The Silver Arrow (32 page)

  Silence.

  Whit Glenda hidnae mentioned wis that, although a precedent hid indeed been set, nowan wis quite sure ae the exact specifics behind the precedent, due tae the appeal hivving been heard in camera, behind closed doors.  There hid been a lot ae speculation, baith in the media and within legal circles, as tae whit the evidence wis that hid been obtained by Silas Abrahams.  Glenda hid picked up fae her boss, David Broderick, that a retired Special Branch Superintendent, who’d been posted abroad until retiring, hid threatened tae break The Official Secrets Act and expose ‘whit he knew’ unless the state security services wur prepared tae allow whitever evidence Silas Abraham hid in his possession, tae be considered as part ae Robert Connor’s evidence fur a future appeal hearing.  Of course, it wis aw conjecture, bit David hid whispered that the evidence centred roond a Scottish public figure, who’d seemingly being getting bugged by MI5.  Where the connection wis between a young lassie gaun missing, believed murdered, in a wee rural village in Stirlingshire, and the Secret Intelligence Services, wis difficult tae comprehend.  Whitever it hid been, Silas Abrahams hid been hinting tae publicly expose it, risking being imprisoned, unless the authorities examined the new evidence.  David hid said that The Crown and MI5 hid been looking fur a way oot behind the scenes and hid brought in the notorious QC, John Howdy, tae assist in facilitating an ‘understanding’ fur the new evidence tae be heard in camera.

  “Anything else, Miss Metcalfe?” The Edinburgh Brief asked her gently, breaking in tae her thoughts.

  “To succeed, I think that it is absolutely crucial that there is…er…no interference, or illegal undermining, of any of the key aforementioned players and possible witnesses from here on in.  How you,” she emphasised, looking at the blank faces roond the table, before suddenly realising who she wis addressing.  “Er…how we conduct ourselves has to be totally above board and unimpeachable.”

  “So, gentlemen, there you have it,” Alan Small, the diminutive Edinburgh Brief informed them, breaking intae everywan’s reverie.  “A review will be heard sometime in the, er, hopefully not too distant future, regarding this young thug’s conviction, which, if successful, could subsequently lead to a full appeal hearing, unless of course, we can convince our good lordships that you have nothing to answer for and that the conviction is as tight as the evidence put forward to the jury at the original trial.  Now, if you’re all convinced of this young thug’s guilt, and are reassured that we, on the legal side, will be able to robustly and successfully defend our position, based on the evidence provided, then I am happy, on behalf of The Crown, to challenge and rebut any evidence produced at Taylor’s review hearing.  As succinctly stated by our own Miss Metcalfe, we could probably ensure that Mr McKenzie’s and Mr Portoy’s request for a review is expedited to within the next nine to twelve months or so,” the heid ae The Crown’s Criminal Division said, tae smiles and satisfied nods ae approval aw roond.  “However, as Miss Metcalfe so correctly and eloquently also pointed out, there could be a political dimension here.  Just before the start of this meeting, I discussed the political ramifications with The Lord Advocate and Albert Johnston, the Secretary of State’s Parliamentary Private Secretary.  They both agreed that we could proceed, if that was my considered judgement, as a result of our little get together this morning.  However, we should all take cognisance of the risks involved and be aware of the dangers a complicated case such as this could pose and that…now, how did Albert put it?” he asked nowan in particular.  “Oh yes…that, should there be any negative political ramifications arising from this case, then we should abandon our challenge against this young thug forthwith.  If that was the case, the Lord Advocate and Parliamentary Private Secretary would then expect to inform the Secretary of State that he has received the resignations from all those in uniform, presently sitting in this boardroom today,” he said pleasantly, as The Braided Bunch’s smiles froze and Peggy McAvoy’s grin grew wider, watching amused, as the uniforms sitting roond the table aw dived at their fag packets, igniting desperate wee flames fae the lighters, and a thick blue smoke cloud quickly obliterated the shape and presence ae the wee Edinburgh nightmare, sitting immobile at the far end ae the table.

