Dumfries (28 page)

  Patrick McCabe.  IQ ae a hunner and thirty and scored as highly intelligent, bit regarded as a straightforward, run ae the mill sociopath, despite a lack ae previous convictions or time served in approved school or borstal.  In the great scheme ae things, his psychiatric assessment hid been actually quite normal by Dumfries Young Offenders Institution standards and wis in line wae a significant number ae the other YOs currently serving time in Dumfries.  

  Oot ae the five files currently sitting oan her desk, Johnboy Taylor, fur some strange reason that she couldnae fathom, hid been the only wan that hidnae been assessed, diagnosed and subsequently categorised as hivving some sort ae personality disorder, although this wis based oan an assessment dating back tae 1971 when he wis in Polmont Borstal wae Smith.  She’d noted the time-frame efter conviction ae the other boys.  She assumed that Taylor hid missed his psychiatric assessment due tae being admitted tae Monklands General Hospital in Airdrie.  She hidnae been surprised tae discover that his IQ ae a hunner and thirty wan scored him as hivving high intelligence as well, bit nothing compared tae Gucci.

  “Christ, he’s coming across as the sanest out of the five of them,” she said oot loud, shaking her heid in surprise.  “How then, has he ended up being sentenced to the longest prison sentence ever handed down to a young offender in Scotland?” she asked her neat stack ae pencils oot loud.

  Despite Tony Gucci’s performance, none ae the boys hid really displayed any real hostility towards her.  She wondered if she wis overreacting tae an issue that only existed in her ain heid?  As the months and years hid passed, she thought she’d managed tae shed the feelings ae guilt, ae hivving done nothing, ae telling nowan, efter witnessing young teenage boys running the gauntlet between two lines ae staff, aw ermed wae batons and leather tawses, thrashing and clubbing those who wur thought tae hiv assisted Tony Gucci, Joe McManus, Samuel Smith and Johnboy Taylor tae abscond fae Thistle Park that snowy night, jist before Christmas in 1968.  She pulled her hankie oot ae the sleeve ae her cardigan and blew her nose before transferring the files oan her desk tae the cabinet behind her, shutting the drawer and turning the key in the lock.  A sense ae utter hopelessness came o’er her as she stood up, took her jaicket aff ae the coat peg, locked the office door behind her and heided towards the first gate beside the security station and the stairs that led doon in tae the gatehoose. The realisation that the files that she’d jist locked away in her cabinet a few moments earlier, hid contained absolutely nae evidence ae there ever hivving been any attempt tae address the complex mental health issues prevalent amongst the group ae boys that she’d spent hauf the day interviewing, despite the judicial authorities hivving hid ample time o’er the years tae dae so, shocked her.  In eighteen months fae noo, Tony Gucci, William Johnston and Patrick McCabe wid be let loose tae wander aboot the streets ae Glesga unhindered, under nae supervision or restrictions whitsoever.  Samuel Smith wid be released tae join them jist o’er a year later.  Fae where Fanny wis staunin, waiting fur the officer behind the plate glass tae open the gate before accessing the steps beyond the second wan tae allow her doon in tae the gatehoose below, nowan wid be held tae account fur the awful things that she wis sure wid happen wance they wur back oan the streets.  Despite whit she’d jist read, nowan seemed tae care.  She’d talk tae Father Leonard.  Maybe she wis jist overreacting because she’d crossed an emotional milestone and made it through tae the other side unscathed.  She appreciated that she wis jist a tiny cog in a big machine and prayed that somewan, somewhere, wid hiv a safe pair ae hauns oan the tiller, who knew whit they wur daeing, because if she wis honest wae hersel, she certainly didnae.

  “There ye go, Fanny, hen,” the gatehoose officer said fae behind the green tinted, reinforced glass oan the ground flair, as she heard the familiar buzzing sound ae the door unlocking tae allow her tae step through oot oan tae Terregles Street.

  She couldnae help smiling tae hersel as she thanked him, wondering where the hell William Johnston hid picked up the nickname ‘Snappy’ fae.

