by Ian Todd
“Ah think it’s a mistake,” Charlie hid warned him. “It’s gonnae happen sooner or later. Why no jist noo? The time is ripe, so it is.”
“They’ve still goat their uses,” he’d telt him. “Tony isnae daft. Aye, he wid’ve weighed up the pros and cons ae whether tae take advantage, bit Ah think he wid’ve waited tae see whit way the wind wis blowing. Don’t furget, he’s a fly greaser basturt.”
Wan-bob knew that it wis his job tae take full advantage, withoot hivving tae bare that arse ae his tae the fly Tally cunt. He’d need tae play his haun close tae his chest though. Any sign that he wisnae oan his game and the crafty basturt sitting opposite him wid end up taking him and Charlie tae the cleaners.
“How’s that pal ae yers?”
“Johnboy? Ach, he’s taking his time. He’s aw loved up.”
“Imagine wan ae youse being a hero…and a fucking jail social worker at that? Ah widnae expect that wan tae dae yer street cred any good.”
“Ach well, Ah’m sure getting shot ae a filthy stoat-the baw oan a permanent basis will mair than make up fur that wee indiscretion,” The Atalian replied, parrying away the dig effortlessly, a wee faint smile appearing at the side ae his mooth.
“So, he’ll be putting in a claim fur compensation then…him being innocent and aw that?”
Aye, nae thanks tae you, ya fucking auld prick, ye, Tony thought tae himsel, noticing that the tic hid calmed doon a wee bit. He wis dying tae look at his watch, bit he knew that wid be a mistake efter the rebuke he’d been oan the end ae at the last visit. He’d jist need tae be patient. Being the obstinate basturt that he wis, Wan-bob couldnae be hurried.
“We’d jist goat they fucking newspapers tae shift oan tae a different hymn sheet wae aw that gangster and Mr Big heidline shite and noo this,” the prisoner grumbled mair tae himsel than tae his visitor. “It wis The Goat that spoke tae them as well. He’d be fucking raging knowing that he wis the cause ae putting us back oan tae the front pages. It’s true whit they say. It never rains bit it pours. So, carry oan wae that speculation ae yers then.”
“Ach, Ah’m sure youse hiv yer ain ideas ae whit’s gaun oan and who’s really behind things, Bob.”
“Aye, bit Ah want tae hear your thoughts, so fire away…take yer time…Ah’m no gaun anywhere soon,” the gangster said encouragingly, a faint wee smile cracking open that wrinkled face ae his.
At last, they’d arrived at the nub ae the reason fur the visit. Tony reckoned he’d only been sitting there fur ten minutes. So, whit did that tell him, he wondered. He didnae believe Wan-bob wis desperate…at this stage. He knew that he’d need tae be extra vigilant oan whit he said next. He still wisnae sure if The Mankys wur oan Wan-bob’s hit list. If they wur, then they’d aw be taken oot, probably in wan fell swoop in the coming days and weeks. There wid be nae point in pleading their innocence. If the decision wis taken, then The Mankys wid be wiped oot. It wis as simple as that. They’d aw sat and speculated up at Johnboy’s pad oan how many bears Wan-bob and Charlie must hiv roond aboot them. According tae Baby Huey, there wis probably o’er a hunner oan the payroll, scattered across the businesses, bit the dangerous wans, the real killers that carried oot the serious side ae the business and made people disappear, wid’ve numbered aboot fifteen tae twenty, he reckoned. They wur the wans that enforced the law according tae Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie oan behauf ae The Big Man, Pat Molloy. The Mankys knew who they aw wur. Not wan ae them could be classed as a pusho’er. They’d been wae The Big Man fae back in the day. He wis glad the decision no tae take advantage ae Wan-bob and Charlie’s confinement hid been settled early oan. Even though nearly two weeks hid passed since the shooting in Renfield Lane, there hid been nae come-back, at least, no as far as they could make oot. That tended tae suggest that the bogeymen wur still trying tae suss oot who the main players wur…which meant The Mankys wid probably still be in the crosshairs or Wan-bob wis farting aboot, playing his usual wee mind games. Either way, he wis still treading dangerous waters. The impending nurse’s trial wis keeping the lid oan things…fur the time being. Wan-bob’s bears wur mair visible tae The Mankys noo than they’d ever been. Apart fae the heavies oan the doors in the toon, maist ae them usually kept tae the shadows. Simon’s carpet warehoose across in the Coocaddens goat a few extra customers in the shape ae Patsy Green wanting his daughter’s living room and hall carpeted and Shug The Rub, another wan ae Peter The Plant’s trigger-happy gunmen, needed the stairs ae wan ae the flats he rented oot carpeted. Frankie Fritter, Simon’s right-haun man, said he wis shiting himsel humphing the carpet through the door ae the vacant flat, as he wis expecting Shug The Rub tae jump oot and put a bullet intae that heid ae his. Jake also said that there hid been bears trooping in and oot ae the shoap buying shirts and troosers o’er the past week. They’d aw been pleasant enough, demanding and getting the usual staff discoonts, bit it didnae take a genius tae suss oot the reasons fur the sudden interest in this year’s latest fashions.
