Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2

by Todd, Ian

  Johnboy and the quiet wan hid sat in silence efter being allocated a table each. They watched the mind-bender, wae his thick black Irn Bru bottle-bottomed glasses and his pirate beard, shuffle oot some cards as if they wur aboot tae play a game ae pontoons.

  “Right, who’s first?”

  Silence.

  “C’mone, Ah hivnae goat aw day.”

  Silence.

  “Right, you, ginger nut. Aye, you, get yer arse o’er here,” the beardy wallah commanded, still shuffling the cards.

  Johnboy looked behind himsel tae make sure it wis him he wis talking tae.

  “Aye, you, ya glaikit eejit, ye. Get that arse ae yers in gear.”

  Silence.

  “Fur Christ’s sake. Ah kin see this is gonnae be a long morning. Right, you, the other wan? Whit wan ur you?”

  “Samuel Smith, sir.”

  “Aw aye, right, Smith, the orphan. Ah should’ve known yer pal sitting there wisnae a CP by the look ae him. Right, ye’ll dae. Get o’er here and plap that arse ae yers doon oan this chair in front ae me.”

  Johnboy sat there wondering whit wis gaun oan, although it wisnae aw a waste ae time. He could see oot ae the big classroom windae, o’er tae the perimeter wall that surrounded the main building. He could see the tap windaes ae double-decker buses speeding past fae right tae left and could see some hooses at the side, wae a big spiked fence backing oan tae them. Ye couldnae see this fence fae inside the rest ae the building. He remembered Tony telling him how he’d tried tae escape o’er the roof fae the yard when he’d been oan remand in The Grove in the past. Fae where Johnboy wis sitting, he reckoned that if Tony hid managed tae get o’er the wee roof, that’s where he’d hiv heided fur.

  “Right, here’s whit we dae. Ah show ye a card and ye tell me whit ye see, okay? So, here ye go,” The Wallah said, flipping o’er a card oan tae the desk.

  The orphan looked at it and said nothing.

  “Whit dae ye see?”

  “Ah don’t know.”

  “Try again.”

  “A big smudge.”

  “Naw, apart fae whit looks like a smudge, whit else dae ye see in the smudge?”

  “Black ink.”

  “Dae ye? Where?” The Wallah asked, getting interested fur hauf a second. “That’s because it is ink. That’s whit they use tae print the shape, ya dafty, ye. Try again.”

  “A drip.”

  “Ah, right, that’s a start. See, Ah telt ye it wis an easy game, eh?”

  Efter that, there wis no haudin the quiet wan back. There wis a ship, a train, vomit, spilt soup, cabbage, fireworks, a chimney, a coffin, a haun, an ear, two left feet, wire wool. You name it, he clocked it. Johnboy found himsel thinking that these eejits must’ve thought that they wur aw daft…showing them pictures ae trains and bowls ae soup and thinking they widnae be able tae tell them whit the fuck it wis they wur looking at. Efter twenty minutes, he jist aboot shot oot ae his seat like a bullet when his turn came.

  “So, ye must be Taylor then,” The Bearded Wallah said, putting away the quiet wan’s score card and notes in the bag oan the flair behind him, before shuffling the pontoon cards.

  “Right, whit dae ye see?”

  Silence.

  “C’mone,” The Wallah insisted, clearly starting tae get impatient.

  Silence.

  “So, whit dae ye see then?” he repeated.

  Johnboy peered closely at the card again.

  “A big smudge.”

  “Fur Christ’s sake!”

  “Okay, black ink then.”

  “Ur ye taking the piss oot ae me, laddie?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sitting under the shadow ae the big wall in the yard, Paul pointed oot who wis who.

  “That wee crowd, two alang fae us, ur aw the San Toi. The team oan the other side ae them ur the Baltic Fleet. O’er tae oor right, in the corner, ur the Maryhill Fleet.”

  “Aye, aw wankers,” Freckles chipped in, tossing up a stane and swiping three up aff the ground before catching the wan he’s tossed oan the way doon.

  “See that big team sitting below yer dorm windae? That’s the Cumbie crowd fae o’er in the Gorbals. Straight across the yard fae them, next tae the corridor building door, ur the Carlton Tongs, who run aboot doon beside the Barras.”

  “Another bunch ae wankers,” Freckles said, throwing the stains in the air wae the back ae his haun, aw eyes watching where they landed.

