Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (65 page)

Chapter Forty One

  “Right, Paddy, lock the door,” Bumper said tae The Stalker, before turning tae the twelve pavement pounders sitting at the desks in front ae him. 

  Colin, the inspector, wis sitting up at the back.  He’d agreed no tae butt-in or get involved.  Bumper and The Stalker hid tried tae persuade him no tae attend, bit he’d insisted oan being present.  He knew they wur up tae something and that hid made him aw the mair suspicious...and nervous.  They’d telt him their plan, bit he’d been roond long enough tae recognise a pair ae forked tongues when he heard them.

  “Right, it’s pretty straightforward.  At four o’clock the morra morning, youse ur gonnae kick doon the green door oan the second flair ae wan four seven McAslin Street and lift Tony Gucci, Joseph McManus, Paul McBride and Johnboy Taylor, who ye aw know hiv been oan the run fae approved schools since before Christmas,” Bumper informed them.

  “Noo, tae get through that door, ye’re gonnae hiv tae bloody-well demolish it.  They’ll hiv every bloody contraption behind it tae stoap us getting through.  Two ae youse will be issued wae firemen’s axes and two wae ten pound sledge hammers.  Don’t try tae push the door in.  It’ll hiv tae be demolished.  Pull it apart fae the landing.  When ye’ve goat space tae get a body through, go fur it.  The wans who dae the demolition need tae staun back and let the pincers through first, before coming in their wake.  The pincers will hiv long nightsticks because the rooms in the hoose ur fine and big.  Don’t be polite noo.  This isnae a social call.  Get the basturts doon oan tae the flair as a matter ae urgency.  Don’t worry aboot a few cracked skulls. That’s whit The Royal’s there fur.  Any questions?” The Stalker asked them.

  “Er, where ur youse gonnae be when aw this is happening?”

  “Good question,” Bumper acknowledged.

  “We’ll be doon the back wae four ae youse, waiting tae catch anywan managing tae get oot before, during or efter youse go in,” The Stalker said pleasantly, as The Inspector frowned fae up at the back.

  This wis the part ae the plan that Colin knew wisnae quite whit it seemed.  He wis dying tae ask a question, bit couldnae get eye contact wae the two sergeants.

  “Doon the back?  The basturts won’t hiv shooters oan them, will they?”

  “Whit makes ye think that?” Bumper asked.

  “Ah don’t want tae be cheeky, Fin, bit when hiv we ever seen yersel no wanting tae be through a door first?”

  Good question, son, Colin thought tae himsel, looking at Bumper tae see whit he hid tae say fur himsel.

  “We definitely believe that they’re holed up in there, bit we think the action might take place somewhere else,” Bumper confessed.

  So, the basturts wur up tae something then, Colin cursed tae himsel.  He wisnae too sure whether tae be annoyed and tae pull the pair ae lying basturts back intae his office or tae jist leave things as they wur and see whit happened.

  “How dae ye make that wan oot then?”

  “Listen, short arse…jist dae whit ye’re telt.  We’re oan the case here.  When we want ye tae know mair, we’ll tell ye…okay?” The Stalker chipped in.

  “Right, we’ll get thegither at the Black Street sub office at hauf two in the morning.  Ah don’t care where ye ur, who ye’re shagging, or who’s shagging youse.  Drap everything and be there by hauf two.  Hiv youse aw goat that?”

  “Aye, Sarge.”

  “Right, and mind and hiv the kettle oan when me and Paddy arrive.”

Chapter Forty Two

  “Dae ye no think it’s a bit ae a cheek using the loft ae the stable as a watchtower?” Johnboy asked Tony, who wis sitting oan an auld orange box, peering oot ae the wee skylight windae oan the roof, towards the corner ae Fat Fingered Finklebaum’s pawn shoap oan McAslin Street.

  “Why?  Whit’s yer problem?” Tony asked, turning roond tae look at Johnboy.

  “Well, seeing as Tiny wis the manager ae this place and we wur involved in his early retirement, dae ye no think it’s a bit aff tae be using his place tae get tae his boss?”

  “Johnboy’s goat a point, so he his.  Right, Paul, before ye shoot the basturt, make sure ye tell Mick tae let Tiny know that we used the stable loft withoot his permission, bit we promise no tae dae it again,” Joe said.