“That’s Wan-bob jist noising youse up, letting youse know that they kin take any ae us oot whenever they want.”
Another increase in custom hid been at Honest George’s garage up oan Pinkston Drive. When Peter hid found oot that Joe Paste, who, according tae Sleazebag Donald, hid been the wan that hid plugged Streaky John McGinnis in that big fancy hoose ae his, hid been in wae that fancy Merc ae his, followed two days later by Steady Teddy Shaw, wae his Merc, Peter hid gone ballistic. Peter knew fine well that Jean widnae pack in her wee office job at Honest George’s…no withoot Peter revealing the reason why she wid be safer sitting at hame twiddling her thumbs. Peter hid threatened George that if he didnae get in touch wae him the next time any ae they basturts turned up at the garage, then it wid be him that wid be copping his whack. Luckily, George’d hid the foresight, and the baws, tae get in touch wae Simon. It hid taken Tony and Simon maist ae the morning tae calm Peter doon and no go and shoot the next wan ae Wan-bob’s bears that happened tae turn up fur an oil change.
“Ah’m telling ye, Tony, the first wan ae they basturts tae step through that fucking garage door is getting blasted,” Peter hid raged at him.
“Ach, Peter, shut yer arse. This is aw part ae the noise-up, so it is,” Simon hid subtly telt him.
Tony looked at the cauld, expectant face sitting opposite him, impatiently waiting fur an answer. He could continue tae fanny aboot or he could jist let the cat oot ae the bag and see whit kind ae reaction he’d get. The fact that they wur sitting in the middle ae a jail visiting room meant Wan-bob wid still hiv tae keep his composure withoot drawing attention tae them.
“Well, fur a start, Ah picked up a wee whisper that the shooting ae that inspector hid fuck aw tae dae wae Black Pat McVeigh’s team ae black butchers,” he said casually, as Wan-bob’s tic ratcheted up intae overdrive.
He wondered if Wan-bob and The Big Man wur related. Pat Molloy hid the exact same tic, only his wis oan the opposite eye tae the gorilla sitting opposite him.
“Carry oan,” the husky voice growled.
“So, if it wisnae them, who else wid be stupid enough…or fly enough…tae be in a position tae inflict maximum damage oan everywan, including us?” he replied, before quickly adding. “And Ah kin assure ye, it bloody well wisnae any ae us.”
“Who telt ye that McVeigh and his boys hidnae done it?”
“Peter The Runner picked up a wee whisper oot and aboot oan his travels.”
“Fae who?”
Silence.
“Carry oan,” Wan-bob said, nodding, searching the face opposite him fur any tell-tale sign ae a flanker being pulled.
“Well, it seems obvious tae us that The McGregors ur raking the grate, taking advantage ae the situation that you and Charlie hiv found yersels in, being stuck in here.”
“So, ye’re saying The McGregors ur behind aw this shite?”
“Naw. Ye asked me tae speculate, so Ah’m speculating.”
“So, where dis that leave youse then? Ah wid’ve thought youse wid’v
e fancied yer chances.”
“Us?” Tony exclaimed, putting oan his best hurt expression. “Well, seeing as we’re no involved in anything, apart fae oor ain business, then whit goes oan elsewhere in the toon his goat fuck aw tae dae wae us,” he replied, no surprised at the derisive guffaw emanating fae the other side ae the shelf.
“Look, it’s me ye’re talking tae, Tony. Don’t sit there and treat me like a haufwit or Ah’ll get annoyed.”
“Ah’m telling ye, it’s obvious that The McGregors hiv made a move. Christ, even Snappy sussed that wan oot and he’s no exactly the brain ae Britain, so he isnae.”
“Aye, bit that’s no whit Ah asked ye. Where ur youse in aw this?”
“Us? We’re nowhere. We’re sitting oan oor arses and watching whit’s happening fae the side-lines….trying tae keep the hell oot ae whit’s brewing and oor heids doon. They hauled Peter’s arse in fur Honest John’s wee slip-up across in Woodside, so they did. We’ve goat mair than enough oan oor plates.”
