by Todd, Ian
“Da, da, da, daa!” Sick Screw hid chimed, strumming an imaginary guitar.
“Eh?” Johnboy hid asked, as Sick Screw’s sick boy helper looked at the ceiling behind his back as if tae say ‘See whit Ah hiv tae put up wae?’
“Ah woke up this morning...Da, da, da, daa!” Sick Screw hid repeated, daeing the worst Elvis impression Johnboy hid ever come across, as he looked at Johnboy like he wis the daft wan in the sickbay that morning.
“Er, sorry, sir, Ah don’t get it,” he’d groaned, in the maist friendliest, deathly sick patient voice that he could muster at that time ae the day, hoping tae be telt tae get right back tae that bed ae his and no tae come oot fur a month.
“Ach, never mind…furget it,” Sick Screw hid retorted, clearly disappointed that Johnboy wisnae impressed at his impersonation. “Right, haud up yer erm and gie’s a wee swatch.”
“Ouch, ooh, that’s sore, so it is,” Johnboy hid whimpered, laying it oan thick, as that erm ae his wis prodded.
“Whit dae ye think, Michael?”
Eh? Johnboy remembered thinking tae himsel. Whit the fuck did Michael Cassidy know? Why wis Sick Screw asking that wee pretentious prick, who wis well-known fur running aboot oan the ootside, up there in sunny Drumchapel, stabbing fuck oot ae people that wur gaun aboot their daily business, shouting ‘Drummy, ya bass?’ Whit the fuck wid he know aboot serious illnesses?
“Is there a puncture, sir?” Stab-along Cassidy hid asked Sick Screw.
“Did ye break the skin? Nowan his stabbed ye wae anything, hiv they?” Sick Screw hid demanded, his eyes narrowing, looking at him suspiciously, as he took the lead fae the stabbing merchant staunin beside him.
And then it hid dawned oan Johnboy, jist in time, as he remembered the nail in the haun fae the day before in the pallet shoap.
“Ye mean this?” he’d asked in triumph, turning his erm o’er and exposing his puncture wound.
“Ouch, ya fucker, ye…that looks a sore wan,” Sick Screw hid gasped, obviously impressed tae find Johnboy wisnae there under false pretences efter aw.
“Aye, Ah stuck ma haun oan a pallet that hid a rusty nail sticking oot ae it yesterday.”
“Aye, well, ye’ll no be near the pallet shoap the day, or the morra fur that matter,” Stab-along hid uttered grimly, as a big appreciative smile appeared across Johnboy’s coupon.
“That bad, eh?” Johnboy hid gasped, seeing the blue flashing lights ae the ambulance whisking him doon tae Falkirk Royal Infirmary where aw they wee sexy nurses hung aboot, prancing aboot in their uniforms and black tights, jist waiting tae dab him here, there and everywhere.
And that’s how he’d ended up being the Pass Man fur the dining hall in South Wing. Efter Sick Screw hid jabbed Johnboy’s arse wae a needle tae make sure he didnae get tetanus, he’d been put oan antibiotics and telt tae report tae the senior screw oan South Wing. The previous Pass Man hid been liberated that morning and Johnboy hid been telt that he could take his place until they goat somewan new. While it wis nae substitute fur bed baths in Falkirk Royal Infirmary, it hid been the next best thing. He’d been informed by the SO that his daily duties wur tae make sure aw the tables wur cleaned efter breakfast, lunch and tea. He’d also tae serve up the grub tae the boys oan the wing efter it wis transferred o’er fae the kitchens and wash up the trays efter everywan hid gone back tae work. Bloody cushy, so it wis. Even better, there wis a big radio stuck up oan the wall that the Pass Man hid responsibility fur. Efter four miserable months in the pallet shoap, efter The Two Johns goat liberated, expecting tae be stabbed at any moment by Toffee Arse Simpson, Johnboy hid been shifted tae paradise, apart fae the daily hassle ae being confronted by the SO, who’d been making it his personal mission in life tae find fault wae Johnboy’s cleaning routine. Apart fae being a right prick, he wis always stomping aboot, shouting the odds at people, jist tae hear his ain voice. Johnboy hid been trying his best nae tae respond, at least no negatively, bit the basturt hid been starting tae get oan Johnboy’s tits, so he hid. Wan ae the boys oan the wing hid telt Johnboy that the SO hid hid the last dining hall Pass Man Brasso-ing the key holes ae the cell doors, the prick that he wis. Efter a few days ae simmering contemplation, Johnboy hid made up his mind that it wid be better if he goat in there well before the basturt goat tae the Brasso stage, where things could end up spiralling oot ae his control. He’d decided that he’d strike at the first opportunity.
