by Ian Todd
“Whit…” Collette blurted oot, panicking and snatching up the bundle, before tossing them intae her shoulder bag oan the seat beside her.
“Fur Christ’s sake, Collette!”
“Whit?”
“Do…don’t dae that again. Jeezuss!”
“Ah’m sorry. Ah thought ye might’ve wanted tae hiv a wee peek.”
“Look, Ah’m gonnae hiv tae go, so Ah am.”
“Bit, why?”
“Ah telt ye earlier and as ye said yersel, Ah’m only the messenger here, so Ah am.”
“Bit…”
“Look, there ur trust issues here, so there is.”
“Trust issues?”
“Aye. The people who’ve sent me here ur convinced that ye’re undercover.”
“Bit, Ah’ve jist showed ye the letters. How could Ah be an undercover agent wae they letters sitting in ma bag?”
“Look, stranger and mair sophisticated things hiv happened in the past, so they hiv.”
“Ah cannae believe whit Ah’m hearing,” Collette groaned in disbelief.
“There ye go.”
“There ye go whit?” she spat.
“Ye’re gonnae hiv tae prove otherwise.”
“Whit dae ye mean, Ah’m gonnae hiv tae prove otherwise? Whit the fuck is that supposed tae mean, Geraldine?”
“It means the people that asked me tae meet wae ye won’t bite, despite they letters,” Geraldine replied, nodding at the opening ae the bag sitting oan the seat across fae her. “They’ll believe that they’ve been fabricated in some wee dark room in the dirty tricks department doon in Pitt Street, so they will.”
“Oh, fur God’s sake. Ah don’t believe this,” Collette cursed, as another batch ae hospital visitors crossed the road fae The Royal and entered the café. “Ye gied me the impression that ye hid the authority tae be here? Ur ye sure that it’s no you that’s taking the piss?”
“Look, Ah know these people. They’re pretty senior in whit they dae during their daytime jobs, so they ur. Yer story and evidence is jist too…too oot there, so it is,” Geraldine spluttered, shaking her heid. “They’ll require assurances, evidence, that ye’re who ye say ye ur.”
“Ah still don’t understaun.”
“Collette, if ye haun they letters across tae me, there’s nae guarantee that ye’ll ever see them again. In fact, they may end up being tossed in tae a fire. As it stauns, nowan wid want tae touch them…including me.”
“So, ye don’t believe me then…or these?” Collette demanded tae know, reaching in tae the bag and haudin up the bundle.
“Look, put them away, Collette…please. Ah’m no saying that, bit…”
“Bit?”
“Ye’ll still hiv tae prove ye ur who ye say ye ur. That’s the way it his tae be. There’s too much at risk fur these people. They’re pragmatic. They believe that, if in doubt, walk away. There’s always another day tae pick yer fight.”
“Ah’m the wan that’s taking aw the risks here,” Collette snarled, feeling the tears ae frustration coming oan. “Aw Ah’m bloody asking is fur a bit ae support, fur Christ’s sake. Whit ever happened tae aw that ‘We’re aw wummin thegither’ shite?”
“It’s no like that, Collette.”
“Okay, how dae Ah prove that Ah’m genuine?” she asked.
“It wid need tae be by an act ae faith.”
“Whit dae ye mean by an act ae faith? Christ, Ah’m putting ma job, naw, laying ma bloody life oan the line here and ye’re asking fur an act ae faith, fur fuck’s sake?”
“Ah know that it sounds bad, bit…” Geraldine replied, shrugging they shoulders ae hers, trying tae look as apologetic as she could.
Silence.
“Okay,” Collette finally said, taking a deep breath. “Whit dis an act ae faith look like tae The Showgirls?”
“Look, Ah know that it seems awful, bit ye’ve goat tae understaun where…”
“Geraldine, spit it oot before Ah staun up and walk oot that door,” Collette threatened her.
Silence.
“Ah’m waiting.”
“And Ah’m thinking.”
“Ye’ve goat five seconds and Ah’m aff oot ae here. Ah mean it.”
“Right. That pal ae yers?”
“Whit pal?”
“The wan in the intelligence section doon in Pitt Street.”
“Lesley?” Collette gasped, immediately cursing the slip ae her tongue.
“Is that her name? It’s no Lesley Bare is it? That bloody cow?”
“Ye wur jist aboot tae say,” Collette reminded her through clenched teeth.
“She’s goat something…something we need.”
“We? Who? The Showgirls?”
“Naw, The Rose Bain Campaign Group.”
