by Ian Todd
“That’s fae wan ae the boys o’er there, wae the binoculars, behind that wee Austin eleven hunner,” Blaster murmured tae them, as they looked across tae the radio speaker.
It aw happened very quickly. Before The Highland Fox could blink, a man and a wummin wur lying spread-eagled oan either side ae the Landy. The female wis screaming in terror, while the guy wis lying wae two bizzies kicking fuck oot ae him while he wis trying tae pull up the zip oan his troosers.
“Christ, it’s not them!” The Highland Fox shouted, wae relief, running efter The Stalker.
“What’s going on here? Do you realise who I am?” an indignant Paul Neville-Williamson, soon-to-be-sacked parliamentary candidate fur Stirlingshire West demanded, as his companion, Morag Hegarty-Stewart, declared the immortal words that wur tae become imbedded intae the rich tapestry ae local folklore near the site ae the famous Battle ae Bannockburn.
“But I was only looking for one of my earrings down the side of the driver’s seat, officer,” she wailed in terror.
Chapter Seventy Two
The road wis busy aw the way fae Dumbarton intae the city. They only spotted two squad cars, sitting at junctions. The first wan wis jist efter they’d come oot ae Dumbarton. Although he kept his eyes straight aheid, Paul felt the eyes ae the two plods following the Landy convoy, as it swept past. His heart wis gaun like the clappers, bit they wur still sitting motionless at the junction as he watched them disappear in his wing mirror and the convoy made haste towards the city centre. The next wan wis sitting in a side street, jist before the Landys sped under the railway bridge at Anniesland Cross.
“Ah cannae believe it, bit we’re hame at last, Saba,” Paul sighed, as he turned left intae Maryhill Road in the Coocaddens while the other two Landys turned right aff Great Western Road and heided towards the toon centre.
“Does that mean I can sit in the front seat?”
“Naw, it disnae,” he said, awash wae relief, bit still oan guard.
Although he’d been crapping himsel aw the way intae the city, the journey hid gied him time tae work oot his next move. He hid tae get rid ae the Landy. It wid only be a matter ae time before it wis spotted. He’d looked aboot at the cars and buses crawling towards the next set ae traffic lights oan Possil Road. There wisnae any other Landys tae be seen.
“Ah’m gonnae drap ye aff at ma sister’s hoose fur a wee while, Saba,” he said tae her, as she sat oan the wheel-arch wae her legs crossed, singing alang tae Marvin Gaye’s ‘Ah Heard It Through The Grapevine,’ hivving finally managed tae get a signal fae inside the back ae the Landy.
“Why?”
“Because Ah need tae get shot ae these wheels.”
“I’ll come with you. I don’t want to be left alone.”
“Ye won’t be oan yer ain. Ye’ll be wae ma big sister. Ye’ll like her.”
“No, I need to stay with you.”
“Well, ye cannae…it’s too dangerous. Ah telt ye before, ye’ll hiv tae trust me and dae whit ye’re telt.”
“It can’t be any more dangerous than New York and I stayed there for years,” she pouted, o’er the dulcet tones ae Desmond Decker and his ‘Israelites.’
“Ah’m no gonnae argue wae ye. Whit Ah say goes. Wance ye’re oan that train south, ye kin dae whit the fuck ye want, bit until then, ye’ll dae whit Ah tell ye.”
“So, when are you going back up to the strath?” she asked.
“The morra.”
“And then?”
“And then Ah’m back doon the road the same day if Ah kin get a bus fae Ardgay back intae Inverness.”
“I’m glad you’re not intending to stay in the strath again.”
“Is that right?” he murmured, only hauf listening, as he let a van turn left in front ae him fae Keppochhill Road oan tae Saracen Street.
“I wish I’d never told you about what George did to Morven.”
“Why no?”
“Because, I feel I’ve betrayed her trust after she made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened…especially you.”
“Well, Ah widnae worry oan that score. She’ll probably never clap eyes oan me again.”
“Can I ask you a question, Paul?”
“Naw, Ah’m concentrating oan watching oot fur the bizzies.”
“Does it bother you that Morven is no longer a virgin?”
“She is a virgin.”
“Not after what that pig, George Sellar, did to her.”
“Well, maybe no tae you or anywan else, bit as far as Ah’m concerned, she is. She never gied anything away…it wis taken fae her. That makes aw the difference…at least, it dis is in ma eyes.”
“Oh Paul, that’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever heard anyone say,” Saba said, tears appearing in her eyes.