  “Whit aboot the rest ae the groups hinging aboot? Ur they aw teams as well?” Johnboy asked, noticing the quiet boy being telt tae fuck aff by wan ae the Tongs, when he went o’er and stood watching them play five stanes.

  “Ye’ve goat the Drummy fae Easterhoose, the Govan Team, the Cody fae Cranhill...”

  “Aye, that’s supposed tae mean, ‘Come On Die Young,’ the bunch ae fannies that they ur,” Minky scoffed.

  “...Blackhill Toi, who ur aw okay. We know maist ae them. A lot ae them go tae The Big Rock wae us. Then ye’ve goat a couple ae the Milton Tongs and the Possil Fleet. They’re always fighting ootside bit sit thegither when they’re in here. Who hiv Ah missed oot, Bean?”

  “There’s a couple ae the KP Star and the Rebels fae Kinning Park sitting o’er there jist up fae the Bal Toi, Bowery Young Team, Goucho fae Carntyne and the Peg fae up in Springburn. That’s the three Springburn wankers sitting o’er there. The whole gang must’ve aw goat lifted aw at wance,” Bean said, tae laughter.

  “So, dae they no aw fight in here then?” Johnboy asked.

  “Naw, they aw hate each other ootside, bit in here they hardly bother wae wan another. The San Toi and they Carlton Tongs wans hate each other though. A couple ae weeks ago wan ae the San Toi plunged a fork intae the neck ae wan ae the Carlton boys. Other than that, people tend tae stay oot ae each other’s way or jist say hello or gie each other a wee nod in passing.”

  “Aye, bit nae fucker ever comes near us. Everywan ae them his tae come intae the toon centre at wan time or another. So, if they mess wae us, they know we’ll be waiting fur them and sooner or later we’ll get oor hauns oan them,” Freckles said, letting oot a big ’Yee-hah’ efter swiping up four stanes in wan go.

  Johnboy wis jist thinking that ‘us’ must be the Shamrock, when the bottom door nearest tae the reception end opened up and a familiar fat belly, wae its shirt riding hauf way up it, appeared intae the sunlight.

  “Aye, hellorerr, ya bunch ae fuds!” Baby Huey shouted tae everywan.

  The whole yard stoapped whit they wur daeing tae turn and see whit aw the commotion wis aboot, as Baby Huey heided towards them, followed by Tottie and Patsy. Aw the Garngad and Royston crowd that Johnboy wis sitting wae burst oot laughing, alang wae hauf the yard. Johnboy could tell aw the teachers wur as sick as deid parrots aboot the trouble that hid jist entered their kingdom. Oan the way up tae where Johnboy’s crowd wis sitting, Baby wis nodding and saying, ‘Aye, aye, awright, how’s it gaun?’ cheerfully tae a lot ae the different groups. He wis obviously well-known amongst the other gangs and the teachers. When he reached Johnboy’s group, he bent o’er and lifted Chazza up oot ae his sitting place, plapping him doon tae the wan side.

  “Ur aw youse losers still here? Right, then, whose go is it?” Baby shouted, sitting doon cross-legged and snatching the five stanes aff ae Chazza before he’d the chance tae get back intae the circle tae take his turn.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chief Inspector Sean Smith looked at the faces roond the table. He wis well satisfied. Although maist ae them wid cause a fight in an empty hoose, when it came doon tae it, The Irish Brigade operated like a well-oiled machine. There wis very little that went oan in the toon that they didnae know aboot. Ralph Toner hid been offered a shift oot ae the Criminal Intelligence Department recently, bit hid declined oan the basis that there wis still a lot ae work tae be done in bringing the system and structures intae the twentieth century. The bosses upstairs hid been well impressed by his dedication and commitment. Everywan knew the intelligence department w
is where they put the haufwits oot tae pasture, tae keep them oot ae trouble, so the rest ae the force could get oan wae the business ae trying tae catch the bad guys. Aw the raw intelligence that came in fae aw the divisions in the toon passed across Ralph’s desk. It wis his job tae sift through it and cross-file it intae the maist appropriate section fur current and future use. In the two years since Ralph hid taken it o’er, it hid been like a licence tae print money. Anywan wanting embarrassing or compromising intelligence buried, paid fur it through the nose. Any ae the big boys operating in the toon, who thought they wur untouchable, gladly and thankfully paid up efter a wee visit fae wan ae the inspectors sitting roond the table. Fur those wae even deeper pockets, an accommodation could be reached in getting shot ae a rival, whether it wis tae knock oot local competition o’er some wee murky deal or tae catch some bigger fish in the process ae an armed robbery or murder…it didnae matter. Everything hid a price tag tae it, according tae the severity ae whit they wur up tae. Hivving Mickey Sherlock in the Flying Squad and Bobby Mack in the Murder Squad meant they could cover aw the heavy stuff while Colin McGregor covered The Corporation departments and Pat Curry, the cooncillors. The Chief’s job wis tae keep upstairs happy and the money flowing. The key tae their continuing success wis tae keep oan tap ae things and crush any opposition or uppity-ness swiftly and ruthlessly, no matter how irrelevant it might seem at the time. The situation up in the Toonheid hid alarm bells written aw o’er it. There wisnae any use in making a move and shooting their bolt before the full facts ae any given situation hid been carefully sifted through and dealt wae in such a manner that nae opposition wis left staunin efter the fact. The current picture wis still too blurred. He’d need tae go caw-canny. They wurnae ready fur another run-in wae Sir Frank Owen and that editor wanker ae his, Hamish McGovern, across at The Glesga Echo oan Hope Street. Everywan wis using aw their resources tae try and find oot if The Rat wis jist efter a wee local story, or if bigger fish hid entered the pool. So far, the water wis still a wee bit murky.

