The Silver Arrow (4 page)

  Silence.

  “Okay, here’s wan fur Silas Abraham then. Tell him, we’ll guarantee his stoat-the-baw client’s safety doon in Dumfries fur as long as it takes Johnboy tae gain his freedom. However, in return, irrespective ae whit he comes up wae, any evidence that may be damaging tae Johnboy’s case, cannae be used withoot first getting the nod fae us…and by that, Ah mean Johnboy.”

  Silence.

  “I’m not too sure what it is I’m being drawn into and whether it’s legal or not, but I’m sure Mr Abraham would be satisfied with that.”

  “Right, next?”

  “We need clear, unimpeachable evidence that Johnboy Taylor was not involved in the disappearance or eventual destination of Shaun Murphy.”

  “Ah’m working oan that wan as we speak.”

  “You seem to be one step ahead.”

  “So, efter aw that, Swansea, whit is it ye’re actually asking me then?” Simon asked, ignoring the compliment and suspecting that Swansea wis haudin back.

  “Graham requires you to take it slow and easy.  He needs to brief Stuart McKenzie, Johnboy’s Queen’s Counsel at his trial, on these new developments.  Unfortunately, he’s out of the country at the moment, but is due back in a few weeks.  Once he’s back, we’ll review where we are at and how best to move forward.”

  “So, ye’re asking me tae sit oan that arse ae mine.  Is that it?”

  “No, Graham’s asking you to be patient. Don’t go throwing pebbles into the pond and creating ripples at this juncture in time. Ripples have a bad habit of turning into waves.”

  “And whit aboot the lassies in the meantime?”

  “You said yourself, Simon…the priority has to be the gathering and sifting of evidence on behalf of Johnboy, before the stream dries up.  If everything you’ve said is true, then neither you nor the police authorities will be in a position to alter the course of events.”

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

 
Top criminal defence solicitor, Mr Graham Portoy, became an unlikely hero this morning, when he physically tackled one of his clients, after twenty-year-old David Peachie attacked Glasgow’s high profile attractive procurator fiscal, Glenda Metcalfe, in the Sheriff Court in Ingram Street.  According to witnesses, there were chaotic scenes inside court number three when Peachie leapt over the dock and grabbed Miss Metcalfe by the throat with both hands.  Before court ushers could intervene, Mr Portoy jumped onto Peachie’s back and a violent struggle ensued, before Mr Portoy manage to drag the assailant off the distressed procurator fiscal.  Peachie had been found guilty of stabbing another youth after he had allegedly called Peachie’s girlfriend a pig.  Mr Portoy was seen, later in the afternoon, sporting what appeared to be a black eye…

  Talks between unions and bread companies are to begin to avert a bread strike due to the increasing costs of flour, an industry spokesman said this morning. Derek Crust said that companies’
high profits are not to blame for the recent price hike and blamed the government for not doing enough to subsidise companies who invest in new machinery and technology…

  Councillors are threatening to ban the Orange Order from marching through the city centre following violent scenes at the weekend, when members of the Drumchapel Loyal Flute Band downed their flutes and laid into republican supporters who they claimed threw a bottle at them in West George Street…

  Queen Street and Central Stations ground to a halt today, leaving rail travellers stranded after a walkout by drivers over pay and conditions.  Police were called to Queen Street after students, all members of Strathclyde University’s Conservative and Unionist Club, en-route to begin a fishing and shooting holiday in the highlands, threatened ticket staff after being refused permission to talk to the train drivers directly.  One of the students, nineteen-year-old Thomas-Beveridge-Galveston, told the programme that this is the third time this year that the train drivers have held the travelling public to ransom and demanded the government bring in the army…”

Chapter Six

  “Here ye go, Ms Flaw,” Robert Connor announced pleasantly, efter she called oot fur him tae enter her office and he laid the tray wae the cup ae tea and two digestive biscuits oan a plate doon oan her desk.

  “What?  Another one, Robert?  I’ll be running to the ladies room all day at this rate,” she said smiling, picking up the cup, as the YO felt a stirring in his loins as the lips ae the social worker sipped at the rim ae the cup he’d jist rubbed that helmet ae his roond a couple ae minutes earlier, before pouring in the hot liquid.

  The faint sound ae ‘Everything Ah Own’ by Ken Boothe could be heard fae Connor’s radio in the corridor behind him.

