Miracle On The Clyde (Glasgow Crime)

by A D Evans

  He screamed and screamed but nobody heard his pleading. When it was over, he was bundled into a car and dropped at the football club in Maryhill. For good measure, Antonio Canttani pulled a razor slowly down his left cheek.

  ‘Just a wee reminder, because every time you have a shave you will remember what happens to people who are not on my side of the fence. O.K. Ronnie boy’ smiled the cold eyed torturer.

  ‘Nothing personal my friend, just a matter of good business practice’

  THIRTEEN

  The injured man staggered into the club and headed for the toilets, as he passed the door attendant he told him to go and get the boss. When Paul entered the toilet, he immediately saw how seriously injured the man was.

  ‘Go and get doc Wallace’ he ordered the soldier who accompanied him.

  As they waited for the doctor to arrive Ronnie related what had happened to him. Paul promised that revenge would be ten- fold and that he would have centre stage when the reprisals began. Before he could say any more doctor Wallace arrived and started at once to treat the unfortunate mans injuries.

  ‘He will need hospitalised,’ stated the doctor.

  ‘Well organise it right away’ shouted Paul.

  Tell them it was a D.I.Y accident and if they mention police or anything ask to speak to Mr. Granger .When you speak to him reminded him of a mutual friend that him and I have down at Wilton Street. Then tell him to get my man the best medical attention that money can buy. The cost of his care does not matter just get him sorted out. He turned to Ronnie and gave him a smile

  ‘Don't worry about a thing mate. You and your family will be well taken care of, and I personally will have your wife and son moved to a safe house within the next hour. Once your better and this Canttani scum are sorted out, you can decide whether to come back to work or retire with a full pension. I always look after my people, and especially so when they have been through a hard time on my account’

  Ronnie replied with gratitude.

  ‘Thanks boss I always knew you wouldn't let any of your people down. I'll get well soon and shoot that bastard for you O.K. boss?’

  ‘Ok mate, if that’s what you want’

  The mutual friend that he spoke about concerning Mr. Granger was a 16-year-old rent boy that he had hired to put the eminent doctor into a compromising position. A video tape had been taken and a copy sent to Grangers office, marked private and confidential. A phone call had followed the tape and his new career role in Paul’s empire had been explained to him. He had no choice but to agree or his wife and children would have a very nice evening watching their father slobbering all over a young Asian boy.

  Yes, foresight and blackmail were a wonderful way of controlling ones destiny.

  When Ronnie had been taken away to the private hospital, he had a meeting with big Willie.

  ‘Big man you won’t believe this but that bastard Canntannis family came to Scotland at the same time as my grandparents. Our families have been involved in a feud with theirs for generations, but I never continued it because I felt it was a throw- back to the old country and that we should let sleeping dogs lie. This is no longer the case. I want this bastard and all his family dead, and I mean men, women, and children. Every fuckin one of the scum bastards.

  FOURTEEN

  The following day there was an Old Firm match at Parkhead the home of Glasgow Celtic. Paul and Willie were due to attend. It was one of the few occasions, which brought conflict to their partnership. Big Willie was Rangers daft and went to his own end of the park for his ninety minutes of bigotry. Paul went to the other end to indulge in his own religious hatred.

  Glasgow has been steeped in religious bigotry for many centuries. In recent years it has been mainly caused by supporters of the two predominate football teams who play in the city.

  If you were born Roman Catholic then it was expected you would support Glasgow Celtic, and go to Parkhead. If you were Protestant, you would probably be affiliated to Glasgow Rangers, and pay your homage at Ibrox. Both teams have a massive support at home and abroad. In the past both sets of supporters have caused trouble and people have died, all in the name of football Glasgow style. Anything was possible during or after an Old Firm match even though the two sets of supporters could work together all week. Drink with each other, and even in some dire circumstances marry each other, but when it is time for the Rangers (the bears, the proddys or the light blues) versus Celtic (the hoops the bhoys, or the Tims) game each individual was firmly encamped with their own side. To most old firm fans, their chosen team is more important than anything else in life. If you were starting a new job, you would be asked what foot you kicked with, and it was always prudent to say ‘Partick Thistle’. At least until you found out what the lie off the land was.

