Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2

by Todd, Ian

  “Ach, it’s awright if ye’re intae heights, Ah suppose,” her maw sighed. “Ah’m still trying tae get used tae that electric cooker through there. Ah miss ma range.”

  “It’s aw mod cons ye’ve goat. Ah wish Ah hid a kitchen like yours.”

  “Aye, bit Ah miss Parly Road. There’s nae shoaps aboot here. Ye hiv tae get a bus tae buy hauf a dozen eggs, so ye dae.”

  “Aye, we miss the Toonheid,” her da sighed, looking up fae his paper.

  “Ye kin see it fae here…look,” Helen said, pointing oot the windae, trying tae lighten up their misery.

  “Noo, why wid ye put a couple ae auld gits like us oan the nineteenth flair ae a multi-storey flat? Yer poor mother hisnae been oot since we moved in. She’s scared ae the lift.”

  “Ah hiv been oot the wance, bit Ah never reached the ground flair because the bloody lift goat stuck. Ah wis in there fur aboot three hours wae hauf a dozen other auld wans. Ah thought we wur aw gonnae pish wursels by the time they rescued us.”

  “Well, Ah’ve been back doon tae The Corporation, hassling them tae get youse oot. They said it’s difficult because they’re re-housing so many folk oot ae the tenements and that it might be a while yet.”

  “Ach, we’ll be well deid before that happens,” her da harrumphed.

  “Whit aboot yersel, Helen? Whit’s happened wae a shift fur you and Jimmy?”

  “They offered us Arden and Ah telt them tae go and take a hike. They then came back wae Castlemilk. They’ve goat a new swimming pool, bit nae shoaps, so Ah knocked that back tae. They’ve telt me that we’ll need tae take the next wan they offer us, or we’ll be put oot oan oor arses. Ah think they’re trying tae move us as far away fae The Corporation offices in the toon as possible. They think it’ll keep me away fae storming doon there every other week, gieing them big laldy,” Helen replied, smiling.

  “So, whit aboot that boy ae yers then? Any word?”

  “He’s been seen aboot the Toonheid a few times o’er the past couple ae weeks. The polis hiv been up tae the door tae make sure he’s no at hame wae us. Jimmy’s been oot and aboot at night, trying tae get a haud ae him. He’s aboot somewhere.”

  “Well, somewan’s obviously feeding him or he wid’ve turned up before noo,” her maw said.

  “It’s no the feeding ae him that Ah’m worried aboot. It’s whit he’s up tae. The way he’s gaun, he’ll never get released. Ah cannae sleep at night wae the worry.”

  “Aye, he’s always been a bit flighty, that wan. Ah remember me and yer da seeing him oan Parly Road, jist before he wis put away. He wis getting chased by that creepy-looking polis wan…the wan that looks like Dracula…whit’s his name?”

  “The Stalker,” Helen and her da said thegither.

  “Aye, The Talker.”

  “It’s The Stalker. S-T-A-L-K-E-R. Fur God’s sake, she’s corned beef, that wan,” Da said, shaking his heid.

  “Anyway, it wis actually really funny when Ah think back oan it noo. The Stalker wan wis in hot pursuit ae him, tearing doon Parly Road, his legs gaun like the clappers. Johnboy’s two pals wur staunin oan the back platform ae a number forty five, egging him oan. Every time Dracula jist aboot caught up wae him, wae that ootstretched haun ae his ready tae nab him by the scruff ae his neck, his pals oan the back ae the bus wid shout, ‘Run, Johnboy, run,’ and they wee skinny legs ae his wid speed up until the next near miss. It wis like something oot ae a Charlie Chaplin film, so it wis. The funny bit, which hid everywan in the street laughing, wis efter Johnboy managed tae get oan tae the platform ae the bus. The Stalker wan hid gied up the chase. He wis bent o’er, wae his hauns oan they knees ae his, panting like an auld kettle, when the bloody bus stoapped at the traffic lights oan St James’s Road, twenty yards further doon the street. If he’d jist kept running a wee bit longer, he wid’ve goat the three ae them.”

  “Aye, well, it’s no a laughing matter noo. That Stalker and his pal, Bumper, ur a different kettle ae fish fae Liam Thompson who used tae be oan the go. This pair don’t leave their prisoners unmarked.”

