by Ian Todd
“Aye, imagine it wis you, Pat? ‘Keep that big simpleton in the jail and we’ll grant ye three wishes’ campaign…the opposition wid topple like skittles within a week,” Snappy hid said drily, as everywan laughed.
“Who’s idea wis that? Senga never mentioned anything in her last letter.”
“Right, don’t shoot the messenger, bit ye’re no gonnae believe it.”
“Who?”
“Ach, furget it,” Tony hid said, noising him up.
“Fine, Ah couldnae gie a shit,” Johnboy hid replied.
“Michelle Hope”
“Michelle Hope?”
“See, Ah telt ye, ye widnae believe it,” Tony hid said, smiling.
“Ye’re hivving me oan, so ye ur.”
“No only that, bit guess who her new best pal is?”
“Tony, fuck aff, Senga cannae staun the sight ae her,” he’d scoffed. “Kin ye believe the shite he speaks?”
“Ach, well, there ye go. Ah’m only passing oan whit Simon said. Seemingly, they’re getting oan like a hoose oan fire since Senga slept o’er at Jake’s and helped her wae her statement fur Graham.”
“Tony, ye’re such a prick, so ye ur. Ah’m no listening tae any ae yer shite.”
The last meal hid been like that. Nothing too serious hid been spoken aboot, apart fae Tony feeding back the pow-wow between Tony, Johnboy and Dockland Sammy the night before. Everywan liked Dockland Sammy. He wis a hippy-type drug smuggler who wis daeing five years fur attempting tae smuggle a shitload ae cannabis intae the country oan a leaking boat. The Mankys hid known fine well that he wid make an approach at some time or another. Everywan hid been placing bets wae each other oan when he’d make his opening move. So far, everywan ae them hid been wrang. Apart fae being a hippy, he wis a right cool basturt tae boot.
“Whit kin Ah dae ye fur, Sammy,” Tony hid asked him efter Sammy, at long last, hid made his move in the rec hall.
“Look, this is nothing personal, Johnboy,” Sammy hid said, apologising in advance, before turning back tae Tony. “Bit Ah’d rather speak tae ye oan yer lonesome, if that’s okay?”
“Wid ye? Well, tough shit. Ye’ve goat thirty seconds, so ye better start talking before yer time’s up,” Tony hid hit him wae.
“Ah need somewan that Ah kin trust…ye know…who’ll put up a wee bit ae capital,” Sammy hid said, as the three ae them sat doon cross-legged oan the flair, oan the opposite wall fae the snooker table.
“So?”
“So, this is yer lucky day,” Sammy hid replied casually, making oot he wis daeing The Mankys a favour, as baith Tony and Johnboy looked at each other and hauf smiled.
In anticipation ae being approached, Johnboy hid predicted that Dockland Sammy’s intro wid be that he wanted tae dae The Mankys a favour.
“Ten seconds, Santa.”
“Ah need between three and five grand, up front, plus back-up people wae cool heids oan their shoulders.”
“So, why ur ye o’er here, telling us?”
Silence.
“C’mone Tony,” Sammy hid appealed, clearly getting irritated, as Tony put him oan the back foot.
“And how dae we know we kin trust somewan like you?” Tony hid asked him.
“Ah could get ye references fae people in the know,” Sammy hid replied, his face upturned tae the light, trying tae impersonate an angel. “Everywan knows me, so they dae.”
“Dae they?”
Silence.
“The reason Ah’m in here daeing three years is because ae some double-dealing hash-heid that Ah thought Ah could trust,” Tony hid continued.
“Well, ye should’ve spoken tae me in the first place and ye widnae be sitting here bleating at me then, wid ye?” Sammy hid retorted, cool as fuck tae Tony.
Johnboy hid tried no tae smile. It wid’ve been at this point in the proceedings that Tony wid’ve made up his mind whether tae accept a proposal or an idea or tae send whoever it wis he wis talking tae, packing. Tony never fucked aboot when business wis being discussed.
“Sammy, hiv ye any idea who the fuck ye’re dealing wae here?” Tony hid asked him, eyes narrowing.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, if we wur stupid enough tae invest in somewan like you and ye double-crossed us, then ye’d end up being fucking boiled alive in a laundry vat ae boiling water, efter Snappy took an acetylene blowtorch tae they Hee-Haws ae yours.”
Silence.
