by Todd, Ian
“Welcome tae oor world,” The Stalker remembered Bumper saying tae Fitz as Fitz demolished a chair in the squad room by smashing it against the wall.
That hid been Fitz’s first introduction tae Tony Gucci, Paul McBride, Joe McManus, Johnboy Taylor and the quiet mute, Samuel Smith, who’d jist arrived oan the scene, oot ae the blue. They’d aw been aged between thirteen and fourteen-years-auld at the time and hid still hid a long way tae go before they’d become involved in the murder ae wan ae Glesga’s tap gangsters. Tae gie Fitz his due, it hid been acknowledged within Central that it hid been doon tae Fitz’s persistence and determination that the polis hid eventually managed tae suss oot and detect how the manky basturts hid still been managing tae body-swerve the surveillance. Efter the humiliation and challenge fae Gucci and his wee manky-arsed crowd, Fitz hid become a man possessed and obsessed, so he hid. Needless tae say, the other two newspapers, The Evening Times and The Glesga Echo, who hidnae been in oan the exclusive ae getting tae be up oan the roof wae the car-blagging squad, hid hammered Fitz’s team. The Evening Times hid run wae ‘CARBUNCLE’ whilst The Glesga Echo hid hid ‘CAR-BUNGLERS’ splashed across their front pages. Efter the heidlines, it hid gone quiet fur aboot a week tae ten days, and then the blaggers hid come back as if nothing hid changed. A few cars hid started tae get their windaes tanned here and there and the contents ae the back seats, alang wae their radios swiped. Then the cars themsels hid started tae disappear. The thefts in the toon centre overall hid still been doon, bit it soon became clear tae aw and sundry that somewan or some crowd wur jist carrying oan as if the costly anti-crime initiative wis aimed at somewan else and no them. Eventually, efter aboot two months ae sleepless nights and scratching that heid and arse ae his, Fitz hid goat the break he’d been praying fur. By a stroke ae luck, Fitz hid been up oan the roof, gieing wan ae the spotters a break, when he’d clocked a wee red Ford Escort parking up oan a bit ae spare ground that wis being used as a temporary car park at the tap ae North Hanover Street. The Escort hid stoapped fur a few minutes, engine idling, withoot anywan getting oot ae the car and hid then driven aff again. It hid been while it wis sitting stationary that Fitz hid thought he’d caught a reflection fae the sun aff ae wan ae the back side windaes ae the car. It hid been aw o’er in a flash, so tae speak, and hidnae made any impression oan him at the time. Wance the car hid moved aff, something hid kept niggling at him aboot how the sun hid managed tae beam aff the back passenger windae, given that he’d no clocked anywan stepping oot ae the vehicle. Aboot an hour later, the car hid come back tae the same car park, edging its way roond the makeshift road, looking fur a parking space. Fitz and Big Bob Bleacher hid baith followed it through their binoculars. It hid stoapped, and then reversed in wan swift movement intae a space. It hid been too perfect. Even fae where Fitz and Big Bob hid been lying watching, they could see that the parking space itsel wis as tight as a nun’s fud. Whoever hid been driving that red Escort hid been jist a tad too cocky in parking a brand new car…unless they didnae gie a fuck...because it didnae belong tae them. Fitz hid said later that he’d been dying tae scratch his arse as the sweat hid been trickling doon between his crack, bit he’d been scared tae breathe, let alone tae turn roond and poke his middle finger up his bum.
“There! Did ye catch him, Bob?” he’d squealed at Big Bob lying beside him.
“Aye, Ah bloody well did that, Fitz. Ah’ll jist gie Beanpole a shout oan the radio.”
“Naw, naw, leave it. Let the fuck-pigs go. They’ll be back. Ah want tae watch this fur a wee while yet tae see whit else they get up tae,” Fitz hid said gleefully, rolling o’er oan tae his back, thanking God, who he didnae believe in, as the red car took aff oot ae its parking space and drove aff doon Cunningham Street towards Dundas Street.
