by Todd, Ian
“Ah don’t know…Milton or Springburn…who knows? Ah’m waiting fur another offer fae The Corporation. How will ye know where we ur?”
“Ach, Ah widnae worry aboot that. Ah’ll soon track ye doon. Ah cannae see you living the quiet life, wherever ye end up,” he replied, a wee smile oan his lips.
“Johnboy, come hame wae me…”
“Look, Ah’ll be in touch. Ah hiv tae go,” he said, breaking her grip as she touched his cheek fleetingly before he heided oot the back close.
“Johnboy…” he heard her shout as he disappeared through Frankie Wilson’s close.
Johnboy took his time heiding back up tae the den. It gied him time tae dry they eyes ae his. He knew Tony wid be watching him when he arrived back. He inspected their escape route. He wis satisfied that there wis nae way that anywan wid be able tae take them by surprise, unless they knew whit tae look oot fur.
“The prodigal son returns,” Joe quipped.
“How wis she, Johnboy?”
“Fine…she wis a bit upset. She wanted me tae go hame wae her.”
“Imagine the pleasure that wid gie Bumper and The Stalker? Jailing the maw and the son?”
“Did ye gie her the dosh?” Tony asked.
“Ah slipped it in tae her pocket when she gied me a hug. That’s probably aboot two weeks’ worth ae ma da’s wages that she’ll find when she slips her haun in tae pull oot wan ae her single fags.”
“Imagine whit ye wid find slipping yer fingers intae Joe’s pocket, eh? It disnae fucking bear thinking aboot,” Paul said, getting a laugh fae everywan.
“Well, that’s no whit that sister ae yers thought,” Joe retorted.
“So, whit time’s the funeral again?” Johnboy asked.
“Two o’clock, which means they’ll rabbit oan like fuck fur aboot two hours and then it’ll be aff tae the graveyard up in Sighthill,” Paul replied.
“And then back tae The McAslin fur the pish-up,” Joe added.
Johnboy thought back tae the conversation the night before. It hid taken him ages tae get tae sleep. Tony and Joe hid disappeared doon tae Erchie The Basturt’s. When they’d returned, everything hid been settled. They’d taken whit wis left ae the casino chips and Erchie hid snapped them up. He’d also spent a couple ae hours wae them, gaun o’er whit they should and shouldnae dae.
“The closer the better. Go fur two shots insteid ae the wan. Don’t fuck aboot and hesitate. Jist get in and get oot again. Two quick pop-pops and away. Ye hiv tae dae it fae the back or the side ae the heid, close up. Whitever ye dae, don’t confront the basturt. It’s hard tae pull the trigger if a couple ae pleading Bambi eyes ur looking intae yours. Whitever ye dae, don’t drap the gun. Make sure ye take it wae youse. And another thing…plan a fall-back position. Efter ye leave here, only the shooter gets tae touch the gun, even if everywan else is wearing gloves. Remember, Paul, feel the gun, get used tae its weight, walk aboot wae it, haud it oot in front ae ye, bit don’t dae this in front ae a mirror though, as it could freak ye oot as ye’re basically seeing whit whoever’s getting plugged is seeing. As soon as it’s done, change aw yer gear, including yer shoes. Make sure ye burn everything, and Ah mean everything. It wid surprise ye whit they forensic boys kin find oot these days,” Erchie hid drummed intae them.
And noo they wur there. The big day hid dawned. Tiny’s funeral hid been whit they’d been waiting fur. It hid put Mick Murphy bang intae the centre ae the cross-hairs. Mick wis behind the reason that Johnboy wis staunin, smiling, listening tae Joe and Paul arguing o’er who hid the biggest and sorest pluke oan the side ae their nose. Nothing mattered anymair. The only problem they hid wis how tae dae this withoot getting found oot by either the polis or The Big Man. Mick wis the only wan ae the brothers left living in the Toonheid. Danny and Shaun hid moved oot a few years earlier when the tenements in Ronald Street, where the brothers hid lived, started tae be pulled doon. Mick hid stayed tae run the stables and The McAslin Bar. He lived in a ground flair hoose at the Parly Road end ae Martyr Street. If he looked oot ae his front windae, he wid’ve been able tae see the cabin…their cabin…if he hidnae burnt the bloody thing doon, wae Skull and Elvis in it. Their plan wis simple. They knew he wis gonnae be pished at The McAslin Bar efter the funeral and that he’d be staggering hame oan his lonesome later oan that night. The plan wis fur Paul jist tae walk up tae him and let him have it in the back ae the heid. End ae story. Joe hidnae been happy and hid argued o’er that wan.