Meanwhile, things hid been looking up fur Silent. The joiner-screw that he wis the boy fur, hid been sent aff tae work oan the wummin’s nick that wis getting built across in Stirling. Everywan in Polmont wanted tae work in Cornton Vale…apart fae Johnboy and the rest ae the uglies. Despite the fact that it goat ye oot ae Polmont, Johnboy jist couldnae understaun why people didnae see the irony ae getting prisoners tae build a prison tae lock people like them up in. Ah mean, how wid they feel if a group ae wummin wur being employed tae build a nick tae lock up men, he’d argued wae the daft basturts who tried tae justify whit they wur daeing. Bit as it wis, a bus-load ae borstal boys travelled across tae Cornton Vale, o’er in Stirling, every day and returned at night. Wan ae this contingent wis Silent. Oan the rare occasions that he spoke, he’d tell Johnboy aboot working alangside aw these civvies...real joiners, who knew whit the fuck they wur daeing. He’d even claimed tae hiv learned a thing or two before he’d fucked up...big style. Even though he wisnae called Silent fur nothing, there wur times, every noo and again, usually when he wis efter something...like a cushy job…that ye could be furgiven fur believing that Silent wis jist like everywan else. Johnboy hid always suspected that there wis something mair serious wrang wae him. Fur the majority ae the time he didnae speak or gie ye the impression that he knew whit wis gaun oan roond aboot him, while at other times, he’d suddenly jist start chatting away as if that wis a normal occurrence fur him. When Silent wis oot and aboot oan the building site at Cornton Vale, he wis always trying tae blag a shot ae wan ae the big dumper trucks that wur whizzing aboot aw o’er the building site.
“The buckets ur hydraulic, so they ur. Ye don’t hiv tae heave them up tae empty them,” he’d come oot wae wan time, speaking fur the first time in o’er a week.
It hid been good tae hear his voice, even though Johnboy hidnae a clue whit he wis prattling oan aboot. The joiner-screw he worked wae hid wan ae these fancy big dumpers allocated tae him, so when they ran short ae materials, Silent always volunteered tae nip aff and collect stuff oan the dumper, despite knowing he shouldnae be volunteering fur anything because volunteering only ever goat ye intae trouble. There wis a strict rule oan the site that workers hid tae hiv a driving licence tae drive them, which wis wan thing Silent didnae hiv. Silent hid telt the civvy joiner foreman that he’d worked as a van driver oan the ootside. Anyway, wan morning, efter he’d arrived oan site as usual, Silent and his civvy joiner boss hid noticed that some basturt hid been using the dumper the night before and that the bucket wis full up wae whit they thought wis scrap wood. Silent hid jumped oan the dumper and driven it across tae wan ae the big fires that wur scattered aboot the place, tae burn aw the rubbish. When he’d tipped the bucket-load oan tae the fire, the whole dumper hid flipped o’er and landed in the middle ae the flames. Underneath the wood, some basturt hid filled the bucket wae wet concrete the night before, obviously trying tae noise-up the screws…or Silent. The fire hid been a couple ae hunner yards fae the nearest building, bit insteid ae raising the alarm, Silent hid pissed aff tae another building even further away, picked up a sweeping brush and hid started tae brush the flair wae it. That hid happened in the morning, bit by early efternoon, he’d been whisked aff the site and back tae Polmont, fur threatening tae punch fuck oot ae the civvy foreman, who’d come across and started ranting at him that the insurance company wisnae gonnae pay fur the dumper because Silent didnae hiv a licence and wisnae supposed tae hiv been driving the bloody thing. Some nosey civvy hid clocked whit hid happened and hid grassed oan Silent. Of course, Silent hidnae defended himsel due tae no answ
ering his accusers questions, so the foreman hid telt the screw bosses that if Silent wisnae removed, he’d take his civvy crew aff the site due tae health and safety concerns.
Silent hid been put back tae work wae the other pretend joiner-screw in Polmont. Wan day, no long efter Johnboy’d decided tae hiv a wee go at the SO fur the cheek he’d been dishing oot tae him, Silent hid appeared oan South Wing, wae a big joiner’s bag, full ae tools, slung o’er his shoulders. It hidnae helped that Johnboy hid been hivving a shite day. The SO in charge ae the wing hid been swanning aboot, ranting at everywan and finding fault wae everything. Three times that day, he’d looked fur an excuse tae find shite jobs fur Johnboy tae carry oot.
“And turn that fucking racket aff!” he’d shouted, as Isaac Hayes started growling that he wis jist the man tae ‘shaft’ every bit ae poontang in sight in doontoon Harlem.