“Whit the hell his The Rose Bain Campaign Group goat tae dae wae whit we’re sitting here discussing?” she demanded. ”Who the hell is Rose Bain?”
Geraldine started tae explain who Rose Bain wis, when Collette interrupted her.
“Aye, right, Ah know who ye’re talking aboot noo. Senga Jackson telt me who she wis. So, whit’s this goat tae dae wae anything?”
“Ah’m the chairperson ae the group, so Ah am.”
“So?”
“So, there wis an internal investigation…some kind ae case review, Ah heard it being described as…looking at the circumstances surrounding how she died, who wis involved and whether there hid been any tampering ae the evidence.”
“Well, Ah kin tell ye fur a start that Ah know, fur a fact, that everything wis as it should be.”
“So, ye’ve read the file then?”
“Naw.”
“So, how dae ye know?”
“Ah wis telt oan good authority.”
“By who?”
“By Lesley Bare,” they baith chimed thegither.
”And you believe her?”
“Of course.”
“Well, mair fool you. Lesley Bare is the biggest fork-tongued cow that ever walked the streets ae Glesga, so she is. Ye’ve obviously never come across that side ae her…as yet,” Geraldine scoffed at her dismissively.
“Anyway, kin we swiftly move oan,” Collette reminded her.
“Ah want that file.”
“Whit file?”
“Ye know whit file.”
“Ye cannae be serious.”
“Dae Ah look as if Ah’m kidding?”
“There’s no way in a month ae Sundays Lesley Bare wid haun o’er anything, never mind Rose Bain’s file. She could end up in the jail, so she could.”
“Ye asked me whit an act ae faith looked like. Ah’ve jist telt ye. That’s whit it is. If you want they letters used tae bring doon The Irish Brigade, then that’ll be the price…the act ae faith…so it will.”
“And aw the wummin? Whit am Ah supposed tae tell them then?” Collette wanted tae know, emphasising the bitter sarcasm in that voice ae hers.
“Whit wummin?”
“Aw they poor ex-poliswummin who’ve signed they testaments that ur sitting in ma bag?”
“Hiv ye heard ae somewan called Emily Pankhurst?”
“Naw. Should Ah hiv?”
“She wis the leader ae the suffragette movement back at the turn ae the century. It wis because ae her that aw us wummin goat the franchise.”
“Franchise?”
“The vote.”
“And?”
“Wan ae her maist famous quotes is that when ye hiv warfare, things happen, people suffer…the non-combatants suffer as well as the combatants. And so it happens in civil war.”
“Crap!”
“It’s funny ye should say that. That pal ae yers, Senga? She came oot wae the exact same response when Ah quoted it tae her.”
“So, whit’s changed, apart fae us wummin getting the vote that we don’t use?”
“Lots ae things.”
“Well, why am Ah being paid less than they male colleagues ae mine? No that Ah can afford it, bit when Ah enquired aboot getting a mortgage, the guy in the
suit behind the desk asked me where Mr James wis. When Ah telt him that there wisnae wan, he then said that, in that case, Ah’d need tae get ma da tae complete the form. When Ah telt him that ma da wis no longer wae us, he jist sat and shrugged they shoulders ae his.”
“Look, Collette, Ah’m sorry, bit Ah hiv tae go. Ah’m late awready,” Geraldine announced suddenly, staunin up.
“Bit whit aboot…” Collette started tae say, alarmed.
“Get in touch wae me wance ye’ve come up wae that act ae faith we spoke aboot,” Geraldine replied stiffly, embarrassed, walking aff and leaving her tae pick up the tab. “If ye jist leave a message at the reception across the road tae get back in touch, it’ll get passed oan tae me, so it will.”
“Fox Skulk One. Are you copying? Over?”
“Hearing you loud and clear, Fox Skulk Three. Over.”
“That’s the subject leaving the café now. Over.”
“And our friend? Over.”
“She’s still sitting in the café. I have her in the lens just now. She looks to be crying. Over.”
“Okay, Fox Skulk Three. Well played. You can return to base. Over and out.”
