by Ian Todd
“That’s nae a problem. We kin dae that.”
“And another thing, Tony.”
“Aye?”
“Whitever ye dae, don’t mess The Driving Instructor aboot. He comes across as a nice guy, no a double-crosser like The Big Man or they Murphys, bit he’d bury ye alive whether ye’re young or no, if ye fuck wae him in any shape or form.”
“Flypast, aw we want is tae pay aff whit we owe oan the cabin.”
“Right, there’s something else that might help youse oot if things don’t go strictly tae plan.”
“Whit?”
“Let’s jist say youse get aw the doos oot, bit wan ae the Brothers Grimm turn up unexpectedly or lightning strikes that building.”
“Whit? In the middle ae summer?”
“Whitever happens, he disnae want they Horsemen left in that loft, still strutting their stuff, flashing their tadgers at aw they wee hens, at the end ae the night. The Driving Instructor says that if the worst comes tae the worst, he’ll accept their heids as proof that they’re no still oan the go.”
“Whit, kill wan ae the Murphys?” Johnboy yelped, jist aboot shiting his troosers.
“Naw, the Horsemen’s heids, bit ye’d need tae hiv aw three tae haun o’er.”
Silence.
“Skull widnae wear that. There’s no way he’d go fur that wan…money or no,” Tony eventually declared.
“Aye, well, Ah wis asked tae sling that wan intae the pot, jist tae let ye know that he’s serious. He wants they big Horsemen Thief Pouters, deid or alive.”
“Ah’ve jist thought ae something,” Johnboy said. “Whit’s people gonnae say when they see a convoy ae driving instructor cars sitting in the street? Ah’ve lived here aw ma life and Ah don’t know anywan that’s been able tae afford a driving lesson, dae you?” Johnboy asked them.
“Aye, Ah thought aboot that wan as well. The Driving Instructor his decided tae hiv a Driving School Convention in The Atholl Bar oan Saturday night, jist doon oan the corner ae Stanhope Street and St James Road.”
“A whit?”
“A driving school get-thegither. He’s invited aw the BSM boys he knows fae aw o’er Glesga and they’re gonnae converge oan The Atholl oan Saturday night. They’ve booked the lounge and they’ve goat a wee man coming tae dae a talk as cover. Maist ae them will bring their wives or girlfriends, at least the wans that kin drive, so the guys kin aw get pished. As soon as they know youse ur aw ready, the Kirkintilloch boys will nip alang, wan at a time, tae where youse ur and pick up a box and heid straight hame fae there. Simple, eh?”
“Ye’re a genius, Flypast. Wait till Joe and Skull hears that wan,” Tony said, as they aw laughed.
“Whit youse hiv tae dae is gie them a shout in the first instance tae start the baw rolling. Efter that, they’ll jist drive alang St James Road and pick up a box every five minutes oan the button.”
“That’s complicated.”
“How simple could it be?”
“There’s only four ae us. Skull will be in the loft wae the doos, wan ae us will be oan tap ae the holar boxes oan the roof itsel, wan will be carrying the doos in the egg boxes alang the roof and wan will be sitting in the exit loft. We’re wan short. There’s nae way wan ae us wid manage tae get back up tae that loft oan oor ain wance we’re doon oan tae the stair landing. It’s a two-man job tae get back up. The height’s the problem.”
“Whit aboot a ladder then?”
“We’ll hiv too much stuff as it is, withoot farting aboot wae a big ladder, especially if we’re gaun up the close. We noticed there wis a couple ae padlocks oan the wan me and Johnboy looked at in Taylor Street the other day.”
“Well, wance Ah’m in The McAslin, Ah’m gonnae make sure everywan knows Ah wis the first tae arrive and the last wan tae leave. So, that’s me oot,” Flypast said apologetically.
“Right, okay. We’ll sort that wan oot at oor end, Flypast. Thanks fur aw this. We owe ye wan, big style.”
“Don’t worry aboot me, boys. The Driving Instructor will see me okay wance the heat dies doon in a month or so. Ur youse really sure ye want tae dae this? There will be blood oan the streets efter this wan kicks aff.”
“Don’t worry aboot us, Flypast. We’re oan tap ae this, so we ur. Right, Johnboy, get that smelly arse ae yours aff that smelly rocking chair. We’ve goat a meeting wae Calum The Runner up at the cabin.”
