Authors: Ian Todd
“Will the place no be bugged?” Pat hid wanted tae know.
“Why wid somewan like Honest John go tae the expense ae getting an alarm put in? Who the fuck wid be daft enough tae rob him?” Snappy hid asked, tae mair guffaws.
“So, whit dae we need, Johnboy?” Peter, the Mankys’ runner hid asked.
“A good sparky who knows whit he’s daeing. Somewan we kin trust and who knows how tae keep his mooth shut.”
“Aye, that’s your job, Peter. Make sure there won’t be any trail leading back tae us,” Tony hid said, nodding.
“Nae problem.”
“And who’s gonnae be inside then?” Ben hid asked whit everywan else wis wondering.
“You, Pat and Silent,” Tony hid replied.
“And whit aboot me? There’s nae way Ah’m being left oot ae robbing that big fat cunt,” Simon hid growled, getting a few nods ae agreements in the room.
“Simon, ye’ll be sitting back here, waiting fur a bag ae dosh that’ll allow ye tae go oot and buy as much knocked-aff carpets as ye kin get yer hauns oan. Anywan that’s been anywhere near that shoap or who his hid any contact wae Honest John’s daughters or sons-in-law, is no tae be anywhere near the place. When the shite hits the fan, we don’t want tae be caught in the fall-oot.”
“It’s no the same, no being involved. Ah’m the hurt wan here,” Simon hid protested.
“Look, believe you me, when Honest John comes aff that bus, pished as a fart, tae find oot a dozen ae his brand new electric tills ur lying oan the flair in bits wae nae money in them, any hurt that ye feel will be nothing compared tae the pain in that fat arse ae his,” Tony hid said, as Simon and everywan else in the room burst oot laughing.
“Where did the key come fae then, Johnboy?”
“Ah know wan ae the wummin who works there part-time. She took it hame wae her and Ah goat it cut the next morning. She widnae take any mair than twenty quid, so we aw owe her wan. The storeroom is at the far end ae the second flair oan the Dumbarton Road side. Ye canny miss it. It says gentlemen oan the door and it’s the only wan there is, so there won’t be a problem,” Tony said.
“Whit if somewan wants tae take a slash?”
“They won’t. It’s a storeroom that’s hardly ever used. The only reason he’s goat the sticker oan it, is tae keep The Corporation aff ae his back as he’s supposed tae provide toilets fur customers given the size ae the building. Wance youse hear the shutters oan the front door coming doon, get oot and get tore intae they tills. Don’t fuck aboot noo. There will be plenty ae tools in the parts department that ye kin use as jemmies. Wance ye’re done, jist come oot ae the fire exit roond the back and Ah’ll be sitting waiting fur youse. Peter and me will pick up a car each fae the toon centre, tae make sure everything goes tae plan. I’ll dump the money car across in Possil and switch intae the other wan that’ll be sitting there waiting. Peter will take whoever’s still in the shoap up tae Jonah’s lounge fur a few pints tae celebrate efterwards. Obviously, nearer the time, we’ll hiv mair tae talk aboot, bit in the meantime, any questions?”
“Ah’m still no happy aboot no being involved.”
“Ach, shut yer arse, Simon. This is Johnboy’s silver lining he wis telling ye aboot. It’s you we’re daeing this fur, ya ungrateful fucker, ye,” Snappy hid hit him wae, fair chuffed that he’d goat the last word in.