  “Anything else Ah kin get ye?” he asked, wanting tae add, ‘Ya dirty slut, ye.’

  “No, Robert, thank you,” she replied pleasantly, taking another sip, as he closed the door quietly behind him.

  Things hid definitely improved since Connor, the new pass-man hid arrived.  As well as the regular cups ae tea, the music fae Radio Carlisle wafting alang tae her office throughoot the day fae the radio he kept switched oan in his wee cubby store in the corridor broke the monotony and her feelings ae isolation.  Apart fae the dentist who arrived oan the third Wednesday ae the month and Mr Nelson, the Painting and Decorating instructor, who only occasionally used his office, preferring insteid tae spend maist ae his time in his workshop, supporting the YOs tae qualify fur their City and Guilds, she wis maistly oan her lonesome.  She couldnae remember the last time she’d felt as happy wae her situation.  In the space ae a week, she’d gone fae feeling totally miserable tae feeling that she could actually make a positive impact oan her personal and professional life.  Efter Jardine and Jake hid arrived hame oan the previous Sunday night, she’d jist been aboot tae announce her intention tae pack in her job efter Jake hid gone tae bed, when Jardine hid sat wae her hauns in his and telt her how much he loved her.  Efter making mad passionate love, reminiscent ae their courting days, she’d promised him that she wid gie her job nine months tae a year maximum, before moving oan tae something else.  They’d been giggling at each other like a pair ae lovesick teenagers fur a few days efter that.  

  Oan Tuesday, Mr Crawford, The Governor, hid called her in tae thank her fur the support she’d gied tae his wife Alison at the prisoners’ visiting sessions at the weekend.  She couldnae get o’er the change fae the broken soul she’d spoken tae the previous week.  Efter auld Mrs Pettigrew, the chairwummin ae the local WRI hid died and been replaced by her second-in-command, auld Miss Goldmine, The Governor’s wife, Alison, hid volunteered tae assist with the teas and juices at the Saturday and Sunday prisoners’ visiting sessions in the gymnasium.  Unknown tae Alison until recently, those suspected ae assassinating her former gangster lover and permanently disfiguring her, making speech impossible, back in Glesga in 1971, wur also inmates at Dumfries Young Offenders Institution and wur being visited the weekend that she would be oan duty serving refreshments.  The Governor hid initially wanted tae hiv whit the YOs in the place called a ‘mufti-squad’ standing by in case his wife wis attacked and taken hostage, bit thankfully, Fanny hid managed tae dissuade The Governor fae daeing that and insteid hid goat him tae agree that she wid speak tae his wife and if she persisted in attending the visit, Fanny wid be in attendance tae support her through her ordeal. As expected, the visit hid gone withoot a hitch and Alison hid even managed tae catch up wae an auld friend, a young nurse called Senga Jackson, who’d looked efter Alison efter she’d been shot in the neck and who wis doon visiting Johnboy Taylor, wan ae the convicted young offenders.  The Governor hid clearly been pleased wae the support that Fanny hid gied his wife, which hid allowed her tae unashamedly take advantage ae the situation tae gain his support in recommending the three Springburn YOs…Anthony Gucci, William Johnston and Patrick McCabe…the wans suspected ae being involved in his wife’s attempted murder…fur early release through the Stirling University National Pilot Research Programme.

 
“So, er, Mrs Flaw, er, Fanny…you wanted a word with me?” The Governor asked her pleasantly, as she felt her mooth dry up as she attempted tae swallow.

  “Er, well, I’m not too sure where to start, Governor,” she’d replied nervously, cursing the quaking in that voice ae hers.

  “Well, how about at the beginning?” he’d replied, twitching at her as he clasped his hauns thegither oan the desk between them.

  “I spoke with Mr Kyle and Mr Bing, the researchers from Stirling University,” she’d started aff wae, allowing the names tae sink in, hoping fur a positive reaction.

  “The Tank Top Brigade?  Them?” he’d hauf spat, efter a few pregnant pauses.

  “Er, well, as part of the interviews they had with me, I mentioned to them about my concerns regarding inmates…young offenders…being released back into the community without any formal supervision…er, particularly young offenders who are clearly mentally disturbed…and dangerous,” she’d stammered.

  “And?”

  “And, well, they also shared my concerns.”

  “Quite.”