  “Naw, bit dae ye know whit Ah mean?” Johnboy persisted.  “It’s kind ae no right.”

  “Johnboy, since when hiv any ae us ever asked fur permission tae dae whit we wanted, whether it wis right or no, eh?” Paul sniggered.

  “Listen, if ye want tae go doon and staun under that streetlight, gaping at every basturt that comes through the pub door, feel free, bit don’t come running tae us when they Murphy pricks suss oot why ye wur staunin there aw night, being seen by everywan and their dug, insteid ae being up here, well oot ae sight,” Joe mocked.

  “Don’t listen tae him, Johnboy.  Ah know whit ye mean…so stoap talking shite and haun me that bottle ae Irn Bru o’er,” Tony said, grinning.

  Although the pub wis roond the corner, every time somewan went in or came oot, they could hear a surge ae loud excited voices, bits ae drunken song and the tinkle ae glasses which wid die doon as soon as the door shut o’er again.  Johnboy wisnae sure whit time it wis.  They’d been sitting there fur a couple ae hours, efter hivving arrived, wan at a time, at ten minute intervals.  McAslin Street wis in that quiet lull between the times that people left their hooses tae go oot fur a bevvy and when aw the drunken fighters spilled oot and started battling wae each other at ten, when it wis chucking oot time.  They’d been taking it in turns tae sit oan the orange box and watch oot fur any signs ae Mad Mick.

  “Dae ye no think we’re a bit early then?” Paul asked Tony.

  “We cannae take a chance that he won’t leave early.  Jist sit doon and play pocket billiards if ye’re bored.”

  And then the moment arrived.  They aw heard him before they saw him.  There wis a big commotion gaun oan roond the corner, ootside the pub.  They aw crowded the wee windae tae see whit wis gaun oan.  Fae their position, they could make oot shapes and movements being reflected oan Shitey Sadie’s bag wash shoap-front windae, opposite The McAslin Bar.  There wis lots ae shouting and the tinkle ae glasses being broken and wummin screaming.  They looked at each other as the booming voices ae men shouted at Mick tae calm doon and tae get himsel up the road hame.  The street hid suddenly gone quiet.  They aw stood, peering oot ae the wee windae.  Johnboy held his breath jist before they clocked him.  Johnboy heard Tony curse under his breath when Mick and his twin, Danny, came intae view and stoapped suddenly at the corner ae Stanhope Street.  Danny wis haudin his brother back.  It wis obvious that Mick wanted tae go back fur mair, bit Danny wis trying tae drag him away.  They eventually moved oan, crossing Stanhope Street before disappearing oot ae view.

  “Fuck!  Whit ur we gonnae dae aboot Danny then?” Paul asked.

  “Ah knew we should’ve goat another shooter.  Ah telt ye, Tony,” Joe bleated.

  “If we don’t get Mick the night, we’ll try another time.  We’ll only get wan shot at this.  We cannae risk Danny seeing us,” Paul murmured.

  “Let’s play it by ear.  Whit we need tae dae is follow them up the street.  We’ll keep tae the back closes and wan ae us will nip oot the front every noo and again tae see where they ur. We need tae try and get him before he reaches Glebe Street.  If we don’t, it’ll mean us hivving tae cross tae the other side ae McAslin Street. There’s only aboot four or five closes efter St Mungo Street before we get blocked by St Mungo’s chapel oan Glebe Street,” Tony cursed.

  When they arrived at St Mungo Street, Danny wis still escorting his brother.  When Joe arrived back fae checking whit wis gaun oan, he telt them that Danny hid Mick pinned up against the wall, threatening tae dae him in.  He said that Mick wis absolutely blootered wae the drink.

  “Right, listen up.  Masel and Joe will carry oan up the backs oan this side ae the street.  Johnboy, you get across tae the other side ae the street.  Paul, gie Johnboy a couple ae minutes and then follow him across.  We’ll go as far as Glebe Street and if Danny is still wae him, we’ll join youse across there.  It looks like Danny is walking the basturt aw the wae hame,” Tony said.

