The Silver Arrow (8 page)

  “Whit dae ye want it fur?” he asked, trying tae buy himsel some time while he tried tae figure oot whether it could be done or no.

  “We need a wee bit ae information.”

  “And?”

  “And, will ye dae it or no?” McCalumn demanded tae know, as baith Neds picked up an envelope each and started tae put them back in their jaickets.

  “Wait…look, it’s no as easy as it might seem tae youse.  There’s, er, high risks here.  How dae Ah know Ah’ll get it back fae youse straight efter ye’ve hid a wee gander at it,” he whimpered, wiping his brow wae a filthy hanky he’d retrieved fae his trooser pocket.

  “Ye don’t, bit unlike some ae the basturts ye work wae, ma word is ma bond, so it is,” Jake McAlpine replied, as the other Ned visibly winced.

  “Five minutes?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “It’ll cost ye mair than two fifty up front,” Happy Harry declared, haudin his breath.

  “How much?” McAlpine asked him, staring straight intae the greedy frightened eyes sitting across the table fae him.

  “Five hunner jist noo and the same efter Ah get ye a shot ae the notebook,” he replied, gulping.

  McAlpine nodded tae McCalumn, who instantly put his haun back intae his jaicket and pulled oot the envelope whose contents wid’ve frightened a bookie.

  “We’ll gie ye five hunner the noo, and another two fifty when we get access tae the notebook,” McAlpine informed him, making it clear by the tone ae his voice that the financial limit hid been reached.

  McCalumn coonted oot his two hunner and fifty quid in crisp ten pound notes, transferring the additional amount intae the first envelope, before Jake McAlpine slid the bulging packet across the table tae Happy Harry again.

  “Timescale?” the desk sergeant asked, quaking in his boots, scared tae pick up the envelope in case the guys fae Candid Camera jumped up fae under the bar coonter.

  “Next week,” McCalumn replied at the exact same time as McAlpine said, “A month max.”

  “Which is it?  Ah’ll only be able tae get ma hauns oan it if Ah get a chance.  Ah couldnae gie ye any set time when that could be.”

  “Four weeks,” McAlpine confirmed.

  “Okay…Ah…Ah might jist manage that.  How dae Ah contact youse?”

  “Simon Epstein.  Jist leave a message at Carpet Capers saying ye’ve goat the package and it’ll be passed oan.  Ye don’t hiv tae leave yer name.  Where kin we pick it up?”

  “Fast Track Dave’s, the bookies oan Springburn Road, jist across fae the cop shoap oan the opposite side ae the road fae The Boundary Bar. It’ll probably be roond aboot three in the efternoon.  Ah’ll be oan ma tea break.  Ah’ll only be able tae gie five, maybe ten minutes’ notice that Ah’ve goat it.  If ye cannae get there oan time, it’s no ma responsibility.  Ye kin hiv the notebook fur as long as it takes me tae nip across tae put oan a line.  When Ah leave Fast Track’s, Ah’ll expect tae hiv that notebook back oan ma person,” The Desk Sergeant warned them. 

  “That sounds fair enough tae me,” McAlpine agreed, nodding.

  Happy Harry looked aboot.  The lounge wis still empty, apart fae them.  He reached across tae pick up the fat envelope.  As he wis withdrawing it tae his side ae the table, the palm ae Ben McCalumn’s haun and fingers tightened oan the back ae his.

  “Seeing as ye’ve upped the price, we’re upping the demand.  The Stalker blagged a book aff ae Tony Gucci the night he wis lifted oan suspicion ae the Tam Simpson murder across in High Possil a few years back.  Make sure ye bring that wae ye tae Fast Track’s as well, if ye want that extra two hunner and fifty…and that book won’t be gaun back wae ye,” McCalumn said, looking him straight in the eye.

  “A…a book?  Whit fucking book?”

  “It’s a wee paperback called The Art ae War. It’s aboot some Jap General fae way back in the day.”

  “Look, its gonnae be difficult enough as it is.  Ah cannae guarantee he’ll still hiv it.  Ah’ll try, bit Ah cannae promise,” he replied, feeling McCalumn’s haun relax, allowing him tae stuff the thick bulging envelope intae his inside jaicket pocket.

  The two Neds abruptly stood up and disappeared oot ae the lounge door oan tae the street.  Happy Harry lifted up baith hauns and looked at them.  They wur shaking like a schoolboy’s who’d jist been caught wae they fingers ae his in his sister’s pants, hinging oot oan a washing line.  He reached across and lifted up McCalumn’s eighty bob.