  “After agreeing that there are inadequate, or in fact, no structures or strategies in place nationally that seek to, or even pretended to, address the safety needs of communities from a particular type of inmate on their release, we…er…explored whether there were any short-term…er…measures that could be enacted at a local level, that could, er, at least offer some protection…” Fanny hid said, her voice trailing aff tae nothing, her nerves finally getting the better ae her.

  Silence.

  “So?” he’d eventually scowled, suddenly looking across at her, as if noticing fur the first time that there wis somewan else in the office wae him.

  “And…er…well…after further discussion, we er, agreed that there could indeed be a way, if The Crown, in conjunction with The Department, were to act boldly…we…us…they, could perhaps surreptitiously, implement a more rigid supervision regime for certain…er…dangerous inmates, until legislation could be enacted.  I know it would probably only amount to putting a sticking plaster over a hole the size of a tunnel, but as I understood from my discussions with Mr Kyle and Mr Bing, the Scottish Secretary is looking at the issue as a matter of urgency and as a result of their research so far, is working towards legislation within the next, er, year or so.”

  “Mrs Flaw, whatever are you talking about?  Could you please get to the point?  I have to meet my dear wife, Alison, in twenty minutes,” The Governor hid snapped, clearly irritated, as he clenched and unclenched his fists before starting tae drum his fingers oan the blotting pad oan tap ae his desk, glancing at his watch every five seconds or so.

  “Right, er, what I’m saying, Governor, is that the pilot team are looking at setting up an early release project, that would…er…monitor how affective such a scheme would…could work…er…yes…well…I would like to recommend Anthony Gucci, William Johnston and Patrick McCabe for inclusion in this scheme, er, release…er…parole,” she’d hauf gasped, hauf shouted in fear, feeling the wooden spars ae her chair press against her back as she shrank fae the astonished, then confused, then angry-looking, contorted face opposite her.

  “Pardon?” he’d finally croaked, clearly struggling tae retain some sort ae decorum in her presence.

  “Having er, s…s…studied the files of the inmates mentioned, I feel it would be a dereliction of…of duty on our part if we didn’t at least att…attempt to respond to what is in our midst.  I believe the communities we serve deserve that,” she’d replied, boldly, defensively…fearfully.

“Let me get this straight, Miss, Mrs Flaw.  Are you seriously suggesting to me that consideration should be given to letting those thugs…psychopaths…those…those killers…be released before the end of their current prison term?  All because…no, no, let me finish,” The Governor snarled, waving her protestations away wae a wave ae his haun.  “They agree never to again, inflict their horrendous disregard for human life on to poor innocent souls?  Mrs Flaw…Fanny…you’re young, and yes, clearly caring, but for the life of me, I cannot help but think you must have gone mad between getting out of your bed this morning and now.  Surely, this is some sort of a sick joke?”

  She fully understood where he wis coming fae, as he sat there looking at her in disbelief, haudin his hauns oot wide in front ae himsel, rosary style, clearly bemused. It hid taken a wee while fur the thought ae The Mankys being released early tae sink in fur hersel.

  “Governor, the…the three inmates I’ve just mentioned will be free in seven or eight months time.  They will pass through our gates and disappear,“ she replied wae a wave ae her haun towards the gatehoose somewhere oan the other side ae the wall. “They’ll have served two years of their three years prison term and will be under no supervision whatsoever, when they return to Glasgow.  They will then disappear off the radar…that’s a fact.  Unfortunately, I don’t believe there is a rehabilitation programme in the country that would make those inmates change their lifestyle or how they relate to other human beings, but that’s not my point,” she protested.

  “Do you realise what you’re saying?” he’d hissed, wan side ae his face taking oan a contorted angle, as he glared at her. “Have you any idea what it feels like when I open my eyes every single morning to be confronted with my dear wife Alison’s injuries…always being reminded of her scars, both physical and emotional.  If that wasn’t bad enough, I’m then having to force myself to turn up for work, knowing that the basturts…yes, basturts, Miss, Mrs Flaw, who inflicted those devastating injuries are swaggering about, sniggering behind my back, every time I come across them in the corridors or the workshops when I’m on my daily rounds.  Have you any idea how humiliated I feel?”