  A couple ae minutes later, baith Tony and Joe joined Paul and Johnboy.  They anchored in the back ae wan ae the closemooths in the tenement across fae the chapel as Mick and Danny noisily staggered by the front ae it, arguing.  They then jumped o’er a couple mair dykes, trying tae avoid the washing lines in the dark and entered the back close opposite tae where Mick lived oan Martyr Street.  His close wis two alang fae the side entrance ae The Martyr’s Church, which they’d crept intae, tae see whit the polis wur up tae at the cabin, the day they heard it hid been burned doon.  There wis still nae sign ae Mick, even though he should’ve been there ages ago.  Paul wis jist aboot tae nip alang tae the back closes at the corner ae McAslin Street tae see where he wis, when Mick staggered intae view.  He wis oan his lonesome.  They watched him stagger intae his closemooth, snarling tae himsel.  Efter a minute, his front living room light came oan.  Tony peeked oot ae the front ae the closemooth. The street wis empty.  Johnboy looked tae his left and saw the billboards across oan Parly Road, which telt everywan how good Embassy fags wur fur ye, jist before he arrived intae Mick’s closemooth behind Joe.  Tony wis lifting Paul up tae take the light bulb oot ae its socket, jist tae the left ae Mick’s door, sending the closemooth intae darkness. They couldnae believe their luck.  The drunken basturt hid left his hoose door wide open. 

  “Right, listen up.  When we come oot ae Mick’s, remember tae heid o’er the wall intae the yard behind The Casino picture hoose and then oot oan tae Castle Street, wan efter the other,” Tony whispered, gently pushing open the door intae Mick’s lobby, jist as the sound ae ‘Hey Jude’ by The Beatles started blasting oot. 

  The others followed Tony through the door, turned right and stepped intae the living room.  Mick wis staunin in front ae his electric fire, swaying, either tae the music or because he wis pissed as a fart.  He hid an unlit fag dangling fae his lips
and a bottle ae Bells whisky in wan haun, while wae the other, he wis flicking a Zippo lighter, trying tae get a light.  When The Mankys appeared in his living room, it took him a second tae register that he hid company.

  “Who the fuck let youse cunts in?” Mick snarled.

  “Ah did, ya prick, ye,” Tony said, as Paul levelled the gun at Mick’s face.

  “Ur youse fucking mad or jist fucking stupid aw thegither?” Mick slurred, totally unconcerned, swaying and still trying tae get a light oot ae the Zippo.

  “Let the basturt hiv it, Paul,” Tony said.

  “Aye, shoot me, ya fucking hauf-wit,” Mad Mick challenged, ripping open his shirt, exposing his bare chest, wae whisky flying oot ae the tap ae the bottle, as he staggered backwards, crashing against the electric fire.

  “Paul, did ye hear whit Ah jist said!  Shoot the basturt!  Dae it noo!” Tony snarled.

  Paul jist stood there, frozen tae the spot.  The shake in the haun that wis haudin the pointed gun wis getter worse.  Mick decided tae help Paul alang.

  “C’mone, ya fucking cowardly prick, ye.  Dae as yer greasy pal says,” Mick laughed, lifting the whisky bottle up above his heid and emptying it aw o’er himsel, while, wae his other haun, he finally managed tae get a flame oot ae his Zippo.

  Fur Johnboy, everything seemed tae be happening in slow-motion. The Mankys wur aw rooted tae the spot in the middle ae the living room, as Paul McCartney started tae sing, ‘better, better, better, better,’ before launching intae the ‘la, la,’ chorus bit ae the song.

  “C’mone, bum-boys, who’s first then?” Mick challenged them, shuffling sideways towards the living room door tae put himsel between them and the door that wis their only escape route.

  “Fur fuck’s sake, Paul!  If ye don’t shoot the basturt the noo, wan ae us is gonnae get bloody-well hurt here,” Tony said quietly, as aw eyes followed Mick.