  “Nae use letting it go tae waste,” he murmured tae himsel, putting the glass up tae his lips as his other haun reached across fur McAlpine’s pint ae lager.

  “Ma word is ma bond?  Whit fucking Brooke Bond advert did ye pilfer that wan oot ae, ya burst bawbag, ye?” Ben guffawed, as he drapped doon tae second before turning right oot ae Alison Street and heided towards the Gorbals and the toon centre.

  “Ah telt ye, the reason Simon asked me tae dae aw the talking and no you wis because he wanted somewan wae a bit ae subtly aboot them,” Jake reminded him, grinning at the driver, as he pushed the play button oan the tape deck, allowing the baith ae them tae join in oan the chorus ae ‘Band Oan The Run’ as an ambulance and a squad car whizzed past them, blue lights flashing and bells clanging, back in the direction ae where they’d jist come fae.

  “Ah hope that stupid basturt hisnae jist gone and shat in his pants at the thought ae spending aw that pilfered money,” Ben shouted, turning up the volume as Jake laughed.

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

 
With the second General Election this year only a few weeks away, opinion polls show Labour in the lead, with Harold Wilson looking set to gain an overall majority…

  The hunt for The Silver Arrow has gone international, Superintendent John Bower, head of the Police Traffic Division in the city, informed a packed press conference in Central HQ today.  Superintendent Bower said that two police inspectors were currently in Germany talking to executives of Mercedes Benz after establishing that there are only thought to be a limited number of the 1930s Mercedes Benz Silver Arrow Racing cars now in existence.  Superintendent Bower refused to be drawn on when he thought the driver, dubbed The Silver Arrow by the Glasgow public, would be arrested.  So far, seven men, six in Scotland and one in Sunderland, all vintage car enthusiasts, have been arrested and later released by police forces across the country…

  Two teenagers, aged sixteen and seventeen have been ordered to be detained during Her Majesties Pleasure at the High Court in Glasgow today after both were found guilty of stabbing sixteen-year-old Thomas Lyons to death in Sauchiehall Street in…

There was a run on bread today in the city, after fears of a bread strike by the city’s bakers proved false.  Women throughout the city descended on local bakeries and corner shops in an attempt to stock up.  A spokesman for Watson’s, the makers of Mothers’ Choice plain and pan loaves, denied that they had instigated the rumours to increase sales of their popular priced white bread…

A lorry carrying twenty tons of Kerrs Pink potatoes crashed in to a lamppost on Royston Road this afternoon, scattering potatoes for several hundred yards…

  Castle Street in the Townhead ground to a halt during rush hour traffic tonight after an articulated lorry crashed through the temporary barriers on the M8 above and was left overhanging traffic below, causing major disruption to those traveling home…

  A thirty-eight-year-old former boxer was fined twenty pounds at Glasgow Central District Court after punching his girlfriend and breaking her nose on a night out in July of this year.  Thomas ‘Mad Tam’ Macadam denied the charge…

And finally, a small group of well dressed women, thought to be mainly middle class, picketed the City Chambers in George Square today to protest against violence towards women…”

Chapter Nine

  Senga wis glad he wis late and chuffed that she’d goat a windae seat upstairs, insteid ae being dispatched doonstairs tae the dungeon seats.  Wan ae the few irritating traits that Rory hid wis that he wis always oan time.  She took aff her coat and folded it o’er the chair beside her.  He’d turned up at the flat oan Sunday night, bit Senga hid been up at her ma’s gieing aw the wummin a session oan food handling before gieing them a haun tae make up the sandwiches fur some auld dear’s funeral wake in the Springburn Halls the next day.  Rory hid asked Lizzie if Senga wis okay and hid then preceded tae quiz her oan whit wis gaun oan.  Lizzie, being a worse liar than Senga, hid confused the situation even further by muttering a heap ae rubbish aboot how Senga needed time tae sort her heid oot.  Rather than jist tell him he’d need tae speak tae her, Lizzie hid sat wringing her hauns as Rory broke doon in tears oan the couch telling her how much he loved Senga.  Oan Monday, she’d literally bumped intae him in the corridor when she wis dashing alang tae the reception tae meet a fleet ae ambulances that wur oan their way in efter a gas explosion in a tenement doon in the Carlton hid flattened hauf the building, trapping some ae the families inside.

