by Ian Todd
Although Johnboy hidnae been present, he’d picked up snatches ae whit hid happened. Five days hid past since Seb Grey hid gone up in smoke, tied tae a lamp post across in Govan Cross. They’d nabbed the swaggering, murdering basturt, staggering oot ae The Auld Toll Bar, hauf pished. Before he’d known whit wis happening, he’d awready been clubbed and bundled intae the boot ae the car. Oan the way across tae Jimmy Tarbuck’s Chinese Laundry in Finnieston, they’d turned the music doon oan the radio so they could sit in silence, listening tae him trying, bit failing, tae kick his way oot ae the boot. O’er at The Cross, Baby and Jake hid held him up, ignoring his pleas, as Simon and Ben simultaneously wrapped stripped-doon heavy electrical copper wire roond his neck, waist and ankles tae the lamp post. It hid been Jake that hid poured the gloss paint o’er Grey’s heid before Tony hid doused him in petrol. The paint hid been tae ensure that the flames didnae go oot before the maximum damage wis inflicted oan him. It hid been Tony’s idea tae leave the petrol can sitting close by, tae stoap any hero getting too close tae the victim. The day before, Johnboy hid shown Jake how tae stir a fresh tin ae paint withoot taking the lid aff ae it.
“See, aw that painting and decorating training ye did doon in Dumfries did eventually come in handy efter aw, Johnboy,” Jake hid wise-cracked tae him during the demo.
It hid been terrible whit they’d done tae the younger McGregor Clan members, bit wis it any worse than whit they’d done tae Peter and Snappy? Also, the manner in which they’d goat shot ae Seb Grey hid hid mair than wan specific purpose. In normal gang warfare come-backs in the toon, maist ae those present in the room wid’ve been jist as satisfied wae plugging basturts in the heid wae a bullet. The point ae the burning hid been a warning. Come and kill any ae us if ye want, bit if we get oor hauns oan any ae ye, this is whit’ll happen. In amongst aw the sensationalist crap in the newspapers, he’d read that the previous Friday and Saturday nights in the toon centre hid been the quietest oan record. There hid still been people oot and aboot, bit compared tae maist weekends, the place hid been like a ghost toon. The message emanating aff the lamp post, in amongst the black smoke, hid obviously reached parts ae the toon that hidnae originally been intended.
“Even better,” Simon hid come oot wae. “It’ll save us some strife in the future, if any ae they other tickets elsewhere ur thinking aboot hivving a go.”
Despite being oot and aboot, nowan hid caught sight ae anywan they’d recognised fae south ae the river. He looked back across at Tony, still peeking oot fae between the curtains. There wur three main items that he wanted tae discuss wae them, noo that the dust seemed tae hiv settled a wee bit. Despite whit Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie hid been hoping fur, Papa McGregor wisnae oan the agenda. Getting a haud ae the wan-ermed gangster hid been resolved in a matter ae days. Seb Grey hid telt The Mankys everything they needed tae know. The revelation hid caused a good bit ae merriment amongst them. Papa McGregor, the feared boss ae The McGregor Clan, wis drapped aff every morning, bang oan eight o’clock, oan the opposite side ae Govan Road fae The West Café, jist alang fae The Cross. He only ever hid wan other person escorting him as he sauntered across the road tae the café. That wis usually Victor Ruth or wan ae they mental brothers ae his. Wance he entered the café, he wis handed a copy ae The Glesga Echo, oan route tae the lavvy, where he spent between ten tae fifteen minutes reading the paper, hivving a shite. By the time he wiped that arse ae his and pulled up the elasticated waistband ae his troosers wae his wan good erm, his two rolls and square sausage wur sitting at the table waiting oan him. Tae even mair astonishment and laughter, the morning efter Seb Grey’s blackened body wis snipped aff the lamp post, the gallus basturt hid continued his daily routine as normal. There wis somewan who clearly believed he wis untouchable. The Mankys hid taken it in turns, every second day, tae keep a watch oan whit wis happening. The next wee sojourn across the Kingston Bridge by Simon and Ben hid found him, as per usual, turning up fur his shite and two rolls and square sausage. The only change hid been the personnel, efter Victor Ruth hid goat arrested wae the inspector fae The Flying Squad. Although Wan-bob hid warned The Mankys tae stay oot ae Govan, the accepted exception wid be if they goat an opportunity tae hiv a pop at Papa. Another item oan the agenda wis tae discuss how the fuck Wan-bob hid sussed oot that The Mankys wur planning tae take oot Victor Ruth, insteid ae that wan-ermed boss ae his. Pearl hid telt Tony that the photo ae him and the inspector, Tinto, the wan fae The Flying Squad, hid come fae her boss, Sammy The Rat. The question wis whether the inspector hid been set up by Wan-bob, as Ben obviously thought, or wis he jist another long line ae bizzies in the toon oan the make in the pocket ae The McGregors. And last, bit no least, whit wis Tony’s approach gonnae be, when he went up tae the visiting room in The Bar-L tae visit Wan-bob.
