The Silver Arrow

by Ian Todd

  “Ah doubt it. The process will take another few weeks, plus nothing will happen until Ah’m back at work. Wance Ah set up the supervision terms and timetable, Ah’ve tae let The Department in Edinburgh know.”

  “Brilliant. Look, Bruce, here’s whit Ah want ye tae dae. When you and Donna go back next week, let Wan-bob know whit’s happening. Ask him tae get word tae Tony Gucci, informing him ae the release date and tae let him know that Ah’ve been bursting ma baws tae get them this early parole deal. That wee Atalian will be coming oot making aw sorts ae demands. If Ah know Tony-boy, he’ll be bleating that we owe him, so this should gie us some brownie points tae start aff wae. He’ll be a pain in the arse, bit he’ll be able tae tug in the reigns ae some ae they manky-arsed boys ae his. It’ll be good tae let him think we’ve been beavering away tae get him and that other pair ae bampots that wur jailed wae him oot ae the jail early,” The Big Man telt him, laughing.

  “And the supervision? Is there anything Ah kin dae tae help ye oot there?”

  “Aye, keep them oan a really tight lease, bit no enough tae get them recalled tae jail. If Tony and the rest ae his young manky mob start getting uppity, it’ll mean Ah kin get shot ae them fur a wee while at short notice, tae allow the dust tae settle. Noo, Bruce, let’s get ye intae yer Speedos and Ah’ll gie ye a tour ae La Hacienda,” The Big Man announced, placing The McGregor info intae his safe, hidden behind wan ae the doors ae the sideboard, jist as Bet and Donna accepted a glass ae chilled Sangria fae The Goat, who’d arrived a few seconds earlier, carrying a jug full ae the iced Spanish drink.

  “Good evening. My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.

  IRA bomber, Judith Ward, 25, received a life sentence for each of the twelve people who died when the army coach they were travelling in exploded on the M62 motorway. The sentences are to run concurrently along with three other sentences of up to 20 years for causing explosions. It is believed that Ward joined the army on the instructions of the IRA…

  Four weeks after its last outing and a local car dealer recently offering a substantial reward for information leading to his arrest, The Silver Arrow has been out and about once more on Great Western Road, in the early hours of this morning. This time, amazing footage has been captured on film by the Glasgow Echo’s very own photographer, Tommy Print…known by readers as Slipper. Those readers woke up to three dramatic pages of photographs of the racing car being pursued by the city’s finest this morning. In one dramatic shot, it shows the vintage racing car doing a three hundred and sixty degree turn at Knightswood Cross, apparently in excess of eighty miles an hour. In the photograph, the front two wheels and part of the driver’s helmeted head and goggles disguising his face, can be seen through a cloud of burning wheel smoke, as it attempted to shake off fourteen police squad cars in hot pursuit. A resident living near the cross reported that the photograph depicting householders in the surrounding area, hanging out of their windows cheering and waving an assortment of Saint Andrews and Lion Rampant flags, whilst cheering on the show being played out on the road below had started about six months earlier. Another resident, John Glen, claimed that they had heard the powerful engine of the racing car heading in their direction being pursued by the police with their sirens blaring from miles further down the road towards the city centre, giving everyone time to jump out of their beds and dash across to their windows. Another resident, seventy-two-year-old, Elsie Forbes, claimed that her husband and her have moved their bed to beside the window of the living room of their home to ensure they don’t miss any of the action.

  “It’s all very exciting, especially for all us housebound elderly people,” Mrs Forbes said, before adding, ”Sometimes we have to wait a week or a month, but it’s all worth it.”

  The Glasgow Echo said today that it had posted four journalists and photographers on a rota basis at strategic points along Great Western Road for the past month, in the hope of capturing the live action and said that they intended to print more dramatic scenes in tomorrow’s paper. Police Superintendent John Bowers from the city’s traffic division condemned The Glasgow Echo for printing the photographs, claiming that they were glorifying a dangerous madman who has total disregard for law-abiding pedestrians going about their daily business, despite the fact that the average time that The Silver Arrow takes to the streets is between one and three o’clock in the morning when the roads are practically deserted…

  A thirty-two-year-old electrician died after being electrocuted on a building site in Baillieston Road earlier today. Work colleagues from other trades who witnessed the accident were allowed home as police and health and safety officials investigated the accident…”