  Thistle was the team that everybody had a soft spot for, the old underdog scenario. Their ground was at Firhill Road in Maryhill. They could not compete with the two Glasgow giants, but had a loyal hard-core support. The old joke about Thistle was, ‘don't turn up at the ground too early or you might just get a game’ they also said to their fans, ‘Aye O.K. you’re a Thistle supporter, but are you a Celtic Thistle fan or a Rangers Thistle fan?’

  The match was exciting stuff; Rangers were winning 1-0 with 10 minutes to go when Celtic scored a goal against the run of play. Their supporter's were all going daft. Rangers kicked off again, and going straight up the park scored a goal. The Ranger’s fans were going mental. Two minutes later Celtic were awarded a penalty kick, and as the Celtic player ran to take the spot kick a hush descended at the Celtic end. Breath was held and it seemed to take an eternity for the ball to go from the foot of the player towards the goal. The ball was heading for the top right hand corner of the net when somehow the Rangers keeper managed to throw himself across the goal and get a fingertip to the speeding ball. The ball crashed of the bar and went out of play, and a corner awarded to Celtic. It was taken quickly but the Rangers defence stood firm and managed to get the ball up field to their centre forward. The forward ran on to the ball and smashed it into the undefended Celtic goal. A few minutes later the referee or as they are affectionately known in Glasgow ‘The Bastard in the Black’. Blew his wee silver whistle for full time. The ref would finish the game in the sure and certain knowledge that there would be plenty of fighting on the streets of Glasgow that Saturday evening.

  As the crowds left Parkhead the two friends met at a pre-arranged venue, and headed down past the Forge retail park to a cafe' near Duke Street .The two men glanced into the cafe' and seeing it was quiet entered the premises pulling out two sawn - off shotguns they had left hidden in the boot of a stolen car. They began the carnage by blasting the old man behind the counter. Then a young man who was frying fish and chips was next to be shot. The following two shots were purely structural damage; when their guns were empty; the two men coolly placed them under their coats and left the place at a slow walk. The name above the door of the shop was Canttani.

  ‘Now let the war begin’ said Paul.

  The two people shot in the cafe' both had very serious injuries. The old man survived but the younger man died three days later. This was the message sent by Paul Lynch,

  ‘Mess with us and you die’.

  There was massive police investigations many people were interviewed and a man was eventually charged. The accused had a long running battle with the Canttani family, and he had threatened to murder them on a previous occasion. In court, he of course pleaded not guilty. The trial lasted for about a week and when the jury returned its verdict, it was the good old Scottish return of ‘NOT PROVEN’. This verdict can only be given in a Scottish court. What it usually means to the jurors is that ‘we think you are guilty but you might be innocent we are just not very sure’.

  FIFTEEN

  Paul’s plans for the demise of his bitter rivals continued, but had a small interlude thanks to a visit from the only person he had ever totally trusted in his life

  A short time after Ann-Marie
and Davie’s wedding he was at home when the doorbell rang. He went to the video unit in the hallway, and studied the screen. It was his sister and her lap dog Davie. He pressed the intercom button and let them in. The brother and sister greeted each other warmly, but he barely nodded in Davie's direction then continued talking to his sister.

  ‘Well dear sister, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’

  ‘Do you remember Granny Campbell our mother’s mother?’

  ‘Aye sort of 'though I haven’t seen her for a lot of years. Why?’

  ‘Well I just got a letter from a solicitor in Stirling saying that she was dead. It also said that I was to contact them as soon as possible. They asked if I knew the whereabouts of my brother Paul. Well anyway, I phoned them and the bottom line is. We have been left her house between us, and a small amount of money. One thousand and forty pounds thirty two pence to be exact’

  ‘Imagine that. She left a house to two people who had only met her once or twice in her life. Well how do we collect this windfall?’ he Inquired.

