Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2

by Todd, Ian

  “How dae ye know aw this, Tony?” Johnboy asked.

  “Mad Philip telt me. He used tae tell me aw the stories fae the auld days, aboot whit they goat up tae during the war, when Ah ran messages fur them and put lines oan doon at the bookies in Queen Street, when Ah wis dogging primary school.”

  “Erchie’s place is like Fort Knox, and that’s jist tae get a letter posted through his letterbox,” Paul said tae Silent.

  “So wis the Murphys’ loft, bit it didnae stoap us fae tanning that, did it?” Johnboy said tae laughter.

  “We’ll nip roond and suss oot Erchie efter we’ve been tae see The Big Man the morra.”

  “We?” Paul asked.

  “Johnboy kin come wae me tae keep me company,” Tony replied, smiling.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  They stood looking aboot, checking oot the best escape route tae get oot ae the building in wan piece, should things go wrang. Johnboy hid chosen tae turn right when they came oot. That wid take him alang the lane and through the side entrance tae Queen Street Station. If he didnae get lost in the crowd, at least he widnae get murdered in front ae the passengers coming aff the ten fifteen fae Aberdeen if he goat nabbed. Tony wid heid left and nip across George’s Square and alang Cochrane Street, still within eyeshot ae witnesses gaun aboot their business. Hanover Lane wis wan ae they lanes that nowan took any heed ae, apart fae those in the know. It wis dark and narrow, wae cobbled stanes running its length. The pavement oan either side ae it wis only aboot twelve inches wide. Even oan a bright sunny day, it wis always dark due tae the closeness ae the buildings. A car wid jist manage tae crawl through it withoot touching the pavement oan either side ae it. Even though it offered people a shortcut between North Frederick Street and North Hanover Street tae Queen Street Train Station, it always looked deserted. If somewan wis tae hing aboot long enough, they’d clock people heiding roond the long way via George Street tae get tae the train station, rather than pass through the lane. Whit people didnae realise wis that is wis probably the safest place in the toon centre fur no getting mugged. Nowan wid be stupid enough tae mug somewan in Hanover Lane, in case they wur hitting wan ae The Big Man’s high rollers.

  “Ah wonder how many people hiv come flying doon here heid first?” Tony grimly asked Johnboy, as they climbed the steep, narrow, curved stairs tae the second flair entrance ae The Carlton Club…the hub ae The Big Man’s business empire.

  “Boys, look who’s jist come tae pay us a wee visit? If it isnae Ali Baba and wan ae his four thieves,” The Big Man chimed happily tae the Murphy brothers, who wur sitting beside him in a seating alcove, below a haun painted wall mural ae some wummin flashing her left tit, who wis sprawled oot oan a wan-ermed couch.

  “Hellorerr, Pat…ye wur wanting a wee word?”

  “Aye. Ah jist wanted tae see how ye’re daeing?” The Big Man replied, wiping some cigar ash aff ae his club tie oan tae the pile ae notes that wur sitting oan the table in front ae them, being coonted by the Gorilla Brothers.

  He hidnae changed o’er the years since Johnboy first met him. He still looked like Desperate Dan’s twin brother.

  “We’re daeing fine, Pat, jist fine.”

  “Well, grab wan ae they chairs and come and join us. You tae, Johnboy. How’s that wee maw ae yers daeing? Ah hivnae seen her attacking anywan fae The Corporation fur a while noo.”

  “Ah don’t know. The last time Ah saw her wis when Ah wis up in court a good few months ago.”

  “Oh, aye, Ah heard youse wur oan the run. Where ur ye crashing then?”

  Silence.

  “They don’t fucking trust ye, Pat, so they don’t,” Mick slurred, hauf-cut at ten in the morning.

  “Aye, well, it pays tae be careful, so it dis. Ah kin understaun that.”

  “Aye, bit if ye cannae trust yer friends, who kin ye trust, eh?” Danny, Mick’s twin asked.

  “Here and there, Pat. We’re in-between abodes…ye know whit it’s like,” Tony replied, encouraging them tae move oan.

  “Ur ye still breaking intae poor people’s dookits then?” Skull’s killer sneered.

  “No since everywan and his dug ended up wae their ain quality Horsemen Thief Pouters,” Tony replied innocently.

  Johnboy felt that sphincter ae his instantly stretching tae within a baw-hair ae snapping. He couldnae believe whit Tony hid jist come oot wae. He wondered if he wis imagining things.

  “Whit wis that? Whit did he jist say?” The mad drunken basturt snarled, as four sets ae eyes aw instantly narrowed intae slits.