  “
Good evening.  My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight. 

  Police have recovered the decomposed body of a man from the River Kelvin after it was discovered by an elderly couple out walking their dog.  The body, which is thought to have been in the water for some considerable time, has not been identified.  Police have refused to comment on reports that the wrists on the body were tied behind its back…

  Police have condemned as irresponsible the driver of a high-powered sports car that reached speeds in excess of over one hundred and fifty miles an hour in the early hours of this morning after being pursued through red traffic lights by police, along Great Western Road…

  Pupils are being given a chance to play in front of Her Majesty The Queen when she visits the City Chambers later in the year.  An education spokesman said that the competition will be open to all secondary school orchestras in the city and a high number of entries are anticipated…

  The residents of a small village in Stirlingshire, Cambusbarron, are outraged, after Flora Conner, the mother of a convicted killer took out advertisement space on a billboard near the entrance to Stirling Castle, proclaiming her son’s innocence for the disappearance and murder of a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl on the 9
th
of November 1972.  It was on a snowy evening that Ann Brown and her friend, Margaret Dunn…

  Domestic violence against women is on the increase in Scotland, and in Glasgow in particular, where Jill Shand, a hospital ward sister and violence against women campaigner claims the authorities are not taking the issue seriously enough, after forty-four-year-old Alexander Griffiths was sentenced to seven years in prison after admitting the culpable homicide of his partner of twenty three years.  It was only after a charge of murder against Griffiths was reduced to culpable homicide by The Crown, that the jury found out that Griffith had been charged no fewer than eight times for assaulting his wife, going back as far as 1959.  Griffiths who plead guilty to the reduced charge, claimed he and his partner had a stormy relationship and that she had pushed him too far one night in early June after claiming she had mixed dog food in with his favourite evening meal of mince and potatoes…”

Chapter Twenty Six

  Johnboy smiled as he looked aboot the dining hall.  Across in the queue at the serving hatch, he clocked Snappy wae a food tray in each haun.  He didnae want Snappy tae catch him grinning in case he thought Johnboy wis taking the piss, which he wis.  He swivelled further roond in his seat and looked across tae the entrance.  Groups ae YOs wur arriving in batches, under escort, fae the different workshops.  He noticed wee Ralph McCluskey fae Carntyne letting fly wae a sneaky swift greaser oot ae the side ae his mooth which landed oan the back ae the neck ae wan ae Robert The Beast’s table companions. 

  “Yeow!  Did ye clock that, sir?”  Peter the Pervert howled, as he tried unsuccessfully tae scrape the globulous spit aff ae the back ae his neck wae his fingers.

  “Whit hiv Ah telt ye, Wilson?  Jist ignore them and they’ll ignore you,” Ding-dong, wan ae the screws, who wis always permanently attached tae the wee clutch ae stoat-the-baws, advised.