Chapter Fifty Nine
Elvis sat listening attentively, cursing the wheezing fae that mooth and nose ae his, as he breathed in the hot air trapped in the canvas bag that hid been pulled doon o’er his heid earlier. He hidnae a clue where he wis. Wan minute he’d been driving slowly doon Kildonan Drive tae get across tae The Plaza early, at jist efter seven o’clock in the morning, and the next, a big Cortina hid pulled oot in front ae him at the junction ae Exeter Drive jist doon fae the flat. Two hooded gunmen hid forced their way intae his wee hired van. They’d dragged him oot and slung him intae the back seat ae their car at the same time as pulling the bag o’er his heid. The waiting driver hid put the car intae gear and drove aff in the direction it hid been facing. He wisnae sure exactly, bit roughly aboot twenty minutes later, he’d been dragged back oot ae the car, protesting his innocence ae anything he might’ve been getting accused ae, and hid been tied tae the wooden chair he wis noo sitting in. He swivelled his heid roond tae his right. Footsteps close by wur heiding towards him. He let oot a frightened yelp as the hood wis whipped aff ae that heid ae his, only tae be blinded by whit he took tae be mini floodlights.
“Mr Presley?”
“Eh?” he screamed oot in panic, no sure fae whit direction the voice hid come fae.
“Calm him doon a wee bit,” he heard the same voice say, as an ice-cauld bucket ae water wis thrown aw o’er him, soaking him through tae his skin.
“Mr Presley?” the voice asked again.
“A…aye?” he replied, spluttering water oot ae that mooth ae his, gulping and gasping at the same time.
“Elvis The Sani Man,” the voice drawled. “Lives in 28 Kildonan Drive. Married tae Priscilla and his a nice wee pretty twelve-year-auld daughter tae boot. Aw, is that no nice?” the voice mocked, as Elvis jist aboot hid a heart attack at the mention ae his wife and daughter. “Ah wonder whit Lisa Marie is daeing…at this very moment in time, Ah mean?”
Elvis started howling the place doon, begging them no tae herm his wife and daughter.
“Please?” he screamed. “Ah beg ye!”
“Hoi, and where dae ye think you’re gaun, missy?”
“Ah need tae nip roond tae Lucy Bett’s hoose. Ah won’t be long.”
“Naw ye’re no. We’re leaving in ten minutes, so we ur. We cannae be late fur yer da. It’s the second day ae the competition. He’ll be up tae high doh as it is, so he will.”
“Bit, Lucy said that Ah could borrow her granda’s auld wooden fitba rattle. Ah want tae use it tae cheer ma da oan, so Ah dae,” Lisa Marie howled.
“It’s an Elvis show, no a Partick Thistle match. And anyway, ye won’t get in wae it, so ye wullnae. There’s stewards oan the door and the car will be parked up miles away if ye need tae take it back tae it, so it will.”
“Ah’ll stuff it up ma cardigan where they won’t see it.”
“Naw.”
“Aw Ma-ah! Please? Ah want tae surprise ma da and droon oot that fat idiot, Teddy Junior’s stupid plastic trumpet, so Ah dae,” Lisa Marie screamed, dancing up in doon wae frustration.
“Lisa Marie Presley! Don’t ever let me hear ye using that word ever again in this hoose.”
“Whit word?”
“Ye know whit word.”
“Well he is fat, so he is.”
“Look, any mair lip oot ae you and ye’ll be drapped aff at yer granny’s and ye’ll no get tae go, so ye wullnae.”
“Please, Ma? Ah promise no tae call Fatso fat again,” the whine continued. “Please?”
“Look, ye better be oot that door and back here in five minutes flat. Ah’m no gonnae be oot looking fur ye, so Ah’m no. If ye’re no here oan time, then Ah’ll be aff withoot ye, so Ah will.”
“Brilliant,” she screamed, pounding alang the hall tae the ootside door, her blue and white polka dot dress billowing oot like a tent, as Priscilla heided fur the bedroom tae make sure she hidnae furgotten anything.
“Tell me…please? Whit hiv Ah done?” Elvis pleaded through his whimpering, as laughter broke oot fae the three voices behind the lights.
“Whit’s he’s done? Is he fucking joking or whit?” Peter The Plant asked Charlie Hastie, exaggerating the surprise in that voice ae his.
“Ah say we start cutting up this wee cheesy fucker jist noo, insteid ae aw this arseing aboot. That wee poisonous basturt won’t take a telling, so he wullnae,” Danny Murphy growled.
“Bit Ah…Arrggghhh!” Elvis screamed, as another bucket ae ice-cauld water stoapped they vocal chords ae his in mid screech, switching the pleading tae spluttering and coughing.
“Wid ye tell him tae calm doon. Ah’m trying tae think, so Ah am,” Charlie asked wan ae them.
“Hoi, ya wee fucking diddy, ye. Shut the fuck up. Kin ye no see that there’s thinking gaun oan aboot here, ya selfish wee cunt, ye!”