  “There’s nothing tae be made fae doos these days. Everywan kin get whit they’re efter, so they kin,” Tony added, as he plapped his arse doon oan a chair while Johnboy grabbed the wan oan the outer circle, nearest the door, feeling twitchy.

  “Aye, that’s why Ah goat oot ae that business,” The Big Man sighed wistfully.

  “Ah don’t want tae be cheeky, Pat, bit we’ve goat tae go and see somewan aboot a wee bit ae business, if ye know whit Ah mean?” Tony said, still pushing the conversation in the direction that wid allow them tae get tae fuck oot ae the place.

  “Ha, Ha, ye’re still a cheeky wee basturt, Tony. That’s why Ah like ye.”

  “Aye, whit wis aw that shite aboot between yer toe-rag pals and Billy Whizz yesterday?” Shaun asked, speaking fur the first time.

  Silence.

  “Right, let’s get doon tae business. We widnae want tae keep the boys away fae making an honest illegal buck, noo wid we?” The Big Man announced cheerfully, clearly getting fed up wae being interrupted at his favourite past-time ae counting dosh.

  “We need a wee two-minute job done,” Shaun said.

  “Tae be honest, Shaun, we’re up tae oor eyes the noo, trying tae keep wan step aheid ae The Stalker and Bumper, as well as trying tae make a bob here and there,” Tony replied apologetically.

  “Fur fuck’s sake, ye don’t think we want ye tae dae this wee favour fur nothing, dae ye?”

  “Aye, Ah know, bit…”

  “Ye hivnae even asked whit it is that Pat wants, so whit’s the problem, eh?”

  Silence.

  “Look. As Shaun’s jist said, it’s a two-minute job. Ah jist want ye tae pick up a wee package. It’s a piece ae pish fur the likes ae youse, so it is. Whit dae ye say?”

  “Whit is it?”

  “Right, whit day is it? Oh, aye…Wednesday. Oan Friday night, there’s a black Volvo twelve hunner S that’s goat a wee square black leather briefcase sitting in it. It’s gonnae be parked in the lane opposite The Chevalier Casino, at the tap ae Buchanan Street. It’ll be there fae aboot hauf ten oanwards. Whit Ah want fae you, is tae get a haud ae that briefcase…or mair importantly, tae get me the blue folder that’s in it. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Ah don’t want tae cheeky, Pat, bit if it’s that simple, why kin Mick or Danny here no go and get it fur ye?”

  “Because he wants youse tae go and get it, that’s why, ya cheeky wee basturt, ye,” Shaun shouted, nearly making Johnboy deaf in wan ear.

  “We cannae be seen tae be anywhere near it, that’s why,” The Big Man said quietly.

  “Whit if it’s no there then?”

  “Tony, don’t ye worry aboot that, son. It’ll be sitting in that car…guaranteed.”

  “Whit’s in it fur us?”

  “Twenty quid.”

  “And it’s a blue folder ye’re efter?”

  “Aw Ah want is the blue folder. If there’s a green, orange or a fucking tartan wan, ye kin dae whit ye want wae it. Aw Ah want is that blue folder. Ah’m no interested in anything else. Jist deliver that blue folder tae me…in person.”

  “So, ye’re asking us tae tan in a car windae, efter ten oan a Friday night, opposite The Chevalier? That could be dodgy, so it could. The toon centre’s usually hoaching wae bizzies at that time ae night. The pubs will jist hiv emptied.”

  “Shaun?” The Big Man said.

  “Here, use this,” Shaun said, throwing whit looked like a wee fat pen oan tae the tab
le, which landed wae a clunk.

  Tony didnae make a move, ignoring the pen.

  “It’s an automatic centre-punch. It’s used oan metal. Ye jist press it against a car windae and it’ll shatter it intae a thousand pieces withoot making a sound,” The Big Man said, as Tony leaned across and picked it up, haunin it tae Johnboy, withoot looking at it.

  “Twenty quid fur a blue folder?”

  “Aye.”

  “We’ll need a tenner up front.”

  “Here ye go,” The Big Man said, peeling aff two blue five pound notes fae the stack in front ae him.

  “And anything else in the car is oors, apart fae the blue folder?”

  “Aye.”

  “Right, let’s go, Johnboy,” Tony said, staunin up and pocketing the money, as Johnboy followed him towards the exit.

  “Aye, aye, Tony. We heard youse wur back oan the go, so we did,” Philip Thompson, known tae aw and sundry in the toon as ‘Mad Philip’, said as they entered the cobbler’s shoap in Shuttle Lane, jist aff the High Street.