Baith Fitz and Big Bob hid clocked a fleeting glimpse ae Johnboy Taylor’s carrot-red heid, appearing fae underneath a parked car beside the Escort, before quickly slipping oot fae under it and in tae the back seat ae the Escort. It hid looked like he wis dragging a broon sack behind him. Sure enough, throughoot the rest ae that day, as owners returned tae their cars, Central reported that they’d received calls that eleven cars hid been broken intae in that wan car park alone. O’er the next ten days, Fitz and his team hid tracked suspicious cars as soon as they arrived. They’d built up a picture and hid identified Gucci, McBride, McManus, Taylor and Smith as the culprits. They wid arrive, sometimes in two freshly stolen cars and park up. Wan ae them, who wid be in the back, wid slip oot ae the back door and crawl under the cars adjacent tae the wan they’d arrived in. The driver wid then piss aff fur aboot an hour and then return and park up in the same row as he’d parked in earlier. Fitz hid reported that aw ae them hid taken turns ae driving. Within a few minutes ae parking up, the blagger wid crawl towards the parked car that hid jist arrived tae pick him up and slip in, usually carrying a bag ae goodies, and that wis that. Two attempts at cutting them aff and arresting the basturts hid failed, bit the fact that everywan knew who it wis that wis daeing aw the damage hid been enough. At that time, Gucci’s crowd hid aw been oan the run fae various approved schools. When they’d eventually been caught, they’d aw been charged wae car theft and breaking intae cars. As they’d awready been daeing time in approved schools, aw the charges against them hid eventually been drapped, much tae Fitz’s irritation. Fur him, it hid meant aw the angst and grief hid been fur nothing. He'd gone through aw that humiliation and sleepless nights tae finally catch the bad guys, or boys, as it hid been in this case, only tae find oot that nothing could be done tae them and the wee basturts hid jist laughed at him. Then, tae add insult tae injury, Fitz hid bumped intae Gucci in wan ae the corridors doon in Central, jist as Gucci wis being escorted back tae whitever approved school he’d absconded fae.
“Ach, never mind...there’s always another day, eh?” fourteen-year-auld Tony Gucci hid sneered at him.
“That’s me finished, son,” an auld wummin, dressed fae heid tae toe in black said tae him, walking away fae the confession box towards the exit.
“Aw, right, cheers, hen,” The Stalker replied, blinking and looking aboot, slightly confused, as he tried tae remember where he wis.
His eyes followed the auld wummin as she disappeared oot ae the front door ae the chapel tae the sound ae horns honking and buses driving past, oot oan Saracen Street.
“Er, I haven’t got all day, you know, Paddy,” Father John said, sticking his heid oot ae his side ae the confessional booth.
“Furgive me father fur Ah hiv sinne…” The Stalker hid jist started saying tae the screen in front ae him, when he wis interrupted.
“Look, never mind that just now, Paddy. I believe Superintendent Jackson has had a wee word in your ear?”
“Er, aboot whit?” The Stalker asked, astonished, and no believing fur wan minute that Father John wid be hitting him fur information.
“About getting the gen on you know who?”
“Who?”
“Taylor...Helen Taylor...The Townhead Tart.”
“Oh, er, like, whit it is it ye’re efter, Father?”
“Dirt.”
“Eh?”
“You heard.”
“Ye want dirt? Whit kind ae dirt?”
“Intel.”
“Father, ye’re speaking a different language fae me, so ye ur. Ah don’t want tae appear as being thick, bit could ye be a bit mair, er, specific, like?”
“I want everything you’ve got on that shameless hussy,” the lilting, Southern Irish voice rasped, fae behind the screen.
“Well, Ah kin tell ye right aff the tap ae ma heid, that despite whit other people might’ve led ye tae believe, she hisnae goat aw that much form. Apart fae a few fines fur no sending her boys tae school when they wur snappers and a few breach ae the peace arrests during warrant sale demos o’er the years, which landed her a stint oan remand, which she wis eventually found not guilty ae, that’s aboot it.”