Two weeks later, oan Saturday the 27
th
October, which happened tae be the anniversary ae The Titanic sinking, according tae Snappy, Honest John McCaffrey hid ended up oot-ae-pocket by jist under four and a hauf grand. And tae make matters worse, The Jags hid goat humped 2-1 by the Fifers. The job hid gone smoothly, apart fae the fact that Pat, Silent and Ben hid tae practically demolish the fire exit doors tae get oot because ae the steel chains and the padlocked iron bar used tae secure them shut. So much fur Honest John looking efter the welfare ae his staff and customers. The beauty ae robbing somewan like Honest John wis that there wis nae way anywan wis gonnae end up in the jail…maybe deid, bit no charged wae a criminal offence. Honest John widnae hiv wanted the bizzies snooping aboot his place. Efter the job, there hidnae been any great fanfare ae gossip daeing the roonds either. The only thing that hid seemingly confused his staff hid been the return ae the auld run-doon tatty manual tills fae the local scrap-shoap, which hid been sitting oan the coonters oan the Monday morning when they’d turned up fur their work. Behind the scenes, it hid been a different story though. Honest John and they son-in-laws ae his, hid been dishing oot hidings tae anywan who even looked at them the wrang way that following week. Wan-bob hid kept The Mankys up-tae-date oan whit Honest John’s bears wur up tae. As far as The Mankys wur concerned, they didnae seem tae be oan the radar, at least, that’s whit they thought, until the following Saturday night. Snappy hid popped in by Carpet Capers, jist as Simon hid been shutting up shoap. The three transit vans that Simon’d hid oan the road hid aw been oot and aboot, alang wae his big box trailers, which wur being used by his carpet fitters, daeing big jobs that weekend. Snappy hid arranged tae meet up fur a pint wae wan ae the local Maryhill street bookies, John Paul Jerome, in The Tavern, up oan Queen’s Cross. He wis haunin o’er some dosh fur info John Paul hid gied him oan a wagon full ae fags that Snappy and his wee sticky-fingered crew hid hijacked a few weeks earlier. Simon hid suggested they walk, as he’d been stuck in the warehoose aw day. Jist at the junction ae Garscube Road and Possil Road, wan ae Honest John’s son-in-laws, a thick, liberty-taking basturt called Tibbs McPherson, and wan ae his sidekicks, hid confronted Simon o’er the break-in. Tibbs hid been as pished as a fart, which meant there wis nae reasoning wae him plus everywan who knew him knew fine well that the fire-water made Tibbs even mair nasty and dangerous than whit he wis when he wis sober. Snappy hid telt Johnboy he couldnae remember whit Tibbs hid snarled at Simon. Bit, whitever hid been said, it hid led tae Tibbs and Simon squaring up tae each other oan the pavement. Simon hidnae messed aboot and hid whipped oot a Stanley knife and swiped it at Tibbs’s face. Unfortunately fur Honest John’s favourite, fat son-in-law, the blade ae the Stanley knife hid caught him jist under his left earlobe and carried oan doon tae his neck in a sweeping curve, luckily missing his carotid artery, bit unluckily, cutting through his trachea, or windpipe, as the journalist in the spread in the next day’s paper referred tae it as. Tibbs hid hit the cracked pavement like a sack ae dry shite, clutching his neck wae baith hauns, as his kicking legs twirled him roond in a manic circle like a Catherine Wheel as the blood pished oot ae that neck ae his, as he gurgled his last breath in blind panic. Meanwhile, Snappy hidnae been staunin idly aboot either, and hid whipped oot a shooter tae plug Tibbs’s accomplice, who’d been staunin there, pishing in his troosers at the sight ae his pal dying in front ae they bulging eyes ae his. Luckily, when the trigger oan the gun, that hid by noo been pressed hard against the side ae his heid at point blank range, hid jammed, Tibbs’s accomplice hid wailed oot in fear and panic that he hidnae witnessed anything. There hid been a horrible photo splashed across the front page ae The Glesga Echo ae Tibbs McPherson oan the pavement, sitting wae his legs spread open and his back propped up against the wall, below the wee grocers shoap windae, the front ae his white Ben Sherman shirt awash wae blood. Seemingly Tibbs’s pal and the shoapkeeper hid sat him up tae try and somehow revive him. Efter realising the futility ae their efforts, the shoapkeeper hid then gone back in tae his shoap and returned wae a broon paper carrier bag, advertising McKellar’s finest black pudding, and hid placed it o’er Tibbs’s heid. Tibbs McPherson’s pal that night hid been none other than Stu Mackay, who wis noo sitting cackling away wae Snappy in front ae Johnboy and Tony.