  “Hellorerr, Philip, how’s it gaun?”

  “No bad, no bad,” Mad Philip said, as he shaved the side ae a screaming heel against the electric shoe grinder.

  “Kin Ah hiv a shot, Philip?” Johnboy asked him.

  “Aye, here ye go, Johnboy, here ye go. If it smokes, ye’re pressing too hard,” he said, slinging the shoe’s twin o’er tae Johnboy.

  “Brilliant!”

  Johnboy wis suddenly engulfed in a cloud ae screeching, burning smoke, as soon as he touched the wheel wae the shoe.

  “Ha, ha…it’s no as easy as it looks, eh? No that easy, so it’s no,” Philip laughed.

  “Is Erchie aboot, Philip?”

  “Aye, aye, Ah think so. Haud oan a minute,” he chortled tae himsel, disappearing.

  “Johnboy, ye’ve jist ruined some poor basturt’s shoe,” Tony laughed.

  “Aye, Ah know,” Johnboy replied, slipping the shoe wae its forty five degree angled heel under the perfect wan that Phil hid jist lay doon.

  “Jist go through, boys.”

  “Cheers, Philip.”

  Erchie The Basturt wis staunin wae a glue-stained apron oan, surrounded by aboot a hunner shoe soles. The stench ae glue made Tony and Johnboy light-heided. Erchie wis wee…aboot four feet nothing, fattish, bald and wore bottle-bottomed horn-rimmed glasses. He didnae look much, bit wis as lethal as a black mamba wance he rolled they sleeves ae his up. If he did that, ye knew it wis time tae run like fuck. It wis Erchie that hid haun-made Calum Todd, The Big Man’s runner’s running shoes, fur free, when he competed and won the bronze in The British Empire and Commonwealth Games in Jamaica in nineteen sixty six.

  “Tony, ya thieving wee toad, ye.”

  “Awright, Erchie? Whit ur ye daeing sniffing glue at your age, eh?”

  “There wis a time Ah used tae hiv tae go and lie doon when Ah used this stuff. Sometimes Ah’d be lying there, thinking Ah’d better get back tae work as ma five minute tea break wis up, only tae discover six hours hid flown past,” Erchie said as they laughed. “Noo, Ah don’t take a break. Time passes too quickly.”

  “How come ye’re putting the glue oan and then letting it dry oot?” Johnboy asked, picking up a sole and gently dabbing the glue wae his fingertips.

  “Ye kin leave it fur aboot an hour. As soon as ye stick it oan tae a shoe, it sticks like iron, even though it’s touch dry. Anyway, whit ur youse pair ae chancers efter?”

  “We wur wanting a wee bit ae advice…in private…if that’s okay, Erchie?”

  “Whit kind ae advice?”

  “Whether ye’re the right person fur us tae place an order wae or no,” Tony replied.

  “Right, follow me. Johnboy, pull the door doon behind ye,” Erchie said, lifting up a trap door oan the flair and stepping doon through it. Wance they goat doon tae the next flair level, he lifted up another trap door.

  “Same again, Johnboy.”

  Efter reaching the second underground level, it wis like walking intae the armoury at The Alamo. The room wis aboot five times the size ae the living room that the boys wur kipping in up in McAslin Street. It hid a glass fronted coonter roond three walls, which wis stowed-oot wae boxes ae cartridges. Up oan two walls, there wis every kind ae haungun ye could think ae, while the third wis stacked fae the flair tae the ceiling wae rifles and shotguns. There wis even a harpoon oan display. Where the fourth wall should’ve been, there wis an opening oan tae a firing range, complete wae the paper baddies that ye’d see in the films.

  “Before we start, it’ll be cash in haun?”

  “That’ll be dependent oan whit’s oan offer,” Tony replied.

  “Right, o’er here,” Erchie said, walking o’er tae the furthest part ae the room fae the door, where there wis a wee alcove.

  “Is this the cheapo section then?” Johnboy asked him.

  “This is the early twentieth century tae the forties section, which might or might no be within yer budget. So, whit ur ye efter then, Tony?”

  “Something simple wae nae frills.”

  “Okay, here we go then. At the tap there, ye’ve goat a German Walther P-thirty-eight, nine millimetre auto. This wis the wan the Jerries used during the last war…the German PO eight Luger beside it isnae fur sale, by the way.”

  “Is that a real Luger then?” Johnboy asked, impressed.