  “Senga…” he’d blurted oot.

  “Ah’m sorry, Rory, Ah cannae stoap noo…there’s patients coming in, some wae terrible injuries.   Ah’m aff the morra.  Meet me at The Station
Café oan the corner ae Cathedral and Queen Street at twelve o’clock,” she’d panted oan the way past.

  It hid never occurred tae Senga that he might no be able tae make it and wis probably in a clinic wae his patients.  Oan the wan haun, she wisnae too bothered if he didnae turn up as she’d been dreading meeting up wae him, bit oan the other, she knew that speaking tae him wis inevitable and she needed tae get it o’er and done wae and oot ae the road.  She took a sip ae her hot tea and looked oot the windae.  The rain wis battering aff ae the road as passers-by wur getting their umbrellas entangled wae each other.  The wans nearest the road wur jumping back fae the ootside ae the pavement tae avoid the splashes ae the dirty water as the wheels ae the buses picked up speed efter turning left oot ae Dundas Street, heiding towards Castle Street and beyond.   She felt the throb and rumble ae the trains under her feet, coming and gaun fae Queen Street Station and smiled at the shapes that seemed tae be magically appearing and disappearing in the billowing clouds ae steam and smoke engulfing the bridge twenty or so yards alang fae where she wis sitting.  She thought she’d spotted Ben McCalumn oan the pavement opposite tae where she wis sitting, bit when she’d looked closer, the bit ae the pavement where she thought she’d spotted him, hid disappeared under a cloud ae white steam.  Efter it hid blown away, he’d disappeared, if it hid actually been him. Senga liked people-watching, especially oan summer days.  Oan dreich
days like today, everywan wis huddled under their coats and umbrellas, scurrying tae wherever they wur gaun, wearing their best grim expressions that they kept in a drawer by their beds jist fur days when the wind and rain showed nae mercy tae auld or young, rich or poor.  In the summer, there wis nothing she liked better than tae be sitting oan a bench wae Kim Sui doon in George Square wae a sandwich, checking oot the cool gear that aw the lassies and guys wur wearing, wandering by.  Kim Sui wid sit and point oot the origins ae the copied designs oan display.

  “Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, shite Ralph Lauren, Roy Halston, a good Yves St Laurent, bad Gucci, Jaeger, Furstenberg.”

  Occasionally Kim Sui wid run efter somewan tae ask where they’d goat the piece ae clothing they wur wearing, which inevitably wid turn oot tae hiv been made by her or wan ae her design team.  Senga wis jist wondering whit mode ae transport Rory wid be arriving in when a taxi came tae a stoap right ootside the windae she wis sitting at, haudin up a frustrated bus driver oan a green light.

  “Senga, darling,” he exclaimed, looking at bit startled when his kiss landed oan her cheek insteid ae her lips when he sat doon.  “How are you?” he asked, sounding concerned, taking her hauns in his.

  “Oh, Ah’m fine, Rory.  Ur ye wanting tae order yersel something?” she asked, slipping her hauns oot ae his.

  “In a minute, darling.  I just want to make sure everything’s alright with you…with us,” he pleaded, the question left hinging in the air, expectation reflected in they saft, hazel-broon eyes ae his.

  “Look, Rory, Ah’m sorry, Ah know Ah should’ve been in touch sooner, bit there’s been so much happening jist noo…Ah’m sorry,” she said, her voice quivering slightly.

  “Hush…you don’t have to apologise.  You’re here now…the both of us are,” he replied…in expectation.

  “Look, Rory, Ah’m sorry…it isnae gonnae work…the baith ae us, Ah mean,” she managed tae say, feeling guilty at the disappointment flashing across they eyes ae his.

“Why?”

“Because it jist isnae…Ah’m sorry.”

“But surely I’m entitled to know why?  What have I done?  Tell me and I’ll change,” he pleaded.

  “Rory, I don’t want ye tae change.  Ye’ve nothing that needs changing.  It’s me…Ah’m the wan that’s changed.”

  “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “Who?”

  “The jailbird Lizzie told me about.”

  “Oh, she did, did she?  And whit else his she be saying?” Senga demanded tae know, cursing Lizzie under her breath.

  “Only that you recently went all the way down to Dumfries to visit him whilst I was down in Newcastle…the one that attempted to murder those two unfortunate police officers in that bank up on Maryhill Road.”