“Ach, sure and I know all that, Paddy. What I want is the inte
lligence reports...the ones that have been written up about her and her carry-ons, going back the last twenty years.”
“Ye’re talking tae the wrang man here, Father. Aw that kind ae shite gets kept under lock and key doon in Central. Daddy Jackson is yer man if ye want that kind ae stuff, so he is.”
Silence.
“Er, ur ye still there, Father?” The Stalker whispered at the screen, no too sure if the priest hid done a runner oan him.
“I’m still here, Paddy. Now, listen up, I don’t have all day. Daddy just can’t stroll in and gain access to that file because he has no reason to. He would have to sign his name in a register against wanting access to it. For you, as the local investigating officer and inspector up here in Springburn, it’s different. No one would question your legitimacy later on if it ever came up, now would they… my son?”
“Investigating officer? Fur whit? She hisnae done anything wrang, as far as Ah kin see?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Paddy! Make something up…you’re a policeman after all,” the priest hissed.
“Look, Ah’m no trying tae be funny or awkward here, Father, bit dae ye no think this is aw kinda, er, strange…you being a priest and aw that… if ye know whit Ah mean?”
“What is?”
“Y’know, aw this behind closed doors kinda thing.”
“All what?”
“Aw this subterfuge or whitever they call it. You, me, us, whispering in here in the confessional and aw that.”
“Paddy, everyone whispers in the confessional box.”
“Well, whit Ah mean is, Ah’m no that sure God wid approve, no that Ah’m hivving a go, mind ye, bit it dis seem a wee bit, er, well, dodgy, if ye know whit Ah mean?”
“Oh, for Christ almighty, Paddy! I’m not here to discuss with the likes of you, the rights and wrongs of what is and what is not required. I’m here on legitimate mother church business, under instruction by a higher authority than you or I. Now, what I require is the intelligence requested by this Thursday at the latest. Are you implying that it may not be available?”
“Naw, Father, Ah wis jist asking fur clarifi…”
“Good, then I expect to see you at this confession box at the same time on Thursday. Now, don’t be late...God doesn’t wait for anyone,” the priest warned him.
The Stalker heard Father John step oot ae the confession box oan the priest’s side ae the screen and his footsteps fading in the distance.
The Stalker turned his heid and glanced up at the pained expression oan the face ae Jesus, hinging oan the crucifix, nailed tae the wall above his heid.
“Aye, you and me baith, pal,” he sighed, staunin up and drawing o’er the curtain.
Chapter Forty Three
Helen sighed, took another sip ae her tea and reached fur her fags. Wance lit up, she crossed her legs so that her right ankle rested oan tap ae her left knee. She peered closely at her fit, tracing her finger alang the hard-calloused edge ae her heel. There wur two ae the angry wee bulbous craters, sitting, quite the thing, raring tae hiv a go. She looked across at the perpetrators, a pair ae red high heels, sitting feigning innocence in the corner ae her kitchen, tucked in behind the door. Sliding the tip ae the fag between her lips and shutting her left eye tae avoid being blinded by the spiralling blue smoke, she used the side ae baith thumbs tae prise open the thin tin ae Elastoplasts that hid been sitting oan the table beside her. She peered at the contents, using her index finger tae poke and separate the clump ae plasters, until she spotted whit she wis looking fur. Nae point in using two when wan wid dae, she thought tae hersel, lifting oot wan ae the two longest wans in the tin. She swithered whether tae get a needle tae lance the blisters, bit decided that they wurnae big enough tae warrant a full frontal assault. She remembered her Aunt Jeannie telling her when she wis a wean, limping efter her roond the streets in her new red sandals, that if they wur the size ae sultanas, then ye went fur them, taking nae prisoners oan the way, bit until then, ye jist kept an eye oan them. In Helen’s