  “So, whit hiv ye goat, Colin?” The Chief asked fae the tap ae the table, as Pat Curry, Ralph Toner, Billy Liar, Mickey Sherlock, Daddy Jackson and Bobby Mack stoapped talking and focused their attention oan their colleague who’d been sitting looking at the contents ae his hanky fur the past two minutes efter blowing his bugle intae it.

  “We know The Glesga Echo is definitely gonnae run wae something. The Rat’s been seen scurrying aboot up in the Toonheid, aff and oan, o’er the past wee while noo.”

  “Who’s he been talking tae?” Billy Liar asked.

  “Anywan that kin add tae whitever it is he’s sniffing oot.”

  “Ah heard that the maws ae that wee bunch ae toe-rags ur talking tae him,” The Chief said, glancing aboot the faces tae see whit kind ae reaction his statement wis hivving.

  “He’s been clocked up in Montrose Street a few times…that’s where the patron saint ae warrant sales lives, by the way,” Colin said tae the others, in case they didnae awready know.

  “Is she no the wan that stormed intae yer office a wee while ago and gied ye a right good slapping?” Daddy asked, smiling.

  “Aye, she wis mouthing aff aw o’er the shoap, spouting oot aw kinds ae shite, trying tae tell me ma job. At wan point Ah thought she wis gonnae go fur me, the cow that she is.”

  “Why the fuck did ye no jist throw the bitch oot, or even better, dae her fur breach ae the peace? She widnae dae that tae me in ma station, Ah’ll tell ye that,” Pat Curry snarled indignantly, getting nods ae agreement fae the other heids roond the table.

  “Aye, well, seeing as ye hivnae hid an introduction, Ah widnae want tae put money oan that wan, Pat,” Colin replied defensively, irritation showing in that face ae his.

  “It’s aw right, Colin. Pat’s no hivving a go, ur ye, Pat?”

  “Naw, naw, Chief, Colin knows fine well Ah widnae dae that. Ah’m jist so bloody annoyed aboot whit we hiv tae put up wae nooadays. Whit happened tae auld fashioned respect, eh?”

  “So, how’s this panning oot fae where ye’re sitting, Colin?” The Chief asked, gieing him a wee nod tae continue.

  “There ur five areas that Ah think we need tae focus oan, and Ah mean quickly. The priority jist noo is that we need tae make a statement tae the papers that the fire wis definitely started deliberately.”