  “Listen tae this,” her da said, looking up fae his paper before reading oot loud. “‘Polis in the Toonheid District ae Glesga ur trying tae establish the whereaboots ae local stable manager, forty two year auld Murtagh Punch, who hisnae been seen since gaun missing fae his office in Stanhope Street, a week ago.’ That’s a seafaring name, by the way. ‘Mr Punch took a horse and cart oot oan stable business, bit although the horse and cart returned tae the stable the same day, Mr Punch his no been seen since. Local Sergeant, Finbar O’Callaghan says that Mr Punch, who wis a well-known and well-respected member ae the community due tae his short stature and limp, hid always been obvious in his movements. Anywan wae any information should contact Sergeant O’Callaghan oan Central seven five two three four.’”

  “That’s that wee midget wan. Whit’s his name again, Helen?” her maw asked.

  “Tiny. A right wee nasty piece ae work, that wan. Ah widnae trust him as far as Ah could throw him. He’s probably fell doon a stank or something.”

  “Dis he no work fur Pat Molloy?” her da asked.

  “Aye. He took o’er fae Horsey John efter he wis killed, alang wae that poor horse, doon at the lights oan Parly Road a few years ago. He’s never hid a good word tae say aboot anywan. Him and that Napoleon wan wid’ve goat oan like a hoose oan fire.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Paul widnae leave the front door alane. Johnboy wisnae sure if it wis because Silent hid goat nabbed or if it hid anything tae dae wae his latest run-in wae Bumper and The Stalker. They’d aw been sitting singing alang tae ‘Hello Goodbye’ oan the tranny, eating a bag ae fritters fae Tony’s, the chip shoap up oan Parly Road, when Paul hid suddenly jumped up and gone oot intae the lobby.

  “It needs mair strength,” he said efter he returned, biting intae a fritter.

  “Whit dis?” Joe asked him.

  “The ootside door.”

  “Paul, they’re gonnae need a fucking bazooka tae get through that door,” Tony telt him.

  “Naw, the harder it is fur them tae get through, the mair they’re gonnae believe we’re inside.”

  “Well, it’s eleven o’clock oan a Monday night, so leave it jist noo, eh?” Joe moaned.

  “There’s nae time like the present. They basturts could be staunin oot oan that landing, ready tae kick the door doon, fur aw we know. Ah think it needs a wee bit mair strengthening. Ur any ae youse coming wae me?”

  “Where ur ye aff tae?” Johnboy asked.

  “Jist up tae the building site at the tap ae yer street.”

  Johnboy thought aboot it fur a second. They’d started tae dig massive big holes at the tap ae Montrose Street where his ma and da still lived. They’d fenced aff a big section ae the ground, where the transport hoose used tae be. Tae get intae Montrose Street fae Grafton Square noo, ye hid tae walk through a wooden tunnel. Billy Whizz, The Big Man’s runner, hid telt Johnboy that the holes wur the foundations fur a new multi-storey skyscraper, when Johnboy hid bumped intae him a few days earlier, when he’d been oot stealing milk fae ootside the College ae Hairdressing. Fae their kitchen windae in the den, they could see the fence and the scaffolding rigged up behind it. It looked quite creepy at night wae jist the wan solitary light left oan, casting shadows across the back ae the tenements.

  “Okay, Ah’ll go wae ye. Whit ur we efter?” Johnboy asked, throwing his empty fritter wrapper oan tae the fire.

  “We’ll see if we kin get a couple ae short lengths ae scaffold tae put between the door and the wall facing it. That’ll keep the pricks gaun until we manage tae get well away.”

  “Hiv we gied any thought tae whit wid happen if they came through the door the night? Where wid we run tae?” Johnboy asked everywan.

  Silence.

  “Right, masel and Joe will check oot a fall-back hoose first thing the morra. Ah never thought aboot that,” Tony said, licking the vinegar aff ae his paws.

  “Right, Johnboy, ur ye coming?” P
aul asked, heiding fur the hole in the bedroom wall next door.

  It wisnae hard tae see where they wur digging the foundations. The security light shone right doon oan tap ae them. The holes wur aboot twelve tae fifteen feet square and hid planks stretched across the corners ae them wae big wooden sheets oan tap ae the planks. Paul pushed wan ae the sheets aside and went and fetched a boulder. Johnboy wisnae too keen, staunin exposed in the glare ae the lights oan his lonesome. When Paul arrived back, they baith knelt doon beside the hole. Paul held the boulder oot in front ae him wae baith ae his hauns while Johnboy coonted doon fae three. The baith ae them cocked their heids and listened. Paul wis jist aboot tae go and find another boulder when they heard the faint echo ae a splash. Johnboy jumped back fae the gap in fright.

  “Christ, let’s go,” Johnboy whispered.

  “Fancy a dip?” Paul asked, wae a chuckle, as he pulled the board back across the hole.

