by Ian Todd
“He better be fucking alive, ya bunch ae useless pricks,” Toby hid scowled at them.
“And wis he?” The Big Man hid asked Shaun.
“Well, he wis blowing red bubbles oot ae that gub ae his, so, as far as we wur concerned, he wis breathing when he arrived, so there shouldnae be any complaints or come back later,” Shaun hid replied.
The Big Man threw The Racing Times oan tae the table in front ae him and stood up. He turned and looked at himsel in the mirror. He wisnae too displeased at whit looked back at him. He’d jist turned forty five. Although it wis difficult tae see wae the subdued lighting in the casino, fae where he wis staunin, he didnae hiv much ae a paunch oan him. His hair wis still aw there and apart fae a wee bit ae ruddiness aboot the jowls, he reckoned the lassies wid still fancy him fur his looks fur a few years yet, rather than fur whit they could get oot ae him. He rubbed his jaw and caught the flash ae a light bouncing aff the diamond oan his pinkie ring and thought aboot the information he’d received a hauf an hour earlier fae Bob the Bore. It hid been difficult tae contain the excitement simmering away in the pit ae his guts.
“Noo, listen, Bob, Ah’ve no goat aw fucking day, so spit it oot withoot bloody dribbling aw o’er ma good tablecloth,” he’d said tae him.
“This is the big wan ye’ve been waiting fur, Big Man,” he’d dribbled.
“Get tae the point, Bob.”
“Ah jist aboot came in ma troosers when Ah heard,” he’d dribbled even mair.
“Aye?”
“Ah’m wanting two score fur it.”
“Bob, ye’re starting tae get oan ma tits noo.”
“Ah’m telling ye, Big Man, this is straight oot ae the oven. It hisnae went anywhere else. Fresh as a daisy, so it is.”
“If that boring prick disnae put us oot ae oor misery soon, Ah’m gonnae flatten they baws ae his,” Peter the Plant hid scowled fae the stool he wis sitting oan o’er at the door.
Pat hid looked across the table at Bob. Bob hid been gieing him hot tips and ‘hot aff the press’ info fur years. He’d been a polis inspector o’er in Govan in the fifties bit hid goat the sack efter his then sixteen year auld girlfriend hid died oan somewan’s kitchen table, hivving an abortion. He’d cracked up and hit the booze big time. Efter a couple ae weeks ae no turning up fur work, or when he did, being pished, they’d sacked the boring basturt. When he wis in charge, he’d been popular amongst the young bizzies oan the beat at the time and there wis a lot ae resentment in the ranks when they’d goat shot ae him. Aw they young bizzies wur noo aw sergeants and inspectors, who still hid a saft spot fur him and that wis where he tapped aw his good info fae.
“Bob, fur me tae haun o’er forty squidlies, Ah’d need tae see the steam coming aff the shite,” he’d said tae him.
“Pat, ye’ll appreciate this…honest,” Bob hid promised.
“Right, Peter, Ah want tae see two score oan that table, as in the noo,” The Big Man hid said across tae The Plant.
“Ah know who’s goat her,” Bob hid tittered gleefully, lifting up the two twenty-pound notes and slipping them doon the front ae his troosers, knowing fine well that nowan wis gonnae be stupid enough tae put their hauns doon there tae take them back.
“Who’s her?” asked The Big Man.
“The Duke’s daughter!”
“Whit Duke’s daughter? Hiv you any idea whit he’s oan aboot, Peter?” The Big Man asked The Plant, who wis noo back ensconced oan his stool.
“Ah hivnae a clue.”
“That Duke wan up in the Highlands? Wan ae the richest men in Scotland…in Britain even…fae whit Ah’ve heard. Ah know who’s grabbed his daughter,” Bob said gleefully, looking fae The Big Man tae The Plant and back tae The Big Man again.
The Big Man hid sat up, hangover instantly furgotten aboot.
“Who?”
“Wan ae us, or should Ah say, wan ae youse.”
“Bob, Ah’m gonnae fucking strangle ye if ye don’t get tae the point…and quickly,” Pat threatened him, no being able tae contain himsel, sensing he wis aboot tae hit the jackpot.
“The daughter ae The Duke ae Kyle up in the Highlands went missing yesterday. Everywan thought she’d jist ran away tae get her hole, bit it’s turned oot she’s been kidnapped. Did ye no see The Glesga Echo this morning? It’s aw o’er the front page, so it is.”
“And where’s the connection wae us then?” The Big Man hid asked.
“Tony Gucci and his band ae merry Mankys. Seemingly wan ae them, Paul McBride, wis up there and cottoned oan tae the situation. It went like clockwork, so it did. Efter casing the joint fur months, they hit The Duke yesterday. Disabled aw the cars in the place and then fucked aff wae the rich bitch. Ah’m telling ye, this is the mother lode, Big Man.”