It hid been a Wednesday night and Johnboy hid been up in the wing, getting some flair polish oot ae the store. He should’ve been at recreation wae everywan else, bit much tae Johnboy’s surprise, the angry SO hidnae been happy wae some job he’d asked Johnboy tae dae during the day, so he’d made him dae it in his recreation time. The screws’ office wis in the middle ae the building where the cell wings swept oot intae rows ae cells. Fae where Johnboy hid been loitering aboot, he could see the angry basturt sitting oan that lazy arse ae his, daeing sweet fuck-aw, efter warning Johnboy every five minutes that he’d better dae a good job or he’d hiv tae dae it aw o’er again. Johnboy could hear him spouting tae everywan that he needed tae get away sharp when he finished his shift that night as he wis heiding south tae his mother-in-law’s funeral, somewhere south ae London. The funeral wis at ten o’clock the following morning and there wis nae way he could miss getting that wife ae his doon there oan time.
“Ah picked up ma car fae the garage last night. A full service it cost me fur that auld bag. Mind you, if it keeps her indoors happy, that’s aw that coonts, eh?”
“Aye, ye’ll be well-goosed if that auld banger ae yers breaks doon,” Johnboy’d heard another faceless, bone-lazy fucker reply.
“Christ, that disnae bear thinking aboot. It wid be the divorce courts fur me...efter she cut ma baws aff, that is,” Mr Angry hid chortled back tae whoever it wis he wis talking tae.
It hid been at that point that Silent and his pretend joiner-screw hid appeared oan the scene tae deal wae two wee repair jobs. Wan ae them hid been tae seal up a draughty windae that wis letting in water in the social worker’s office and the other job hid been tae unstick the jammed hatch in Johnboy’s wee kitchen space. The Pretender hid gone aff and started oan the hatch and Silent hid started oan the windae.
“Whit ur ye up tae?” Johnboy hid asked him, as Silent stood back tae let Johnboy see whit he wis daeing.
“Whit’s that ye’re using?” he’d asked, as Silent looked at the tube before haudin it up fur Johnboy tae see.
“Is that glue? Hiv ye goat much ae it?” Johnboy hid demanded, looking aboot tae make sure nowan wis lugging in.
Silent stepped back while Johnboy wis doon oan wan knee, looking through The Pretender’s work bag that he’d left Silent in charge ae. And wae that, Johnboy hid lifted up two ae four tubes and scooted roond aw the cell doors oan the first flair landing, filling up the key holes, before gieing them a wee wipe wae a cloth dipped in turps…also supplied by Silent’s boss…as he moved oan tae the next door. It hid taken Johnboy aboot five minutes tae dae thirty doors. He’d jist telt Silent tae make sure he replaced the tubes ae glue when he goat back tae the workshoap when The Pretender arrived back oan the scene, and asked Silent if he wis finished. Aw the boys in South Wing hid gone aff tae recreation, so the glue’d hid aboot two and a hauf hours tae dry before the doors hid tae be unlocked. Johnboy hid quickly polished up his flair and wae the SO’s reluctant approval, hid swanned aff tae join the Garngad crowd, who’d been sitting at a table, playing a game ae Bella. Silent hid joined them fifteen minutes later. Johnboy and Silent hidnae let oan tae the uglies whit they’d done. At five tae nine, the bell that sounded the end ae recreation hid clanged and everywan hid queued up tae get searched, as usual, as they heided through the doors tae go back tae their cells. Johnboy hidnae reached his cell by the time pandemonium broke oot. Mr Angry Screw hid been running aboot, screaming the place doon. Aw the boys hid been made tae aboot-turn and troop back tae the recreation hall until something could be done aboot the wee problem oan the first flair wing. It hid been hilarious at the time. It must’ve been aboot three or four o’clock in the morning by the time the screws brought in blankets fur aw the wans who couldnae get back intae their cells, which hid included Johnboy, Silent and the Garngad crowd. They’d aw been instructed tae kip where they could find a space. Johnboy and Silent hid shared the snooker table wae the uglies. The screws hid thought that there must’ve been an escape planned and that gluing up the locks hid been some sort ae decoy. They’d sat in amusement, watching Mr Angry pleading wae The Chief, Baker The Basturt, that he needed tae get away because he wis taking his wife doon south tae her maw’s funeral, which wis taking place the next morning.
“Mr Paul, as the senior officer ae South Wing, it’s your duty tae ensure the security ae South Wing is in nae way compromised and ye’ll be here fur as long as it takes tae get this bloody-well sorted oot. Dae Ah make masel clear?” The Chief could be heard bawling.
