by Ian Todd
“Did he ask where we goat oor tip-aff?”
“The only thing he asked wis whether oor source wis reliable or no. He agreed that we’d get first bite ae the cherry if they captured the boy and The Duke’s daughter.”
“Bit he disnae know that we’ve awready goat a reporter and a photographer oot there?”
“Naw, Ah telt him that we’d jist received the tip-aff. He didnae hing aboot efter that. He wis aff the phone in a flash. Mary and Slipper hiv goat an hour’s heid-start oan them.”
“Fine, Tom, let’s keep this tae oorselves, eh?”
“Dis Sir Frank know whit’s gaun oan?”
“Oh aye, it wis his suggestion that we get oot there first,” The Editor replied, lighting up a cigar.
Chapter Sixty Nine
“Ah’ve jist picked up a tasty wee morsel, Pat,” The Plant said excitedly, plapping his arse doon between The Big Man and Wan-bob Broon, who wur whiling away their time in the club, playing a game ae poker.
“Oh, aye?”
“Yer wee admirer, Tony Gucci, and that sidekick ae his, McManus, fucked aff up tae Aberdeen and goat that carrot-heided pal ae theirs oot ae an approved school in the early hours ae yesterday morning.”
“Is that right? Ah knew it wis them that hid kidnapped Lord Haw Haw’s daughter. Call,” the big man said, looking across at Wan-bob before slinging a couple ae chips oan tae the pile awready sitting there. “Whit’s the latest?”
“It wis Paul McBride that did the blagging ae the lassie. While he wis whisking her aff, Gucci and McManus wur up in Aberdeen, getting Taylor oot ae the school. The bizzies hiv been stalking McBride aw the way doon the west coast.”
“And Tony-boy?”
“They hivnae caught up wae them yet…at least…as far as Ah know. Anyway, that’s no the point,” The Plant replied, eyes shining like black diamonds.
“So, whit the fuck is the point then?” Wan-bob asked, getting irritated, as The Big Man used the side ae the ace ae spades as a shovel tae scoop the winnings pot o’er tae his side ae the table.
“McBride’s been spotted.”
“Whit?” The Big Man and Wan-bob exclaimed in unison.
“Aye, Dave McGovern, wan ae The Gruesome Twosome sergeants fae up in Possil, jist phoned, oan the QT, a minute ago. He’d jist come fae Central efter delivering some shirt-lifter who goat caught by the chapel cleaner gieing a priest a gobble in the vestry. He said the place is buzzing. Ah telt him twenty quid wid be winging its way tae him and he went aff, happy as Larry.”
“Where?”
“Ah’m no sure, it might’ve been in St Therese’s, up in Saracen Street.”
“The lassie, ya hauf-wit, ye. Furget the bloody priest. Ah’m no interested in where he goat caught getting his trumpet blown. Ah want tae know where the fuck Paul McBride and the lassie ur, fur Christ’s sake. Is that too much tae ask?” The Big Man shouted.
“Oh aye…sorry, Pat. He’s jist been spotted hinging aboot wae her Ladyship beside the main train station, oot in Stirling.”
“Stirling?”
“Stirling,” The Plant confirmed.
“How reliable is the sighting?” Shaun asked.
“McGovern said that it wis a definite, confirmed I.D.”
“Right, get yer arse intae gear and go and pick up Danny and The Goat. Ah want youse oot tae Stirling pronto. If we’re lucky, we might jist be able tae catch up wae McBride before the bizzies dae. Wan-bob, take a couple ae the boys and get across the road tae Queen Street Station. Don’t fuck aboot noo. Aw the trains coming fae the north and Balloch drap their passengers aff there. Slip a quid or two tae the ticket guys oan the gate tae allow ye straight oan tae the platform. Ah want youse through every carriage ae every train that pulls intae that station. Hiv ye goat that?”
“Ah’m oan ma way, Pat.”
“And you! Whit the fuck ur ye still staunin here fur?” The Big Man shouted at The Plant.
Chapter Seventy
Paul sat in a lay-by, jist before the turn aff tae Balloch, watching the traffic coming towards him. Saba wis getting oan his tits noo. He’d made her sit in the back ae the Landy again at Luss and she wisnae too happy aboot it. Him and Wan-eye wur daeing their best tae ignore her, bit she wis hivving none ae it.
“Tell me who you were phoning back there?” she demanded.
“Ah telt ye, Ah wis trying tae make contact wae wan ae ma pals,” he replied, fur the umpteenth time.