“
Good evening. My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.
Undercover firearms officers shot a bank robber, who later died, minutes after arriving at Glasgow Royal Infirmary. Two of the dead man’s accomplices, were arrested at the scene just after eleven o’clock this morning at The Clydeside Bank on the corner of Duke Street and Carntyne Road in the east end of the city. The dead man and those arrested have not been named, but police say the men, all in their late teens, are well-known to them. A spokesman for The Civil Liberties Union in Scotland has called for an independent enquiry into the use of firearms by the police and the circumstances in which the young man was killed. Superintendent Daddy Jackson issued a statement from Central HQ stating that through active police intelligence, armed officers put their lives at risk today, protecting the public from armed thugs. Superintendent Jackson said that during the incident, a police officer shot one of the armed gang after being given three warnings to throw down his weapon. An investigation into the shooting is already underway and a report will be submitted to the procurator fiscal in due course. The officer who fired the shot returned to duty shortly after giving a statement to his superiors on his part in the incident…
Authorities in Stobhill General Hospital have stated that there is little chance of recovery after a man was apparently thrown from a speeding car on Colston Road, near Auchinairn late last night. The man, later named as fifty-two-year-old Sandy Murray, was also found to be suffering from multiple stab wounds to his neck and body, when found by passers-by a short distance from the traffic lights on the busy Glasgow to Kirkintilloch Road. Police are appealing for anyone who may…
A student nurse was raped in Hermitage Avenue after finishing her shift in Knightswood Hospital around ten o’clock last night. Local Police Inspector Jings Johnston told a press conference early today that the assault on the attractive student was wholly despicable and appealed for witne…”
Chapter Thirty
The wind wis getting up and there wis a light drizzle threatening tae become something mair. Inspector Paddy ‘The Stalker’ McPhee quickened his steps across the car park, cursing oot loudly in the darkness, as he failed miserably tae avoid the puddle-filled potholes between the main entrance and the idling, unmarked car, awaiting his arrival. He rummaged through his pockets, searching fur whitever it wis he thought he’d furgotten, while zigzagging across the potted landscape, feeling the cauld water seeping through his socks tae his feet. He wis convinced that he’d furgotten something, as he jumped in tae the passenger seat.
“Wherever ye’re gaun, ye’re late,” said Sergeant Finbar O’Callaghan, known tae aw the wee tickets in Springburn as Bumper.
Bumper flicked the burning ember ae his tipped fag in a long arc towards wan particular puddle that hid whit looked like a wean’s white plastic sandal floating in it, before rolling up his windae.
“Everything comes tae those who wait, Fin,” The Stalker reminded him cheerfully, opening his windae a few inches tae let the reeking fag smoke escape.
“Right, where’s it tae be then?”
“Stobhill, and take yer time. Ah don’t want tae be too early.”
“Too early? Ah think ye’ll find that visiting time finished six and hauf hours ago, Paddy. Whit’s happening up at Stobhill then?”
“Ah want tae pay Haufwit wan last visit, so Ah dae.”
“Haufwit? His he no croaked it yet?” Bumper asked him, sounding surprised, as he shifted intae gear.
“Fin, jist drive and haud yer wheesht while Ah collect ma thoughts,” The Stalker pleaded, as Bumper turned left oan tae Springburn Road and heided in the direction ae Colston.
He’d hung aboot maist ae the night in his office, listening tae the rain drumming aff the flat extension roof above his heid, waiting fur his call tae be returned. When his phone hid eventually rang, sounding like an alarm gaun aff oan the bridge ae the Titanic, jist efter ten o’clock, he’d jist aboot shat in they clean Y-fronts ae his. He must’ve dosed aff.