“If the toon erupts, youse will cop it whether ye want tae be involved or no. Wae us pair being holed up in here, we still hiv tae go caw-canny so as no tae upset the apple cart. Ah’ve always believed that in times ae trouble and strife, ye should always dae the opposite ae whit everywan is expecting ye tae dae. Ah’m sure somewan as intelligent as you knows that. The smart move fur us is tae sit tight, even though it pains me tae admit it. If we hiv a go jist noo, everything will come doon roond aboot oor ears. The polis, the newspapers, plus aw the bodies that’ll start appearing oan the streets. It wid be messy. Even if we did come oot oan tap at the end ae the day, everything we worked fur o’er the years wid hiv tae be rebuilt fae scratch. Look at aw they fine tenement buildings that hid been aroond since the year dot? Wance things hiv gone, they’re gone furever. Bit, fur somewan like youse? Ach, youse wee arse-bandits hiv jist started oot. Youse hivnae goat that much tae lose that couldnae be quickly put back thegither wae the help ae auld friends.”
“Ah’ve awready telt ye, Bob, we hid fuck aw tae dae wae whit happened tae The Goat. And naw, we’re no in league wae The McGregors either. Ah hear whit ye’re saying loud and clear, bit we’ve worked hard and if it’s awright wae you…and The McGregors, we’d like tae hing oan tae whit we’ve awready goat,” Tony said, waiting fur the next roond ae threats ae serious violence tae come his way.
“That’s wan way ae looking at it, bit wance the dust settles, whit then? Ye don’t think Charlie and me widnae be put under tremendous pressure tae deal wae the sleekit basturts that didnae come tae oor aid when the chips wur doon? The wans who stood oan the sidelines waiting, in the hope ae picking up whit wis left maybe? Ah kin well understaun people wanting tae remain neutral. Oan the surface, it seems tae be the sensible thing tae dae, bit it wid be the wrang shout. People like The Mankys, whether ye want tae accept it or no, ur in a Catch 22 situation. Think aboot it. If The McGregors swept the board, ye don’t seriously think fur wan minute they’re gonnae let the likes ae youse wee manky-arsed desperadoes go aboot yer business unhindered, dae ye?” Wan-bob scoffed at him, a sleekit smile spreading across they lips ae his. “No the cheeky upstarts that lifted hauf a ton ae good hash fae they boys ae theirs in a lock-up oot in Paisley. Either way, Tony boy, youse lot ur fucked.”
Tony wondered whether tae jump in or wait. The baith ae them wur sitting looking at each other, contemplating the next step in the Tango that wis being played oot under the noses ae the screws who wur keeping an eye oot oan whit wis happening in the room. Wan-bob wis sitting wae an amused expression spread across his kisser. Tony knew the score. He knew fine well that Wan-bob wis playing wae him, bit he hid tae protect The Mankys’ interests. In aw the years that he’d known Wan-bob Broon, he still couldnae bring himsel tae trust the auld shark oan the other side ae the wee barrier shelf. Wan-bob wis notorious fur backstabbing people that thought he wis their buddy. A rattlesnake wis a rattlesnake no matter how many skins it shed, Tony thought tae himsel. He wanted tae staun up and walk away efter telling Wan-bob tae go and fuck himself. He could see by the refection in Wan-bob’s watery eyes, that he knew exactly whit Tony wis thinking, as that craggy lopsided smile ae his continued tae noise him up. The Mankys wid need reassurances, even though he wid be kidding himsel if he thought he wis gonnae find them up in the visiting room ae The Bar-L. The thought ae trusting the auld basturt went against aw his basic instincts, bit in life, he knew the dice didnae always tumble and come up wae the right set ae numbers. He wis starting tae get bored wae the dance, so thought he’d add a wee bit ae spice tae things tae see where it goat him.
“Ah’m sorry, Bob, bit ye’re jist no tae be trusted,” he said, trying hard no tae pish himsel laughing at the reaction he knew he’d be oan the receiving end ae.
“Me?” Wan-bob exclaimed, trying bit failing in his attempted Oscar-winning performance at making oot how terribly hurt he wis. “Noo, whit wid gie ye cause tae think that? And everything Big Pat, me and Charlie hiv done fur ye o’er the years.”
“We’re no convinced that ye hivnae orchestrated aw this,” Tony replied wae a swish ae his erm.
“Aw, fur Christ’s sake!” Wan-bob cursed, clearly enjoying himsel noo.
Silence.
