The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4

by Todd, Ian

  “Hiven’t we aw?”

  “Aye, bit this is serious...deadly serious.”

  “Fur who?”

  “Me.”

  “So, whit’s this goat tae dae we me then?”

  “Ah need the go-aheid fae yersel tae allow me...us...tae try and nip it the bud.”

  “Why dae ye need ma permission? You and that wee manky mob hivnae gied a monkey’s fuck aboot whit Ah’ve thought in the past, despite me being good tae youse aw these years, so whit the fuck’s so special aboot noo, eh?”

  Tony felt his anger flare up inside his heid. He struggled hard no tae fly across the space between them and take that whisky bottle tae that heid in front ae him. The Big Man smiled, reading the mind ae the young cheeky fucking pup. Tony breathed in evenly, through his nose, trying tae keep his face deadpan, waiting fur his anger tae subside. Oan the way oot ae the van, Wan-bob hid gied him a casual frisking, while helping him oot, tae make sure he didnae hiv anything lethal oan him. Tony knew in that instant, sitting across fae The Big Man, that if he’d hid wan ae The Mankys’ guns oan him, he wid’ve blasted Pat Molloy intae oblivion, irrespective ae the consequences fur them aw. Despite whit some people in certain quarters claimed, Tony hid never killed anywan…yet. He slowly inhaled in some air.

  “Ye heard about Joe?”

  “Aye. Ah wis sorry tae hear that…we aw wur. He wis a good boy…when he managed tae keep that fucking trap ae his shut, insteid ae upsetting people.”

  Silence.

  “Ah want tae hiv a go at Toby Simpson…a real go.”

  “So whit’s stoapping ye? Fae whit Ah’ve heard, ye’ve awready started,” The Big Man said, lifting his glass up tae his lips.

  “Naw, Ah mean, wipe the basturt oot,” Tony replied, as a fine spray ae single malt hit his face.

  “Ur you fucking serious? Nae chance!”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ah fucking said so, that’s why!” The big Man roared. “Tony, Ah’m bloody warning ye…don’t come fucking roond here trying tae upset everywan. Ah’m no in the mood. Ye wur well warned tae stay away fae they pricks, bit ye widnae take a telling, so ye widnae,”

  The Big Man wiped the dribbles fae his mooth wae the back ae his haun.

  “Noo, see whit ye’ve gone and done? And where’s ma good Princess’s ring?”

  “There’s hardly a day goes by withoot they basturts trying tae wipe us oot. Ye cannae expect us no tae retaliate. There’s nae talking tae them.”

  “Fae whit Ah’ve heard, ye’ve knocked back mair than a few meetings that Shaun his been trying tae set up.”

  “Set up? Exactly.”

  “Tony, don’t fucking staun there slagging aff Shaun when he isnae here tae defend himsel.”

  “Ah’m sorry, Pat.”

  “Naw ye’re no. Tam and Toby Simpson wid squash ye, and that wee manky-arsed crew ae yours, like fucking flies. Ye widnae know whit the hell hid hit youse. It widnae be a pretty sight either. Ye couldnae take oan wan brother withoot the other. That’s the benefit ae hivving brothers tae back ye up, no that Ah ever hid that benefit masel, mind ye.”

  Silence.

  “There’s no way in a month ae Sundays that Ah’m gonnae let somewan like you cause a bloody war, even though there’s certain people in certain quarters, who’d jist love that tae happen…tae take advantage ae the situation. So, the answer is naw.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ah’ve fucking telt, that’s why!” The Big Man roared again, this time, knocking his crystal whisky glass oan tae the flair.

  Tony watched the wetness seep intae the carpet. He felt the bitterness well up inside him. He’d never felt so frustrated in his life. He knew he hid tae calm doon and play this wae a steady haun. Even though the answer wis naw, he still wisnae back in the van safely yet, heiding back tae his kip in Petershill Road.

  “So, whit if Ah get somewan fae ootside tae dae it fur me then?”

  “A war wid still erupt and Ah’d still be annoyed at ye fur disobeying me.”

  “Okay, so whit if some other basturt done it and it wis nothing tae dae wae me then?”

  “Unless ye could prove otherwise, straight away, that it didnae hiv anything tae dae wae yersel or that bunch ae toe-rags that ye call a gang, then ye’d still cop yer whack.”