Johnboy and Tony fell silent wance the cabin came intae view in the distance. Johnboy wisnae too sure how auld it wis or how long it hid been sitting there. Its situation wis ideal fur fleeing doos. Unless ye wur sitting oan the tap deck ae a bus oan Parly Road heiding fur Castle Street, ye probably widnae hiv known it wis there. Ye might’ve goat a fleeting glance ae it between the gaps ae the billboards as ye walked past and wondered whit it wis, as it blended in wae the black smoke-stained bricks ae the Macbraynes bus garage surrounding it. The only telltale sign that it wis a dookit wis the holar boxes and landing board sitting oan the slope ae the roof. Efter a row ae tenements wis demolished oan Glebe Street, oan the Kennedy Street side ae Parly Road, the dookit stood oot majestically, nestled between the tenements running east up Parly Road and the back ae Taylor’s, the haulage firm that Johnboy and his pals used regularly as a taxi service when they went oot and aboot, tanning shoaps across the city. Fur Johnboy, walking across the waste ground, where the tenement block wance stood, it reminded him ae a scene oot ae an Ivanhoe or Robin Hood film, where the riders approached the imposing castle in the distance. When they arrived efter their pow-wow wae Flypast, Joe and Skull wur chomping through a box ae the City Bakeries best mince pies which Skull hid nicked aff the back ae wan ae their vans ootside the shoap oan Parly Road.
“Jist in time, Ah see,” Tony said, as Johnboy and him baith scooped up a pie.
“Ah prefer them cauld masel,” Skull wis saying as they sat doon.
“That’s because ye’ve never tasted them hot, ya fud-pad, ye,” Joe said, switching oan the tranny and getting the sounds ae The Beach Boys’ ‘Ah Get Aroond’ fae Radio Caroline.
Tony telt Joe and Skull whit hid been said roond at Flypast’s, bit left oot the bit aboot Skull’s da. Johnboy added in wee bits here and there, trying tae remember whit ‘compos mentis’ wis aw aboot. Joe seemed fine and interested, bit Skull jist wanted them tae get tae the good part…tanning the Murphys’ loft.
“There’s no way anywan’s gonnae lay a finger oan they fucking Horsemen Pouters, Ah kin tell ye that right noo. Even if we don’t like they Murphy tadgers, ye hiv tae keep birds like that alive and in the system,” Skull scowled, looking at everywan, daring them tae disagree wae him.
“Why’s that, Skull?” Johnboy asked.
“Because aw doos are interbred. Ye need the pure bred wans tae tap up the breeding stock every noo and again tae keep fresh blood flowing.”
Johnboy didnae hiv a clue whit he wis oan aboot and looking at the other two, he reckoned that they didnae either.
“How dae ye know aw this?”
“Because ma da telt me oan his good days, in between his bad days, before he goat worse.”
“So, how ur we gonnae manage the haunin o’er bit, wance we’re aw up the loft? We cannae be nipping alang the roof and doon in tae the closemooth every five minutes.”
“We’ll jist hiv tae stack aw the boxes in the exit loft until we’re ready tae get them doon the stairs.”
“Or we kin bring wan ae the Garngad crowd in,” Joe suggested.
“Nae chance...they’re aw thieving wankers,” Skull butted-in.
They heard Calum arriving at aboot the same time as he came flying through the bead curtain and landed in the middle ae the flair.
“Fur Christ sake, Calum! If ye cannae knock, at least bloody shout before ye break and enter.”
“Hellorerr Tony, it’s good tae see ye as well. How ur ye daeing, boys? Ye wur wanting tae speak tae me?” Calum said, staunin in the middle ae the cabin, looking aroond.
“He wants tae speak tae ye. Ah’m jist the luc
ky mascot aboot here,” Skull said, straight-faced.
“Aye, and Ah see ye still hivnae flogged that bugle yet, Skull?” Calum said, picking it up and running a fingertip alang it.
“How ur ye daeing, Calum? New shorts?” Tony asked, as aw eyes shifted tae the red things he wis wearing.
“Aye, they’re ma ‘away’ wans.”
“Dae athletes hiv ‘away’ running shorts?”
“Oh, aye…it’s no jist fitba teams.”
“So, whit’s happening oan Saturday night in the pub then?”
“A private do, so it is. Why? Why wid the likes ae youse be wanting tae know aboot something like that then?” he asked, suspiciously.
“Because we’re gonnae haud up the place, that’s why,” Skull chipped in.
“That wid be like four blue bottles taking oan Horsey John and that auld fly-swatter ae his. Funny as fuck, bit stupid.”
“So, whit’s happening oan the night then?” Tony asked.