“Right, that’s him,” Tony suddenly announced fae across at the windae, turning tae face them. “And don’t start noising him up, Jake, or we’ll be here aw fucking day.”
“Who? Me?”
“You, ya big glaiket basturt, ye. Whit time dae ye call this then?” Ben growled, as soon as Pat arrived in the living room wae the big city street map tucked under his erm.
“Up yours tae, ya fanny, ye,” Pat retorted. “Right, listen up everywan. Ah’ve worked it aw oot. Ah’ve come up wae another beezer ae a plan, so Ah hiv,” he announced, as everywan, including Tony laughed. “Naw, seriously, Ah’m telling youse, youse’ll be bloody well impressed wae this wan,” Pat shouted, failing miserably tae get a word in edgewise, as Johnboy sat and thought aboot whit a bummer it wid be tae get sent doon fur life fur showing somewan how tae stir a tin ae gloss paint withoot taking the lid aff ae it.
Chapter Fourteen
“Fur Christ’s sake, John, whit the fuck’s that ye’ve goat oan?” Wan-bob gruffly exclaimed, swishing his haun in front ae that nose ae his, as his co-accused cackled, bringing up the rear. “It smells like the knickers ae wan ae Bella McPhail’s lassies before the night starts in earnest in here, so it dis.”
“Bob, Charlie, glad tae see youse again…and ye’re still sporting a sense ae humour, despite the circumstances, Ah see,” John Howdy, Queen’s Counsel beamed, staunin up and extending that limp haun ae his.
“Fuck aff, ya stupid eejit, ye. Ah’m no touching that thing. Who knows whit smelly arse ye’ve been scratching,” Wan-bob replied, as Howdy’s partner, Willie Barker, took the hint and sat back doon oan tae his chair.
“And before we start, so as there’s nae misunderstanding, it wis youse that approached us,” Charlie reminded them, nodding across tae Joshua Crankie, their brief, who sat there quietly, no joining in, looking like the decrepit sly auld crow that he clearly wis.
“Kin we open wan ae these windaes, fur Christ’s sake?” Wan-bob grimaced distastefully, as the cheesy grins fae Howdy & Barker Associates continued tae expand.
“I’m sorry, Bob, I’ve already tried,” The Crow replied, hauf a smile cracking open that wrinkled auld face ae his.
“So?” Wan-bob asked the poncie smelling QC, sitting doon and crossing his legs.
“Nice smoking jaicket,” Barker acknowledged, nodding at the silk Paisley patterned outfit.
“It’s a dressing gown, ya clown, ye,” Wan-bob retorted, as everywan burst oot laughing. “And before ye go any further, don’t ask.”