  ‘We have to go to their office and prove who we are, and then it's all ours’, screamed Ann-Marie with delight.

  The house turned out to be a three-bedroom cottage on the banks of loch Doine near Balquidder. The property was in surprisingly good condition, and three months later with half a dozen visits to the solicitor in Stirling behind them, Ann-Marie and Davie were given the keys to the old property. She had asked her brother to come with her and her husband to see the cottage, but he had screwed up his face in horror and said in a sarcastically toned Edinburgh accent.

  ‘No thank you, one finds that all the fresh air up there may give one a headache’ he then turned to his sister and said

  ‘Listen hen I’ve been to see my lawyer. In addition, I have had him draw up some legal papers, and it’s all yours. I don't need a fuckin' cottage in the back of beyond. You and your man can keep it and the dough. It's a present from your big-hearted good lookin' big brother. So you two go and enjoy it, because the thought of all that open air livin' makes me feel sick.

  SIXTEEN

  The Canttani family stayed in a massive detached property near Baillieston, a suburb of Glasgow. Their grandfather planted large fir trees in the late 1950s and they surrounded the house. The screen of trees blocked out all prying eyes, except at the back that faced on to open fields. The huge gold painted front gates were electrically controlled and could only be opened from inside the house or with a remote control from within one of the family cars.

  The Maryhill mob had the house under surveillance twenty-four hours a day seven days a week. He had a man in a nearby block of flats with powerful binoculars and at night, he was equipped with the best night sight the British army could afford. All comings and goings were recorded, and passed on to the HQ at Maryhill. Paul also through a friend in the telephone company had their phone tapped and could listen in to every conversation from the house.

  Canntannis Business Empire had grown up from a legitimate ice- cream van enterprise to being a major player in the east end of Glasgow's drug scene. They were also moneylenders and ruthless when it came to people who could not pay what they owed. Women, girls and even young boys had been forced into prostitution to pay back their loans rather than have the Canntannis hurt their family. They had crucified a man and woman for a debt that started at fifty pounds last Christmas, but the debt had escalated to over £5,000 because they had missed their payments when the man was in jail for 60 days. They had committed the terrible and horrific deed in front of the couples five children, the oldest being ten and the youngest only two. The Canntannis were feared all over the east -end and had many enemies within the poverty-stricken area.

  The north end of Glasgow was different in the way they looked at their local gang boss. Just a few weeks ago, Paul had learned through big Willie that an old neighbour had fallen on hard times. They were about to be evicted from their home the next morning by Sheriffs Officers, and he was there waiting for them, paid the money owed in cash to the Officers. As it was a substantial sum of over £2,600, he asked for and was duly given a receipt for the cash paid. Their business concluded the three Sheriffs men made their way down the tenement stairs. As they turned a corner at the bottom of the stairwell, they were accosted by four men wearing balaclavas and carrying large knives. The men robbed the Officers and left them tied to the railings of the stairwell. Strangely enough, nobody heard their cries for help, and they were stuck there until their office wondered where they had got to and eventually sent a search party to look for them.

  Three very embarrassed Sheriff Officers left Maryhill that day empty handed, and nobody was ever caught for that shameful robbery of the Sheriff’s merry men.

  Everyone in Maryhill knew what had happened and thoroughly enjoyed the humiliation of the hated Officers, who were viewed as an evil official force.

  There were many more instances when he would help people, but only when it suited him, and only if it would make him look good to the people of his area. He was regarded as a sort of Robin Hood figure, and although this was not the truth, he liked to be thought of in this positive and revered way.

  SEVENTEEN

  He did not see much of his sister Ann-Marie since her and Davie had moved to Dalmarnock from their first home together in Clydebank. He had bought her a lovely flat over-looking the river Clyde; the young married couple loved the flat and were grateful to him for the magnificent gesture towards their future.