  Chapter Twelve

  Johnboy hid been sniffing aboot the vestry. He’d been pondering how he could get intae the cabinet haudin Father Leonard’s altar wine withoot bursting the lock fur the past five minutes. Noo that he’d hid a chance tae explore oan his ain, he’d soon sussed oot that the place wis like a real wee Aladdin’s cave. Something wid catch his eye, bit he’d always return tae the situation in haun. When Jimmy Baxter hid telt him at breakfast that he couldnae make the Sunday service practice because he hid tae be present tae help oot Nelson, the civvy painting instructor who wis putting the YOs in the paint shoap through their City and Guilds prelims, Johnboy hid jist shrugged they shoulders ae his. When The Tormentor hid come in tae the sewing machine shoap and shouted oot his name, he’d decided tae take a break fae the army bandoliers and Snappy’s blow by blow daily account ae his current plot fur slowly poisoning Robert Connor, The King Beast stoat-the-baw, who wis daeing life fur murdering a fourteen-year-auld school lassie fae Stirling. Snappy hid managed tae convince a mad basturt who wis mair mental than himsel, Limpy Baker…Limpy oan account ae him only hivving wan leg…tae feed wee drips oot ae a bottle ae mercury, that wan ae the YOs in the gardening detail hid blagged oot ae the back ae a GPO van that hid been in fixing the jail telephone lines. Limpy wis the jail bun-boy…a cushy wee number…prized by everywan who wis intae being a lazy basturt. He wis putting a drip ae the precious mercury intae The Beast’s bun jist before he went roond the cells last thing at night, dishing oot the tea and sticky buns. Limpy, who wis daeing nine years fur haudin up a GPO wages van, came fae Burmulloch and aw The Mankys hid come across him at wan time or another oan their travels oan the ootside.

  “Mind and say a Hail Mary fur me,” Tony hid quipped at his back as The Tormentor waited impatiently fur Johnboy tae get his arse in gear.

  “Whit’s the point? Ye’re well and truly roasting in hell, ya fud, ye,” Johnboy hid retorted, heiding fur the door.

  Efter nipping up tae his cell, oan the tap flair, tae pick up his Guild acoustic guitar, he’d sat and tinkled aboot wae some chords fur a bit, before gaun oan the hunt. The news that Tony, Snappy and Pat wur up fur some sort ae special parole hid taken the wind oot ae everywan’s sails. Snappy, true tae form, hid put up an argument against it.

  “There’s nae fucking way Ah’m participating in some sham con-game,” he’d retorted.

  It hid taken aw Johnboy’s self-control no tae strangle the selfish basturt wae his bare hauns before Tony hid saved that life ae his.

  “It’s either the three ae us or none ae us,” Tony hid reminded him, resigning himsel tae the fact that he wis gonnae hiv tae go through the motions ae persuading dunderheid that he hidnae any bloody choice.

  “Well, tough shit. Youse ur no getting liberated aff ae ma back, so ye’re no.”

  “Well, ye kin tell Pat yersel then. Ah’m no daeing yer dirty work fur ye,” Tony hid shouted at him in resignation, picking up the hauf finished bandolier that he’d left, before being called o’er tae meet Fanny.

  Although the situation wis serious, it wis still quite funny, even though Johnboy hid murder oan his mind. Tony hid jist put his heid doon and started whirring away at his machine. Johnboy hid been dying tae ask Tony a hunner and wan questions, bit hidnae wanted tae interfere wae his game plan wae
the idiot sitting in front ae them. Thankfully, he didnae hiv long tae wait.

  “So, whit’s the deal then?” Snappy hid finally asked, turning roond tae face Tony and Johnboy, his nose getting the better ae him.

  “Look, furget it, Snappy. If ye want tae know mair, go and speak tae Fanny Flaw. Ah’m no gonnae sit here and let you noise us up wae yer wee mind games. If ye want tae lie in here, pulling yer plonker o’er the New Year, then that’s fine wae me. Ah’ve goat plenty ae good books sitting there that Ah’ve still tae read.”

  “So, ye’re saying we could be oot fur the New Year then?”

  “Naw, Ah never said that, bit anyway, leave me in peace…Ah want tae get a full bundle done before we finish up.”

  “Ah know fine well whit ye’re up tae, Gucci. Well, it won’t work,” Snappy hid pouted, turning back tae his machine.

  “Fine.”

  Ten minutes later, wae only five minutes tae go before the bell rang tae finish up fur the day, Snappy hid finally bit.