“I don’t believe you. You’re up to something. I’ve been in this car long enough to know when you’re lying. I want to know,” she whined.
Paul blocked oot her whinging and focused oan the traffic. He’d stoapped at Luss and goat The Glesga Echo phone number fae the operator. Efter whit hid seemed like an eternity, he’d been put through tae the newsroom.
“Hello, Ah want tae talk tae somewan who’s in charge,” he’d said.
“Who’s speaking?” a snotty voice hid asked.
“Listen, hen, Ah’m jist aboot tae gie ye the story ae the year, so unless ye want me tae pass it oan tae The Evening Times, ye better get somewan who’s in charge oan the line.”
“Hello? Tom Bryce speaking. Whit kin Ah dae fur ye?”
Before Paul hid left the Landy, he’d asked Saba fur a shot ae a hanky. She’d fucked aboot, taking her time, taking stuff oot ae her bag, so he’d jist reached across and grabbed the first thing that came tae haun. He’d felt like a right pervert talking tae this Tom Bryce wan, wae a pair ae Saba’s fancy red knickers covering the moothpiece ae the phone. Tae make matters worse, Saba hid been sitting, staring at him oot ae the back windae ae the Landy, scowling and jabbing her finger at him.
“Right, listen up, and listen up good. Ah’ve jist spotted a guy Ah know sitting in a green jeep wae a white roof oan it.”
“So?”
“So, his name is Paul McBride and he’s goat a lassie wae red hair sitting in the front passenger seat wae him. Ah think she’s the lassie that wis oan the front page ae yer paper this morning. Ah think the lassie is the Queen’s daughter that’s gone missing.”
“How dae Ah know ye’re no slinging me a dinger?” the newspaper guy hid asked, trying tae keep the excitement oot ae that voice and his.
“Because, Ah come fae Glesga masel, bit Ah’ve been let oot ae St Ninian’s Approved School, oot here in Stirling, tae go tae the dentist in the toon centre and Ah know the basturt. He beat me up earlier in the year before he wis shipped aff tae the loony-bin, so Ah’d know that psycho basturt anywhere.”
“Where is he noo?”
“He’s sitting in the jeep, jist roond the corner fae me. Ah don’t know the name ae the street bit it’s definitely him, so it is.”
“And the lassie…whit dis she look like?”
“Red hair, face as white as a ghost, wearing a green jumper wae a diamond pattern oan it and a gold funny-shaped bracelet wae coloured stanes in it,” Paul hid replied, clocking the colour ae Saba’s top, which she’d put oan when he left her and Wan-eye oan the beach at Inveraray, and watching the sun glinting aff ae her turquoise bracelet as she continued jabbing her finger at him.
“Christ!” Tom Bryce hid yelped, conscious ae the fact that McBride’s name hid never been disclosed oan the TV or in the papers, no tae mention that he’d been sectioned as a madman. The description ae the lassie’s clothes and bracelet wur listed as hivving been missing fae the castle up in the Highlands. He seemed tae remember that a green Fair Isle jumper and an African mosaic gold bracelet wur oan the list.
“Look, Ah’ve goat tae go. Ah don’t want him tae see me. Oh, and by the way, it looked as if the lassie hid been greeting.”
“Whit? Haud on, son. Where...” Paul hid heard Tom Bryce plead doon the phone before he hung up.
“Give me those! Don’t you ever do that to me again, you filthy swine! I’ve never felt so embarrassed. No wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend. What if I had worn them, you sick pervert?”
“Look, Ah thought Ah wis gonnae sneeze so Ah hid tae hiv som
ething quick. Don’t start making a big deal oot ae nothing. It’s no as if Ah wis sniffing them. Look, here ye go, see? Ah didnae need them efter aw,” he’d said, haudin them up by his thumb and forefinger, as Saba snatched them away, before Wan-eye could hiv a wee sniff ae them as well.
“Why are you sitting there with that stupid deer-stalker hat on? The sign in front of us is saying that Balloch is the next road on the left. What are you up to?”
“Nothing.”
“So, why are we waiting here then?”
“Ah’m waiting oan a car.”
“A car?”
“A Landy, tae be precise.”
“You’re waiting on a Land Rover? Why?”
“Because Ah don’t want tae drive intae Glesga oan ma lonesome, that’s why.”
“Glasgow? You don’t want to drive into Glasgow on your own? I thought we were getting a train at Balloch to take us into Glasgow?”