“Look, change the tune, eh? Ah don’t want tae think aboot Morven. Ah’ve goat enough oan ma plate as it is.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. And anyway, I’m sure that it’s for the best. From what I’ve gathered since I’ve been on the road with you…if you stayed in the strath, you would probably end up killing George Sellar or he would kill you, which would break Morven’s heart even more. I’d hate to see her hurt.”
“Whit? O’er me?”
“No, you fool…over the hurt that you would cause her by either being put away for the rest of your life or being dead.”
“Aye, well, Ah widnae haud yer breath oan that front. It widnae be the first so called hard-man that his tried and failed in that department,” he retorted, as Mungo Jerry belted oot ‘In The Summertime.’
Paul slowed doon and turned left intae Carlisle Street, which wis jist aff Keppochhill Road, where his sister lived. He turned first right intae Gourlay Street and parked up the Landy.
“Right, Saba, grab yer bag and let’s go. We’ll leave Wan-eye in the Landy. If we don’t, some wee toe-rag will be aff wae it before Ah get back.”
“But I want to stay with you, Paul,” Saba whinged, as they doubled back past the bowling green tae Keppochhill Road. His sister, Kathleen, stayed oan the first flair ae number three o two. Paul hid helped her and her man, Jimmy, who wis a railway porter doon at Queen Street Station, tae dae a moonlit flit tae there earlier in the year, while he wis oan the run.
“Right, noo, listen up. Ye’ll hiv tae be oan yer best behaviour. She’s no as tolerant as me. She’ll gie ye a moothful if ye gie her any cheek,” he warned her, as they turned intae the closemooth.
“Oh ma God, Paul, it’s you! Jimmy, it’s Paul!” Kathleen shouted o’er her shoulder, as Jimmy appeared fae the living room intae the hall.
“How ur ye daeing, Kathleen?” Paul said, as Saba and him entered.
“The polis hiv been turning Ma and Da’s hoose upside doon since yesterday morning, Paul. Ma’s gaun aff her heid, so she is,” Kathleen said tae his back, following them intae the living room.
“Ach, Ah widnae worry aboot that…she should be used tae that by noo. Kathleen, Jimmy, this is Saba.”
“Ooh, er, hello,” Kathleen said, no sure whether tae curtsy or no.
“Paul, kin Ah hiv a wee word wae ye, son? Ootside in the lobby…in private?” Jimmy asked him, daeing a quick exit.
Paul followed him. Jimmy hid scurried alang the lobby and wis oot oan the stair-heid landing. He pulled the ootside door o’er wance Paul came oot behind him.
“Paul, whit the fuck dae ye think ye’re playing at, bringing her here? We’ve enough oan oor plate as it is,” Jimmy’s hissing voice echoed oan the landing.
“It’s only fur a couple ae hours, Jimmy. We’ll be away before ye know it.”
“Will ye, fuck! Ah want her oot ae the hoose right noo. Ah cannae bloody believe that ye’ve brought some fancy Lord’s daughter tae ma door. The bizzies ur turning the whole toon upside doon, looking fur her.”
“Hiv they been up tae yer door?” Paul asked him.
“No yet, bit it’s only a matter ae time.”
“So, whit’s ye’re problem then? Ah telt ye…it’ll onl
y be fur a couple ae hours till Ah get her sorted oot and oan a train.”
“Ah cannae get o’er ye, ya selfish basturt, ye. Wan ae the weans is jist getting o’er the whooping cough and noo ye’re bringing trouble tae ma door?”
“Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Jimmy, haud yer wheesht. Ye wurnae saying that earlier in the year when me and ma pals wur humphing yer furniture up and doon the stairs in the middle ae the night, tae get ye away fae The Corporation, who wur aboot tae make you and yer weans homeless.”
“Don’t ye bloody start oan me, pal. Ah’ll fucking kill ye if Ah lose ma weans o’er this.”
“Jimmy, don’t make promises ye cannae keep,” Paul said dismissively, as Kathleen appeared oan the landing.
“Jimmy, get back in the hoose. In fact, ye better get gaun or ye’re gonnae be late fur yer shift,” she said tae him.
“Jist remember whit Ah said, big man,” Jimmy growled, disappearing back intae the hoose.
“Fuck you,” Paul retorted.
“Right, whit’s happening, Paul?” Kathleen asked him.
Paul explained that he needed tae leave Saba there until he goat shot ae a set ae wheels. He assured her that Saba wis there through her ain choice and that he hidnae kidnapped her, despite whit she’d probably heard. He wis putting her oan a train later and then he’d be oan his way as well.
“Look, the reason the polis hivnae been up tae oor door is because they don’t know where we live. This isnae a Corporation hoose, bit it’ll only be a matter ae time before they track us doon. The lassie kin stay as long as ye want, bit don’t ye ever hiv a go at ma man because he wants tae protect his family…hiv ye goat that?”