  “But, sir, that’s one of the reasons I’m suggesting participation in The Pilot Project.  If those inmates were to be released a few months early, then it means the system can enforce strict supervision, on a weekly basis, up to twelve months after what would have been their official release date.  That gives the authorities back in Glasgow a maximum of fifteen months of weekly supervision contact to keep tabs on them, at least.  I know it doesn’t sound much, but at least it’s a start…and we can sleep at night, believing we at least tried something,” Fanny hid pleaded, her voice trailing aff, suddenly realising that The Governor’s tick in his eye hid become a noticeable pulse.

  “Even if I wanted to consider that, which I don’t, The Department would laugh at us and the parole board would demand my removal, which would be totally justified.”

  “Mr Kyle mentioned a Mr Peacock, some sort of influential senior lawyer from The Department who works closely with and advises the Secretary of State on prison matters.  I understand that this gentleman is behind the research being done by Stirling University, both here and up in Peterhead Prison,” Fanny hid said hurriedly in whit she thought wis her maist persuasive voice.

  “So, Jonathan Peacock is behind this.  Now I see!”

  “No, no, Mr Kyle said that if we needed support, he was sure that this Mr Peacock would be most sympathetic to what we were attempting to do.  They said that they would be in a position to explain what I…we…are attempting to achieve regarding developing a successful rehabilitation programme down here in Dumfries.”

  “So, you’ve taken this madcap lunatic idea out of Dumfries, out of my hands and spoken with The Department, without first discussing this with me?  How dare you!  Does Alex McRae know what’s being going on?”

  Silence.

  “I though not.  I’m really disappointed in you, Fanny…Mrs Flaw.  I thought you had what it takes to be a first class member of the rehabilitative team within this institution.  I see now that I was wrong,” he’d retorted coldly.

  “Governor, if we don’t take advantage, or at the very least, attempt, to try and put a spoke in the wheels of people like Tony Gucci, then there will be a lot more people waking up in the mornings being confronted by the same realities that you and Alison have had to face.  Do you really want to be in a position where you could have done something, but didn’t, thus allowing people like Gucci and his co-accused to go through life knowing no one can stop them?  If that’s what you’re saying to me, George, then perhaps you’re right, I shouldn’t be in this job,” Fanny hid whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, surprised and taken aback at her informality wae The Governor.  “But on a more positive note, at least you would have gotten rid of your daily tormentors.”

She looked at her busy desk and felt a thrill run up her spine.  Efter being unceremoniously slung oot ae The Governor’s office, wae a flea in her ear, she’d been called back the next morning and informed, in the sweetest ae manners, that she could proceed wae the names that she’d brought up the day before.  She’d then been dismissed jist as quickly as she’d arrived. 

  She jist couldnae contain hersel, and reached across and drew Tony Gucci’s file aff ae the tap ae the other two.  She opened it and efter fleetingly glancing at her freshly haunwritten notes, she went o’er the completed prisoner application form again.  She’d been surprised at his haunwriting.  While there wur a few wee grammatical mistakes…understandable considering he’d hid nae formal education beyond the age ae seven…his haunwriting wis beautiful, almost exotic, wae long flowing flourishes ae the pen at the start ae each sentence and the paragraph endings.  Efter Gucci hid vacated his seat oan the other side ae her desk and hid been escorted back tae the sewing machine shoap, she’d wanted tae rush oot ae her office screaming, waving the completed and signed application in the air and run doon the corridor and gie Robert Connor, the pass-man, a big hug.  Tony Gucci hid agreed tae fill in an application fur early release through the pilot project.  In fact, she’d actually made him fill in the form while she’d sat there, haudin her breath, scared in case he changed his mind if she allowed him tae leave her office.  She wisnae too sure whit it wis that she’d said that hid eventually turned him, bit thought Patrick McCabe, the jewellery expert, must’ve hid something tae dae wae it.  Before being interrupted by the pass-man feeding her mair tea, she’d beeen gaun o’er the conversation in her heid.  She’d been sure that using Patrick McCabe’s lack ae parole chances as a carrot in the conversation hid been the deal breaker, bit fur the life ae her, she couldnae pinpoint any dramatic reaction when McCabe’s name hid come up.  Maybe Senga Jackson wis right aboot the so-called Mankys and that the backgroond files in front ae her tended tae overreact and exaggerate the dangerous and negative aspects ae whit the authorities felt they wur dealing wae, insteid ae the reality.