Wan-bob looked at the pair ae QCs sitting oan the other side ae the table. Charlie and him hid known them and another, aulder dodgy student ae law, Carcrash Wilson, since the early sixties. Pat Molloy, The Big Man, hid introduced the three ae them a week efter Legal Aid hid first kicked in. Pat hid bank-rolled them by setting them up in a wee cubby-hole that masqueraded as a solicitor’s office, doon oan The Saltmarket. None ae them wur dandies back then…mair like young dodgy second-haun car salesman types. Wan-bob hid taken an instant dislike tae the three ae them at the time, so hid passed them oan tae Charlie tae manage. Carcrash wis fucking hopeless as a defence brief, so hid only lasted two years before Big Pat hid encouraged him tae go in a diffe
rent direction within the legal system. Fae there oan in, The Big Man hid retained the management ae Carcrash’s career progression through the prosecution service ootside the toon thereafter. At the time, Charlie and Wan-bob couldnae fathom oot whit Pat wis up tae wae Carcrash, although, as usual, he’d been spot oan wae his future planning, which hid left him and Charlie wae the two dumplings sitting across fae him. He still couldnae staun the pair ae dandy pricks, even noo, if he wis honest wae himsel. Mind you, within a month ae them hivving been set up, his initial dislike hid turned tae reluctant acceptance. They wur like hungry hoovers. The set up hid been simple enough. Charlie and him hid been instructed by Pat tae put the word oot tae aw the wee Neds in the toon, tae ask fur Howdy, Barker and Wilson tae represent them when they wur signing oan the dotted line ae the Legal Aid forms. Pat hid supplied the pair ae chancers sitting opposite them wae the names ae three Justice ae the Peaces doon in the Central District Court and three across in The Marine, in Partick. These wur the JPs that they wur tae meet up wae before the days’ sittings, tae decide oan the ootcome ae that days’ trials. While Howdy, Barker and Wilson, who wur no long qualified, hid understandably wanted the juicier petition cases, like the serious assaults and attempted murders by aw the wee chib merchants in the toon, The Big Man hid wanted none ae it. He’d been efter turnover. The JPs hid received wan percent or five quid, whichever wis the higher, ae the Legal Aid money, per specifically identified accused, per conviction. There hid been two elements tae the scam. If a known face wis identified as being a nuisance tae The Big Man’s friends and acquaintances, the eejit always goat hammered wae a tougher sentence efter being found guilty, which usually ended up wae a stint in The Grove if they wur wee manky-arsed toe rags, or The Bar-L if they wur adults. These cases didnae raise much revenue fur the JPs as they wur only used when The Big Man or an acquaintance hid a beef and wanted tae punish somewan. It wis the other cases that raked in the dosh fur them. It hid been straightforward enough. Wance The Three Clowns hid spoken tae the JPs first thing in the morning before the court sitting goat underway oan behauf ae their compliant clients, the JPs received a straight two percent fur a fine, acquittal or a not guilty verdict. Seeing as the JPs wur aw greedy basturts, eighty percent ae the wee Neds in the toon walked away wae a mair lenient sentence than wid’ve been expected, unless it wid look blatantly obvious that something wis gaun oan. The Big Man received forty percent ae the firm’s turnover whether there wis a conviction or no. Where it wis obvious there hid tae be a jail term, the sentence wid always be reduced fae whit the accused wid normally hiv been hit wae, so everywan involved in the scheme wis a winner. The important part hid been fur The Three Clowns tae convince their clients tae plead guilty. That way, there wisnae any fucking aboot in the courtroom. The accused could then be rolled in and rolled oot in a matter ae minutes, before the next stupid eejit’s turn came tae be shouted oot by the court usher. Time wis money. The mair accused the JPs could dispatch in a single day, in two ae the busiest courts in Western Europe, the mair Legal Aid money everywan made. The wans that didnae or widnae play ball by taking the advice ae their legally appointed briefs, wur thrown tae the wolves. The JPs wur always informed beforehaun as tae who wisnae playing the game, so wid hit the noncompliant stupid basturts hard fur their contempt. The agreement between The Big Man and the pair ae dodgy dandies sitting across fae him hid been agreed fur a ten-year period. He’d made a separate arrangement wae Carcrash that wis a mair long term investment that involved him joining the other side. Influence rather than profit hid been the long term strategy there. Pat hid known that, sooner or later, the government wid eventually start reviewing the Legal Aid receipts, due tae the spiralling costs, before introducing tougher guidelines fur processing the claims fae the briefs in the toon. Efter ten years, Howdy and Barker wid be allowed tae go their ain way. Christ knows how much Pat Molloy hid creamed aff ae Legal Aid o’er the years, bit it must’ve been in the tens ae thousands, Wan-bob thought tae himsel.
“Wan ae the biggest business mistakes Ah ever made wis letting that pair ae pricks go efter only ten years,” Pat hid recently grumbled when him and Charlie hid been across tae Marbella oan a wee sojourn.
Wan-bob knew that using the services ae the pair ae dumplings sitting opposite him wid raise a few eyebrows in the toon. Fuck, he couldnae believe it himsel. The things him and Charlie hid tae put up wae nooadays tae keep wan step aheid ae the game. The last time Tony Gucci hid been up tae visit him, the greasy basturt hid asked who they wur getting tae represent them up at The High Court. When he’d telt him, the Tally hid struggled tae keep his face straight. It hid been obvious that he’d wanted tae pish himsel laughing at the disclosure though.