case, she didnae need tae keep an eye oan them as the eight and a hauf stone pressing doon oan the pair ae torturers hid telt her they wur alive and kicking as she’d hobbled aboot the streets aw day. She’d been fair chuffed wae Harry Bertram daeing her hair though. Aw the lassies hid said she looked like Sophia Loren wae red hair. Luckily, she’d managed tae get in there quick and get a couple ae nice ootfits fae the clubby straight efter the New Year. She loved her red Cavalry Twill two-piece. Jimmy hid said she looked like a cross between a Bombay moneylender and an Airdrie fitba supporter, the cheeky sod, though she could tell he wis well impressed. Her other purchases hid included a blue dress, two white fake silk blouses, a couple ae pairs ae tights and a pair ae blue patent high heels. She’d found the red high heels under her daughter Norma’s bed, which Norma hid obviously missed when she’d moved oot in a hurry the previous year. She’d appreciated Norma no making a song and dance aboot them the previous weekend. Helen hid caught Norma staring at her feet when her and Helen’s other two daughters, Isabelle and Anne, hid come hame tae gie her and aw the lassies a wee haun, haunin oot leaflets. Buying the red ootfit tae match the high heels hid seemed like a good idea at the time. Although it hid been cauld and dreich oot and aboot oan the streets maist days since the New Year, there hid been a wee bit ae a party atmosphere oan the go following the announcements fae the candidates who wur staunin in the by-election. No matter where ye looked, aw the walls and the windaes ae the empty shoaps wur covered in election posters. Supporters ae aw shapes and sizes wur oot and aboot, trying tae convince a population ae traditional non-voters like hersel tae vote fur their candidate. Efter her wee spiel at the launch, it hid been straight doon tae business wae the wans that hid held oan tae become mair involved. Tasks hid been dished oot tae everywan who wis willing tae lend a haun, although tensions hid started tae brew at an early stage amongst her supporters.
“Right, Mary Flint and Elaine Hinky, Carlisle and Inverurie Street ur yer responsibility. Betty and Issie, ye’ve goat aw the closemooths between Carlisle and Morrin Street. Nan, take Keppochhill Road fae Millarbank Street tae Endricks Street,” Charley Mann hid jist been saying, dishing oot the tasks, when he’d been interrupted.
“How come Ah’ve goat aw ae Keppochhill Road oan ma lonesome, eh?” Nan hid enquired tae everywan while scowling across at The Three Comrades.
“Because ye're good, plus the exercise will clearly dae ye good...that’s why,” Charlie hid drawled sarcastically.
“Where’s aw the men then? That’s whit Ah want tae know,” Soiled Sally hid asked oot loud tae nowan in particular.
“Er, ur ye blind or whit, doll? Who dae ye think's dishing oot the tasks here? Little Bo Effing Peep?”
“Ah said men, no some auld toothless geriatric extras fae Dad’s Army.”
“Oi, Ah take umbrage at that remark, ya heifer, ye,” auld Bob Henderson hid retorted, puffing oot his affronted chest.
“Here, here, Bob,” John McGuigan hid wheezed, shaking his walking stick at Sally, before letting oot a strangled, spluttering cough.
“Right, we’re aw supposed tae be working thegither noo. If ye want a fight, JP and his team ur jist alang the road, stealing oor votes,” Helen hid reminded them, attempting tae get in there early, before The Battle ae The Big Horn erupted.
“Did that wee baldy gnome jist call me a heifer?” Soiled Sally hid howled wae hurt and indignation.
“Aye, Ah did. Whit ur ye gonnae dae aboot it, ya soiled gusset, ye?” Bob hid interjected, using baith erms ae his chair tae help himsel up oan tae his feet, aw set fur a square-go.
“He might be toothless, bald and ugly as sin, bit he’s a game auld tiger, Ah’ll gie him that,” Sharon Campbell hid quipped tae laughter, breaking the tension.
“Ah wis running election campaigns when ye wur still a twinkle in the coalman’s eyes, when yer da wis oot tae work, so Ah wis, hen,” Bob hid slung in, getting guffaws fae his pals, Charlie and John.