Chapter Forty One

  Wan-bob lay his heid back against his pillow.  He loved the smell and feel ae fresh, starched cotton.  The rush in they ears ae his sounded like a frying pan full ae sizzling Ayrshire bacon as his heid connected wae the hard pillow.  He’d come hame fur a bath, bit Dorothy hid insisted that he go and take a nap first, before he went back oot the door again.  He’d sent Peter the Plant back intae the toon, telling him no tae come back tae collect him before midnight.  He hid tae admit that he wisnae the only wan in a state ae shock.  He could appreciate somewan staunin up tae protect and defend whit they believed wur their ain interests, bit it hid been the ferociousness ae the violence dished oot that hid taken everywan by surprise.  It wis also knowing that there wid need tae be a comeback, oan a par wae the assassination, that hung aff ae they tits ae his like ten pound anvils.  He lifted his hauns up and gingerly massaged his temples.  The sizzling sound wis abating, though his breathing wis still coming and gaun in short, sharp rushes.  It hid been the worst day since taking o’er efter The Big Man gied Shaun Murphy his jotters fur trying tae cut a deal wae Toby Simpson behind everywan’s back.  The papers and the news oan the TV hid been gieing it wall-tae-wall coverage aw day.  It hid even made Nationwide earlier in the evening.  He’d spoken tae The Big Man fae a phone box a couple ae hours earlier.  He hidnae said much, bit Wan-bob could hear the heavy breathing oan the other end ae the line.  It hid been difficult tae hiv a meeting wae the rest ae the boys, due tae the reporters trying tae track doon anywan associated wae Spotty Hector and Chic Shand.  They’d finally managed a wee get thegither an hour before he’d hid tae phone Spain.  A dozen ae them hid managed tae meet up in Wee Jimmy Tarbuck’s laundry, tae discuss the situation, practically within a mile ae where Spotty Hector and Chic Shand hid copped their whack.  Almost every wan ae them, withoot exception, hid Harding Lennox, wan ae The McGregors’ tap killers, doon as the main suspect.  It made sense.  Harding hid been spotted hivving a bite tae eat in The Alhambra Inn, doon in Wellington Street, at seven o’clock.  He’d been oan his lonesome.  The next sighting ae him hid been leaving Erchie Wilson’s oan Sauchiehall Street at hauf eight, where he’d hid a pint and a wee hauf before he’d goat up and walked oot.  Seemingly, he hidnae spoken tae a soul, bit hid sat looking at his watch every few minutes, which tended tae suggest that he wis meeting up wae somewan.  His next appearance hid been o’er in Partick Cross where he’d walked intae The Three Judges at aboot five tae nine.  He hidnae anchored, bit hid looked aboot, as if he wis looking fur somewan, before disappearing back oot ae the door.  It wid’ve taken him aboot twenty five minutes tae get fae Erchie Wilson’s tae The Three Judges, allowing fur the traffic.  That meant that he’d either taken a taxi or hid been picked up by somewan in Sauchiehall Street.  Harding’s position in The McGregors entitled him tae a driver.  Charlie Hastie hid put the word oot earlier in the morning efter the news hid broken.  None ae the taxi boys hid claimed tae hiv picked him up, including two who’d said they’d been sitting jist alang fae Wilson’s fur aboot hauf an hour during that same time period.  Efter leaving The Three Judges, Harding hid nipped intae Tennents oan Byres Road, bit wance again, hid looked aboot withoot hivving a drink before disappearing.  That hid been aboot nine o’clock.  Even though The Three Judges and Tennents wur within walking distance ae each other, it still suggested that Harding hid a set ae wheels at his disposal.  Efter that last sighting, his trail hid gone cauld.  Flak-Jack Munro hid spoken tae Spotty and Chic at twenty past nine, efter receiving a call in McCall’s that Harding hid been spotted across in Partick.  They’d been playing snooker in the Wan-O-Wan in Hope Street.  Flak-Jack hid nipped intae the snooker hall tae pass oan the message.  He said that they hidnae finished their game, bit hid jist abandoned it by haunin o’er their cues tae a couple ae wee manky street urchins that hid come in oot ae the rain tae dry aff.  Nowan hid reported them popping up across in Partick.  He knew they’d stoapped oan St George’s Cross tae get a couple ae newspapers aff ae Dominic Nae Plants, the flower seller turned street newspaper vendor, who’d goat his tag efter Tony Gucci and his wee manky arsed crowd stole his barrow full ae plants, the day before Valentine’s Day, back in the sixties, when they wur wee snappers, putting him oot ae business.  Buying newspapers suggested that they’d been planning tae sit up somewhere, bit where?  Where hid they gone and whit hid they goat up tae efter they’d left Dominic Nae Plants and ended up doon in Finnieston?  Surely they hidnae sat doon there fur o’er four hours?

  “Partick Cross and Finnieston Lane ur within a stone’s throw ae each other,” Danny Murphy hid growled tae nods fae the others.