“People arrive jist efter five, everywan’s hauf pished by six, Charlie Chip, Scotland’s funniest comedian hits them wae a few stoaters tae loosen them up...”
“That wee midget’s red-raw pish,” Skull said, looking aboot, happy wae the nods ae agreement aw roond.
“...hot pies ur taken oot at seven o’clock wae vinegar, mushy peas and a couple ae slices ae plain breid tae soak up the juice. Then, at seven forty-five, there’s a group oan that cannae staun each other, which includes ma big sister and Kirsty’s wee brothers, that should produce a couple ae wee fights amongst themsels tae start the night aff jist nicely. They’ll be followed by a break wae some speeches, a slice ae Duggie Dough Baw’s best cake, a game ae Bingo and gallons ae mair drink, followed by the group again, by which time the fighting amongst the guests should start fur real.”
“Sounds brilliant,” Skull said. “Kin Ah come?”
“Usually the bizzies ur in sharp by aboot ten o’clock...chucking oot time. Ah think The Big Man’s goat them tae be somewhere else oan Saturday night, which is fine if ye’re oan yer best behaviour, bit no if ye’re oan the receiving end ae a hiding roond aboot the last bell, fae wan ae the Charming Brothers.”
“So, will ye be coming and gaun throughoot the night?”
“How dae ye mean?”
“Will you be oot and aboot fur The Big Man?”
“It aw depends.”
“Oan whit?”
“Oan whether he wants something done or no.”
“Bit if ye wanted, ye could persuade him that he’d want something done which wid get him tae send ye aff and oot ae the pub fur hauf an hour?”
“Ah suppose so,” Calum said slowly, looking roond at them aw, feeling like he wis being measured up fur a coffin, judging by the way they wur aw gawping at him.
“Whit dae ye think, Joe?” Tony asked.
“Ah wid jist tell him.”
“Right, spit it oot. It’s obvious that youse ur up tae something. If it’s anything tae dae wae whit Skull jist said, ye kin furget it right here and noo. Every mad gangster and his moll, including their maws and das will be sitting there, getting pished, oan Saturday night. Even the local priests widnae try and rob they wans and ye know whit they’re like.”
“We need yer help oan Saturday night.”
“Whit? A wee favour?”
“Aye, something like that,” Tony said, as he went oan tae tell Calum whit wis aboot tae happen.
Tony must’ve spoken fur aboot three quarters ae an hour, gaun intae aw the ins and oots ae why and whit they wur planning. The reason Johnboy knew it wis that long wis because he wis coonting the records that wur being played oan the tranny when Tony wis speaking. He reckoned each song lasted aboot two minutes forty five seconds wae aboot a fifteen second gap in between. He added in the Palmolive adverts and the ‘Man, that’s groovy’ jingle that kept being played repeatedly. Aw in, there wis aboot fifteen songs. Sometimes Tony brought Joe in tae back him up oan some point, bit it wis mainly Tony that did aw the talking. Calum didnae even ask wan question and even Skull knew that this wis the wan time no tae say a word. Tony explained that they needed Calum tae nip doon tae The Atholl tae let The Driving Instructor know tae start picking up the doos. He wid then hiv tae nip back up tae the boys and start taking the egg boxes doon the stairs fae the tap landing tae each car as it arrived. The last box doon wid hiv the three big Horsemen in it, bit Tony wid haun that wan o’er himsel.
“Fur Christ’s sake!” wis aw Calum said, looking shocked, when Tony finished talking.
Nowan said a word. They jist looked at Calum as he stared back at them. It wis the longest Johnboy hid ever clocked him staun still since he’d first met him. He didnae know whether it wis the song that brought him back tae life or whit, bit when the Seekers ‘World Ae Oor Ain’ started belting oot ae the tranny, Calum suddenly stood up.
“Ah cannae dae it. Ah need tae get oot ae the Toonheid and the only way Ah’m gonnae dae that is through ma running. Ah wis jist telt yesterday by ma coach in the Maryhill Harriers that Ah’ve been picked tae represent Scotland in the European Junior Championships. Sorry, boys.”
Wae that, Calum heided oot the door. Nowan moved fur aboot five seconds and then Tony goat up and went efter him. Johnboy, Skull and Joe sat there fur aboot twenty minutes, no saying a word. The tranny wis oan bit they didnae even hear whit songs wur playing. Skull put the wee hen and doo oot oan tae the landing board wae the hood up and stood there peeping through the hole in the latch, watching whit they wur up tae.