  They’d jist slung two four feet long cross-spar scaffolding poles o’er the fence, intae the back court nearest tae their den, when Paul clamped his haun o’er Johnboy’s mooth. When Johnboy looked at him, wide-eyed, Paul hid his finger up tae his mooth, signalling fur him tae haud his wheesht. They scurried behind a big stack ae diesel drums that wur sitting ten feet in front ae them. It took Johnboy a couple ae minutes tae detect any sound. He heard the whispering first. If it wis The Stalker or Bumper, then they wur fucked, as they wid probably hiv reinforcements hinging aboot ootside. Paul didnae need tae tell Johnboy the routine. Whichever way Paul ran, Johnboy wid heid in the opposite direction. Johnboy watched Paul looking aboot fur a quick exit. At the far corner, nearest tae the primary school, there wis a two-wheeled compressor, sitting wae its hook-up end extended oan its wee wheel, tae gie it balance. Johnboy hid awready made up his mind tae make a run in that direction, using it as a stepping stane tae get up and o’er the fence. He’d hiv tae be careful though, as they’d built the fence hard up against whit used tae be the wee wall that separated the transport hoose garden and the school. Oan the garden side, the original wall wis aboot four feet high, bit oan the other side, it drapped doon intae the playground, twenty feet below. He looked at Paul and could tell Paul knew exactly whit his plan wis. Paul nodded his agreement. Wan ae the big double corrugated gates that the wagons used tae get in and oot slowly creaked open.

  “Listen, Johnboy. Wance they come in, we’ll make oor move. Ah’ll run across towards Grafton Square. Ah’ll try and tan the light oan the way past so that we’ll be in the dark. They’ll hiv torches, bit it’ll gie us better cover. Don’t go until Ah gie ye the nod,” Paul whispered.

  “Right,” Johnboy whispered back, as the baith ae them peered between the drums, o’er towards the main gate.

  A solitary shape appeared through the gate and stood fur aboot a minute, looking aboot. If it wis Bumper or The Stalker, then they wur in plain clothes. Whoever it wis suddenly disappeared oot ae sight. Johnboy could feel the hairs oan the back ae his neck staunin oan end. A couple ae minutes passed and then suddenly, withoot warning, the ootline ae whoever hid come through the gate, reappeared, like a dark shadow, aboot ten feet in front ae them. Through the space between the drums, they could see a pair ae dark legs staunin, no moving. It wis freezing and the baith ae them hid their hauns up, covering their mooths tae disperse the grey breath clouds that hid been leaking fae their mooths. Johnboy felt cramp slowly setting intae his right knee, bit he couldnae move a muscle. Eventually, efter whit seemed like hours, the shadow moved aff and disappeared amongst the workers’ huts and machinery. Johnboy eased aff oan his poor knee and changed position. He looked at Paul who smiled and winked back at him. Paul wis in his element. They watched Shadow Man reappear across at the gate. He popped his heid through it and spoke tae somewan. A few seconds later, The Shadow bent doon and looked tae be picking something up. Johnboy thought he wis dreaming. It looked like a pair ae legs. As The Shadow began tae walk backwards, an arse appeared, then the chest, followed by the heid and a pair ae ootstretched erms, being lifted by somewan else. Paul and Johnboy looked at each other, wondering whit the fuck wis gaun oan. The shadows then proceeded tae shunt the body across tae the sheeting that Paul hid jist replaced across the hole a few minutes earlier. As they appeared intae the light, Johnboy’s jaw jist aboot hit the ground. At the heid ae the body, Mick Murphy held oan tae the two hauns. At the other end, The Goat, wan ae The Big Man’s gorillas, who’d goat his nickname fur saying ‘Goat ye’ when he knocked people oot wae a single punch, wis carrying the feet. The body between them wis bent like a banana, apart fae the heid which wis thrown back wae it’s mooth wide open. The body still hid its gabardine coat oan, buttoned up, wae the tails ae the coat dragging alang the white frosty ground in its master’s wake. Efter staunin and looking aboot, The Goat lifted wan ae the sheets aff the supporting planks, exposing the big black barn door-shaped hole. They looked as if they wur smoking wae the amount ae white steam that wis escaping oot ae their gubs. Mick stepped tae the edge ae the hole, looked doon and spat intae it. He then turned, nodded tae The Goat, and lifted up the hauns ae the body at the same time as The Goat lifted the legs. They swung the body forward and let it swing back. Oan its return, the baith ae them let it go. Two sets ae ears o’er at the hole and the two behind the oil drums wur cocked, listening fur the splash, which came efter aboot twenty seconds. It hid been a lot louder than Paul’s splash wae the boulder, bit no as loud tae disturb people in the hooses oan the Grafton Square side ae the fence. Mick and The Goat hidnae fucked aboot. Wance the body disappeared, The Goat replaced the sheet and they heided fur the exit. Paul and Johnboy sat shivering fur another ten minutes, no moving or saying anything. Wance they felt the coast wis clear, they nipped o’er the fence, picked up the scaffolding poles and heided fur the den.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  “They’ve jist recovered the body,” Bumper informed Colin, the inspector, who wis sitting behind a mountain ae paperwork oan his desk.