  “That’s no right, Pat, and ye bloody-well know it,” Tony spat. “That mad fucking wanker stabbed Billy MacRae and assaulted Terry Marshall, oor two delivery guys, when they wur oan their milk runs in the early hours ae the morning a while back. It wis lucky they didnae hiv any swag in the cabs ae their vans when it happened. Joe McManus goat stabbed tae death last week. Joe wis awready a bloody cabbage because ae Toby Simpson and they other liberty-taking basturts he’s goat roond aboot him, bit he still wisnae happy and kept coming back fur mair. Ye’ve known Joe...us...Johnboy and Silent, since we wur aw wee snappers. Look at everything we’ve done fur ye o’er the years. Why wid ye no want tae help us oot when we’re up tae oor eyes in it, eh?”

  “Tony, don’t come in here wae yer amateur dramatics. Whit the fuck hiv ye done fur me o’er the years that ye wurnae well paid fur, eh?”

  “We broke intae hauf the dookits in the city tae get ye aw they good doos, when ye wur in the doo business.”

  “Ye broke intae three or four wee scabby dookits fur me.”

  “Ah screwed Mad Malky’s windae box across in Possil and goat ye that big special Horseman Thief Pouter tae add tae yer breeding programme…and Ah’ve still goat the scars tae prove it efter his dug jist aboot chewed ma erm aff,” Tony added bitterly, lifting up his wrist and showing The Big Man the scar.

  “Ah’ve a bigger scratch oan ma tadger, so Ah hiv.”

  “We supplied ye wae aw they fancy tranny radios when they first came oot at the time ae yer ma and da’s anniversary, remember? Whit year wis that? Nineteen sixty something?”

  “Sixty five.”

  “And if it wisnae fur us screwing that polis car, doon in the lane opposite The Chevalier Casino, and stealing that briefcase wae aw the details ae whit corrupt polis and Corporation officials wur getting back-haunders fur, wid ye still be sitting there happy wae yersel? Dae ye think that bunch ae Irish Brigade inspectors wid’ve aw ended up jailed or sacked? Wid that chief superintendent still be alive, still hassling yer arse, insteid ae being deid and buried long ago, efter shooting himsel in the heid? That wis us…including Joe…who helped ye oot when ye needed it, Pat. It’s no as if Ah’m asking ye tae dae it yersel or get involved, so Ah’m no.”

  “And whit aboot that Duke’s daughter then? Youse wee fuckers ripped me aff there, so youse did. Ah could’ve made a bloody fortune oot ae her.”

  “Look, that wis different, so it wis. That wis Paul’s shout. We wurnae gonnae undermine whit he wanted…even fur somewan like yersel.”

  Silence.

  “Ma glass is empty,” The Big Man said, eyeballing him, no moving tae pick up the glass fae the flair.

  “We’ve hardly been able tae move fur aboot a year noo. Every time they Simpson basturts come across any ae us, they hiv a go. We’re trapped in Springburn,” Tony said, ignoring the glass.

  “That’s whit happens in business when ye fuck up and don’t show a bit ae respect tae yer elders. If ye urnae strong enough tae keep yer heid above the water line and stay oot ae trouble, then maybe ye should jack it in and try something else…like plumbing or working oan a building site,” The Big Man said, trying nae tae smile at the flare-up behind the dark eyes in front ae him.

  “Ah’ve been mair than ready tae dae something aboot it fur months noo, bit Ah didnae want tae staun oan anywan’s toes…especially yours, Pat.”

  “Why wid ye be staunin oan ma toes?”

  “Because they basturts hiv changed their tactics o’er the past few months. Aw the damage against us is being done tae us across in Springburn noo. We’ve no been too sure whit the score wis wae they Simpsons, given that they seem tae be aw o’er the place, coming and gaun…as if they own Springburn. We ass
umed you’d gied them the nod tae come and go as they please,” Tony replied, feeling a bit ae satisfaction at the reaction tae that last jibe ae his.

  Careful Tony, take yer time, don’t push him too hard, he telt himsel.

  “Pat, we kin haundle oorsels well enough if we wander ootside Springburn tae dae a wee bit ae business here and there, bit it’s a different story when they basturts ur being allowed tae turn up in oor ain boozer…”

  “Ma boozer,” he quickly reminded Tony.

  “Ah didnae want tae be the wan that wis accused ae starting anything across in Springburn, bit we cannae go oan like this. Everywan’s itching tae retaliate. It’s me that’s haudin them back,” Tony replied, as The Big Man’s eyes suddenly became cauld and menacing and a tick appeared oan the side ae his left cheek.

  Silence.

  “Ye kin furget Toby Simpson, so ye kin. He’s well oot ae the equation, so he is,” The Big Man said wae finality, efter a lengthy silence.

  “There widnae be any point in gaun fur Jo Jo Robson or Frisky Frank,” Tony retorted bitterly. “Unless Ah kin take aff the heid, Toby will jist come back and lay waste tae us.”

  “Whit makes ye think Tam Simpson widnae dae the same, unless ye’re thinking ae gaun fur the two ae them at the same time?”