“Ah’ve changed ma mind.”
“And who’s in the other Land Rover?”
“Who knows?”
“What?”
“How the hell wid Ah know?” Paul replied, starting tae get irritated.
He knew that they’d hiv tae hiv this conversation sooner or later. Efter that greedy basturt, The Master Boat Builder, hid cut them doon oan the price ae Innes’s boat, there wis nae way he could afford tae dump the Landy. He hid tae get it intae the city and sell it tae make up Innes’s shortfall. There wis nae way he wis gonnae heid back up tae the strath wae less than whit Innes wis expecting. It hid been too big a decision fur Innes tae sell his beloved boat fur Paul tae go back tae him wae three hunner and sixty five quid.
“You’re not making any sense to me. What are you up to?”
“Look, it’s simple. Ah’m waiting fur a Landy tae go past so Ah kin nip in behind it.”
“Why? What for?”
“Because the bizzies will be looking oot fur a single Landy. If we kin sit behind wan that’s heiding intae Glesga, they probably won’t take too much notice ae two thegither.”
“Somehow I don’t think they would be as stupid as that,” Saba said doubtfully, wondering if he wis telling the truth.
“Look, ye’re looking oot fur a Landy. Ye’re sitting in yer wee squad car and two go past. Whit ur ye gonnae dae, eh?”
“If I was a policeman, I would look at both cars going past.”
“Aye, bit ye widnae be looking too closely, wid ye, seeing as there ur two ae them and me and Wan-eye ur sitting up front and Ah’ve goat ma good deerstalker hat oan tap ae ma napper in wan ae them? They’ll think Ah’m a farmer or something. Remember, this wan disnae hiv the original number plates oan it,” he said, feeling a twitch in his guts as he thought aboot seeing PC Shiny Buttons McTavish, prowling aboot the Landy and boat that very morning.
“It seems doubtful to me that anyone, particularly a policeman, would fall for that.”
“Aye, well. Ye’ll jist hiv tae trust me oan this wan.”
“There’s one now!” Saba shouted in his left lug as an auld Series Wan Landy came towards them, belching oot a black cloud in its wake.
“Naw, that wan disnae feel right,” he said.
Two mair Landys came and went. Paul wis starting tae hiv doubts as tae whether he’d get whit he wis looking fur, when they appeared in the distance. Saba wis sitting in the back, shouting at the radio. She’d managed tae get a signal oot ae it briefly when she’d put the aerial oot ae the passenger windae, bit efter that, aw she’d been getting wis a loud hissing crackling sound. Paul hid telt her that the aerial wid attract attention and that if she didnae pull it in, he wis gonnae snap it aff.
“But I like this one,” she’d howled, as ‘Lay Lady Lay’ came and went in waves.
“Right, here we go, Saba. Remember, keep that heid ae yers doon and oot ae sight,” Paul warned her, as two green Series Two Landys whizzed by, the wan at the back pulling a cattle box.
Paul chased efter them. He couldnae believe his luck. The baith ae them wur the spitting image ae whit him and Saba wur sitting in, right doon tae the colour and white roofs. Even better, the wan at the front hid ‘Loch Lomond Estates’ emblazoned roond the heid ae a stag oan the doors.
“Right, ye better hing oan. Ah’m aboot tae overtake the wan in front ae us so that we’re sitting in between them.”
“Why should I hang on? You’re only overtaking, for God’s sake.”
“Saba, shut the fuck up and dae as ye’re telt,” Paul snarled through gritted teeth before shifting oot oan tae the ootside lane tae overtake.
Paul didnae look at the other driver as he overtook him. He saw the Landy creep forward tae block him fae moving intae the space between the two vehicles. The guy obviously wanted tae be wae his pal. Paul indicated tae manoeuvre intae the left before the van that wis heiding towards him fae the other direction ploughed intae them, bit the basturt held his pace steady.
“Fuck you, ya basturt, ye!” Paul shouted, wrenching the steering wheel sharply tae the left as the guy in the Landy hammered oan his brakes as Paul caught sight ae the van whizzing past oan his right.
“Oh my God!” Saba screamed fae the flair in the back, where she’d landed oan her face, efter bouncing aff the side ae the wheel arch.
Paul looked in the mirror, ignoring the horn and flashing lights fae the Landy behind him, as a startled Wan-eye jumped up fae the passenger side foot-well, and Paul’s heartbeat began tae slow doon.