“Bit, Ah, er...”
Oan the Thursday morning, Silent and Johnboy hid been hauled up before Crawford, the Assistant Governor, who’d soon wiped the smirks aff ae their faces.
“You may think this is a joke, Taylor, but we’ve had to change thirty locks, at great expense and no end of bother, as a result of your little prank.”
“Bit Ah hid nothing tae dae wae it, sir,” he’d pleaded.
“And poor Mr Paul and his grief stricken wife will not be able to attend her mother’s funeral now, as cancelling it at such a short notice is not an option. What you two have done is despicable,” the AG hid spat at them.
And that hid been that. If Silent hidnae been farting aboot, playing wae the dumper truck across in Cornton Vale, they widnae hiv ended up lying in the digger, staring at the bricks oan the walls. Insteid, they wid’ve been getting aw excited, waiting fur their liberation in a few days’ time.
Chapter Eleven
Duggie Dougan wis a man ae few words. No because he wis shy or anything like that, bit because he didnae hiv anything much tae say maist ae the time. He wis wan fur letting other people dae the talking. He’d been promoted tae inspector in the eftermath ae the corruption trials a few years earlier. Some people said it wis because nae other fucker wid take oan Possilpark, bit he knew that they wur aw talking a heap ae shite. If ye wur a bizzy, where wid ye want tae be, other than in a place like this, he mused tae himsel. Crime? Christ, this wis the nirvana ae crimedom. They other bampots wur only bloody playing at it across in Springburn…fae whit he could tell. Across here in Possil, he’d organised crime, disorganised crime, murders, slashings, stabbings, hoose breakers, gas-meter breakers, shoap-breakers, drunks, punks, big men, wee men, doo men, fly men, rapists, stoat-the-baws, heid-the-baws and then there wis the wummin tae contend wae. Fuck, Possilpark wis crime paradiso, so it wis, jist so long as ye could leave it behind ye when yer shift ended. That wis the secret ae his success. Ye needed that wee break in-between yer shifts tae recharge the auld batteries, he kept telling himsel, especially when the area turned intae a scene oot ae an auld wild west film. He looked up at the clock. It said hauf ten, bit that meant twenty five past. Like his watch, he liked tae be five minutes oot ae sync so he wisnae late fur anything. He always liked that extra five minutes tae get tae where he wis gaun and tae then be able tae catch his breath wance he arrived. He looked doon as the phone rang. He let it ring four times. He liked the way each ring hung in the air before the next ring started the process aw o’er again.
“Aye? Right, Ah’ll be doon in a minute,” he growled, hinging up.
He’d been wel
l pissed-aff efter trooping doon tae the confab at Central the day before. Bloody waste ae time, as far as he could make oot. There wis plenty he could’ve contributed, bit he’d held his sooth. Shane, wan ae The Gruesome Twosome, hidnae telt the others everything that Frisky Frank hid muttered oan the stretcher, as he wis being lifted intae the ambulance, alang at St Teresa’s Chapel. A few other names hid been mentioned, bit wan in particular…somewan called Harper…hid caused an eyebrow or two tae be raised up here in the station. There hid been speculation between himsel and The Gruesome Twosome, aboot who this Harper wan could be before they’d aw come tae the same conclusion. Harper could only mean Harper Harris, a snivelling wee misfit, who hung aboot oan the fringes, ducking and diving, picking up crumbs fae here and there. He wis a well-known hoose breaker and wis always oan the go, selling his shite roond the pubs. The question wis, why wid somewan like Frisky Frank McKenna mention Tam Simpson, the Tally Gucci and the boy McManus, who’d jist goat murdered, alangside Harper Harris…aw in the same breath? There wis only wan way tae find oot and that wis tae ask the man himsel.
“Where is he?” he asked wan ae the sergeants, Dave McGovern, doon in the cells.
“Shane’s hivving a wee word wae him tae try and calm him doon.”
“Why wid he need calming doon if he hisnae done anything?”
“Aye, well, wait till ye see him and then ye kin make up yer ain mind,” The Sarge advised, shrugging they shoulders ae his and leading the way.
“Right, whenever youse ur ready,” The Inspector announced, plapping that arse ae his doon oan tae the chair behind the desk in the interview room.
“Mr Dougan, w…whit’s aw this aboot? Ah hivnae done anything, honest. Ah sw…swear oan ma niece and nephew’s life,” Harper whinged, shaking like a leaf, sitting opposite him, clearly petrified, looking fae The Inspector tae The Gruesome Twosome and back tae The Inspector.