For most Catholics living through the Troubles, an invitation to a meeting with the leaders of the main Loyalist paramilitary groups would have meant one thing: violent death. But when Gerry Storey got a call in the spring of 1972 requesting the pleasure of his company at just such a gathering, he didn’t go into hiding, nor did he take up arms. Instead, he got in his car and drove from his part of Belfast, the Catholic side, to the Loyalist Shankill Road. Nervous certainly, but also determined to find out what these men, the heads of the Ulster Defence Association and the Ulster Volunteer Force, wanted. He had nothing to hide, he reasoned to himself, and therefore he would be OK. Remarkably, he was right.