  “He’s innocent.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Ye heard me.”

  “Senga, Senga, my God, darling, what’s got into you?” he squealed, clearly exasperated, as if he wis talking tae some naughty wean, attempting tae take her hauns back intae his again.

  “Rory, please don’t patronise me.  Ah might only be nineteen, bit Ah know whit Ah know, okay?” she flashed at him.

  “Look, I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong.  I’m worried…Lizzie is worried.”

  “Is she?” Senga replied drily, looking across at the people queuing up at the till tae pay their bill.

  “Lizzie said that you’ve known this…er…”

  “Johnboy,” she quickly reminded him, turning back tae face him.

  “…Johnboy, since you were both young and in primary school.”

  “And?”

  “And well, look, don’t take this the wrong way, but there are females, some women, who write to people in prison…who end up becoming infatuated with the person, even though they don’t really know them.  The little research that’s been done has highlighted that it usually ends in tears, sometimes drastically so, in that the person on the outside has ended up…er…a victim of manipulation or worse…violence.”

  “Oh, fur God’s sake, Rory!  Ur ye serious or whit?  Dae ye think whit ye’ve jist come oot wae applies tae somewan like me?”

  “Look, darling, I’m not saying you, personally, but I’m just pointing out the dangers that others have experienced.”

  “Ah cannae believe whit Ah’ve jist heard, especially coming fae you.  Ye make me sound as if Ah’m some sort ae jail groupie or something,” Senga scoffed, offended.

  “Senga, please, I’m not saying you are, but Lizzie told me that you haven’t had…you know, a real relationship with this…this convict.”

  “Oh, his she?  Look, Ah’ve known Johnboy Taylor aw ma life.  Aye, it’s true we hivnae went oot, at least no as boy and girlfriend…that kind ae thing…bit whether you or Lizzie want tae believe it or no, Ah’ve loved him since Ah first clapped eyes oan him as a five-year-auld, so Ah hiv,” she said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, trying tae contain the anger rising in her chest and resenting the look ae pity in they eyes ae his.

  “Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you, darling.  I love and respect you, but for the life of me, I just can’t understand why you would want to throw away everything we have,” he pleaded, close tae tears.

  “Rory, whit hiv we goat?”

  “I bought a ring.”

  “Oh Rory, please…”

  “Look, I love you.  I thought that we were at a stage where we could take our relationship to the next level.  You’ve met my parents.”

  “Oh, Ah’m sorry, I never asked ye how yer da wis daeing efter his stroke?”

  “He’s fine.  It’s us that require emergency resuscitation.  I’ve rented a cottage…out near Balfron…for next weekend,” he said, hesitantly…hopefully.

  “I’m sorry, I cannae…”

  “Lizzie said you don’t have shifts that weekend.”

  “Rory, I can’t…Ah’m sorry.  It jist widnae work,” she pleaded.

  “Senga, how well do you know this…Johnboy…I mean, really know him?”

  “I’ve jist telt ye, I’ve known him maist ae ma life.  My ma and his baith worked thegither as cleaners in the local schools years ago.  They wur the best ae friends up until Helen Taylor died a few years back.”

  “No, I mean, really know him?”

  “Oh Rory, fur God’s sake…I thought ye wur a clinical psychiatrist and that criminal psychology wis a different field?”

  “It is, but I spent a year studying criminal psychology as part of my training.”

  “So, whit ur ye getting at?”

  “Look, from what I can gather, he’s been in and out of prison or some other criminal institution for most of his life.”

  “And, yer point is?” she asked tersely.

  “All I’m pointing out is that you’re attracted to someone who has been locked up, under close supervision, during his formative years.  Don’t you think there could be underlying issues, complex issues that aren’t visible on the surface…relationship issues?”

  “Ah’m still no sure whit ye’re getting at.”

  “What I’m getting at is that you’re implying you’re in love with a recidivist, a person who’s probably been feral since childhood, someone that has lived outwith the bounds of what you and I would call civilised society,” he pleaded, looking her straight in the eye.

  “Feral?  Is that no jist another word that describes freedom?”  

  “Oh Senga, for God’s sake!  Whilst most people would have been brought up in a family unit, your…er…so-called friend would have been making up the rules as he went along,” Rory challenged her wae a wave ae his haun towards the backs ae the raincoats huddled oan the other side ae the glass, waiting fur the lights tae change.  “Surely even you must realise that there’s bound to be mental health baggage attached to someone who is quite clearly a sociopath…at the very least?”