  “Right, if Ah go alang wae this, youse cannae let oan tae Pat. Ah want that big dreep tae sweat. We’ll see who’s no talking tae who noo,” Snappy hid cackled.

  “So, ye’ll dae it then?” Johnboy hid asked, relieved.

  “Johnboy, Ah’m daeing this fur Senga and no fur the likes ae you…and Ah’ll be expecting a long winded blowjob fur aw the trouble Ah’ve hid tae go tae,” Snappy hid quipped.

  “Well, Ah cannae see Pat obliging ye there, parole or no,” Johnboy hid retorted, before they’d aw burst oot laughing.

  That hid been the previous week and it hid only been the day before that Snappy hid finally telt Pat that he’d relent and take up the offer ae parole. Johnboy, Tony and Silent hid been pishing themsels silly, watching Pat trying tae creep back in wae Snappy, in the hope that Snappy wid relent and agree tae Fanny Flaw’s ultimatum. Wance Pat hid discovered that Snappy hid been stringing him alang, when Pat and Snappy hid met up wae Fanny tae be read the riot act ae whit wid be expected ae them before signing a screed ae papers, Pat hid gone back in the huff and noo there wis new bets oan how long it wid last this time. While no wanting tae start coonting his chickens, Johnboy’s spirits hid lifted. He wis mair anxious than the three parolees wur. Every time a screw came intae the workshoap, Johnboy wis praying that it wis wae word ae their release dates. When none ae their names wur called oot, he found it hard tae hide his disappointment fae the others.

  “Look, Johnboy, if the date arrives, it arrives. Relax…getting yer knickers in a twist every time somewan walks through the doors won’t make it happen any sooner,” Tony kept telling him.

  “The quicker youse ur oot, the less likely Senga and that flatmate ae hers hiv ae disappearing,” Johnboy wid reply.

  “Aye, Ah know, bit ye’ll jist hiv tae be patient,” Tony hid repeated, putting oan his best understaunin face.

  “Whit happens if Wan-bob gets a haud ae them the day before youse get released, eh?” Johnboy hid said that morning.

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Johnboy, we’ll be too late then, won’t we? Gie it a bloody rest, will ye?” Snappy hid turned roond and snarled.

  Tony wis right. He’d jist hiv tae be patient…and pray, he thought tae himsel, gently fingering the fake, chipped, plaster nail, where it hid been inserted through the feet ae JC, hinging up oan his crucifix oan the vestry wall. Johnboy wis still wrestling wae getting his heid roond the Senga plan ae him moving oan fae The Mankys and moving away fae Glesga. Even if Tony and the rest ae The Mankys wur able tae protect her, at the end ae the day, where wid that leave him? Trying tae get a retrial could take years. Wid she really want tae wait aw that time? Wid he want her tae? If he wis eventually released, wid she seriously expect him tae leave the toon and go and live like a hermit somewhere else, where he didnae know anywan? He didnae hiv a trade other than blagging furniture. Wid Senga expect him tae work in some furniture store fur a pittance when he could be blagging aw the furniture and sitting back, enjoying the fruits ae his labour? Other than wae Silent, he’d never lived wae anywan, unless ye called daeing time in jail cohabitating. Whit if he goat bored and ran oot ae things tae say tae her? Whit wid happen then? Christ, she might even want weans. Wan ae his biggest fears wis disappointing her…no being able tae live up tae her standards…whitever they wur. How well did he really know Senga Jackson? She’d blurted oot tae him that she’d loved him since they wur weans in primary school. Why the hell could she no hiv telt him that when they wur running aboot thegither up in Springburn, drinking in Jonah’s? At least they could’ve tested the water. She’d explained that she hidnae wanted tae hurt her best pal, Pearl Campbell’s feelings. Christ, he hidnae been aware that Pearl hid fancied him either. Why hidn’t either wan ae them at least showed or hinted that they wur interested? He’d fancied Senga fur years, bit always thought she wisnae interested. And then there wis The Mankys. Whit wid they think if he telt them that his feelings…his romantic feelings fur her, superseded his concerns aboot fucking aff oot ae Glesga tae live happily ever efter wae her wance he wis released? When Paul McBride hid announced that he wis anchoring where he wis up in the Highlands, he’d awready been living there fur months. Whit wid the reaction be if Johnboy went intae the dining hall and informed them that his plans fur the future hid taken a dramatic aboot-turn? Wid they still pull oot aw the stoaps tae save Senga and her flatmate? It wisnae something he wanted tae put tae the test. He’d started bouncing his thoughts aff ae Silent, no expecting any response in return, although making sure he warned him that whit he wis saying wis jist between them. He thought he’d goat some sort ae acknowledgement, bit it hid only been Silent hivving a wee chuckle tae himsel efter Snappy hid gone and jammed his finger in the music room door. Although it wisnae perfect, using Silent as a sounding board fur the time being wid hiv tae dae. Johnboy turned his attention back tae the wine lock, still trying tae suss oot how tae gain access, withoot it being too obvious. Somewan like Harper Harris, Tony and Donna The Prima Donna’s locksmith, wid’ve been in and oot as fast as Wee Johnny Ramensky, Glesga’s maist famous safe blower, he muttered tae himsel.

