Once he had finished putting the bomb together he had driven back to Limerick, and if all went to plan he would be sitting in front of the television with his wife and three daughters when it exploded.

The man who was going to drive the van to its target was a sixty-year-old farmer from Warrenpoint, on the northern shore of Carlingford Lough. Willie Ryan was a committed Republican, like his father and his grandfather before him. He had left the Provisionals long before the peace process had begun because he was dissatisfied with the way things were going, and he had immediately joined the Real IRA.

The van had been stolen from Galway and driven across the border to Ryan’s farm. The plates hadn’t been changed. There was no need – the next meeting between the Garda Síochána and the Police Service of Northern Ireland to discuss stolen vehicles wasn’t scheduled for another two weeks.

Before he had driven back to Limerick, the bombmaker had explained to the four men in the cell how to detonate the bomb. It wasn’t rocket science. The phone had to remain switched off until the van was in place. Then, and only then, was the phone to be switched on. All it took was a call to the number and the moment that the call went through to voicemail the detonators would explode.

‘Are you all right, then, Willie?’ asked Seamus Maguire, the leader of the cell, and at twenty-six the youngest. He was dark haired and fair skinned, wearing a Trinity College sweatshirt and cargo pants.

Ryan nodded as he pulled on a pair of black leather driving gloves. ‘I’m fine,’ he said.

Maguire put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. ‘I’m not going to teach my grandmother to suck eggs, but stay below the speed limit. If anyone stops you, stay calm and we’ll take care of it.’ He nodded at the other two men, Gerry O’Leary and Ray Power. They were hard men in their thirties, and they were both checking their weapons, brand-new Glocks. ‘Gerry and Ray will be behind you all the way. You’re not going to be stopped but if you are you sit tight and let them handle it. No playing the hero, OK?’

Ryan smiled without warmth. ‘Like I said, I’m fine.’ He finished putting on the gloves and cracked his knuckles. ‘Fine and dandy.’

Maguire checked his watch. It was time. ‘Right, guys, let’s do it,’ he said. It would take thirty minutes to drive to Old Park police station in North Belfast, by which time it would be getting dark. The plan was for Ryan to get into the car with O’Leary and Power and drive away while Maguire stayed behind to detonate the bomb.

‘Rock and roll!’ said Power, punching the air.