  “Is this your attempt at trying tae persuade me tae forget him?”

  “No, I can understand your wish to support a friend in need…particularly if you believe he’s innocent, but to throw away what we have…could have…does seem a bit extreme.”

  “Rory, he’s innocent, believe you me.”

  “Does he also share your feelings?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me. Has he declared his love for you?”

  Silence.

  “Oh Senga, darling…” Rory groaned.

  “Look, Ah don’t like where this conversation is gaun.  Ah’m sorry, bit Ah hiv tae go,” she said suddenly, turning tae pick up her coat fae the chair beside her.

  “No, please, don’t.  Look, you stay here…I’ll go.  I need to get back to work.  I have a clinic at two o’clock,” Rory said miserably, staunin up and looking doon at her.  “Senga, please, I beg you…I love you.”

  “Ah’m sorry, Rory.  Ah never wanted tae hurt ye…please go,” she said, her voice shaking, as she looked oot ae the windae at the huddled crowd, gathering oan the street corner again, waiting fur the lights tae change.

  When she turned roond, he wis gone.  He must’ve turned left efter he’d exited the front door and heided doon Queen Street towards the station taxi rank.

  “Ur ye awright, hen?  Kin Ah get ye anything else?” the waitress asked her, arriving wae pencil and pad in haun.

  “I’m fine…no, sorry…kin Ah hiv a black coffee this time…a mug, please?”

  “Nae problem, hen.  Listen, Ah know it’s none ae ma business, bit don’t you go getting yersel intae a bit ae a tizzy o’er some cretin ae a man.  They’re no worth it, so they’re no…especially wan that bubbles in public and who looks like he’s in dire need ae a psychiatrist.  Mark ma words, ye’re listening tae experience talking here, so ye ur,” the waitress informed her kindly, before turning and trooping back tae the hissing steam machine sitting oan tap ae the coonter.

  Senga took a tissue oot ae her sleeve and dabbed her eyes, trying no tae mess up her mascara.  It hid gone better than she’d expected, even though she hidnae been too sure whit tae expect.  She felt ashamed at being angry at Rory, particularly since it wis her that wis daeing the dirty oan him.  She fully understood his need tae defend his position, bit she’d been taken aback by where he wis coming fae. Did she really know Johnboy Taylor?  Whit kind ae question wis that?  She’d known Johnboy aw her days.  She resented Rory using his knowledge ae psychology tae back-up his argument.  She’d known plenty ae lassies that hid gone oot wae jailbirds, waited fur them until they hid served their sentences and then gone oan tae live happily ever efter.  Of course, people like Johnboy, Tony Gucci and Silent wid’ve been affected, even damaged by the system, bit did that make them warped and twisted people?  And Rory’s question as tae whether Johnboy hid the same feelings towards her as she did towards him?  Of course he did…didn’t he?  Senga tried tae remember their conversation during the visit when she’d asked him tae be quiet and let her speak.  She knew that it hid been a big thing she wis asking ae him…tae gie up The Mankys and move away fae Glesga…tae start a new life somewhere else. Whit hid been his exact response?  She remembered that he’d held her haun, bit hid he agreed unequivocally? They’d tentatively kissed at the end ae the visit, bit hid he professed his love fur her?  She couldnae believe that she couldnae remember.  She felt her heid spin. Everything that hid been gaun oan and said between them hid been emotionally charged.  He must’ve though…surely? She’d received a lovely warm letter at the tail end ae the previous week.  Granted, he hidnae been swearing undying love in it…far fae it.  In fact, he’d been questioning how realistic it wis fur them tae be fully committing themsels at this stage, rather than wait until later.  He’d pointed oot how slow the judicial process wis in considering appeal cases and hid repeatedly asked her if this is whit she truly wanted tae dae wae her life.  Despite that, he seemed tae be making aw the right noises, considering this wis fae somewan who hidnae written tae her since he’d been up in Barlinnie awaiting trial eighteen months earlier.  She knew Johnboy Taylor, his personality, the lassies he’d gone oot wae o’er the years, however briefly, and nowan hid ever fed back or suggested that he wis carrying aboot some psychological issues in that heid ae his.  Lizzie hid also challenged her oan this issue efter Senga’d arrived hame fae the visit doon tae Dumfries and informed her ae her decision tae stoap seeing Rory and tae stick it oot wae Johnboy.