  The words wur jist oot ae Tony’s mooth, when Mick stumbled again.  Johnboy wisnae sure if he walked intae the wee glass-topped, Suzy Wong coffee table that wis in front ae him that hid a stack ae Aleck The Humph’s Chevalier chips scattered across her diddies, or if he’d tripped oan the rug in front ae the electric fire.  Whitever he did, he brought his hauns back up towards his chest tae steady himsel.  If Johnboy ever thought ae fire, he thought ae orange and red flames.  In Mad Mick Murphy’s case, there wis a sudden whoosh, followed by an awful bloodcurdling scream, as Mick suddenly wis engulfed in a blue and white flame.  Everywan, taken by surprise, automatically jumped back in shock, as Mick started tae stumble aboot, screaming blue murder, trying tae get away fae the flames that hid swamped him fae heid tae toe.  Tony, quickly followed by Joe, wur oot the door first, followed by Johnboy. They wur jist clambering up
the wall in the back court, when fur some reason, Johnboy hesitated and looked behind him.  He’d been sure that he’d heided oot ae the door before Paul, bit there wis nae sign ae Paul in front or behind him.  Johnboy’s brain wis howling tae him tae get the hell oot ae there, while Mick’s screams could be heard aw o’er the back courts.  Johnboy cursed tae himsel, as he drapped back doon fae the wall, ran back intae the closemooth and intae the hoose.  Smoke wis belching oot ae the tap hauf ae the open door.  When Johnboy entered the living room, Mick wis still crashing aff the walls and furniture, trying tae escape the flames.  The room
wis full ae thick black smoke that seemed tae be coming aff the burning curtains and the melting black plastic that covered Mick’s couch.  Through the smoke, Johnboy could see that Paul wis still staunin where they’d left him, rooted tae the spot, staring at Mick bouncing aff ae the walls and furniture, screaming
and waving his fiery erms aboot.  Paul McCartney wis jist daeing the ‘doo, doo, be-doo-be-doo’ bit ae the song, before carrying oan wae the chorus, competing wae Mick and his awful screaming.
 
Wae wan erm covering his mooth, Johnboy grabbed Paul fae the back and pulled him towards the door.  The second he laid his hauns oan Paul’s shoulders, Paul sprung intae life and bolted, spluttering and coughing, through intae the lobby, wae Johnboy up his arse.  They never caught up wae Tony and Joe until they goat back tae the den.  Paul and Johnboy never uttered a word tae each other as they slowed tae a walk and entered the tap end ae the High Street.  They turned up intae the Rottenrow, still coughing and spluttering, wae their eyes smarting fae the effects ae the smoke as they heided towards Montrose Street, in the direction ae the toon centre.  They clocked the two fire engines in the distance, whizzing up the big hill oan Montrose Street before they turned right intae Cathedral Street, passing Allan Glen’s school, doon tae their right.  It wis the same route as the fire engines hid taken the night the cabin, wae Skull and Elvis in it, hid gone up in flames.  Johnboy wondered if it wis the same firemen fae three years earlier, as they hurriedly picked up their pace alang the cobbled road.  Normally, they wid’ve entered the escape route, wan at a time, bit efter hinging aboot tae make sure The Stalker wisnae sniffing aboot, they nipped up Frankie Wilson’s close.  When they reached the den, Tony and Joe hid awready changed oot ae aw their gear.

  “Get they clothes aff and get changed.  Put everything intae the bag.  Don’t furget yer gloves, shoes and socks.  Hurry up,” Tony said, as Johnboy noticed the bag in the middle ae the room wae their clothes awready in it and wondered how the gun hid goat tae be sitting oan tap ae the bundle.

  When they’d changed, Tony picked up the bag and disappeared oot through the hole in the wall in the bedroom next door.  While he wis away, none ae them spoke.  Joe wis re-lighting the fire when Tony reappeared.

  “Right, that’s fine.  Everything should be okay noo,” Tony said, reaching fur the bottle ae Irn Bru.

  “Whit did ye dae wae oor gear?” Johnboy asked him.

  “Ah slung it doon wan ae the big holes up where they’re building the multi-storey.  Whit the fuck happened tae youse two?”

  “Nothing, we wur right behind youse wans,” Johnboy said.

  “Right, Paul, whit the fuck happened back there?” Tony asked, as aw eyes looked at Paul.

  “Ah don’t know.  Ah jist fucking froze.  It wis they eyes ae his staring at me.  No matter how hard Ah tried, Ah couldnae get ma finger tae squeeze the trigger.”

  “Did ye no hear me telling ye tae pull the fucking thing?”

  “Ah heard everything ye said.  Erchie The Basturt wis right.  It is fucking hard tae dae away wae somewan who’s there in front ae ye, eye-balling ye, even if they ur challenging ye tae go aheid and dae it.”

  “Dae ye think the fire will kill him?” Johnboy asked.

  “Who knows.  Ah hope so or we’re well and truly fucked,” Tony cursed.

  “There’s nae fucking way anywan could survive that,” Joe said, speaking up fur the first time since they’d arrived back.