“Tony, Ah didnae approach you or The Mankys wae the intention ae being disrespectful, so Ah’d appreciate a wee bit ae civility back in return. Granted, ye don’t know me, bit Ah’ve made a few wee discreet enquiries aboot you, so Ah hiv.”
“Hiv ye?” Tony hid retorted drily.
“Aye,” Dockland Sammy hid replied, gieing Johnboy a wee glance, before continuing. “Some ae the people Ah’ve hid the misfortune ae dealing wae o’er the past few years, hiv been as mad as Jumping Fucking Jack Albinos oan speed, so they hiv. Whit these basturts threatened me wae, wid put whitever you’d dae tae me tae shame, so it wid. Noo, the reason Ah’m able tae tell ye this in person, insteid ae pushing up some big dry cactus plant in a desert somewhere, wae fucking bull ants crawling oot ae that arsehole ae mine, is because ma word is ma bond and these murdering psychos trust me, so they dae. Ah’m wan ae the few honest people you’ll ever meet in yer life, so ye ur.”
“Look, Sammy, we’ve goat a lot ae stuff tae sort oot wae Johnboy here before we’re libbed oan Monday, so get tae the point or get tae fuck,” Tony hid telt him, dismissing his good verbal references.
“There’s a mule…travels aw o’er Europe…the world, even. North and South America, Sub Sahara Africa…where Ah first picked up oan her, by the way. At first Ah thought she wis jist a figment ae somewan’s filthy imagination, so Ah did. She’s a female…a model. Absolutely stoatingly beautiful, so she is, who never, ever, gets stoapped at airports, bit who jist gets the nod tae sail straight through. It’s either because ae her stunning beauty or the fact that palms ur well greased in advanced ae her arrival or departure. She’s a stunning black African babe.”
“Right, Sammy, goat ye. So, other than keeping ye gaun oan wanking material since ye’ve been in here, whit dis she carry?” Tony hid interrupted him.
“Pearl…The Black Pearl…that’s whit those in the know, know her as,” Sammy hid sighed in awe, drapping that voice ae his, before suddenly focussing back oan tae Tony and Johnboy. “Cost me an absolute erm and a leg tae even get that wee bit ae info oan her, so it did.”
Tony and Johnboy hid jist sat, looking at him, trying no tae piss themsels laughing.
“Whit dis she carry, ye ask? She bloody well carries coke, Tony…bags and bags ae the stuff, in they suitcases ae hers. Ah’m no jist talking aboot the wan shoulder bag, either. Christ, she’s lucky if she’s goat hersel a pair ae knickers tae cover that lovely black arse ae hers. Other than a few people in the know, nowan knows who she is or where she comes fae,” Sammy hid whispered, looking aboot, drapping back tae imitating Bob Harris fae The Auld Grey Whistle Test.
“As ye said yersel, Sammy? How dae we know she’s no jist a figment ae yours or a lot ae other people’s filthy imagination then?” Johnboy hid asked Sammy, chipping in fur the first time since plapping that arse ae his doon oan the lino.
“Eh?”
“Ye heard Johnboy, Sammy. Whit the fuck use is aw this information if we don’t know who the fuck she is…this, this Black Pearl?”
“Aye, well, ye see, Tony, that’s whit Ah’ve been trying tae tell the pair ae youse before being constantly interrupted,” Sammy hid replied, a happy, white-toothed smile appearing across that happy-go-hippy-face ae his. “Ah jist happen tae know her name…her real name, that is.”
The elephant sitting in amongst them at the table at that last meal hid been the fact that they wur getting liberated and Johnboy wis being left behind. Nowan hid mentioned the Senga situation other than in a light-hearted manner. Tony hid filled everywan in oan whit hid been happening efter his visit f
ae Simon. Johnboy hid accepted Simon’s logic aboot using Senga as the Trojan Horse tae buy them mair time. Simon and the others wur the wans that wur oot there hivving tae keep wan pace aheid ae Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie. He knew fine well that the goal posts wid be getting shifted aboot oan a daily basis. It wis a deadly game ae cat and moose and somewan hid tae take the decisions. If he wis honest wae himsel, Johnboy wis surprised that Senga and her flatmate hidnae been taken before noo. Lizzie Mathieson hid mair chance ae survival in the longer term if Simon could get Wan-bob tae pause fur a bit, and tae dae that, Johnboy knew that they’d hid tae shift the focus back oan tae Senga, dangerous though that wis. Simon hid read the situation well and hid kept the pair alive until Tony and the others goat their liberation. Simon’s job wis done. Tony wis confident that he’d be able tae get the situation sorted oot when he met up wae Wan-bob oan the coming Wednesday at The People’s Palace doon oan Glesga Green. By the time Wan-bob found oot that it wis Senga’s flatmate who wis the nurse, it wid aw be o’er, bar the shouting. They’d either accept that the notebook wis a reality and that, despite the contents, there wisnae really any damning evidence that wid eventually lead tae a conviction regarding the Tam and Toby Simpson murders, or they widnae. It wis Tony’s job tae convince Wan-bob ae that. The fact that Johnboy hid been in bed wae Michelle Hope oan the night Shaun Murphy disappeared wis enough tae allay any fears ae a Manky connection or retaliation fae Shaun’s brother, Danny.