“Whit’s the point ae that? He’s no gonnae know why he’s copping his whack. Ah think Paul should staun there in front ae the basturt and let him know who the fuck we ur and why he’s getting whit he deserves.”
“Fur Christ’s sake, Joe, why complicate things? Why don’t we jist hiv a wee cup ae tea wae him, jist tae make sure that the message sinks in before the bullet dis?” Johnboy argued, still getting flashbacks ae Jessie’s blood slowly seeping across the pavement towards him roond oan St James Road.
“Johnboy, shut the fuck up…this is between us. You don’t know whit the fuck Ah’m oan aboot. And anyway, you’d only jist met Skull. We aw went tae school thegither wae him.”
“Joe, stoap taking it oot oan Johnboy because ye didnae pick the longest bit ae wire. We’ve awready made the decision. And anyway, it’s awright fur you…Ah’m the wan that’s gonnae hiv tae pull the trigger.”
“Joe, we cannae fuck aboot wae this. We cannae afford tae take chances. This place is gonnae explode o’er this. The Big Man and aw that crowd ur gonnae be gunning fur anywan who’s even goat a whiff ae being involved in this. We cannae be seen tae be anywhere oan or near the same street where the shooting takes place and McAslin Street is wan ae the longest bloody streets in Glesga,” Tony reminded him.
“Ah still think youse ur making a mistake. Unless he knows why the fuck he’s getting done in, then whit’s the point? Anyhow, that’s jist ma opinion, so youse kin take it or stuff it.”
“Good. Noo that that’s been decided, we’ll keep it in mind, and leave it at that,” Tony said, as Paul burst intae laughter, followed by a nervous laugh fae Johnboy.
“Whit? Whit did Ah say?” Joe asked, joining in.
“Nothing. It’s no whit ye’ve jist said. It’s jist you. Ye’re a grand sized prick, McManus, so ye ur,” Paul said, starting tae gaither up his gear.
Chapter Forty One
“Right, Paddy, lock the door,” Bumper said tae The Stalker, before turning tae the twelve pavement pounders sitting at the desks in front ae him.
Colin, the inspector, wis sitting up at the back. He’d agreed no tae butt-in or get involved. Bumper and The Stalker hid tried tae persuade him no tae attend, bit he’d insisted oan being present. He knew they wur up tae something and that hid made him aw the mair suspicious...and nervous. They’d telt him their plan, bit he’d been roond long enough tae recognise a pair ae forked tongues when he heard them.
“Right, it’s pretty straightforward. At four o’clock the morra morning, youse ur gonnae kick doon the green door oan the second flair ae wan four seven McAslin Street and lift Tony Gucci, Joseph McManus, Paul McBride and Johnboy Taylor, who ye aw know hiv been oan the run fae approved schools since before Christmas,” Bumper informed them.
“Noo, tae get through that door, ye’re gonnae hiv tae bloody-well demolish it. They’ll hiv every bloody contraption behind it tae stoap us getting through. Two ae youse will be issued wae firemen’s axes and two wae ten pound sledge hammers. Don’t try tae push the door in. It’ll hiv tae be demolished. Pull it apart fae the landing. When ye’ve goat space tae get a body through, go fur it. The wans who dae the demolition need tae staun back and let the pincers through first, before coming in their wake. The pincers will hiv long nightsticks because the rooms in the hoose ur fine and big. Don’t be polite noo. This isnae a social call. Get the basturts doon oan tae the flair as a matter ae urgency. Don’t worry aboot a few cracked skulls. That’s whit The Royal’s there fur. Any questions?” The Stalker asked them.
“Er, where ur youse gonnae be when aw this is happening?”
“Good question,” Bumper acknowledged.
“We’ll be doon the back wae four ae youse, waiting tae catch anywan managing tae get oot before, during or efter youse go in,” The Stalker said pleasantly, as The Inspector frowned fae up at the back.
This wis the part ae the plan that Colin knew wisnae quite whit it seemed. He wis dying tae ask a question, bit couldnae get eye contact wae the two sergeants.
“Doon the back? The basturts won’t hiv shooters oan them, will they?”
“Whit makes ye think that?” Bumper asked.
“Ah don’t want tae be cheeky, Fin, bit when hiv we ever seen yersel no wanting tae be through a door first?”
Good question, son, Colin thought tae himsel, looking at Bumper tae see whit he hid tae say fur himsel.
“We definitely believe that they’re holed up in there, bit we think the action might take place somewhere else,” Bumper confessed.