  When he had presented them with the keys to the flat, he had made them promise not to tell anybody that he actually owned the flat next door to theirs, and that it would remain empty only lit up at night by the use of timing devices.

  ‘Keep this private sis, because some day I may need somewhere unknown to lay my head’ he impressed on her.

  He phoned his sister at the start of the trouble with the Canttani family, and warned her and Davie just to be a bit vigilant while the war was going on. He also told them that because she had been away from Maryhill for a few years and did not keep contact with any of her old friends; it was unlikely that she would be a target, but just to be careful anyway he told them.

  He had just finished his call to his sister, when his phone rang. He left it ringing, counted fifteen seconds before the phone stopped ringing. Twenty seconds later, it rang again, and he knew it would be big Willie.

  ‘Hi boss! Fancy some company for a tanking at snooker?’ he laughed and said,

  ‘Aye come on up you big daft bugger I could be doing with somebody to teach a lesson on the sacred green’

  Five minutes later Willie and three of the other boys with Chinese carryout meals in hand invaded his home. The guys all headed for the snooker room that was situated on the lower level of the house. The room was huge, very brightly lit by three massive spotlight type fittings, and the rear wall was covered with a painting depicting Jinky Johnston of Glasgow Celtic in full flight with a ball at his feet. The other walls were covered in Celtic memorabilia, highlighted by a massive photograph of the famous 1967 team ‘The Lisbon Lions’ that dominated the ceiling. An insert showed Billy McNeil, the Celtic captain holding aloft the European cup, the first ever British team captain to do so.

  As the guys played snooker, the patter was flowing like wine. Big Willie was relating a story from his childhood.

  ‘I woke up on Christmas morning not expecting very much because my da' hadn’t worked since King Billy was on the throne’.

  ‘Listen to the big bam pot’ said Colly McGuire,

  ‘He can’t go two minutes without mentioning King Billy or the fuckin Rangers. Has anybody ever told you big yin. You’re a fuckin bigot’.

  They all laughed including Willie.

  ‘As I was saying. I opened the parcel and Lo and behold, it's an Action Man. Yes you beauty I screamed. Just what I’ve always wanted. I tore the box open and inside was fuck all.

  ‘Da’, where’s ma soddier?’

  My da’ replied,


  ‘Oh aye I forgot to say son, it's an Action Man Deserter’

  The boys rolled about pissing themselves laughing.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ said the big man with a mock tear in his eye.

  Malkie Willkie was next in telling his tale of woe.

  ‘I remember when we were young we stayed in a single end house and we would all sit round a candle placed in the middle of the table. If it was really cold we would light it’.

  This was followed by more laughter.

  Shuggie Willkie who was Malkie's cousin was next to throw his tupence worth in.

  ‘I remember when my wee maw was having visitors. She told us that if we were asked did we want any dinner we were to say, ‘no thanks ma’ were not hungry’ the reason for this was that she didn't have enough to go round.

  So when the visitors are being fed my wee maw says,

  ‘Would you kid's like some soup or some dinner?’

  ‘Naw ma. Were not hungry’

  When the soup and dinner were finished, my wee maw went to get the pudding. We all shouted

  ‘Can we get some pudding ma?’

  My wee maw replied with a straight pious look.

  ‘Naw I'm sorry you can’t have any 'cause you didn't eat your soup or dinner’

  The guys really pissed themselves at that one.

  ‘No more, no more’ hooted Paul.

  ‘One more before we have a game of snooker ‘says big Willie.

  ‘I remember going shopping with my wee maw; we went into the butchers for something. Anyway, my wee maw is a bit of a joker. She says to the guy behind the counter,

  ‘Have you got pigs feet?’ and the guy says,

  ‘Aye hen’.

  ‘Well could you trot over there and get me two pound of mince’.