“Right, look efter yersel, Johnboy. And don’t you worry aboot a thing. Ah’m oan the case noo,” Snappy said, gieing him a bear hug, as Tony’s eyes rolled skywards, behind Snappy’s back.
“Johnboy, don’t listen tae a fucking thing he says. Ah’ll make sure he’s nowhere near anything that’s gaun doon, so don’t you worry. Tony will get everything sorted oot, wae ma help,” Pat said, gieing him a slap oan the side ae the heid, before following Snappy towards the dining hall door.
“Look, whitever plans ye hiv fur the future between us or between yersel and Senga, ye know Ah’m behind ye. That goes fur aw ae us,” Tony reminded him, smiling.
“Aye, Ah know…thanks, Tony. Jist you mind and keep her safe, that’s aw that matters tae me,” Johnboy said, wondering who the fuck he wis gonnae end up sitting wae, noo that they wur disappearing.
“Oh, and this is fur you. Ah tried reading it a few times before Ah goat lifted, bit never managed tae get roond tae finishing it. It’s aboot painting and decorating, so maybe ye’ll be able tae make sense ae it wance ye start yer new job. Ah goat Kim Sui tae dig it oot and post it in tae me. It arrived oan Friday,” Tony said, haunin o’er a copy ae Robert Tressell’s ‘The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist,’ before heiding aff tae catch up wae the other two.
“By the way, Father, don’t believe that lying prick, Johnboy. None ae us said ye wurnae welcome tae come and sit and hiv a bite tae eat wae us at oor last meal,” he heard Snappy telling the priest, as the three Mankys disappeared through the dining room door, withoot a backward glance, leaving him sitting there oan his lonesome, taking him back tae that first day ae his in The Grove, in the mid sixties, when he wis ten years auld.
“Good evening. My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.
Dumfries is in mourning tonight after two dedicated and respected prison officers were killed in a car crash and another two critically injured in the early hours of this morning on the A75 Dumfries to Stranraer Road. The men, all officers working at Dumfries Young Offenders Institution, were travelling to catch the ferry from Stranraer to Belfast, where they were due to begin working in the Province’s H-Blocks for the Christmas and New Year period. Police have refused to release the names of those killed until relatives have been informed. The two injured officers have been transferred to Glasgow Royal infirmary from Dumfries. Late this afternoon, a hospital spokesman confirmed that one officer, believed to be twenty-eight-year-old Mr Henry Dong, was giving cause for concern, whilst the other officer, believed to be Alastair Cherrie, remains in a stable condition in intensive care. The Scottish Home and Health Department in Edinburgh confirmed that Special Branch officers and Northern Ireland forensics teams have been present at the scene most of today. There is speculation tonight that the brakes or steering column of the car, understood to belong to Senior Officer Donald Dick, had been tampered with. The evening news can confirm that no other vehicle was involved in the crash, which happened on a stretch of the road known by locals as the Low Road. The Union Jack at all Scottish Prisons throughout the country are at half mast tonight. Brave Scottish prison officers have been playing their part against terrorism by working alongside colleagues in Northern Ireland for a number of years now and…
Glasgow’s most notorious car driver has caused outrage once again by driving his 1930s Mercedes-Benz W125 sports car, with an output of 646hp, capable of reaching speeds of a hundred and eighty miles an hour, through the streets of The West End into the centre of the city late last night. The Silver Arrow also changed his route from previous outings, as he was being pursued along the city’s Great Western Road, before racing down Anniesland Road and heading back in to the city centre via Dumbarton Road. This is the first time that The Silver Arrow has entered the city centre. The deafening noise from the engine of the Mercedes Benz classic racing car is said to have woken half the city’s residents and pet dogs from their slumbers, as its powerful engine screamed defiance, leaving in its wake the fifteen super-charged police vehicles, which have been specifically drafted in to stop the car mayhem. Politicians have become outraged at the recurring nightmare for West End residents and are questioning why this has been allowed to go on for as long as it has. Concern is also