“Ur ye okay, Saba?” he asked her.
“No, I’m bloody well not! You need to take a driving test. I would also advise you to take some professional driving instruction as well, while you are at it,” she moaned fae the back as Wan-eye looked at him.
“Aye, well, Ah telt ye tae haud oan, didn’t Ah? Noo, if we’re lucky, and Ah mean really lucky, these guys will be heiding straight intae the city and if they ur, we’ll be in the toon in aboot hauf an hour’s time. So, sit back oot ae sight and enjoy the ride,” Paul said tae her, feeling the excitement welling up in the pit ae his stomach.
Chapter Seventy One
Morag Hegarty-Stewart, the last-tae-be betrothed daughter ae the late Colonel Granville Hegarty-Stewart ae The Glenrich Estate near Bannockburn, wis unaware ae the swarm ae activity that hid descended upon Shore Road, jist alang fae Stirling Railway Station. This was understandable oan account ae the fact that she hid her face buried in the lap ae Paul Neville-Williamson, local farmer and Tory candidate in the forthcoming nineteen seventy general election fur Stirlingshire West. Long efter the incident hid taken place in Shore Road during that warm summer ae nineteen sixty nine, the general consensus amongst the pearl and fox hunting set wis that Neville-Williamson, who wis sitting back comfortably in the driver’s seat wae his eyes squeezed shut, moaning pleasurably like a Neanderthal monkey, who’d finally discovered how tae use a plastic back scratcher, should’ve known better than tae hiv his new hearing aid switched aff so early in the efternoon, near the railway station and toon centre.
“Why could you not have waited until you got out of the town and into the countryside, for crying out loud? There are plenty of little lanes and tracks which I used before your mother and I were married,” Sir Thomas Neville-Williamson, Paul’s father, hid railed at him efter he’d been charged under the Indecent Offences Act and subsequently released fae custody oan bail.
Friends and acquaintances ae Morag Hegarty-Stewart hid totally understood why she’d been confused and hid ignored the orders she’d eventually heard fae the polis through a polis megaphone tae vacate the car. Aw the local political parties that hid been driving aroond the streets, expounding why people should vote for them, hid hid tannoy speakers attached tae the roofs ae their cars, encouraging people tae join up.
“Now, be honest, ladies. Who amongst us would have been able to tell the difference?” Lady Henrietta McLeish hid asked the ladies ae the Bannockburn ladies’ tennis group o’er tea two months later.
The Stalker and The Highland Fox arrived oan the scene, jist as the sharpsh
ooters oan the local roofs gied the thumbs-up tae Inspector Hugh Blaster oan the ground, tae let him know that they wur in position and ready.
“How is it looking, Blaster?” The Stalker asked him, peering up the deserted street.
“Paddy, how ur ye daeing, son? So, they managed tae track ye doon, did they?”
“Aye, we wur across in Balloch, skoofing doon a wee cup ae tea, when we goat a shout that McBride wis across here. This is Swein McTavish fae Sutherland, up in the Highlands, by the way,” The Stalker said, nodding towards McTavish.
“The famous Highland Fox, eh? How ur ye daeing, son? Glad tae meet ye and hiv ye oan board,” Blaster said.
The Highland Fox looked up the street. The Landy wis sitting parked tightly in between a red GPO van and a wee green Morris Traveller. There wis nae sign ae the boat. It wis hard tae see through the windscreen ae the Landy fae where they wur crouched, peering up at it oot ae sight ae the occupants, as the clouds in the sky wur reflecting aff ae it. He craned his neck tae check oot the number plate oan the Landy, bit wis unable tae see it, due tae the close proximity ae the vehicle in front ae it.
“Whit dae ye think, Swein?” The Stalker asked him.
“I’m not sure. It looks like the Landy, right enough.”
“Oh, it’s them awright. Why else would they ignore the order tae vacate the vehicle wae their hauns up?” Blaster said knowingly, as three bizzies oan either side ae the parked cars in the road sneaked doon towards the Landy, guns drawn.
“Christ, they’re not going to shoot a fourteen-year-old boy, are they, Paddy?” The Highland Fox asked, alarmed.
“Only if the lassie looks like she’ll be harmed, Swein. Ah widnae worry…these boys know whit they’re daeing.”
“The driver looks as though he’s hivving some kind ae a fit or he’s in great pain,” a voice crackled o’er Blaster’s radio that wis clipped oan tae his chest between the pair ae criss-crossed ammunition bandoliers.