“Aye, Ah’m sorry, Kathleen. Ah wis oot ae order, so Ah wis.”
“Right, let’s go back in and hiv a wee chat till we find oot whit’s gaun oan. Ah’ve never spoken tae a real princess before. And she’s lovely as well. She’s playing wae the weans.”
“Aye, she’s fine, Kathleen. Ye’ll like her, bit she’s no a princess…she’s a lady.”
“Same thing,” Kathleen said wae a smile, as she pushed open the door and walked back intae the lobby.
She hurriedly grabbed a brush aff ae a shelf and brushed her hair before disappearing back intae the living room.
Chapter Seventy Three
Billy Liar slammed the phone doon oan tae the cradle and looked across at the chief inspector.
“Ye better no be aboot tae tell me whit Ah think ye’re aboot tae tell me,” Daddy Jackson growled.
“It wisnae them. It wis some local Tory getting a gobble aff ae some posh floozy in broad daylight…the dirty basturt.”
“Bit the intel wis spot oan…at least, it wis supposed tae be,” Daddy howled in frustration.
“Aye, well, that’s no aw, either.”
“Whit?”
“Wan ae Shuggie Blaster’s boys, who wis up oan a roof wae binoculars, thought he spotted some Glesga boys sniffing aboot the scene.”
“Who?”
“Danny Murphy, Peter The Plant and The Goat. He says that Paddy McPhee and that Highland chookter ur away aff tae check oot if it wis The Big Man’s crew.”
“Pat Molloy’s boys? How the heck did they know McBride wis spotted oot in Stirling?”
“Yer guess is as good as mine, bit they certainly wurnae there sightseeing up at the castle.”
“Some crooked basturt in this place his spilt the beans, so they hiv.”
“Dae ye think so? Ah mean, we’ve only jist goat the info oorsels. Who wid know, other than us? It could’ve come fae The Echo.”
“This place is like a sieve, so it is. Ah’m telling ye, if Ah catch the basturts, they’ll wish they’d never put oan a fucking uniform.”
“Aye, well, Ah’m sure we kin soon work oot who knew whit. The main thing we need tae worry aboot is, where the fuck is The Duke’s daughter?”
“Ye don’t think McBride hid anything tae dae wae this wild goose chase, dae ye?”
“Nah, Ah cannae see it. Tom Bryce, o’er at The Echo, said it came fae an unimpeachable source. Nae matter how much he disguised his voice, Ah couldnae see McBride pulling a flanker o’er their eyes…kin you?”
“Ah suppose no, bit somewan’s pulling oor strings aboot here and Ah’m gonnae bloody find oot who it is. In the meantime, ye’d better get the spotter cars tae get back oot oan tae the roads. Who dae we hiv oan the inside ae The Echo that’s reliable?”
“The Rat wid be yer man, bit Ah heard that Molloy warned him tae get oot ae toon pronto, jist efter the corruption investigation wis launched. Ah heard he’s somewhere in Australia.”
“That wee fucking rodent? Ah widnae trust that wee shitehoose tae wipe ma arse, never mind trust anything that came oot ae that mooth ae his?”
“Mary Marigold’s yer man, Daddy.”
“Right, see if ye kin rustle up any dirt oan her. If ye get anything, tell her we’ll make it worth her while, bit be careful…these journos ur no tae be trusted.”
“Right, Daddy, Ah’ll see whit Ah kin dae.”
Chapter Seventy Four
There wis nae other way tae deal wae the situation. The Big Man wis the only wan in the toon that he could affload the Landy tae quickly. Paul sat drumming his fingers oan the steering wheel. Any dealings Paul and his mates hid ever hid wae The Big Man wur usually done through Tony. Paul wisnae sure if Pat wid entertain him. He wid need tae be very careful aboot how he played his haun. He thought ae the likely scenario as he watched Wan-eye in his wing mirror, daeing a shite in the middle ae the bowling green, across the street fae the Landy. A likely option wis that The Big Man wid snatch him and haul him aff somewhere quiet and torture him tae get the information oan where The Gardener’s Daughter wis. In fact, the mair he thought aboot it, this wis likely tae be exactly whit wid happen. He watched Wan-eye finish his business and troop happily back tae the Landy and jump in across his lap, as he held open the door. Another option wid be jist tae heid straight back up tae the strath and tell Innes and Whitey the truth…that Innes’s so-called genuine gentleman wis none other than a rip-aff merchant. Mind you, that wid be admitting defeat and letting that greedy basturt ae a boat builder aff the hook. He thought aboot trying tae track doon Tony and Joe, bit that wis too risky. He thought that they’d either be somewhere up in Roystonhill or there in Springburn. The priority hid tae be in getting shot ae the Landy first, whether he sold it or no. If he dumped it and the bizzies found it, they’d know he wis back in the toon.
