The Silver Arrow (19 page)

Chapter Twenty Three

  Happy Harry hid awready been tae the cludgie four times, the first time efter nearly shiting they clean pants ae his.  Given his weight and age, how he’d managed tae reach the cubicle within that space ae time, hid been nothing short ae a miracle.  He looked up at the clock.  Eighteen minutes and seventeen seconds till three o’clock.  He felt like throwing up.  The sweat wis pishing aff ae him.  Bob Hope, wan ae the street pavement pounders, hid awready commented oan his sweaty complexion efter he’d arrived wae his partner, Spencer Glory, wae some auld hag in tow that they’d lifted fur being drunk and disorderly ootside The Boundary Bar oan the corner ae Hawthorn Street and Springburn Road.  It hid been obvious that aw they wanted wis tae come in oot ae the rain fur a skive, so he’d telt them tae set her free and piss aff back oan tae the beat.  Ten minutes hid passed since he’d phoned Simon Harper at the Carpet Capers Warehoose.  He looked up at the clock again.  Seventeen minutes and twenty two seconds tae three.   He’d need tae calm doon.  Fast Track Dave’s bookie shoap wis jist across the road.  It wid take him less than a minute tae get there.  He also didnae want tae turn up too soon, jist in case Fast Track wis loitering behind the mesh coonter.  Everything hid tae be as per usual.  Anything oot ae the ordinary in Springburn wis seized upon as something being up.  He wished he’d telt McAlpine and McCalumn tae fuck aff when he’d hid the chance.  Why, oh why, hid he succumbed?  Even worse…he’d awready spent fifty-five quid oan a nice wee 1964 Morris Minor that allowed him tae drive tae work insteid ae hivving tae sit on a manky bus in amongst the herd.  The inspector hid been gone fur o’er four hours noo.  Every time the front door opened, he jist aboot shat himsel, hauf expecting Paddy McPhee tae reappear.  He’d finally made his move at two o’clock efter turning back in the wee corridor four times.  The fourth time, he’d even reached the cabinet in paddy’s office before his bowels hid goat the better ae him and he’d legged it back tae the desk efter hearing raised voices in an interview room, further alang the corridor.  The fifth time, he’d gone fur it.  He’d managed tae get a haud ae a key fur the cabinet.  He’d held his breath as he turned it in the lock and hid wanted tae let oot a whoop ae delight when the sliding drawer opened first time.  Efter rifling through it twice, he’d drawn a blank.  Apart fae the usual spare shirt and uniform jaicket and a pile ae well-thumbed Penthoose magazines, there’d been nae sign ae the inspector’s service notebooks.  Efter locking the filing cabinet back up again, he’d scurried back tae the front desk, jist in time tae book in a couple ae hoosebreakers that Hope and Glory hid dragged in, looking as if they’d jist captured Ronnie Biggs.  It hidnae taken them long tae inform him that they wur jist nipping aff tae the canteen fur a mug ae tea before tackling the paperwork.  Efter a further dash tae the cludgie, he wis noo back in the inspector’s office, assessing the task in haun.  The desk must’ve been aboot fifty years auld if the scratches, gouges and stripped-aff varnish oan it wur anything tae go by.  There wur two drawers oan either side ae the chair.  He’d cursed the air blue, quietly under his breath, as a wee wet blotch hid suddenly appeared oan the bare bit ae the desk that hidnae any varnish oan it.  The sweat wis dripping aff ae him noo.  Whit wan tae choose first?  The tap right haun wan contained nothing bit an assortment ae pens scattered across the arse ae it under the latest copy ae Mayfair and a wee copy ae Forum…the dirty letters magazine.  The second choice scored a bull’s-eye.  The only problem wis that wan ae the wee blades oan his pocket knife snapped when he wis trying tae prise the drawer open.  That left him wae the bigger ae the two blades.  In his hurry and panic tae get the thing open, he used too much leverage, and the drawer flew oot oan tae his lap.  The bloody lock hid snapped, meaning he widnae be able tae lock the fucker up when he returned the notebook later.  Tae make matters worse, there wur hauf a dozen ae the fake, black crocodile skinned basturts, sitting there.  Fighting hard and triumphantly managing tae keep his panic contained within that arsehole ae his, he cocked his ear and listened fur any movement oot in the corridor.  Hivving satisfied himsel that it wis his heavy breathing that wis making aw the racket in they ears ae his, he decided there and then tae rifle through the pages ae them.  He found whit he wis looking fur in the third notebook.  There, in the inspector’s scrawling haunwriting, the names ae Stobhill, Haufwit Murray, Tam and Toby Simpson, The Big Man, Johnboy Taylor and Tony Gucci aw jumped oot ae the pages at him.  He didnae take the time tae see whit the importance ae the scribbles wur, bit he didnae gie a toss.  He wis oot ae the office in a flash and back at his desk, shaking like a leaf, bit no before he’d snatched up the auld yellowing dog-eared book wae a picture ae some Japanese sojer, staunin snarling in a dragon-faced mask, wae a big sword and whit looked like some kind ae bayonet in his hauns oan the front cover.  He hid the notebook sitting in his jaicket pocket and the Jap book stuffed doon the front ae his troosers.  Christ, the front desk?  How could he hiv been so bloody stupid?  He wis bound tae get caught noo.  How the fuck wis he supposed tae explain how the inspector’s office and desk hid been tanned if he’d been the wan oan duty at the front desk aw day?  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!  He looked aboot in panic.  He grabbed the tea-towel sitting oan the shelf under the coonter and heided back tae the inspector’s office.  Paddy wis bound tae get the fingerprint boys in.  Wid his denial ae hivving any knowledge be accepted?  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!