“Right, that’s better…much better. Ah kin hear masel think noo,” Charlie said, slowly pulling across a chair, which made a rasping sound as it wis scraped across the rough concrete flair fae the back wall, causing Elvis tae jump in his seat, despite being tied tae it. “Dae ye think he’s calmed doon enough fur us tae hiv a wee confab?”
“Hiv you calmed doon yet?” Peter asked the prisoner, who mumbled something.
“Whit wis that?” Charlie asked.
“A…aye.”
“Right, well, that’s better. It’s nae use us getting aw emotional and aw that when we’re jist trying tae hiv a civil conversation, so it’s no.”
“Please don’t herm ma wife and daughter,” Elvis pleaded, as another bucket ae iced water jist aboot drooned him again.
“Fur Christ’s sake. Where is she?” Priscilla cursed, drawing the lace curtains aside and peering doon the avenue efter the clock hid telt her that twenty minutes hid lapsed since Lisa Marie hid bolted oot the door.
She’d awready been doon the stairs tae fill the boot ae the car up wae their sandwiches and Elvis’s ootfits. She knew she shouldnae hiv listened tae Lisa Marie. She’d been pushing her luck fur weeks noo. Lucy Bett’s ma, Nancy, hid telt her that Lucy hid been putting her through the same rigmarole as hersel.
“And that’s them no even teenagers as well,” Nancy hid said. “God help us fae whit’s tae come.”
“Right, that’s it,” Priscilla growled, strutting across the kitchen towards the lobby, grabbing her coat oan the way past tae go and see where the hell that daughter ae hers wis.
“Right, Ah’m no gonnae tell him again. If he gets aw upset and starts spluttering a heap ae shite again, he’s aw yours,” Charlie snarled. “Ah’ve goat an important date, so Ah hiv, and could be daeing withoot aw this farting aboot wasting ma precious time doon here oan a Saturday morning.”
“Right, did ye hear that noo? Whit wis that? Ah cannae hear ye?” Danny growled.
“A…aye, Ah heard,” Elvis whimpered, try
ing his hardest no tae break doon again.
“Right, Ah’ll start again. Bit mind, if he fucks me aboot again, Ah’m offskie,” Charlie threatened.
“Naw, he’ll be fine. Look, he’s stoapped pishing they silver troosers ae his,” Peter The Plant pointed oot, as everywan behind the floodlights chuckled.
“Right, Mr Elvis. Ah want ye tae take a deep breath through that snottery nose ae yers, so Ah dae.
Silence.
“Go oan. Make sure it’s a deep wan,” Charlie commanded, as Elvis exaggerated taking a deep breath.
“Good, good. See, that wisnae so bad, wis it? Noo, then, whit dis this room smell like?”
“A slaughterhoose,” Elvis mumbled.
“Eh? Whit wis that?”
“A black slaughterhoose.”
“Aye, a fucking black slaughterhoose. Ye should feel honoured seeing as whit yer job is. Usually the only guests that get invited back here ur coos, pigs, horses, mongrels, cats…in fact, anything Black Pat and they boys ae his kin lay their hauns oan that kin bulk oot a wee pie gets tae visit doon here, so they dae. Noo, when times are hard or when wee fucking nosey sani men come in aboot, sticking their fucking nosey beaks intae other people’s business, it kin affect the food chain, so it kin. Wance a good customer goes, it’s doubly hard tae get her back, as the chances ur, she ends up getting her meat fae somewan else. Noo, we cannae hiv that, kin we? Hiv ye any idea whit Black Pat his tae dae tae get her back?” he asked Elvis.
“N…naw,” Elvis croaked.
“He his tae drap his awready low prices and come looking tae us tae try and sort oot the wee difficulty that’s caused the problem in the first place, so he dis,” Charlie explained, as Peter The Plant cranked the chainsaw intae life and Elvis screamed the place doon.
“Hello, Nancy. Is Lisa Marie still wae ye?” Priscilla asked doon in number 20.
“Priscilla? Come in, hen,” Lucy’s ma said, efter opening the door.
“Ah’m sorry, bit we need tae get gaun across tae The Plaza. We’re late awready,” Priscilla replied, feeling flushed.
“Lisa Marie? Naw, she left here aboot fifteen minutes ago wae auld Jimmy’s rattle. Lucy? Lucy?” Nancy shouted alang the lobby. “Did Lisa Marie say where she wis gaun?”