“Paddy, that’s a Dr Walsh oan the line fae up in Stobhill. Will Ah put him through?” Happy Harry, the desk sergeant’s voice hid asked doon through the receiver, even though The Inspector could hear the same question being asked in stereo, a few feet alang the corridor fae his office door, that wis staunin slightly ajar.
“Aye, cheers, Harry,” the Stalker’d said, nipping across and shutting the aforementioned door, arriving back jist in time tae hear the voice oan the other end ae the line.
“Inspector McPhee?”
“Aye, speaking, Doctor.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls, but as you can imagine, we’ve been extremely busy up here tonight.”
“Ach, well, don’t worry aboot that, Doctor. Ah won’t take up any mair ae yer precious time than is necessary. Ah wis wondering if ye widnae mind daeing me a wee favour?”
“F…favour?” the voice, suddenly laden wae suspicion and fear hid quaked.
The Stalker wis dying tae shout doon the phone ‘Aye, a bloody favour, ya dirty basturt ye,’ bit he’d kept himsel in check. He’d been second in command ae a squad that hid kicked doon the door ae wan ae The Big Man’s plusher brothels across in the West End a year earlier. As well as a member ae parliament, an oot-ae-toon polis superintendent and John Turney, the news presenter, being caught wae their troosers doon near their ankles, Dr Bernard Walsh hid been found trussed up and tied tae a bed, his bare arse being thrashed wae a cat ’o’ nine tails by a big fat whore dressed up in whit looked like a costume fae a Hammer Hoose ae Horror film. While everywan else in the plush toonhoose hid goat charged wae dipping their wicks where they shouldnae hiv, the MP, the bizzy, the TV presenter and Dr Walsh hid been let aff. The Bizzy because he wis wan ae their ain, the MP because ye don’t arrest a legislator, if ye kin help it, and the news presenter and the good doctor because they might come in handy someday. Well, the first ae they ‘somedays’ hid arrived.
“Aye, Ah believe ye’ve goat a Mr Sandy Murray under yer care?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t recognise the name,” he lied.
“Aye, Ah think ye dae. He wis admitted in the early hours ae this morning wae multiple stab wounds hivving been inflicted oan his person, jist before being tossed oot ae a car at high speed a hunner yards north ae the junction ae the Colston and Kirkintilloch Roads oan the Auchinairn side. Ah believe it wis yer good self that attended tae him oan his admission and hiv since pronounced him tae be a hopeless case wae little tae nae chance ae recovery…at least, that’s the latest intel we’ve goat,” The Stalker hid said, swinging his feet up oan tae the corner ae his desk, feeling they baws ae his twitch and part wae pleasure, at the thought ae the expression oan the face ae the good doctor oan the other end ae the line.
“Oh, that Mr Murray? Yes, I’m afraid he’s not expected to last the night. He’s been moved into the family room beside the intensive care ward, where his nearest can spend their last moments with him,” the good doctor hid said sympathetically, vocal chords lowered as befitting the current situation.
“Whit? He’s goat family up there wae him?” The Stalker hid exclaimed, disappointed.
“No, not as yet, but we aim to make it as comfortable as possible for everyone at this time, should family members wish to be present, that is.”
“Aye, well, look. Ah need tae talk tae Haufwit…Ah mean, Sandy. It’s really important, so it is.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Inspector, but that’s quite out of the question. Unless you’re family or have authorisation from the hospital to conduct an interview, then I’m afraid that’s not possible…it’s out of my hands, I’m afraid. I must say in all frankness, given Mr Murray’s condition, that authorisation would not be sanctioned, based on medical or moral grounds. It would be more than my job’s worth to even consider undermining that rule.”
Fuck this, The Stalker hid thought tae himsel.
“Look, Doctor, a year ago Ah saved yer career and family life efter catching ye getting the fuck thrashed oot ae that bare arse ae yers by big Bella McPhail fae Partick, in a high class brothel across in the West End. Ah put ma job oan the line because Ah felt ye needed a friend and a second chance. Noo, Ah’m no the kind ae person tae be casting things up and aw that, bit Ah believe Ah’d be right in thinking that ye owe me wan here, if ye get ma drift?” The Stalker hid growled, exaggerating how upset he wis and appreciating the dulcet sounds ae gulping fae the other end ae the line.