  Silence.

  “Right, tell me this, and ye better fucking answer me truthfully. Did youse basturts hijack wan ae the Rob Roy poultry vans, up in Colston, last week?”

  “Us? Ah’ve jist telt ye, we cannae even wipe oor arses withoot them being kicked.”

  “So, youse hid nothing tae dae wae blagging a van-load ae ma good frozen chickens then?”

  “Naw, we’ve awready goat oor ain sources,” Tony replied, lying.

  “So, how wur ye planning tae deal wae Toby then?”

  “Well, seeing as Ah couldnae get a haud ae yersel, we wur gonnae let him hiv it when he wis heiding doon tae St Teresa’s fur midnight mass oan Christmas eve.”

  “See, that’s whit concerns me aboot youse young wans, Tony,” The Big Man scoffed. “Ye’ve nae class or style, so ye hivnae. They brains ae yers must be dangling aboot between yer legs. Look whit happened efter that carry-oan in Waterloo Street, when youse let loose wae that shooter, in broad daylight, against Jo Jo Robson and that other eejit, Bootsy Bell.”

  “That wis fu...”

  “And don’t bloody sit there and try and deny it either,” he warned Tony. “Ye must think Ah’m a fucking eejit or something…we aw know it wis two ae yer crowd…they were clocked by hauf the toon, so they wur. It took Charlie Hastie aboot two days tae convince Shaun no tae nip up tae Springburn tae lay waste tae youse fucking bampots. Ye obviously don’t appreciate how much Wan-bob and Charlie hiv put themsels oan the line fur youse manky wee basturts…and Ah’m no jist talking aboot the last wee while either.”

  “Bit...”

  “Tony, shut the fuck up, Ah’m the wan that’s daeing the talking aboot here. And then fur ye tae go oot and start hitting Provi-cheque men across in Possil efter being well-warned aboot that the last time? Hiv youse aw goat some kind ae death wish that Ah don’t know aboot, eh?”

  “We wur staunin up fur oorsels,” Tony retorted. “We wurnae jist gonnae staun back and let they basturts roll o’er the tap ae us, the way they dae tae everywan else. Look at Joe. Whit the fuck wis aw that aboot?”

  “Don’t bloody interrupt me! If ye could listen tae yersel bleating like a snivelling wee whippet. Ye clearly didnae learn anything efter yer fuck-up doon in Waterloo Street. Kin ye imagine the newspapers and the sympathy vote? Even though everywan knows Toby Simpson is a right psycho liberty-taker, daeing something like that tae anywan, especially when they’re oan their way tae midnight mass in the chapel at Christmas, wid bring the ceiling doon fae the authorities, big style, and there’s nae way that’s gonnae happen. Think ae aw they real Christians heiding alang Saracen Street, in the same direction as Toby, and youse eejits jump oot and start blasting away. And ye don’t think he’s gonnae be staunin there asking ye tae shoot him, dae ye? Ye’d need tae empty a gun…or two, intae that psycho fucker, and he’d still probably get up aff his arse tae hiv a go back at ye. Whit’s gaun oan between yersels and Toby Simpson his fuck-aw tae dae wae me. Aw Ah’m interested in is ma ain concerns. The fact that he’s taken tae wandering aboot Springburn like some preening dandy, might be a concern tae some people, bit it’s nothing tae dae wae you. Toby is oot ae the question...bit Ah’ll let ye hiv Tam…the boss man himsel,” he said casually, in an offhand kind ae way as if he wis gieing Tony second prize in a raffle.

  Tony quickly bent o’er and picked up The Big Man’s glass and walked across tae the sideboard tae hide his shock.

  “Toss ma ice in first,” The Big Man said fae behind his back.

  Tony’s brain went intae overdrive. Whit the fuck wis gaun oan? He’d come tae get the go-aheid tae hiv a go at Toby, bit wis offered up Tam, the heid ae The Simpson clan insteid. He hidnae expected that. Did The Big Man really say they could go fur Tam Simpson? Tony wondered if he wis playing wae him tae see whit his reaction wid be?

  “Here ye go, Pat,” he said, haunin o’er the glass, willing the ice in the glass nae tae shake and rattle aff the sides ae it.

  “Of course, there’d be conditions attached.”

  “Like whit?”

  “Like, we’ll hiv none ae that Wild West shite. There’s nothing guaranteed tae get the backs up ae the authorities and the papers like shooting somewan in the street, as ye’ll probably hiv gathered efter yer wee escapade doon in the toon centre. Ye hiv tae avoid Mr and Mrs Joe Innocent and their weans catching a stray bullet…especially oan the way tae midnight mass at Christmas,” he emphasised. “Naw, if ye want the go-aheid fae me, ye’ll hiv tae dae it where it’s well oot ae sight ae anywan and there’s a guarantee that nae innocents ur gonnae be caught up in it.”