  Alang wae Robert The Beast and Peter the Pervert, who wis daeing seven years fur raping two wee lassies while babysitting fur their maw, there wur two other beasts sitting there, avoiding any direct eye contact wae the growling YOs who hid tae pass them oan route fae the door tae the grub hatch.  Joe the Rat, another child molester, alang wae his co-accused, a spotty-faced beast called Ian Fletcher, or Fletcher The Child Percher, as he wis called, hid been snatching weans aff ae the streets aw o’er the south side ae Glesga and oot as far as Clarkston, using Fletcher’s school teacher’s ma’s car, fur nearly two years before they’d been caught.  They’d eventually goat charged wae snatching six snappers efter working oot a plea deal between their lawyers and the procurator fiscal, Glenda Metcalf.  When the deal wis exposed by The Glesga Echo, the procurator fiscal hid claimed she didnae want the families tae suffer any mair than they hid by hivving tae relive their ordeal through appearing up at court and gieing evidence. The last ae Joe The Rat and Fletcher The Child Percher’s kidnapped weans hid been found trussed up in the boot ae their car when they wur stoapped by a polis squad car, gaun through a red light.  Efter being deferred tae the High Court fur sentencing, the baith ae them hid been sentenced tae eight years each.  The beasts wur aw well-protected, although o’er the past month or so, some ae the YOs hid goat a dig in here and there when the opportunity hid arisen.  The Mankys hid only been oot ae the digger a few days and hid been settling in tae the monotony ae the sewing machine shoap efter being assessed as being capable ae operating a sewing machine, when Snappy’d hid his first run-in wae Robert the Beast.  Johnboy, despite hivving arrived in Dumfries well efter them, hid joined them oan day wan.  Like the seating arrangements in the dining hall, it hid only taken The Mankys ten minutes tae persuade the boys aroond aboot them tae shift aboot tae allow them tae be aw sitting thegither in the workshop.  As ye went intae the machine shoap, there wur seven lines ae sewing machines, each wae six tae a row, facing the door.   Aw the machines also faced oan tae the glass fronted office where the security screws could keep an eye oan the YOs while they, themselves, took turns tae go and sit oan their arses aw day, slurping tea and kidding each other oan that they’d an important task tae perform by watching YOs beavering away oan the machines.  Oan the right haun side, running the length ae the wall as ye came in tae the shoap, three long tables hid been joined thegither lengthways tae make up the quality control area.  There wis a big contract oan the go wae the Ministry ae Defence, so the machines wur aw gaun like the clappers fae first thing in the morning tae the end ae the day.  Dumfries wis supplying the MOD wae ammunition bandoliers.  It hid taken Johnboy aboot fifteen minutes tae work oot whit he wis supposed tae be daeing.  Wance a YO made up twelve bandoliers, he hid tae take them across tae the quality control table and get them checked, before picking up a bundle ae cut-oot cloth shapes and starting oan another batch.  This exchange process involved Stafford, wan ae the two permanent workshoap screws, who wore broon coats o’er their warder uniforms tae distinguish them fae the security screws, who spent their time, loitering aboot aw day, daeing sweet fuck aw because nowan wid speak tae them, and getting paid fur it.  Stafford wid take oot a wee ammunition clip fae his coat pocket, which consisted ae four blank bullet cartridges welded thegither, and insert the bullets intae each ae the hauf dozen wee pouches that wur sewn intae the shoulder strap ae the bandolier.  If the ammo clip slipped in…fine.  If it didnae, the YO wis sent back tae stitch-pick oot whit they’d jist spent hauf the morning sewing thegither and start again.  At the back ae the workshoap, sitting horizontally between the door oan the left, which lead intae the painting and decorating training shoap and a door oan the right, which lead through tae the joinery workshoap, another two long tables wur joined thegither and used as a cutting table fur cutting oot the shapes needed tae make up the bandoliers.  Another screw in a broon coat, Bliss, managed that set-up.  Bliss wis also in charge ae supervising Robert the Beast and his wee band ae merry stoat-the-baws.  There wur always two permanent security screws hinging aboot up there tae make sure none ae the YOs oan the sewing machines came intae contact wae The Beastie Boys.  Oan his second day in, Snappy hid sauntered o’er tae Stafford wae his first batch ae completed bandoliers, jist as King Beast hid been shifting a bundle ae cut cloth across tae the quality control tables.  Snappy hid swiftly pushed The Beast backwards wae the palm ae his hauns, which hid sent him and his cut-oot cloth shapes flying, before three screws converged oan Snappy.

  “Whit?  It wis an accident,” Snappy hid protested.

  King Beast hid goat up oan tae his knees and made the mistake ae glowering and growling at Snappy, as he picked up the cloth cut-oots that wur scattered across the flair. 

  “Right, get done whit ye wur supposed tae be daeing, Johnston, and get back tae yer machine.  And you, Connor, don’t move away fae that table withoot first telling wan ae us,” Dickheid Dick, the SO in charge ae the uniformed watchers, hid growled at the beast.