“But, I, er, the matron, er…”
“Look, Ah’m only looking fur a few minutes wae Hauf…er…Sandy. He knows me really well. We go back a long way. Believe you me, Doctor, he’ll be glad tae see me, so he will.”
“Look, Inspector, about the unfortunate incident in that house in the West End. It was a terrible mistake on my par…”
“Dr Walsh. Look, let’s furget aw aboot that wee unfortunate incident. Ah know Ah certainly hiv. Aw Ah need is a few minutes wae Sandy. Honest, he’ll be pleased tae see me. Aw Ah want is tae extract, Ah mean, tease a few names oot ae him, before he departs us fur good. Is that too much tae ask fae wan professional tae the other? Withoot wanting tae sound too dramatic here, there could be innocent lives at stake,” The Stalker hid purred soothingly, fair enjoying himsel.
Silence.
“Ur ye still there, Doctor?”
“Look, Matron goes for her break at bang on one o’clock in the morning. You can have five minutes…maximum…and I mean maximum…but there will have to be a member of staff in the room at all times. The level of Mr Murray’s care is determined by official policy guidelines that until he expires, a member of the hospital staff has to be present twenty four hours a day. Even I cannot change that,” the good doctor hid whined, trying tae put The Stalker aff.
“Who wid that be then?”
“What? Er…a nurse.”
“Ma meeting wae Haufwit is confidential. If word goat oot that he wis speaking tae me under these circumstances, his life…okay, Ah’ll rephrase that, the life ae his family could be in danger,” The Stalker hid warned him.
“Don’t worry, she’s trained not to listen in and to respect patient confidentiality at times such as this. And anyway, she’ll have plenty to be getting on with…like caring fur a dying patient,” Dr Walsh hid reminded him, his confidence returning.
“How will I get in?”
“Come straight into the reception on the intensive care floor at exactly one o’clock and I’ll take you through.”
And that hid been that, The Stalker thought tae himsel, as Bumper changed the wipers fae intermittent tae full speed, as they slowed oan their approach tae the traffic lights.
“Is this where Haufwit copped his whack?” Bumper asked, turning right under the direction ae The Inspector beside him.
“Aye, jist alang here beyond the bus shelter, near the trees,” The Stalker murmured, trying tae visualise Haufwit flying through the air before landing in a crumbled heap in the middle ae the tarmac road.
Haufwit Murray hid been oan and aff the polis radar since the late forties. He wis whit wis euphemistically called ‘a nearly ducker and diver’…somewan who hidnae measured up tae whit wis required tae be accepted by any ae the big boys. Due tae the fact that The Simpsons thought he wis a haufwit, hence the tag, Haufwit hid been left tae get oan wae daeing his ain thing while being allowed tae nibble aroond the fringes ae Tam and Toby Simpson’s crew o’er in Possil. He’d also been known tae mess aroond wae some ae Blaster Mackay’s boys, the big scrap dealer fae up in Milton. The Stalker could see the advantages. Being associated wae two ae the heaviest teams in the toon wid keep predatory vultures aff ae his back fur fear ae swift retribution should anywan be seen tae be taking a liberty wae him, even if he wis viewed as being a bit ae a haufwit. Protection, if ye hid it in the toon, could be worth a lot, especially if ye didnae hiv tae pay fur it up front. Oan the doon side, being so close tae fully fledged psychos, whose moods changed faster than the weather, could be risky and bad fur yer health. Wan minute, Haufwit hid been staunin at the bar in wan ae the drinking dens across in Saracen Street, minding his ain business, and the next, he’d goat caught up in the crossfire between Tam and Toby Simpson. Noo, everywan, including their granny’s granny, knew that Toby Simpson wisnae yer typical quintessential sick Glesga psycho. Toby revelled in taking liberties wae anywan and anything that his pea brain couldnae comprehend. Everywan knew fine well that it wis only the fact that Toby wis such an