growing that it is only a matter of time before a police driver is killed in the high-powered car chases that are leaving police vehicles wrecked, with parts from them strewn all over the roads in that part of the city. Seven police officers have been treated in two different casualty departments, due to their vehicles leaving the road or colliding with others during the pursuit. Already children are dashing on to one of Europe’s busiest roads in search of car and engine parts, as trophy pieces, on their way to school, whilst young girls’ bedroom walls are being adorned with photos of the mystery driver, sitting in his powerful sports car with a clenched fist in defiance of the local constabulary. Psychologist, Professor Edwin Smith of Glasgow University, stated that the mystery driver is possibly a young man in his early twenties that has a total disregard for law and order. Whilst The Silver Arrow appears to bring out the rebellious side of young boys, Professor Smith stated quite emphatically, that young girls, particularly those reaching puberty, will be fantasising on what he describes as ‘The James Dean Syndrome.’ On hearing of Professor Smith’s diagnosis, in particular, the possible effects on young sensitive girls, local church leaders across all denominations in the city have called on the authorities to immediately bring in helicopters or small planes before the corruption of the city’s youth spirals out of control. In response, Glasgow Police have announced tonight that they will be hiring private helicopters in their endeavours to apprehend The Silver Arrow. Cathcart MP, Mr Teddy Taylor, has called on police marksmen to be allowed to shoot out the tyres of the sports car…
A man has been sentenced to five years at The High Court in Glasgow after being found guilty of abducting and raping a pretty seventeen-year-old female as she walked home after a night out with friends in September. During the trial, the attractive teenager was aggressively cross-examined by twenty-seven-year-old Paul Butcher’s defence team, causing her to repeatedly break down in the witness box. Butcher was observed to be smiling at the distress of the witness. At one stage, Lord Campbell of Claremyle called for a thirty-minute recess to allow the victim time to compose herself before continuing with her evidence. Women’s groups in the city say they are appalled at the treatment of the victim by Butcher’s defence lawyers and have called for screening to be introduced. They have also condemned the leniency of the sentence…”
/> Chapter Forty Seven
The Mankys hid been sitting, maistly in silence, oan Montieth Row, facing Glesga Green, since jist before eight o’clock, periodically starting up the engine so they could get some heat fae the blower. The plan…if ye could call it that…wis fur Tony jist tae stroll across fae where they wur parked tae the entrance ae The People’s Palace. Even that late in the morning, the grass oan The Green still hid a crisp covering ae white frost oan it. They’d sat admiring the pocket-hordes ae wummin and young lassies earlier, scurrying alang Montieth Row every five minutes, efter being drapped aff ae the buses, back oan the corner ae The Saltmarket and Greendyke Street…aw well wrapped up, as they hurriedly heided in the direction ae Templeton’s Carpet Factory, chattering excitedly and smoking as they went. Fae where they wur sitting, they hid a good, clear view, ae the entrance tae The Palace. They’d literally jist arrived oan the scene when Ben hid goat intae an argument wae some auld Hitler impersonator they supposed wis wan ae the managers fae the carpet factory.
“I’ve parked here, on this very spot, for the past ten years. Everyone knows that,” the grey haired auld prick hid bleated, looking straight at them fae the driver’s seat ae his shiny, auld, two-tone Rover P6 car, clearly expecting them tae move oan tae allow his lordship tae retain his self-awarded parking place.
“Aye, well, normal programming will be resumed and back tae normal the morra morning, so fuck aff, Adolf,” Ben hid telt him oot ae the passenger’s side windae as Jake switched aff the engine and the auld grumpy basturt drove aff in a huff tae try and compete fur a space amongst the shoap flair workers. “Kin ye believe the cheek ae that auld basturt?” Ben hid asked in wonder, shaking that heid ae his.
“Aye, ye’ve spoiled his day noo. Some poor basturt’s gonnae end up getting the sack because ae you, Ben, ya selfish prick, ye,” Jake hid accused him fae the driver’s seat.