Within a few seconds, Snappy hid been sent packing back tae his machine wae a full batch ae failures and telt tae un-pick them aw and start again.  Johnboy’d hid four rejections in his first batch, Tony’d hid five, bit Silent’s hid aw been accepted oan the first go.  Johnboy and Tony sat thegither in the fourth row fae the back while Silent and Snappy sat in the row jist in front ae them.  Pat hid been put in the woodwork shoap next door. Fae then oan in, Snappy wid make it his daily mission tae make life hell fur Robert The Beast and his bunch ae perverted pals.

  “Hellorerr, Father, ur ye looking fur a seat?” Jimmy Baxter, the YO he’d attacked in Longriggend, said tae the wee priest, bringing Johnboy back tae where he’d been before he’d been distracted by whit wis happening across at the stoat-the-baw table.

  “Oh, bless you, son,” the priest replied, swerving aff tae his left and sitting doon.

  Johnboy hid caught sight ae Father Leonard, the wee hunchbacked priest, oot ae the corner ae his eye, heiding in his direction, carrying a tray ae food, obviously looking fur a table tae anchor at.  Johnboy wis relieved at Baxter’s intervention.  He widnae hiv known whit tae say tae the priest if he’d asked tae sit doon beside him.  It widnae be a problem fur Tony, him being a Catholic and aw that.  He wid’ve known how tae deal wae the intrusion ae a God-man arriving oan the scene.

  “Right, ya prick, ye, Ah don’t want any complaints or ye kin go up and get yer ain fucking grub,” Snappy announced, plapping two trays doon oan tae the table before anchoring oan tae the seat opposite Johnboy.

  Johnboy looked doon.  Somewhere underneath the mound ae chips, a couple ae straggly wrinkled sausages and a scoop ae beans lurked.  He noticed that there wis still plenty ae room tae spread the food apart oan the tray tae make it look appetising.  He glanced at Snappy.

  “Don’t start,” Snappy growled a warning, popping a chip intae his gub and smiling.

  “See you, Snappy?  Whit Ah’m looking at oan that tray ae mine sums up yer shitey life so far, so it dis,” Johnboy scowled.

  “Whit?” Snapper protested.

  “It’s like a fucking dug’s dinner, so it is.”

  “Well, if ye’re no happy, why don’t ye jist get that spotty arse ae yers across there and get yer ain fucking grub in future, ya selfish fucking eejit, ye,” Snappy growled, as Tony, Pat and Silent arrived oan the scene.

  “Ah bloody well will, ya knob-end, ye.  There’s fuck aw wrang wae ma leg.  Ah wis jist gieing ye a using tae see how long Ah could get ye tae be ma gofer,” Johnboy retorted, laughing oot loud in triumph and getting grins fae everywan.

  “Up yours,” Snappy laughed, leaning across and lifting a chip fae Silent’s tray, as Silent went and lifted a spare seat fae Father Leonard’s table.

  “So, how did youse aw get oan then?” Tony asked them.

  “Wae whit?” Pat asked, looking at everywan, in case he’d missed something.

  “Wae Fanny Flaw.  Who dae ye think Ah’m talking aboot?”

  “Oh, her?  Ah’d gie her wan, even if she dis come across as a dippy hippy kind ae chick, so Ah wid,” Snappy volunteered.

  “Johnboy?” Tony asked.

  “Ah telt her no tae call me back any time soon.”

  “Aye, she hisnae changed a day, his she?  Still kidding hersel and everywan else oan that she’s goat something tae offer, the stupid cow.  Nothing’s changed fae Thistle Park as far, as Ah could see.”

  “Whit’s wrang, Tony?  Ye’re no still pissed aff that she put ye doon as some sort ae psycho when ye wur a wee shitey-arsed toe-rag, ur ye?” Snappy asked him, winking across tae Pat.

  “Aye, right,” Tony retorted wae a grin, popping wan ae Johnboy’s chips in tae his gub.

  “Ah fucking hate that, so Ah dae.  The next basturt caught lifting a chip aff ae ma tray is getting stabbed in the back ae the haun wae a fork.”