When Tony stepped through the beaded curtain, the three ae them aw turned and stared at him. Johnboy stood up and held his breath. Tony’s face looked doon in the dumps and a bit defeated, Johnboy thought. Johnboy fought hard tae stoap himsel fae bursting oot greeting when he felt his bottom lip tremble. He wisnae too sure if it wis because he wis relieved that he wisnae gonnae end up getting murdered or brain damaged by a big gorilla wae a polis baton or he wis disappointed because he really wanted tae dae this. When he glanced o’er at Skull, Johnboy felt guilty that he maybe knew something that Skull didnae. Tony hid said that they should keep tae themselves whit Flypast hid telt them. Johnboy couldnae help thinking aboot Skull’s da and how if he’d haunded o’er the big Horseman Thief Pouter, Skull wid’ve been working wae him, fleeing the doos in his ain dookit. When Tony did speak, Johnboy couldnae haud it in any longer and started tae bubble.
“Nae problem…he’ll dae it,” Tony said, a big grin lighting up his face and the cabin.
Chapter Forty Six
“So, whit ur they up tae, Alex?” asked The Sarge.
“Ah don’t know.”
“Whit dae ye mean, ye don’t know? Ye know everything aboot here.”
“No everything.”
“Aye, bit enough tae wet oor whistles wae.”
“Hiv youse goat whistles tae?”
“Aye.”
“Kin Ah get wan?”
“Whit’s happened tae the badge Ah gied ye?” Crisscross asked him.
“It’s here…look,” Special Agent Arbuckle said, pulling the white ‘V’ ae the neck ae his Glesga Rangers jersey forward while raising up his left erm and showing them his silver plastic ‘Special Agent’ badge which wis pinned oan tae his vest, tucked in amongst the folds ae fat under his oxter.
“Whit the hell hiv ye goat it tucked aw the way under there fur?”
“Cause Ah’m undercover.”
“Oh…er…aye, right…so ye ur. Ah furgoat. Right, so spill the beans then. Whit his that manky mob been up tae?”
“Only whit ye awready know.”
“Aye, we know that, and you know that, bit jist so we aw know that, we hiv tae synchronise whit we know, aw thegither, so we aw know whit everywan else knows.”
“Crisscross, whit the fuck ur ye prattling oan aboot? If Ah don’t know, then there’s nae chance that he’ll know. Isn’t that so, son?”
“Aw Ah know is whit youse know.”
“Which is whit?”
“That they tanned yer h
oose.”
“Noo we’re getting somewhere.”
“So, whit dae ye know that we don’t know?”
“Fur fuck’s sake, Crisscross, don’t start that aw o’er again. Ah’ll dae the talking. Oan ye go, son. We know that you know whit we aw know, bit you tell us whit you know first, and we’ll dae the synchronising. Okay?” The Sarge said, looking o’er at Crisscross, warning him wae his eyes no tae start coming oot wae mair ae that gibbering shite ae his.
“Ah heard that they tanned yer hoose and goat away wae aw the dosh that yer wife and they other nice Christian wummin wur collecting fur the wee weans in Africa.”
“Carry oan, special constable. And?”
“Aye, they’ve been telling everywan how good it wis tae get aw that dosh.”
“Carry oan.”
“That’s it.”
“There must be mair than that. We know aw that.”
“Aye, well it wis that wee cu...boy, Taylor. The wan wae the ginger napper that went in through the windae first. It wis him who discovered aw the money lying aboot. The other three then jumped in and helped him and themsels tae it aw.”
“So, whit did they dae wae the money?”
“They’ve been spending it oan everything.”
“Like whit?”
“Like, Ah saw that wee ugly Skull wan shooting up Parly Road yesterday wae a big box ae mince pies held oot in front ae him.”
“Wis he being chased?”
“Naw, Ah clocked him buying them. Ah think he wis running so he could get hame before they went cauld. Every step he took, ye could hear tons ae coins rattling aboot in his pockets.”
“So?”
“So, they wur City Bakeries wans in the white box.”
“Ah cannae believe they wee knobs ur scoffing away aw ma wife’s hard work oan tap-ae-the-range mince pies.”
“Every time Ah’ve clocked them since they screwed yer hoose, their pockets hiv aw been full ae Strawberry Bonbons, Bazooka chewing gum, Broon Gems, MB bars, Kola Kubes, Parma Violets, Flying Sherbet Saucers, White Chocolate Mice and Ah even saw them wae a packet ae ma favourites, Blue Riband chocolate wafers.”