  “Ah, Johnboy, you’re here?” Father Leonard said, causing Johnboy tae spin roond, trying and failing tae shield his guilt-ridden face under a feigned alter boy expression that widnae fool anywan, especially a wee well-seasoned hunchbacked priest.

  “Ah don’t suppose Ah could borrow yer key fur this cupboard o’er the Christmas period, could Ah, Father?” he asked, smiling and getting wan back in return.

  “Oh, I’m sure someone like you could find a more ingenious method of accessing that rather than using a boring old key, Johnboy. So, how are you today?”

  “Ach, fine and dandy, so Ah am…ye know whit like?”

  “And Jimmy? He’s not joining you today?”

  “Something tae dae wae City and Guilds or something equally as productive, other than sitting up here making music fur Jesus. Ah didnae expect tae see ye the day.”

  “I’m loaning St Thomas’s some hassocks that I keep stored in one of the cupboards.”

  “Hassocks? In here?”

  “Oh, there was a day when the alter YOs would wear them during the service…very fetching they looked as well. Of course, that was before my time, but I’ve got a few photos.”

  “Jailbird YOs wearing hassocks?”

  “Yes.”

  “And noo ye’ve goat me and Jimmy Baxter…a couple ae blue-nosed Proddies as alter boys? Christ, Ah kin see the Archbishop thanking his lucky stars he goat somewan as successful as you tae replace the last priest,” Johnboy retorted and the baith ae them laughed.

  “Look, I’m sorry, I really need to make haste as the hassocks are required pretty pronto.”

  “Father, kin Ah ask ye a question?”

  “Of course…as long as it doesn’t involve me colluding with you to gain entry to my wine cupboard.”

  “Jist you wait, Father. Wan ae these days ye’re gonnae turn up and open that cupboard and it’ll be cleaned oot, see if Ah’m wrang. It’
ll be water ye’ll be sipping through there wae aw they wee forked-tongued, lying Catholic heathens, insteid ae the vinegar-flavoured, foul-tasting pish that they’ve heaved themsels oot ae their pits fur, tae troop aw the way doon here, jist tae grab a wee taste ae it.

  “So, how can I help you?”

  “Rehabilitation.”

  “What about it.”

  “Tell me aboot it.”

  “Would you not be better speaking to someone like Fanny? She’s big on that, I believe.”

  “Ah’m asking you.”

  “Oh, right, well, what do you want to know?”

  “How it works.

  “How it works?”

  “Christ, Father, could ye stoap repeating everything Ah’m asking ye?”

  “W-e-l-l, you’ll need to give me a steer on what it is you’re actually asking me.”

  “How dis somewan go aboot rehabilitating themsels?”

  “Oh…um…er…well, I suppose there are many ways one…”

  “Fur instance?”

  “…well, you could start off with speaking to Fanny, I suppose.”

  “Father, ur you telling me that ye don’t know how somewan wid go aboot rehabilitating themsels other than tae speak tae a bloody social worker?”

  “I’m sorry, Johnboy, it’s just that I’m just not too sure in what context you’re asking me…I’ve never been asked that question before in the years I’ve worked here.”

  “Okay, here ye go then. If somewan like me wanted tae be rehabilitated, bit didnae want tae go through a social worker or the screws, how wid Ah go aboot it then? Ah mean, where dae Ah start?”

  “I think you would need to start with yourself. If my definition is correct, then rehabilitation is about change.”

  “Aye, and?”

  “Well, I suppose the question you may wish to ask yourself is how much are you prepared to change? Without change, I don’t suppose one could go through the process…er…successfully,” the priest suggested, looking at the YO in front ae him wae they eyebrows ae his raised.