“Fuck it,” he said oot loud, starting up the engine.
It wis nearly two o’clock. He’d thought aboot offering Jimmy, his brother-in-law, a lift doon tae Queen Street fur his shift starting at two o’clock, bit hid decided against it. They’d jist end up arguing o’er The Gardener’s Daughter again and Kathleen wid find oot aboot it. There wisnae any mileage in it fur him if she fell oot wae him as well. He heided back doon towards the toon centre via Pinkston Road. He noticed the bustle ae people coming and gaun fae the Sighthill multi-storeys oan his left, as the smell ae the Stinky Ocean went fur his nostrils. When he reached Glebe Street, he spotted a couple ae wee boys aboot ten years auld pushing an auld sedan pram, full ae folded up sheets ae lead, across the road towards Kennedy Street. He smiled when he saw the colour ae them. They wur as black as two in the morning, covered wae the soot oot ae the lofts that they’d been using fur getting oan tae the roofs, tae get the lead aff the gutters. Wance he crossed Parly Road and looked doon in tae McAslin Street and Parson Street, he could see big patches ae waste ground, where familiar tenement buildings hid wance stood. He heided straight oan till he reached the tap ae Castle Street and then turned right, doon intae the High Street. He knew he hid tae be careful. He noticed a couple ae squad cars sitting in the casualty drap-aff point ae The Royal, beside an ambulance that still hid its blue lights flashing. His arse goat the better ae him and he turned right alang Ingram Street, tae cut through oan tae the Broomielaw, doon by the Clyde, insteid ae carrying oan doon intae the Saltmarket, as he’d pl
anned. The thought ae driving the Landy past Central wis jist too much fur him tae risk, and anyway, there wis mair lassies wandering aboot in their mini-skirts, walking back and forward fae George’s Square.
He’d made up his mind and there wis nae turning back wance he tooted the horn ootside the big shuttered doors ae The Big Man’s illegal car stripping depot in Elliot Street. Wance the doors wur up, he drove in. He recognised a couple ae the faces, bit they wur aw busy taking parts aff ae a couple ae wee fancy Mercedes-Benz Roadsters and whit looked like a hauf stripped doon Bentley.
“Fucking hell, it Scotland’s maist wanted,” Chic Shand said, walking towards him, haudin a clipboard.
“Awright Chic, how’s it gaun?”
“Dis Pat know ye’re here?”
“Ah’m jist oan ma way across tae speak tae Greasy Jake jist noo and then Ah’m heiding up tae The Carlton Club tae see him efter that.”
“And whit ur we supposed tae dae wae this piece ae shite meantime?”
“That piece ae shite is a nineteen sixty eight Series Two Landy. Whit the fuck dae ye think ye’re supposed tae dae wae it? It’s practically brand new.”
“Ah know whit it is. Who says ye kin bring it in here, eh? Jake never mentioned a Landy tae me.”
“Aye, well, as Ah said, Ah’m oan ma way across tae see him jist noo. The keys ur in it and Ah want they number plates back because they don’t belong tae me,” Paul said, grabbing a piece ae rope that wis hinging oot ae an auld oil drum that wis being used fur rubbish and tying a loop roond Wan-eye’s neck.
“That dug’s only goat wan eye.”
“Aye, Ah know.”
“He looks like a fucking pirate. Hoi, Hector, sure that dug looks like a pirate?” Chic shouted across tae Spotty Hector, wan ae The Big Man’s gunmen, who’d the worst case ae acne oan a forty year auld that Paul hid ever clapped eyes oan in his life.
“Fuck, aye…a pirate…so it dis,” The Talking Scab agreed, as Paul, wae Wan-eye in tow, exited through the wee door in the shutters and heided tae the scrap yard across the road.
The scrap yard wis the supposed legal end ae The Big Man’s car business. As Paul waited tae get across the Broomielaw, withoot getting run o’er, he looked at the tall monumental towers ae multi-stacked scrap cars, piled up behind the wall wae the barbed wire across the tap. The stacks looked like they wur squaring up tae take oan the big shipyard cranes that wur dotted alang the Clyde in the distance, aw the way tae Partick. There wur two big Alsatian guard dugs, tethered oan chains, jist inside the double gates at the front ae the yard. They started gaun ape-shit when they clocked Wan-eye heiding in their direction. Paul took a deep breath and stepped into the hut that served as an office. Greasy Jake awready knew he wis oan his way efter being buzzed by Chic.