unpredictably sick psycho, even as a snapper, that hid saved the brothers beyond primary school fae being put doon. Tam hid the brains in the family and wis known tae be able tae fight even dirtier than his mad wee brother, bit it wis Toby’s compulsion tae lash oot withoot warning that caused the maist grief fur people. Nowan could predict when he wis aboot tae kick aff. The night in question, Haufwit hid jist finished his first pint ae heavy and wis jist ordering his second wan, when the argument between the two Simpson brothers hid goat oot ae haun. Efter a lot ae snarling and shouting, Toby hid stormed aff towards the exit in a huff, bit no before confronting Haufwit and demanding tae know who the fuck he wis looking at, before proceeding tae stick Haufwit’s empty pint glass intae the poor basturt’s face. By the time Haufwit hid signed himsel oot ae the hospital early the next morning, he’d hid fifty-three stitches inserted in that face ae his. Although Haufwit wisnae a gangster, he certainly spoke like wan efter the attack as the glass hid cut through aw the nerve endings oan wan side ae his cheek and hid left him talking oot ae the side ae his gub like an extra oot ae a Jimmy Cagney ‘B’ movie. Three months efter the glass attack hid left him disfigured fur life, Haufwit hid disappeared oot ae circulation fur jist o’er a year. He’d scurried aff doon tae Corby in Englandshire, jist when The Stalker and Bumper could’ve been daeing wae his lip-services. The Stalker shook his heid mournfully, fantasising whit life could’ve been like if Haufwit hid been oan the scene when he’d been needed the maist. It hid been a frustrating and trying time fur The Stalker and Bumper during the period leading up tae the New Year in 1971. The Stalker hid been turning Springburn upside doon and inside oot, trying tae find oot whit hid been brewing between The Simpsons and young Tony Gucci’s manky-arsed toe-rags. By the time Haufwit hid reappeared oan the scene, it hid aw been academic. Even though The Stalker and Bumper hid produced plenty ae evidence, bit no enough tae persuade the powers-that-be that it wis substantial enough tae get a conviction, The Mankys hid gone and done the unbelievable…by blasting Tam Simpson’s brains, alang wae his posh social worker trollop’s front teeth, aw o’er his neighbours front door, using some sort ae poaching contraption. It wis also at this time that Pat Molloy, The Big Man, hid let Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie aff ae their leases. The same day that Tam Simpson hid copped his whack, his brother Toby, Bootsy Bell, who wis another Simpson bear and Blaster Mackay hid aw disappeared, noo believed tae be haudin up wan ae the later additional slip roads aff ae the Kingston Bridge or a new set ae multi-storey flats somewhere in the toon. No long before Haufwit hid disappeared, he’d approached The Stalker wae some useful information oan the dodgy dealings ae Toby Simpson and two ae his cronies, Frisky Frank McKenna and Jo Jo Robertson. The Stalker couldnae remember exactly whit the initial information hid been aboot noo, probably something tae dae wae an erm or face being broken, bit efter that initial freebie, oot ae the blue, the intelligence hid come in the bucket loads. When asked why he’d come tae The Stalker and no tae some ae the Possil boys, Haufwit hid said that he didnae trust any ae the bizzies across there no tae feedback tae The Simpsons oan whit he wis up tae. He’d also made The Stalker swear that whit wis said between them wid stay between them as his life wid be oan the line. Aw Haufwit hid wanted wis tae get even wae Toby Simpson fur scarring him fur life. Efter the brothers goat wiped oot and The Big Man and his crew took o’er the north ae the city, he’d rarely seen Haufwit. Every noo and again, a phone call fae a phone box hid been put through tae him and Haufwit hid passed oan something juicy. It hid noo been six weeks since The Stalker hid last heard fae him. He’d sounded scared and widnae let oan where he wis holed up.