“Look, Tony, son,” Wan-bob sighed. “We go back a long way. Why wid ye think Ah wid’ve wanted any ae this tae happen, eh? Christ, Timothy…The Goat, wis like a favourite wee brother tae me, so he wis. Ah kin understaun that ye need tae dae whit’s best fur youse at the end ae the day, bit Aw Ah’m saying is, jist make sure that ye’re oan the side that’ll stoap youse fae being wiped oot.”
“Did Black Pat get shot ae that inspector?” Tony asked him.
“Naw.”
“And Black Pat, Streaky John, Willie Commotion and John The Haun?”
“Aye, well, we wur maybe a bit too quick aff the mark there,” Wan-bob admitted. “Bit they wur still causing a lot ae grief fur a lot ae people, so their loss wisnae as keenly felt as it wid’ve been in normal circumstances. Dougan wis wiping the flair wae them before that Highland heifer wan arrived oan the scene, across there in Possil.”
“So, who done in the inspector then?”
“Who dae you think?”
“The McGregors?”
“You’re the speculation expert aboot here. You tell me.”
“Look, if we’re tae get involved, then there’s no fucking way we’re taking orders fae that Danny Murphy, so we’re no.”
“And Ah’ve telt ye long before noo, that he hid fuck aw tae dae wae that wee pal ae yours getting frizzled in that dookit fire up in Parly Road back in the sixties. Fuck’s sake, how many times dae Ah hiv tae tell ye?”
“Ah’m warning ye in advance, Bob. If…and it’s only an if…we get involved, we’ll dae it oor way or there will be no way,” Tony retorted, slinging oot the hook, relieved tae see the auld prick circling the bait.
“Ah’m listening.”
“We’ll take care ae Campbell and Grey and any ae that other young crowd that ur fucking aboot in the toon centre and anywhere else oan this side ae the river.”
“And?”
“Whit dae ye mean, and?”
“Whit aboot The McGregors?”
“They ur The McGregors. Ah thought ye jist said that ye wanted tae avoid a full-scale bloodbath in the toon?”
“Tony, shut the fuck up and get oan wae it. Ah’m no as simple as ye’re making me oot tae be,” Wan-bob chided him, as they baith smiled.
“That’ll mean we get back intae the toon centre at nights and the weekends, bit Ah’m telling ye, we’ll dae things oor way. It’s bad enough trying tae keep ma ain people in check withoot your lot upsetting the applecart. If we kin take oot any ae the bigger McGregors themsels, while oot and aboot oan oor travels, we will, bit Ah’m promising nothing, Bob,” he warned him.
“Bit youse’ll gie it a go?”
“If we kin.”
“That’s aw ye hid tae say at the beginning withoot aw this bloody pussyfooting aroond,” Mr Friendly-Aw-
Ae-A-Sudden Broon said, smiling sweetly. “Nae wonder Ah’ve goat a bloody ulcer. Oan oor part, Charlie and me will haud back, keep the boys oan their leashes,” he gushed, before slipping in the stiletto. “Youse hiv goat four weeks.”
“Naw, naw. Don’t fucking start putting a timescale oan this, Bob. We’ll make it a priority, bit we’ll hiv tae make sure we don’t get wiped oot intae the bargain.”
“Tony, youse hiv four weeks. Ah’ve goat a trial tae take care ae. And remember, Ah don’t want tae see any ae that gangster shite oan the front pages ae the papers either, so a wee bit ae subtly wid be appreciated.”
“Right, so noo that ye’ve goat whit you want, Ah’ll need a few wee favours masel.”
“Naw, ye don’t. Ye’re helping us oot because ye want tae, efter aw the help we’ve gied yer manky greasy Atalian arse o’er the years. Ah’ve goat enough oan ma plate withoot running efter your arse, so Ah hiv.”
“Look, Ah’m gonnae hiv tae go doon the road and persuade a bunch ae argumentative basturts tae support whit’s been asked ae us. You might come across as ma best pal, bit they certainly don’t see ye as Santa Fucking Claus, Ah kin assure ye,” Tony reminded him.
“Ah’m listening.”
“We’ve goat a wee pal…Pearl Campbell…Sharon Campbell’s daughter…”
“Aye, Ah know Sharon. She’s a good lassie. They sandwiches her and the other wummin are punting ur nice tae,” Wan-bob interjected. “We goat some sent in through the back door tae us.”
“Anyway, she’s a journalist. She needs a job. We’re no bothered whether it’s wae The Glesga Echo or any ae the other shite rags in the toon, jist so long as she gets a start.”