  “Noo, why the hell wid we dae that?” Bobby Mack asked, spreading his hauns and looking roond the table at them aw. “That’s jist asking fur trouble. Remember, the dookit sat beside the Macbrayne’s bus depot and behind Taylor’s Haulage. Ah don’t know how long they’ve been fixing and servicing engines o’er the years, bit the ground aboot there his been contaminated by petrol and diesel being dumped and spilt oan it fur decades. We must’ve picked up o’er two dozen auld oil and petrol cans that wur littered aboot the spare ground beside where the dookit stood oan, that hid been either dumped or used tae start fires o’er the years. The corrugated sheeting covering the cabin hid a quarter inch thick coating ae industrial tar plastered aw o’er the ootside ae it. At this stage, aw we know is that the fire started oan the ground flair and spread upwards. And remember, there wur two boys who died that weekend. Wan in the fire and the wan who goat himsel droont, pissing aboot up oan the Nolly. Forensics take time. How much water his passed under the bridge in the Toonheid since then, eh? There’s been nineteen hooses and nine shoaps broken intae, thirteen stabbings, two fatal, wae the odds oan that another wan will follow suit before the day is oot. Ah’m no even gonnae bother ma arse quoting the domestic violence calls we’ve hid in the past twenty four hours, as they’ll be well oot-ae-date by noo. It’s legitimate fur us tae be still investigating the causes ae baith the boys’ deaths, thus allowing the dust tae settle. Another two weeks and nowan will gie a toss. Ah’m happy tae put oot a statement saying that wan wis an accident and the other is suspicious until proved otherwise and that oor enquiries are continuing.”

  This caused murmurings and a nods fae aroond the table.

  “Bobby, fur Christ’s sake, if we don’t announce oor initial findings, even if there is nothing tae report, The Glesga Echo will. We need tae play these basturts at their ain game. Let’s no fuck aboot here. This wee ratty-arsed wan is aw o’er the place. Ye know whit he’s like. Ah say we jist announce that we’re still no sure if the wee toe-rag died as a result ae an accident, unlike his pal up in the canal, and that we’re still investigating the circumstances surrounding it. Jist because people ur paranoid, disnae mean tae say they’re wrang. If word is being maliciously spread aroond the Toonheid that somehow we wur involved in the fire, then we need tae show the community that we’re taking oan board their concerns, even if we know it’s a heap ae shite.”

  “Well, Ah wis reliably informed that the Taylor bitch and her pals urnae buying the polis involvement bit…yet,” Ralph Toner chipped in. “Although, word his reached me that she wis clocked hivving a wee cosy cup ae tea wae Pat Molloy in a café up oan Parly Road. They wur sitting there getting oan like a hoose oan fire, so they wur. That bothers me.”

  “Whit’s the other four points, Colin?” The Chief asked, getting back oan track efter letting Ralphs last point sink in.

  “We need tae make sure that we kin prove that nae stane his been left unturned in oor attempts tae try and find oot who, if anywan, torched the dookit…”

  “And whit dae ye think Ah’m awready daeing?” Mr Murder retorted.

  “…which means pouring mair plods intae the investigation. If we kin dae that, it’ll show that we’re serious and concerned and will deflect fae any accusations ae a cover-up later oan,” Colin said, ignoring the interruption.

  “Bit there isnae any cover-up,” Bobby Mack protested wae an affronted expression oan that coupon ae his. “We urnae leaving any stanes unturned, Chief.”

  “Ye don’t think that Liam Thompson or that side kick ae his, the wan wae the eyes, wur involved, dae ye, Colin?” Daddy asked, expecting and getting a quick denial.

  “Aw, fur Christ’s s
ake!” Colin exclaimed, looking at The Chief fur a bit ae support. “Despite whit aw youse might think, Liam Thompson and Big Jim Stewart hiv quite a good wee team up there, and they get results. Don’t be a bloody prick, Daddy, fur fuck’s sake.”

  “Look, Ah’m sorry, Colin. Ah’m jist wanting tae get this oot ae the way, that’s aw. It’s nae use us leaving here the day regretting no asking a question, however offensive it might sound.”

  “Number three…we need tae try and put pressure oan The Glesga Echo tae back aff. Ah’ve goat a few connections, bit no at the level that Ah’m talking aboot.”

  Everywan turned and looked at The Chief, who pursed his lips and looked doon the room at the big clock, ticking loudly oan the far wall.

  “Aye, well, noo ye’re asking me tae dip ma toes intae potentially shark-infested waters there, Colin. Wid that no tell them whit we don’t want them tae think in the first place? That we’re up tae no good…like a cover-up, fur example?”

  Aw heids swung back tae Colin.

  “That’s wan way ae looking at it, or maybe we’re saying that we need mair time tae investigate it oan the QT, given that we’ve heard that they think a rogue bizzy might be involved. Is that no legitimate? Slanting it towards the ‘we don’t want tae spook whoever may or may no hiv been involved, so we need mair time’?”