So, the basturts wur up tae something then, Colin cursed tae himsel. He wisnae too sure whether tae be annoyed and tae pull the pair ae lying basturts back intae his office or tae jist leave things as they wur and see whit happened.
“How dae ye make that wan oot then?”
“Listen, short arse…jist dae whit ye’re telt. We’re oan the case here. When we want ye tae know mair, we’ll tell ye…okay?” The Stalker chipped in.
“Right, we’ll get thegither at the Black Street sub office at hauf two in the morning. Ah don’t care where ye ur, who ye’re shagging, or who’s shagging youse. Drap everything and be there by hauf two. Hiv youse aw goat that?”
“Aye, Sarge.”
“Right, and mind and hiv the kettle oan when me and Paddy arrive.”
Chapter Forty Two
“Dae ye no think it’s a bit ae a cheek using the loft ae the stable as a watchtower?” Johnboy asked Tony, who wis sitting oan an auld orange box, peering oot ae the wee skylight windae oan the roof, towards the corner ae Fat Fingered Finklebaum’s pawn shoap oan McAslin Street.
“Why? Whit’s yer problem?” Tony asked, turning roond tae look at Johnboy.
“Well, seeing as Tiny wis the manager ae this place and we wur involved in his early retirement, dae ye no think it’s a bit aff tae be using his place tae get tae his boss?”
“Johnboy’s goat a point, so he his. Right, Paul, before ye shoot the basturt, make sure ye tell Mick tae let Tiny know that we used the stable loft withoot his permission, bit we promise no tae dae it again,” Joe said.
“Naw, bit dae ye know whit Ah mean?” Johnboy persisted. “It’s kind ae no right.”
“Johnboy, since when hiv any ae us ever asked fur permission tae dae whit we wanted, whether it wis right or no, eh?” Paul sniggered.
“Listen, if ye want tae go doon and staun under that streetlight, gaping at every basturt that comes through the pub door, feel free, bit don’t come running tae us when they Murphy pricks suss oot why ye wur staunin there aw night, being seen by everywan and their dug, insteid ae being up here, well oot ae sight,” Joe mocked.
“Don’t listen tae him, Johnboy. Ah know whit ye mean…so stoap talking shite and haun me that bottle ae Irn Bru o’er,” Tony said, grinning.
Although the pub wis roond the corner, every time somewan went in or came oot, they could hear a surge ae loud excited voices, bits ae drunken song and the tinkle ae glasses which wid die doon as soon as the door shut o’er again. Johnboy wisnae sure whit time it wis. They’d been sitting there fur a couple ae hours, efter hivving arrived, wan at a time, at ten minute intervals. McAslin Street wis in that quiet lull between the times that people left their hooses tae go oot fur a bevvy and when aw the drunken fighters spilled oot and started battling wae each other at ten, when it wis chucking oot time. They’d been taking it in turns tae sit oan the orange box and watch oot fur any signs ae Mad Mick.
“Dae ye no think we’re a bit early then?” Paul asked Tony.
“We cannae take a chance that he won’t leave early. Jist sit doon and play pocket billiards if ye’re bored.”
And then the moment arrived. They aw heard him before they saw him. There wis a big commotion gaun oan roond the corner, ootside the pub. They aw crowded the wee windae tae see whit wis gaun oan. Fae their position, they could make oot shapes and movements being reflected oan Shitey Sadie’s bag wash shoap-front windae, opposite The McAslin Bar. There wis lots ae shouting and the tinkle ae glasses being broken and wummin screaming. They looked at each other as the booming voices ae men shouted at Mick tae calm doon and tae get himsel up the road hame. The street hid suddenly gone quiet. They aw stood, peering oot ae the wee windae. Johnboy held his breath jist before they clocked him. Johnboy heard Tony curse under his breath when Mick and his twin, Danny, came intae view and stoapped suddenly at the corner ae Stanhope Street. Danny wis haudin his brother back. It wis obvious that Mick wanted tae go back fur mair, bit Danny wis trying tae drag him away. They eventually moved oan, crossing Stanhope Street before disappearing oot ae view.
“Fuck! Whit ur we gonnae dae aboot Danny then?” Paul asked.
“Ah knew we should’ve goat another shooter. Ah telt ye, Tony,” Joe bleated.
“If we don’t get Mick the night, we’ll try another time. We’ll only get wan shot at this. We cannae risk Danny seeing us,” Paul murmured.