“Right, so who wid you recommend then?” he’d demanded tae know fae the expert.
“Stephen Charles or Stuart McKenzie.”
Of course, unknown tae Greasy Chops, baith Charles and McKenzie hid made wee surreptitious approaches awready. They wur good…naw, they wur the best, bit him and Charlie didnae need them. Baith Howdy and Barker hid volunteered their services fur free. The fly basturts wur gaun oan the basis that him and Charlie wid probably hiv a wee plan tucked up their sleeves, thus securing their reputations as top-notch QCs. The two that Gucci hid recommended, as well as being the best, wur the maist expensive. According tae Joshua, hauf the QCs in Scotland wur slavering at the mooth tae become their defence QCs up at The High Court.
“Well, yer pal McKenzie didnae dae that red heided pal ae yers much good up at The High Court back in 73, did he?” he’d hit Gucci wae, pleased at the reaction he’d goat.
Silence.
“Aye, well, the outcome might’ve been a bit mair positive if people who’d promised tae help us hid come up wae the goods,” the insolent grease-ball basturt hid come back at him wae.
“Don’t you bloody well go there, Tony-boy,” he’d snarled threateningly at the cheeky Tally, pleased that he’d scored a bulls-eye. “Youse wee fucking limpets wur well warned, so youse wur. Aye, oan many occasions by Big Pat and me. If youse wanted protection, the same as the smarter wee tickets in the toon, then ye hid ample opportunity o’er the years tae come intae the fold, insteid ae trying tae gie friends that wur trying tae help ye a bloody using. Don’t sit there and fucking cast up any ae that nonsense tae somewan like me.”
“Right, then, which wan ae youse pair ae chancers ur gonnae kick aff then?” he asked.
“There’s a total ae wan hundred and forty four Crown witnesses stacked up against youse,” Howdy replied, jumping in. “The majority ae them ur incidentals, like hospital staff who kin clarify times, etcetera, members ae the public, who heard the bang doon oan the street when the wee nurse wis run o’er…that kind ae stuff. Oan the polis side, ye’ve goat the usual Sad Sacks that they’ll trot oot, listing aw the hideous crimes youse ur alleged tae hiv committed and the money that’s been accrued o’er the years. Forensically, they’ve nothing that we kin discover that wid lead tae a conviction. Priestly, yer co-accused, is deid and McGovern, fae whit we kin establish, is saying nothing and keeping his trap shut.”
“And The stalker?”
“Pleading innocent ae aw charges.”
“Statements?”
“Well, obviously, Priestly’s wan is the mair damaging. That’s the wan that they’ll try tae hing youse oan. If he wis alive, it wid’ve been his word against youse and yer co-accused Sergeant McGovern. Fae whit Ah’ve been able tae gather, he wid’ve made an impressive Crown witness. The fact that he’s no longer in a position tae appear up oan the stand in person, well, Ah’m glad Ah’m no prosecuting the case,” Howdy continued, smiling.
“So, where’s the traps fae the other side then?”
“If they could turn McGovern and…”
“And?”
“And if they pull a white rabbit oot ae the hat a few days before the trial starts.”
Silence.
“And that’s likely, is it?”
“Ah’d say almost guaranteed,” Howdy replie
d, shrugging his shoulders, watching closely fur any tell-tale signs that he wis oan track.
“Aye, that’s whit we wur baith thinking as well. We’ve been gieing it a wee bit ae thought, bit we’ll come tae that in a minute. Carry oan.”
“The next biggest threat is The Stalker’s service notebook…whit?” Howdy and Barker baith asked, surprised frowns rippling up their foreheids, at the two smiles that hid jist lit up the two prisoners faces sitting opposite them.
“Aye, well, a wee bird jist telt us before we wur brought across tae see youse, that the content ae that Sci-Fi service notebook hiv been totally trashed, so it his.”
“Oh?”
“Johnboy Taylor?”
“Who?”
“The young Turk that wis freed back in October, by The Appeals Court oot in Edinburgh…”
“The shooter who let fly wae a sawn-aff shotgun in the bank job up oan Maryhill Road back in November 72?”