  “Aye?”

  “Aye, it wis a right pig tae get oot. The diver boys wur in their element getting tae use their ropes and tackle fur a change.”

  “Is that right? And where’s the body noo?”

  “The forensic crowd hiv jist finished at the scene, so it’ll probably be oan it’s way doon tae the morgue as we speak,” The Stalker volunteered, taking a seat.

  “Aye, and it wisnae far fae his hoose either.”

  “Dae ye think that it wis accidental?”

  “Obviously the post mortem will confirm either way, bit he wis in a bit ae a mess. Ye widnae hiv recognised him if ye didnae know who it wis. He wis lying face doon, bloated and floating oan tap ae the water. It looked like the rats hid goat tae him.”

  “Aye, bit in your opinion, dae ye think that it wis accidental?”

  “There wis a car battery, wae a cable running aff ae it, attached tae a nail oan wan ae the posts, wae a light bulb oan the end ae it. He’d tied a rope tae wan ae the rafters and used it tae lower himsel doon intae the tank, tae access the lead sheeting above the water line. Ye could see where he’d stripped the tank roond the tap ae it. The rope that he’d used tae lower himsel intae the tank wis still attached tae a rafter and wis frayed at the same level as a big ragged strip ae lead that wis jutting oot. It wis razor sharp. A blind man wid be able tae suss oot that Tiny fucked up big-style this time. The daft basturt hid a spare rope wae him as well, bit hid obviously decided no tae sling that intae the tank as a back-up, the diddy. It probably cost him his life.”

  “Aye, mountaineering is no as easy as it looks, so it’s no,” The Stalker drawled.

  “Whit aboot the wee boys that found him?”

  “Two ten year aulds, probably looking tae strip the lead oot ae the tank themsels, although they’ve denied that. They said they wur jist playing in the area and popped in tae see whit wis in the water tower.”

  “Press?”

  “The usual crew fae The Glesga Echo, Evening Times and Evening Citizen. Ah overheard Bobby Mack tellin
g them it looked like an unfortunate accident and that he’d release a statement later, wance they’d conducted the post mortem.”

  “Oh well, it couldnae hiv happened tae a better person. Everything that wis ever nicked within a four mile radius ae the stables passed through that wee shitehoose’s hauns o’er the past fifteen years. Nae doubt, the usual crocodile tears will be spilt at his funeral, saying how much he loved and wis loved by everywan.”

  “We managed tae get doon tae his hoose and turn the place o’er before the CID boys goat there. There wis nae sign ae any casino chips, although he hid plenty ae bookie stubs. As well as no being able tae climb very well, he wisnae much better oan the nags either.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Mick Murphy and his driver, The Goat, turned up in a fancy big Jag. Murphy wis pissed as a fart and wanted tae know whit the score wis. We telt him nothing, bit Ah clocked that Swinton McLean fae The Evening Times gieing him the lowdoon. Where the fuck dae they get aw these names fae? Who ever heard ae calling their wean Swinton?” Bumper asked, as The Inspector and The Stalker laughed.

  “So, anything oan that manky crew fae Thistle Park?”

  “Well, the mute telt us nothing, despite squashing they baws ae his between ma clamps,” Bumper said, demonstrating his vice-like grip by clasping and un-clasping they huge hauns ae his.

  “Efter we leave here, we’re heiding up tae The Corporation tae pick up the maist recent list ae empty hooses fur the bottom end ae McAslin Street. Ma money is still oan them being doon that end ae The Toonheid, so it is,” The Stalker said.

  “So, whit ur yer plans wance ye identify where they ur then?” The Inspector asked.

  “Depending oan the location, we’ll try and storm the place. Ah don’t want tae dae anything that disnae get the four ae them in the wan swoop. Ah’d rather see where they ur and work oot something wance we know whit we’re up against. It’ll need mair than the two ae us though. They’re aw big hairy-arsed boys noo. We widnae want tae tackle the four ae them withoot back-up.”