“How dae ye know it’s them?”
“Believe you me, Pat, Ah’ve jist goat this fae the horse’s mooth, so Ah hiv. The inside man wis definitely Paul McBride. The bizzies hiv cottoned oan tae whit’s been gaun oan. Ah’ve been telt that the Tally and that Joe McManus wan ur trying tae connect up wae him as we speak. Daddy Jackson is hivving the whole ae the toon turned o’er looking fur Gucci and McManus. Ah’ve heard that, efter the snatch, McBride heided aff in the opposite direction fae where the bizzies thought he’d take her. They’ve sent Paddy McPhee up tae the Highlands tae track McBride doon because they chookter bizzies up there hivnae goat a fucking clue ae whit’s gaun oan.
“The Stalker? He’s back? Ah thought that prick hid been suspended as part ae the corruption investigation?”
“He wis, bit Daddy brought him back specifically fur this wan. Daddy’s walking aboot wae a permanent hard-on jist noo. The place is buzzing as he sees this as a way ae redeeming themselves efter you...er…Ah mean, efter somewan released aw they corruption files tae The Glesga Echo and caused Sean Smith tae shoot himsel in the heid before the ceiling came doon oan tap ae them aw,” Bob The Bore said, wae a knowing wink.
“Right, Peter, gie oor Bob here another score. Where’s McBride taking her, Bob?” The Big Man hid asked, trying tae appear calm.
“Nowan’s goat a clue. Aw they know is that he’s bringing her intae the city via the Dumbarton side.”
“Right, ye’ve goat yer money, Bob, plus an extra score. Under nae circumstances dae ye mention tae anywan that ye’ve telt me anything aboot this. Hiv ye goat that?”
“Don’t ye worry, Big Man, ma lips ur sealed…as usual,” Bob hid said, staunin up aw ae a sudden, before scurrying away doon the stairs.
The Big Man hid awready made up his mind whit he wis gonnae dae before Bob hid finished telling him whit the score wis wae The Duke’s daughter. Wance the wee dribbling basturt hid disappeared, he’d goat The Plant tae phone aboot tae get as many ae the boys roond fur an emergency meeting as he could, at short notice. It hid only taken ten minutes before a squad ae them wur aw lounging aboot in the club. He’d telt them whit The Bore hid telt him and hid ootlined his plan tae them aw.
“Right, noo, listen up. Ah want that lassie before they corrupt basturts doon in Central get their greedy paws oan her. Ah want the word tae go oot, oan the QT, that there’s five hunner quid fur anywan that’ll lead us tae her and a hunner quid fur information oan the whereaboots ae Tony Gucci and Joe McManus. Remember, she’s worth a bloody fortune tae us and Ah want tae see her tucked up in the warehouse within the next twenty four tae forty eight hours. Noo, we cannae mess aboot here, boys. If we’re lucky, we’ll be rolling in it this time next week. Ah’ve heard that her da, The Duke, is loaded, so there’s a lot at stake here,” he’d reminded them, before they disappeared doon the stairs.
“Danny, hing oan a second, Ah want a word wae ye,” he’d shouted tae Danny Murphy.
“Aye, Pat?”
“Right, keep this tae yersel, bit get a haud ae that Bob the Bore. He’s been aboot too long noo. He knows too much and whit he disnae know, he makes up as he goes alang. If we get this rich bitch, we could make a cartload ae dosh. We cannae risk hivving that bore ae a basturt blurti
ng oot aw o’er the shoap that he’s palmed aff the info oan The Duke’s daughter tae us. And remember, don’t tell anywan within the team whit ye’re daeing. Keep it clean and make sure he isnae gonnae pop up unexpectedly. Hiv ye goat that?”
“Aye, Ah’ll gie The Goat a shout and we’ll get it done at the weekend alang at Greasy Jakes,” Danny hid said.
“Naw, Danny. Ah want this done sooner…preferably the night.”
“Nae bother, Pat. Fuck, who wid’ve thought they shitey-arsed Mankys wid’ve hid the baws tae pull aff something like this, eh? Ah kin remember when they wur aw o’er the Toonheid, snow-drapping five-o-wans aff ae people’s washing lines, when they wur wee whippersnappers.”
“Oh, Ah’ve known fur a long time whit that manky wee crew wid be capable ae when they grew up. They wur always in a bit ae a hurry, although Ah must admit, they’ve surprised me wae this wan. Ah picked up oan the grapevine that Gucci and McManus robbed that daft eejit Skinny Malinky, the Provi cheque man, up a close in Petershill Road the day Gucci wis liberated fae the closed block. He never wasted much time. Ah don’t know whit the score is there though, as Skinny never reported it tae the bizzies. Oh, and in case Ah furget, see if ye kin get me a map that highlights aw the roads that come intae the city fae the west,” The Big Man hid said, reaching fur his Racing Times and his packet ae slim Panatela cigars.
