. If you are arrested you will say absolutely nothing and you will never answer any question the CID asks you. You will simply tell the custody sergeant that you will refuse to co-operate but that does not mean that you are guilty.’ At another lecture The Interrogator told me what to expect should I ever be arrested. ‘They will usually come for you early in the morning, while you’re still asleep, sometime around five o’clock. They will bang at your door and invade your house, making a lot of noise. They will try to confuse you, order you to dress quickly and come with them immediately. But you must refuse to do that. You must tell them that you have the right, as you do, to make yourself respectable. Take your time; go to the bathroom and wash and shave, clean your teeth, comb your hair, even splash on some after-shave. And remember to dress properly in a clean shirt, a jacket and a smart pair of trousers. They won’t like it; they will try to hurry you but take no notice; fuck them.’ He continued, ‘The RUC will take you to Castlereagh and put you in a cell. They will leave you there for a few hours before the interrogation officers arrive. The officers will have known the night before that they are going to interview you and will have showered and shaved, eaten a good breakfast and will feel on good form trying to make you second-rate compared to them. But, because you will have followed this advice, you will feel and look as smart and attentive as they do. They won’t like that either. They hope that when they enter the interview room you will look pathetic, unshaven, scruffy and disorientated, putting you at an immediate disadvantage. ‘Remember to tell them nothing. Never answer one of their questions, no matter how many times they ask you. Don’t look down at the floor and never appear nervous or frightened. Always remember to keep your head up and look them straight in the eye as though remembering their exact identity. They will hate that. They will fear that you are trying to remember their faces, seal their identities in your memory so that, one day, you will be able to target them and kill them. They fear you will never forget their faces and that scares the fuck out of them and puts you at an advantage.’ He also told me how to cope with the stress of the interview which, he warned, might continue for days and nights. ‘Exercise, keep fit, walk up and down the cell or the room and keep alert the entire time,’ he advised. ‘Sleep and eat at every opportunity. Whatever food you’re offered. Sit down and eat it and try to enjoy it. It will help you sustain your energy, help you to resist the bastards’ questions. And before any interview starts remember to go to the toilet because, once they begin to question you, they will refuse to let you go to the loo because they know that when anyone wants to go desperately they will say almost anything just so they can go.’ The Interrogator also advised me what to do if the peelers or the Special Branch started to beat me up. ‘Hit back,’ he said. ‘Give them everything; smash the fuck out of them. Don’t be frightened to hit back, and the harder they hit you, the harder you hit the bastards back again. They know they shouldn’t hot you but