  “Aye. People always assume that aw the Jerries ran aboot wae them in the Second World War, bit they didnae. It wis standard issue in the first war though. Here’s a reasonable wan ye might want tae consider. It’s a Russian Nagant revolver, model eighteen ninety five. It’s an awkward basturt, bit will dae the job. It wis chambered fur the seven point six two thirty eight R cartridge, which is essentially a point thirty calibre round, so it’s a bit smaller in the bullet diameter than the nine millimetre. Tae the left ae that, is yer standard Smith and Wesson point thirty eight revolver. This is whit a lot ae the cops in America ur issued wae. Everywan knows aboot them fae watching the movies, so they’re always popular.”

  “So, whit wan wid ye go fur then, Erchie?”

  “It aw depends oan whit ye’re wanting tae dae wae it. Ma favourite, when Ah wis younger, wis the Colt thirty eight calibre revolver. This wan up here is a snub-nosed revolver dubbed ‘The Detective Special’. The polis in America tooled themsels up tae the gunnels wae them in the forties and fifties. It only his a two inch barrel, making it an ideal back-up or if ye’re carrying it aboot, it’s easily concealed. Ah get them through they Yankee sailors that ur stationed o’er at the Holy Loch. That’s whit Ah wid use. It shouldnae let ye doon, as long as ye keep it clean. Dae ye want a wee shot ae any ae these oan the firing range?”

  “Kin Ah get a shot ae that harpoon that’s hinging up oan the wall, Erchie?” Johnboy asked him.

  “Ha, ha, ye’re a good wan, so ye ur, Johnboy.”

  “We’re no sure if we’re buying Erchie, at least, no fae you.”

  “Why? Whit the hell’s wrang wae me then?”

  “It’s nothing tae dae wae you or Philip. We might hiv tae use it too close tae hame fur comfort, that’s aw.”

  “Look, Tony, Ah’m no in the business ae knowing whit goes oan oot in that big bad world oot there. In fact, Ah don’t want tae know. That’s why Ah’ve been gaun fur as long as Ah hiv.”

  “We need tae deal wae a drunken psycho wae an Irish tag attached tae him,” Tony volunteered.

  Erchie pursed his lips and whistled silently under his breath and looked fae Tony tae Johnboy and back tae Tony.

  “It’s none ae ma business, bit ur ye no a wee bit young tae be taking oan a hit fur somewan who’ll probably be sitting at hame wae his feet up while youse take aw the risks?”

  “This isnae fur somebody else, Erchie. This is tae dae wae us,” Tony confessed.

  “Okay, Ah’ll rephrase that. Dae ye no think a kick in the baws wid suffice? Ah mean, shooting somebody fur punting ye a dookit that wis aboot tae be demolished seems a bit stiff, dis it no?” Erchie asked wae
a faint smile oan his lips.

  Silence.

  “Dae ye remember Skull Kelly?” Tony finally spoke.

  “Mick Kelly’s boy? The wan that goat frizzled in the cabin a few years back?”

  “Aye, well he wis oor best pal.”

  “So?”

  “Well, we’ve goat proof fae the horse’s mooth that it wis Mick Murphy that burned the place doon. He knew fine well that wan ae us wid be in it when it went up.”

  “And The Big Man? Where is he in aw this?”

  “Seemingly, he never gied the order. In fact, he never knew anything aboot it.”

  Silence.

  “Right, Ah’ve heard too much awready. Ah don’t want tae know anymair. Whit’s it tae be?”

  “If ye’re willing tae sell us that wee snub-nose, we’d appreciate it, although we’d understaun if ye didnae,” Tony said, haudin his breathe.

  “Ah knew Mick Kelly when Ah wis younger. We ran aboot wae each other. He wis a decent guy before Shaun Murphy and his brothers goat their hauns oan him. Ah want fifty five quid, cash in haun up front, plus ye’ll pay fur any ammo and a cleaning kit oan tap. There’s nae negotiation, although Ah’ll gie ye a good disposal deal.”

  “Whit dis that mean?” Johnboy asked.

  “Ye’ll gie me an extra twenty five oan its return, which will cover me fur disposal. Ye widnae want that gun tae turn up unexpectedly in the future.”

  “Sounds good enough tae me,” Tony said, shaking Erchie The Basturt’s haun.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Why don’t ye nip doon and speak tae her then, Johnboy?” Tony asked, startling Johnboy as he snatched his fingers away fae the windae pane.

  “Because she’d probably knock fuck oot ae me…that’s why,” Johnboy replied, smiling, as they looked doon at Johnboy’s ma, who wis speaking wae Maisa, Sherbet’s wife, ootside the shoap.