by Ian Todd
“Is that right?”
“They make up their own rules, based on their own interpretation of what is just or not. They create a hierarchy where the strongest wins and the weakest fall.”
“And in your Coonter Culture, that wid be unacceptable?”
“Of course.”
“So, tae stoap that happening, somewan wid hiv tae make up rules tae avoid that?”
“Yes, but rules based on equality.”
“Whit happens come the revolution?”
“What revolution?”
“The wan that occurs when the people get sick ae aw youse fannies pontificating aboot how people should be living their lives…when aw they want tae dae is something different that disnae fit in wae the rules that you and aw that fanny brigade create.”
“No, you don’t get it, what t...”
“Of course Ah get it, Saba. The only difference between you and me is that Ah’m the real drap-oot here, while yersel and yer mates ur jist playing at it because ye kin afford tae fuck aboot maist ae the time, while the rest ae us hiv tae get by oan oor wits,” Paul scoffed, laughing.
“Oh, just forget it. You don’t know where I’m coming from or if you do, you’re deliberately being obstructive, just to wind me up and upset me.”
“Aye, ye’re right, it’s me that disnae know whit Ah’m talking aboot. Remind me tae pay mair attention tae whit ye’re saying, the next time you and that sensitive Thor wan want tae talk a heap ae shite,” Paul said, as the Landy slowly ascended the brow ae the hill and the deckhauns clambering aboot the deck ae the ferry came intae view, throwing ropes tae their mates oan the dock ae the Lochaline ferry terminal below them.
.
Chapter Sixty Five
The Highland Fox sat in the passenger seat, sewing oan his new sergeant’s stripes which they’d picked up fae the polis station in Fort William, as The Stalker crunched the gears ae the Landy, causing the needle tae draw blood fur the fourth time.
“Sorry, Ah’m no used tae driving these tanks. In Glesga, it’s aw squad cars that we run aboot in,” he said apologetically.
“No problem,” The Fox replied, sucking his punctured finger.
“So, ye phoned yer boss then? Whit’s he saying?”
“He says that this is a joint operation and that I report back to him. He also said that you were not to be trusted under any circumstances.”
“He said that?” The Stalker asked, laughing.
“Those were his exact words.”
“Aye, ma boss mair or less said the same tae me aboot you. He said that noo we’re in the central belt, ye hiv tae play second fiddle tae me.
“So, where does that leave us?”
“Ah widnae listen tae anything they say. It’s you and me that’s oan the road, no them. We’ve jist goat tae work oot between oorsels how we approach this.”
“I’ve got to report back in later today.”
“Aye, well, that isnae a problem. Ah’m in the same boat. The trouble wae oor job noo-a-days, is that it’s aw aboot politics. Your boss’s boss and mine ur fighting it oot in the newspapers. They’re trying tae ootdo each other in the auld PR department, while the real bizzies like us ur being whacked back and forth like a couple ae shuttlecocks. They don’t realise that by involving they bloody scum who call themselves journalists, they’re leaving themselves wide open fur the press tae come back and kick them in the auld ging-gang-goolies.”
The Highland Fox sat back thinking. He wisnae too sure if it wis the appearance ae the sergeant’s stripes or no, bit he felt that The Stalker wis being mair respectful towards him. He wondered if whit McPhee wis saying aboot the press wis true or no. He knew aw the local boys who reported fur The North Star, The Ross-shire Journal and The Northern Times. He thought aboot the heidlines fae the previous week. The North Star hid run a front page heidline aboot a goat called Dennis that hid got stuck up a tree fur seven hours before it jumped doon and returned hame tae auld Mrs Ross in Rogart, while The Ross-shire hid heidlined wae wan ae the local anglers catching a two-tailed trout. Aw the locals hid been talking aboot it when he wis in The Bridge Hotel bar in Bonar Bridge. Apart fae when they wur gieing evidence against poachers at the court in Tain, stories aboot whit the local constabulary were up tae wur rare. He missed being at hame and being in his ain bed, although he wis secretly pleased that he wis getting an opportunity tae go and see how the real professionals did it in Glesgie.
“Inspector Cotter mentioned something about a laddie who has just escaped from an approved school in Aberdeen and how there may be a connection between him and our boy.”