“Let’s play it by ear. Whit we need tae dae is follow them up the street. We’ll keep tae the back closes and wan ae us will nip oot the front every noo and again tae see where they ur. We need tae try and get him before he reaches Glebe Street. If we don’t, it’ll mean us hivving tae cross tae the other side ae McAslin Street. There’s only aboot four or five closes efter St Mungo Street before we get blocked by St Mungo’s chapel oan Glebe Street,” Tony cursed.
When they arrived at St Mungo Street, Danny wis still escorting his brother. When Joe arrived back fae checking whit wis gaun oan, he telt them that Danny hid Mick pinned up against the wall, threatening tae dae him in. He said that Mick wis absolutely blootered wae the drink.
“Right, listen up. Masel and Joe will carry oan up the backs oan this side ae the street. Johnboy, you get across tae the other side ae the street. Paul, gie Johnboy a couple ae minutes and then follow him across. We’ll go as far as Glebe Street and if Danny is still wae him, we’ll join youse across there. It looks like Danny is walking the basturt aw the wae hame,” Tony said.
A couple ae minutes later, baith Tony and Joe joined Paul and Johnboy. They anchored in the back ae wan ae the closemooths in the tenement across fae the chapel as Mick and Danny noisily staggered by the front ae it, arguing. They then jumped o’er a couple mair dykes, trying tae avoid the washing lines in the dark and entered the back close opposite tae where Mick lived oan Martyr Street. His close wis two alang fae the side entrance ae The Martyr’s Church, which they’d crept intae, tae see whit the polis wur up tae at the cabin, the day they heard it hid been burned doon. There wis still nae sign ae Mick, even though he should’ve been there ages ago. Paul wis jist aboot tae nip alang tae the back closes at the corner ae McAslin Street tae see where he wis, when Mick staggered intae view. He wis oan his lonesome. They watched him stagger intae his closemooth, snarling tae himsel. Efter a minute, his front living room light came oan. Tony peeked oot ae the front ae the closemooth. The street wis empty. Johnboy looked tae his left and saw the billboards across oan Parly Road, which telt everywan how good Embassy fags wur fur ye, jist before he arrived intae Mick’s closemooth behind Joe. Tony wis lifting Paul up tae take the light bulb oot ae its socket, jist tae the left ae Mick’s door, sending the closemooth intae darkness. They couldnae believe their luck. The drunken basturt hid left his hoose door wide open.
“Right, listen up. When we come oot ae Mick’s, remember tae heid o’er the wall intae the yard behind The Casino picture hoose and then oot oan tae Castle Street, wan efter the other,” Tony whispered, gently pushing open the door intae Mick’s lobby, jist as the sound ae ‘Hey
Jude’ by The Beatles started blasting oot.
The others followed Tony through the door, turned right and stepped intae the living room. Mick wis staunin in front ae his electric fire, swaying, either tae the music or because he wis pissed as a fart. He hid an unlit fag dangling fae his lips and a bottle ae Bells whisky in wan haun, while wae the other, he wis flicking a Zippo lighter, trying tae get a light. When The Mankys appeared in his living room, it took him a second tae register that he hid company.
“Who the fuck let youse cunts in?” Mick snarled.
“Ah did, ya prick, ye,” Tony said, as Paul levelled the gun at Mick’s face.
“Ur youse fucking mad or jist fucking stupid aw thegither?” Mick slurred, totally unconcerned, swaying and still trying tae get a light oot ae the Zippo.
“Let the basturt hiv it, Paul,” Tony said.
“Aye, shoot me, ya fucking hauf-wit,” Mad Mick challenged, ripping open his shirt, exposing his bare chest, wae whisky flying oot ae the tap ae the bottle, as he staggered backwards, crashing against the electric fire.
“Paul, did ye hear whit Ah jist said! Shoot the basturt! Dae it noo!” Tony snarled.
Paul jist stood there, frozen tae the spot. The shake in the haun that wis haudin the pointed gun wis getter worse. Mick decided tae help Paul alang.
“C’mone, ya fucking cowardly prick, ye. Dae as yer greasy pal says,” Mick laughed, lifting the whisky bottle up above his heid and emptying it aw o’er himsel, while, wae his other haun, he finally managed tae get a flame oot ae his Zippo.
Fur Johnboy, everything seemed tae be happening in slow-motion. The Mankys wur aw rooted tae the spot in the middle ae the living room, as Paul McCartney started tae sing, ‘better, better, better, better,’ before launching intae the ‘la, la,’ chorus bit ae the song.
“C’mone, bum-boys, who’s first then?” Mick challenged them, shuffling sideways towards the living room door tae put himsel between them and the door that wis their only escape route.