  “And smack in the middle ae where Harding’s supposedly picking up his coke,” Peter the Plant hid reminded them.

  “Aye, bit who hid Harding been meeting up wae between nine o’clock and hauf two, three in the morning?  That’s whit we need tae find oot?” Charlie hid said.

  Everywan hid been sensible enough tae no go oot and smash up everything associated wae The McGregors in the toon.  There wid be plenty ae time fur that wance the papers goat fed up wae the story.  The Big Man hid agreed that it wid be best tae let that run its course.  There wis nae use them feeding the journos, as they’d jist make it up as they went alang anyway.  The main thing wis tae get their hauns oan Harding.  In the meantime, The Big Man wanted a comeback plan drawn up o’er the next few days, wae a particular emphasis oan hitting The McGregors financially.  The loss ae income wid hurt them much mair than the loss ae somewan like Harding Lennox.

  “Ye don’t think they wee manky fuckers hid anything tae dae wae any ae this, dae ye?” Charlie Hastie hid asked him oot ae the blue.

  “Good question,” Wan-bob hid replied, keeping his thoughts tae himsel.

  Aw options oan who could be responsible wur oan the table and wid be explored o’er the coming days and weeks.  Whoever hid been involved wid live tae regret it.  There wur very few secrets in the toon that didnae surface eventually.  Two ae their boys hid been shot tae death and set alight.  That wisnae good fur business, especially if there wisnae seen tae be swift retribution.  They widnae want tae send oot the wrang type ae signals tae the wee tickets who saw themsels as being something special in the toon.  Harding Lennox wis a tough basturt and no pusho’er, bit then again, that wid also apply tae Spotty Hector and Chic Shand.  The fact that maist ae The McGregors wid’ve hid the opportunity tae see the flames fae the banks ae the Clyde oan their side ae the river if they happened tae take a peek oot ae their windaes, wisnae lost oan him either.  He could jist imagine the celebrations taking place, as the burning car, wae Spotty Hector and Chris Shand inside, wis being reflected aff ae the calm waters ae the Clyde.  It must’ve been some sight.  Somewan wis taking the cunt big-style, and he wis determined tae find oot who the fuck it wis.

  “The nurse…whit dae ye want done aboot her, Wan-bob?” Charlie hid asked, as the boys started slipping oot fae Jimmy’s in wans and twos.

  “The nurse?  Ach, let’s leave that fur the time being.  We’ve goat enough oan oor plate jist noo.  We’ll come back tae that wance the dust settles a wee bit,” he’d replied.

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

  Fears are growing that a major gangland war may be erupting in Glasgow tonight, with two well-known notorious underworld gangland figures believed to be the bodies discovered in a burning car in Finnieston Lane on the Broomielaw in the early hours of this morning.  Police believe that Charles Shand and Hector McBride may be the victims, after the charred remains of the pair were transferred to the city mortuary in the Saltmarket.  There are unconfirmed reports that the pair may have been shot before the car they were sitting in, a brand new yellow 1974 Vauxhall Viva, was set alight.  At a news conference this afternoon in Central Police Headquarters, Assistant Chief Constable Jack Tipple, flanked by Chief Superintendents, Sam Bison, Head of Serious Crime and Intelligence in the city and Bob Mackerel, Head of the city’s Murder Squads, urged the public to keep calm and to let the police do their job.  Refusing to confirm the identities of the victims, Mr Tipple said that it was too early at this stage to confirm the exact cause of death…

  Union leaders in Scotland have accused the government of importing cheap coal from Eastern Europe and stockpiling it in case of further industrial action by the National Union of Mineworkers.  The government has denied the allegation…

  A young nurse was assaulted and raped minutes after she finished her shift at Glasgow Royal Infirmary last night.  The nineteen-year-old was dragged into Canning Lane between Allan Glen’s School and Collins, the book publishers on Cathedral Street.  The attacker, said to be in his forties, with a receding hairline and wearing a dark trench coat, was last seen running up North Portland Street in the direction of the Rottenrow after the vicious attack…

A women who was assaulted and battered by her husband after refusing to hand over her purse so that he could go and buy more cheap alcohol from the local licensed grocer has been fined fifteen pounds at Glasgow’s Central Court today.  Alistair Dunn, a first offender, admitted the assault and was warned by Mr George Mathieson on the bench that the next time he committed an assault on his wife, he could end up being sent to prison.  Women’s groups in the city were said to be outraged at the leniency of the sentence.  Mrs…”