“Aye, we believe McBride’s pals, Tony Gucci and Joe McManus heided north in a stolen car and helped a right eejit called Johnboy Taylor tae abscond. Alang wae oor Paul, they make up a right wee bunch ae thieving toe-rags. We need tae get a haud ae McBride before they dae. If we don’t, the lassie is in big trouble.”
“I still think Paul…McBride…acted alone and that The Duke’s daughter is willingly in his company,” said The Fox.
“Well, whether he did or no, ma boss, Billy Liar, jist telt me that Pat Molloy, wan ae Glesga’s most notorious gangsters, his put five hunner quid oot oan tae the street as a reward tae anywan who kin let him know where the lassie is. That’s major money in anywan’s book. If Pat Malloy, or The Big Man as he’s known, gets his hauns oan the lassie, that Duke and his wife will hiv tae cough up a fair amount ae dosh or they’ll never see her alive again. There will be nae messing aboot wae Molloy. They either pay up or that daughter ae theirs will end up haudin up the foundations ae a multi-storey block ae flats somewhere in the city.”
The Highland Fox cursed tae himsel. He desperately wanted tae tell McPhee aboot Innes’s boat being towed by George Sellar’s Landy, using Innes’s number plates. He felt sick in the pit ae his stomach at the thought ae young Lady Saba MacDonald, ending up in the hauns ae some psychopathic gangster in Glesgie. He’d known her since she wis a bairn. Even though she might be wae Paul McBride willingly, whit could Paul, a fifteen-year-auld, dae against a notorious gangster?
He’d jist finished sewing oan his new stripes. He weighed up the pro and cons ae telling the sergeant, sitting beside him, crunching the gears, whit he’d discovered in the early hours ae that morning. Tae say nothing wis running the risk ae putting a young innocent fifteen-year-auld girl’s life in danger. Tae own up wid certainly mean he’d be sacked. Whit should he dae? He couldnae continue tae live in the Kyle if it came oot that he’d known where the girl wis and hid done nothing tae save her. He felt the sweat break oot oan that foreheid ae his.
“Ur ye okay, Swein? Ye’ve jist turned a bit peely-wally,” The Stalker asked him, looking concerned.
“I just feel a little bit car sick.”
“Right, well, here ye go. Noo that ye’ve sewn oan yer new stripes, ye kin take o’er the wheel again,” The Stalker said, pulling across tae the side ae the road.
“Paddy, I’m sorry, bit I should have told you before now. I spotted the Landy that Paul McBride is driving in Lochcarron this morning with different number plates on it…” The Highland Fox blurted oot, bit The Stalker hid awready goat oot ae the driver’s side and wis walking aroond tae the passenger’s door.
Chapter Sixty Six
They’d fallen oot again and Paul’s brain wis in turmoil. The shit hid hit the fan, big style. It hid been a dawdle towing the boat oan tae the ferry at Lochaline. The guy selling the tickets hid confirmed tae him that they’d tae change ferries wance they goat tae Craignure oan Mull. Apart fae the Landy and boat, there wis only room fur another four cars oan the ferry. Saba and Wan-eye hid been glad tae get oot ae the Landy and they’d stood at the side ae it as the ferry chugged slowly through the water. It wis windy, so luckily, Saba hid tied a scarf roond her heid.
“What have you done with the chocolate flake?” she’d asked.
“Ah put it in ma bag tae stoap it fae melting,” he’d telt her as she’d opened the door and stretched across tae open his bag, o
nly tae re-appear wae whit looked like an envelope made oot ae an auld newspaper and a wee package wrapped up in a page oot ae glossy magazine.
“What’s this?” she’d asked, as his heart missed a beat.
“Oh, er, Ah’m no sure.”
“Well, open it. It’s got your name on it,” she’d said, haunin him the newspaper envelope.
When he’d opened it, he’d recognised Whitey’s haunwriting. ‘To Paul. Happy Fifteenth Birthday. Sorry we can’t be with you. Love from Innes and Whitey,’ it read. When Whitey wis oot picking wild fruit, she always picked up any auld bits ae newspapers and magazines if she came across them. She hated tae see anything gaun tae waste.
“Well, what does it say?” Saba hid demanded, moving closer and peering o’er his shoulder.
“It’s fae Whitey,” he’d murmured, avoiding eye contact.
“It’s your birthday? When?”
“Er, yesterday.”