  “Johnboy, shut the fuck up. That’s nothing,” Pat said, lowering his voice and looking aboot.  “Ah kin beat that wan, so Ah kin,” Pat announced, nodding his heid knowingly, a smug look spread across that kisser ae his.

  “Right, well, hurry the fuck up and spit it oot, Pat.  Ah’m only daeing fourteen years.  By the time you spill the beans, we’ll aw be pensioners insteid ae prisoners,” Johnboy slung in tae chuckles fae aroond the table.

  “Hoi, haud yer horses, Birdman.  Ah’ve goat tae get this wan right, so Ah hiv.”

  “Aw, shut the fuck up, Pat.  We’re no interested, ur we boys?” Snappy asked everywan, looking tae noise Pat up further.

  “Right, here it is…wait fur it…Ah’m a…a…a…sociopath…that’s whit Ah am,” Pat beamed, looking aboot, as if he wis waiting fur an awe-inspired fanfare tae blare oot ae everywan’s arses.

  Silence.

  “Well, come oan, ya bunch ae fanny flaps.  Whit dae youse make ae that, eh?” Pat challenged them, looking fair chuffed wae himsel.

  “Says who?” Snappy finally asked, biting first.

  “Ah read it in ma file.”

  “Whit, she let ye read yer file?” Tony scoffed, wan eyebrow lifted, a cynical, disbelieving expression splashed across that coupon ae his.

  “Naw, naw, don’t be daft.  Ah clocked it when Ah wis pointing oot whit wis so good aboot the green emerald Mexican sapphire ring she hid oan her finger.  Nice wee gem, so it is.  She wis that busy being impressed by ma superior knowledge that Ah could’ve practically sat back wae ma feet up oan that desk ae hers and read ma file twice o’er, word fur word, withoot her knowing whit the fuck wis gaun oan roond aboot her.”

  “So, whit’s a sociopath when it’s getting its arsehole fingered by a filthy wee priest then?” Snappy asked oan behauf ae them aw, playing tae the sniggers fae the Garngad crowd at the next table.

  “Well, it no wan ae yer two-bit-dime scummy, run-ae-the-mill psychos, that’s fur sure,” Pat assured everywan, reaching across and stealing wan ae Silent’s sausages as he turned roond tae see if the priest hid heard whit wis being said aboot him and his brotherhood.

  “Pat, ur ye sure sociopath disnae spell homosexual backwards?” Snappy asked him.

  “Ha, fucking ha, Snappy, ya tadge-pole, ye.  Ah knew that oot ae everywan, you’d be the wan that wid be the maist jealous.”

  “So, whit exactly did the file say, Pat?” Johnboy wanted tae know.

  “Ah’ve jist telt youse.  They’ve goat me doon as some big-time sociopath, so they hiv.  Probably something tae dae wae ma ducking and diving in the jewellery trade, seeing as it’s a specialist kind ae job.  Fuck, psychos ur ten a penny in here,” Pat declared wae a wave ae his haun.  “Jist look aboot ye.”

  Pat turned tae the Garngad crowd at the next table, popping a chip intae his gub fae Tony’s tray, as he puffed oot his chest.

  “Ah bet none ae youse hiv come across many real sociopaths in yer travels, eh?”

  “Naw, bit we’ve learned tae recognise a bucket load ae bullshit when we hear it,” wan ae them quipped drily, as everywan at the tables roond aboot them burst oot laughing.

  “Aye, Ah think ye’re full ae shit, masel,” Snappy telt him, looking aboot fur support.

  “Tony?” Johnboy asked.

  “Who knows? Ah’ve heard ae somewan being a called social misfit, which fits Pat doon tae a T, bit sociopath is a new wan oan me.”

  “Ah’m telling ye…don’t listen tae Goldfinger sitting there, spouting shite like it wis fur free.  It’s probably something tae dae wae him being suitable fur the new castration programme that the Tories ur talking aboot bringing in fur lanky big skinny basturts who’re confused aboot their sexuality,” Snappy announced loudly tae guffaws fae hauf the dining hall.