  “Whit aboot Toby then? It wis him that done Joe in. Despite whit ye’re saying, Ah’d far rather hiv Tam coming efter me than that psycho brother ae his.”

  “Tony, dae me a favour, son, eh? Don’t ever, ever, underestimate somewan like Tam Simpson. He’s a shrewd basturt. He hisnae goat tae where he is by playing the Mr Decent card. He’d happily spend a week relaxing in a deck chair, peeling the skin aff ae ye fae heid tae toe, before passing ye oan tae Toby and his sidekicks tae hiv a bit ae fun wae whit wis left ae ye.”

  “Ah’m still concerned aboot Toby and the damage he could cause us,”

  “Ah’ll deal wae Toby fae ma end, while you take care ae Tam.”

  “If Ah’m no allowed tae dae it in the street, dis that mean running him o’er is oot ae the question then?”

  “It means whit Ah’ve jist said it dis. Oot ae sight, oot ae mind, eh?”

  “Ah’d still prefer Toby...jist tae make sure he’s well and truly deid.”

  “And another thing, Ah’ll need forty eight hours’ notice. By that, Ah mean forty eight…no forty nine and certainly no forty seven. Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Aye.”

  “Anything else then?”

  “Ah’m no gonnae fuck aboot here, Pat. We’re talking aboot within the next week, if possible. We jist cannae go oan like this. Fuck knows who else is gonnae cop it unless Ah kin stoap they basturts. Johnboy and Silent ur due tae be released oot ae Polmont next week. Ah don’t want them walking intae aw this…especially Silent.”

  “Aye, Ah heard it wis him, the quiet wan, that wis the cause ae the ruckus doon in Waterloo Street. They tell me that Bootsy Bell walks aboot wae a permanent limp noo. Ah widnae want tae be in his shoes when Bootsy catches up wae him. As long as Ah’ve goat ma forty eight hours’ notice, ye kin take aw the time ye want.”

  “Fine.”

  “Wan other thing, Tony.”

  “Aye?”

  “Ma good five grand ring?”

  “The ring that wis oan the front page ae The Echo yesterday morning? Ach, that wis nothing tae dae wae us. Ah jist used that tae try and get a meeting wae ye.”

  “Aye,
Ah thought ye might say that,” The Big Man said, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes.

  An hour later, Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie arrived back and grabbed a pew.

  “Ah hope ye know whit ye’re daeing, Wan-bob? Did ye hear the lip he wis gieing me? It took me aw ma time no tae ladle intae the cheeky Tally basturt,” The Big Man said, smiling as he passed the Lagavulin across tae Charlie.

  “Naw, ye played a binder there, Pat,” Charlie said, haunin a glass o’er tae Wan-bob, before splashing a fair sized nip intae it.

  “Tam’s the harder nut tae crack, so he is. He’s never oan his lonesome…always surrounded by a squad,” Wan-bob reminded him. “We kin get a haud ae Toby anytime. Aw we need tae dae is sit back and see whit The Mankys come up wae. If they’re successful, fine…we’ll get shot ae Toby. If they fuck up, then it’s nothing tae dae wae us and we’ll staun back and let The Simpsons deal wae them…bit no up in Springburn. Cheers!” he said, nodding, as the three ae them downed their whiskies.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “Is this the wan that wis in the paper yesterday? It’s a bloody stoater, so it is,” Pat asked, impressed.

  He wis haudin up The Princess ring tae the light that wis streaming through the windae in Tony’s living room and looking at it through his eye-piece.

  “Is it worth whit they’re claiming?” Tony asked him.

  “Aye, if it’s kept thegither and no broken up. The only problem is, who’d take it aff yer hauns as it is?”

  “Gie’s a look, Pat,” Snappy asked him.

  “Why? Ye widnae know a ring fae an arsehole,” Pat scoffed, passing it back across tae Tony, who threw it across tae Snappy.

  “Where’s Simon then?” Tony asked them.

  “He’s always last tae arrive, that prick. Ah say we jist start withoot him,” Snappy suggested, looking aboot tae see if there wis any takers.

  “Why don’t ye go and look fur him, Snappy, ya useless fud, ye, insteid ae sitting there trying tae sound intelligent?” Pat asked him.

  “Because Ah’m no getting aff ae this seat so ye kin jump in tae ma grave quick enough, ya knob, ye. Ah see ye’re still reading up oan Fu Manchu, Tony,” Snappy said, picking up the Sun Tzu book and thumbing through the pages before slinging it back oan tae the coffee table.