“You were fifteen yesterday?” she’d exclaimed, taking a step back, eyes widening and looking puzzled.
“Aye.”
“You mean to say that we share the same birthday?”
“It looks like it,” he’d replied, shrugging they shoulders ae his.
“Why did you not say something? We could have celebrated together…last night, in the hotel?”
“Ah didnae want tae spoil yer celebration by jumping in there and taking o’er some ae yer airspace…ye looked awfully happy,” he’d replied.
“I can’t believe this. You mean to tell me we share the same birthday? We were born on the same day, fifteen years ago? What are the chances of that happening? You and I…on this journey…and we share the same birthdate? I just can’t believe it,” she’d exclaimed.
“Aye, well, there’s probably thousands and thousands like us, so Ah widnae make too much ae a meal oot ae it,” he’d scoffed dismissively.
“So, what was all that stripping off at the rock that was shaped like a mushroom yesterday?”
“Ah telt ye yesterday, that wis me celebrating ma liberation…ma freedom. When Ah turned fifteen, Ah wis officially free.”
“And it was your birthday too?”
“Birthdays ur like Christmas…they’re jist another day tae me, so they ur.”
“Right, well, this must be your present. Open it,” she’d said, getting aw excited.
“Look, Ah feel uncomfortable wae aw this. You open it?”
“Paul, don’t be silly. I can’t open what is clearly a present from Mr and Mrs Mackay. Here you go,” she’d insisted, haunin him the glossy-page-wrapped present, as Wan-eye stood looking up at him, wondering if whit Paul hid in his hauns wis edible.
Paul hid ripped the sexy Martini bikini clad beauty that hid been smiling up at him, in hauf, as he opened the package. He couldnae believe whit he held in his haun. They’d gied him a Swiss army knife, the same as whit Innes carried aboot in his pocket. He pulled open aw the different blades.
“It’s a pity ye didnae hiv that horse ae yers in tow. Ah could’ve goat a stane oot ae wan ae its hooves,” he’d smiled tae her, haudin up the shiny new blade.
“Oh Paul, what a wonderful present,” she’d cooed.
“Right, here ye go, ye better take it,” he’d said, aw ae a sudden.
“Me? Why are you giving it to me?” she’d asked, surprised.
“Because tae Innes, Whitey and yersel, that knife is a handy tool tae hiv if ye live oan a croft or in a big castle. Tae the bizzies in Glesga, it’s an offensive weapon that’ll get me slung back in the clink. There’s nae way Ah kin carry this intae Glesga oan me.”
“But, but...”
“Ye either take it, or it gets drapped o’er the side ae this ferry. Ah’m sorry, bit that’s the way it his tae be,” he’d said, dangling the knife o’er the side.
“Give it to me. I’ll look after it meantime,” she’d volunteered, snatching it oot ae his haun.
“Aye, Ah cannae see they bizzies charging a Duke’s daughter wae hivving something like that, especially when ye’ve goat yer ain bloody stables tae prove tae them how indispensable it is,” he’d said, laughing.
“I still can’t believe you never told me that it was your birthday, Paul. I find that pretty weird.”
“Well, as Ah said, Ah didnae want tae take the shine aff ae yer celebrations,” he’d lied.
“It would have made our meal last night even more exciting. We could have told that old landlady we were twins,” she’d chirruped.
“Aye, and we wur separated at birth. While you went tae the posh castle and expensive schools, Ah ended up being brought up in a smelly single-end, up a tenement, wae the stinking cludgie oot oan the dark, cauld landing.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, although it would make a good story, don’t you think?”
Saba hid wittered oan aboot whit a coincidence it wis that they’d been born oan the same day, worlds apart, oan the seventh ae July, nineteen fifty four, aw the way across tae Craignure. She’d kept wondering if it hid been destiny that hid brought them thegither.
“Who would have believed that a baby born in Kenya and another one in Glasgow would someday be travelling together in a smelly Land Rover down the west coast of Scotland, fifteen years later?” she’d coo-ed tae Wan-eye.
Paul hid been glad tae reach land. Wance they’d goat tae Craignure oan Mull, Paul hid driven the Landy aff the ferry and hid turned in a wide arc. He’d then been directed by wan ae the Macbrayne’s attendants tae line up behind a National Coal Board van. The place wis crawling wae people, cars, vans and lorries.