Chapter Sixty One
Saba fetched her bag and returned tae the middle ae the road and used it tae sit oan. She spotted her radio sitting oan tap ae a white line fifteen feet further alang in the direction that Paul and Wan-eye hid taken. Fur some reason, she hidnae noticed it efter Paul hid driven aff. She stood up and went and picked it up before returning tae her seat, where she laid it oan the ground in front ae her. Efter a few minutes ae looking aboot and trying tae suppress her panic, she leaned o’er and switched it oan. Dionne Warwick’s voice singing ‘Walk On By’ filled the air. She burst intae tears and couldnae stoap sobbing fur the next ten minutes. She didnae think he wid’ve left her stranded oot in the middle ae naewhere. Efter he’d sped aff, she’d stood watching the boat crawl up a steep hill in the distance and vanish o’er its brow. She’d waited, praying and hauf expecting tae see him reappear tae apologise and tell her it hid jist been wan ae his sick jokes, bit she’d gied up. She looked aboot. There wis a Loch opposite her. She remembered looking at the map jist before they’d turned aff at the signpost tae Invergarry. She thought she wis looking at Loch Garry although she couldnae be sure. She wisnae too sure whit she should dae next. She thought aboot her mother and father fur the first time since she’d run away. She wondered whit they were daeing and whit her mother’s reaction wid be, back in New York, when she heard that she wis missing. She started tae feel sorry for them as well as fur hersel. She regretted leaving the Kyle. Whit hid she been thinking ae? How oan earth did she end up oan a lonely deserted road, somewhere in the Western Highlands, miles fae anywhere, wae a madman…or in Paul’s case, a mad boy? She felt sick tae the pit ae her stomach. She couldnae fathom him oot. Oan the surface he seemed reasonably calm…pleasant even…bit underneath, he wis quick tae strike oot at anything or anywan that came anywhere close tae him. Morven hid said tae her that although he came across as if he didnae hiv a care in the world, she thought that somewhere deep inside him wis buried a lot ae hurt. She’d also telt Saba that he wis quite evasive and defensive when it came tae talking aboot anything that wis mair than skin-deep. Saba felt she’d been getting through tae him and that they’d been beginning tae understaun each other better. She felt her face flush wae anger when she thought aboot his accusations in relation tae her mother. How dare he come oot wae that? Whit did he know, anyway…this lost boy fae the slums? Who did he think he wis? She switched aff the radio in the middle ae ‘Baby Come Back’ and picked up her bag. She looked fae right tae left, hesitated, and then moved aff tae the left, following the road towards the hill that the boat hid disappeared o’er.
Paul couldnae believe his eyes. There, jist efter he’d driven o’er the tap ae the hill efter dumping The Gardener’s Daughter, stood a pink Mr Whippy ice cream van. It crossed his mind that whit he wis seeing wis similar tae in the films he’d seen when he wis a snapper…where the guy is oot staggering and stumbling across the desert and clocks a palm tree-covered oasis and heids in that direction before diving intae the lovely cool water, only tae find himsel daeing the breast stroke in the sand. Wae that in mind, he pulled o’er tae the side ae the road. He wis fair chuffed when he realised that Mr Whippy wis real, as Wan-eye sauntered across and pished oan the van’s front wheel. Paul casually strode across, only tae be confronted by Mr Whippy’s spotty bare arse gaun like the clappers, humping Mrs Whippy intae a froth. Paul wis jist aboot tae creep away, back tae the Landy, when Mrs Whippy let oot a yelp and pushed the dirty basturt aff ae her and dived, tits dangling oot o’er the tap button ae her blouse, intae the ice cream cone section.
“Er, sorry tae disturb ye, bit ur ye open?” Paul asked Mr Whippy, who’d whipped up his troosers, leaving his fly open tae the elements.
“It depends oan what ye’re after, son,” the horny basturt replied, peering o’er Paul’s shoulder tae see if there wis mair than wan customer oan the go.
He wis gonnae ask fur a Ninety-Nine, bit didnae want tae offend him by knocking back the cone if he didnae witness the filthy basturt washing they hauns ae his first.
“Ah’ll hiv a couple ae bottles ae Irn Bru, hauf a dozen Mars Bars, four Cadburys Flakes and twelve ae they wee cheeky sherbet Flying Saucers,” Paul said, as a flushed looking Mrs Whippy reappeared oan the scene, looking like the vestal virgin she clearly wisnae.
“Did ye get that, Donna?”
“Coming up,” Donna said, the professional that she wis, slinging the chocolate bars oan tae the coonter, efter sliding open the wee windae oan the side ae the van.
“Nice dug, ye hiv there. He looks like a pirate, so he dis,” Mrs Whippy observed.
“Aye, so Ah’ve been telt,” Paul agreed, haunin o’er a ten-bob note.
Efter he goat his change, he wandered back tae the Landy and goat in. He wisnae too sure if he should hing aboot fur a while or move oan, as he’d obviously spoiled their wee humpy-pumpy session. When he looked across at the van, the pair ae them wur sitting thegither, her wae her heid oan his shoulder, looking oot at the panoramic views ae the glen. Paul looked aboot. Apart fae the occupants ae the Mr Whippy van and him, there wisnae a soul tae be seen. He clocked a wee sign at the side ae the road that said ‘Glengarry viewpoint’. He goat oot the map and spread it across the steering wheel, before taking a slug ae the Irn Bru and unwrapping wan ae the Mars Bars. He traced his finger alang the route. His junction route list telt him he’d tae turn right at Invergarry and heid towards Fort William, bit making sure he didnae end up there. The Gardener’s Daughter hid telt him that that wid take them intae the start ae the Great Glen. He wondered if the Great Glen wis where her MacDonald ancestors hid goat slaughtered by the Campbells. If they wur anything like her, nae fucking wonder the Campbells wanted tae dae away wae them aw, he thought. It didnae take him long tae start tae feel a wee bit guilty aboot slinging that posh arse ae hers oot oan tae the roadside. He looked aboot, making it obvious that he wisnae spying oan the lovebirds across in the Mr Whippy van. There wis nae way in a month ae Sundays that he’d be able tae dae a U-turn oan that road. He considered unhooking the trailer wae the boat oan it and gaun back tae try and get her, bit hid changed his mind.
“Fuck her,” he said tae Wan-eye, who wis sitting in her seat, slobbering at the mooth, hoping fur a bit ae his Mars Bar, as the sound ae ‘Baby Come Back’ by The Equals wafted across tae him fae the radio in Mr Whippy’s van.
Paul thought aboot the situation. He knew fine well that he wis making things harder fur himsel by getting shot ae her. He’d lost the rag when she slapped him. It hid taken him by surprise. He’d obviously scored a bulls-eye tae get that kind ae reaction aff ae her. He wondered which comment hid hit the mark. The bit aboo
t slinging everything back in her da’s face didnae seem too bad tae him. Being accused ae fancying yer maw’s young shag-stags? Well, that wis probably guaranteed tae get a bit ae a reaction. She wisnae as strong as she obviously made hersel oot tae be, he thought tae himsel. He’d always hid her doon as a brittle, uppity, hoity-toity spoiled brat, although Morven hid telt him that she wis actually quite sensitive and saft, underneath that superior attitude that she threw aboot like confetti. He drummed his fingers oan the steering wheel through the map, wondering whit his next move should be. If he wis found in possession ae the Landy oan his lonesome, he’d be fucked. That wid be the excuse the bizzies needed as a starter fur ten. He also thought aboot whit the reaction wid’ve been back in Culrain when they’d found oot she’d legged it. He wondered if the papers hid goat a haud ae it. He’d seen Innes reading wan called The Northern something and he remembered him saying it only came oot wance a week, so he knew him and The Gardener’s Daughter hid until the Thursday before the story broke wider, gieing them plenty ae time tae dae whit needed tae be done. The fact that she wis a Duke’s daughter wis probably a problem though. If her auld man wis as rich as they said he wis, then he’d be bound tae hiv a bit ae clout. Paul knew that it widnae take the brain ae Britain tae connect him wae her disappearance. He looked aboot again. The sun wis belting doon.
“Fuck it! Ah’ll hiv tae go back and pick her up,” he said tae Wan-eye, whose tail suddenly started slapping oan the seat beside him and who clearly wisnae listening tae anything he wis saying. The dug wis peering intae the wing mirror oan his side ae the Landy.
Paul leaned o’er and glanced in Wan-eye’s wing mirror, bit couldnae see anything. He slid across tae the passenger seat, pushing Wan-eye closer tae the door. The dug wis getting really excited noo. Paul peered back in the direction he’d come fae. He could see her heid and shoulders shimmering intae view o’er the brow ae the hill. She’d her heid doon and her body wis growing longer wae each staggering step. He wound doon the windae and shifted back across tae the driver’s seat. Efter aboot five minutes, he heard her footsteps crunching oan the gravel, drawing closer, as Wan-eye’s tail thumped harder oan the seat. When she came level wae the passenger’s side windae, she bent o’er slightly, drapped her bag and radio, gied Wan-eye a quick scratch oan the lug and hauf walked, hauf staggered in the direction ae Mr and Mrs Whippy.