“That’ll be seventeen shillings and sixpence, son,” the ticket bloke hid said tae Paul, after he’d measured the Landy and the boat oan the trailer wae a glance o’er Paul’s right shoulder.
They’d been sitting in wan ae the queues fur aboot hauf an hour before the SS King George V ferry started tae spit oot its passengers, cars towing caravans and lorries, aw fresh fae Oban. Paul hid jist stepped oot ae the Landy tae see where they wur in the queue when he’d spotted the newspaper heidline. When he’d looked alang the row ae cars in front ae them, he’d spotted Saba’s face staring back at him fae the wing mirror oan the side ae the National Coal Board van. He’d done a double take, and hid looked back behind him tae make sure she wis still sitting where he’d jist left her. He’d walked forward, past the van, looked aboot, and hid then turned back the way he’d come. The guy in the van hid been sitting behind the wheel wae his paper open in front ae him. Paul hid felt his arse twitch. He’d tried tae read whit it said oan the way past, bit aw he’d managed tae make oot wis the word ‘Missing,’ which wis the heidline, alangside a nice blown-up picture ae Saba looking at him fae the front page wae a smile oan her coupon.
“Christ!” he’d cursed tae himsel wance he wis past the van.
“Paul, when all this is over, we’ll celebrate with a proper birthday party together and we’ll look back some day and laugh about all this,” Saba hid said pleasantly as he nipped intae the driver’s seat beside her.
“Right, Saba, don’t argue and get in the back.”
“What? Why?”
“Because Ah said so. Noo, hurry up.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why.”
“Listen, Ah’ve jist clocked somewan Ah know looking straight at me. Noo, dae as ye’re telt and get in the bloody back.”
“Who? Who did you see?” she’d yelped, climbing o’er intae the back, as Wan-eye triumphantly jumped intae her seat.
“Never mind that. Noo, listen tae me. Fae noo oan, ye dae whit ye’re telt, whenever Ah say so. Ah want none ae yer lip or backchat. When Ah ask ye tae dae something, it means noo, or we’re in trouble. Dae ye understaun whit Ah’m saying?”
“Well, that depe...”
“Listen, did Ah no make masel clear? If Ah don’t, ye kin go right noo. Ah’m no messing aboot. Ye either dae as ye’re telt or ye’ll be dumped.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m a person too,” she’d whined.
“We’re at risk jist noo, so until Ah say ye kin leave the back ae the Landy, ye’ve tae stay where ye ur.”
Although the sun wis blazing doon, Saba hid sat in the semi-darkness ae the back ae the Landy fiddling wae that tranny ae hers as the music faded in and oot. Paul hid lain his foreheid oan tae the steering wheel. He’d been able tae hear Saba breathing hard, a sure sign that she wisnae happy and wis contemplating letting him hiv it, full throttle. The only wan that hid been calm in the Landy wis Wan-eye, who’d been taking a keen interest in a screeching seagull that wis sitting oan a metal pole nearby, letting rip at everywan in the terminal car park.
“Why does he never bark?” Saba asked, startling Paul.
“He’s an apprentice poacher, remember?”
The goal posts hid jist shifted tae the other side ae the fitba park. Paul’s initial feeling hid been tae panic. Efter a few minutes he’d started tae rationalise the situation. It wis pretty obvious that the Glesga bizzies wur oan the case noo. He wisnae too bothered aboot that as he knew the local plods up in the Highlands wid’ve contacted them as soon as they’d made the connection ae him being in the vicinity at the time ae Saba’s disappearance. Whit worried him wis that Pat Molloy, The Big Man, wid know whit the score wis, if he didnae awready. That wis a whole different ball-game. He wis annoyed at himsel. It hid never crossed his mind that Saba’s disappearance wid hit the front page ae The Glesga Echo. Noo, everywan and their dug wid be oan the lookoot fur her. He knew that, given his age, the papers widnae be able tae print his name, bit The Big Man wid know exactly who wis involved. That basturt hid hauf the crooked bizzies in Glesga in his back pocket. He wid know mair aboot whit wis gaun oan than whit Paul did.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he’d cursed oot loud as Mamma Cass sang aboot ‘It’s Getting Better’.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Paul?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t treat me like a little girl. This is my life too. If there’s something affecting me, I have every right to know,” she’d demanded.