  “Hello, Springburn Polis Office?” Happy growled intae the phone, efter jist aboot jumping oot ae that sweaty skin ae his wae the sound ae the ringing, as he arrived back efter wiping doon Paddy’s desk.  “A car’s oan fire?  Where?  And a fire engine is oan the way?  Right, okay, Ah’ll send roond a car.  Aye, tell the commander it’s oan its way, hen,” he said, slamming doon the phone in the cradle. 

He looked up at the clock.  Five minutes and eight seconds tae three.  He lifted up the coonter and heided fur the canteen.  Hope and Glory wur sitting oan their lazy arses wae their feet up oan the tables, reading The Glesga Echo that they’d clearly halved in two tae share wae each other.

  “Hope, get yer arse in gear and get roond tae Torrance Street pronto. There’s a car oan fire.  The fire brigade ur oan their way, so they ur.  You, Glory, ye’re in charge ae the desk fur ten minutes while Ah go across tae Fast Track Dave’s tae put a line oan.  And don’t fuck aboot using the phone tae call aw yer pals.  The calls ur listed nooadays, so they ur,” he warned him, beating a hasty retreat tae the front door.

  It wis pishing wae rain as he jumped back oan tae the pavement tae avoid the big splash ae water fae the fire engine that wis speeding past, wae its blue lights flashing and bells clattering, heiding towards Torrance Street.  Fast Track Dave hidnae noticed him as he came storming oot ae his bookie’s shoap, running like a distorted hippo in the direction ae where the fire engine hid gone.  It hid fleetingly crossed Harry’s mind that the car oan fire and Fast Track’s Rolls Royce might be connected, bit aw he wanted tae dae wis tae reach the bookies and haun o’er the notebook, put oan his line, and get tae fuck back tae the station before the inspector arrived back tae discover he’d been burgled.

Chapter Twenty Four

“Square back and sides and take yer time, Silent,” Johnboy said, settling back in the chair as The Tormentor disappeared tae skive aff somewhere else.

  He watched Silent in the mirror.  There wis something up.  There wisnae many people that could tell, bit Johnboy knew the signs.  It wis the wee things…like using the heel ae his right haun tae rub his right eye…like shoogling his shoulders and stretching his neck at the same time.  Johnboy wondered if anywan hid upset him, as Silent stuck a paper haun towel doon the back ae his shirt collar, before wrapping the sheet roond the front ae his neck and body wae a swish, Zorro style.

  “Who wis in getting a haircut before me, Silent?”

  Silence.

  “Ah hope it wisnae wan ae they stoat-the-baw basturts, wis it?”

  Silence.

  Normally, when Johnboy spoke tae Silent, he’d at least get some sort ae acknowledgement.  It could be a wee hauf smile, or jist a fleeting knowing look across they eyes ae his that indicated that he knew he wis being spoken tae.  Johnboy shut his eyes as Silent sprayed water oot ae a gardener’s plastic spray gun.  Oan the side ae it wis a faded print ae green leaves that looked like cannabis plants and the name McLeod, Florists, Bank Street, Dumfries, underneath them.  He wondered how the spray hid ended up in the barber shoap ae Dumfries YOI.  When he opened his eyes, he smiled.  A couple ae inches in front ae his face, Silent wis staunin staring at him intently wae a lethal pointed pair ae scissors in his haun. 

  “And mind ma ears,” Johnboy reminded him, remembering whit Silent hid done tae the tip ae The Chief’s right lug the week before.

  Johnboy wondered if his wee confabs wae Silent roond the snooker table hid been sinking in.  They never lasted very long before they wur interrupted, bit it felt good fur Johnboy tae affload whit his thoughts wur regarding the Senga situation.  Although it could be a bit frustrating during some ae the mair sensitive parts ae the conversation, when a response wid’ve been welcomed, Johnboy always felt better efter it.  

  “Jist in case ye’re wondering, or even mildly interested in ma situation, Ah’ve manage tae work everything oot…Ah think.  That makes ye redundant in the listening stakes noo, ye’ll be pleased tae hear.  Ah mean, who the fuck cares whether it’s love or no at this stage ae the game, eh?  You probably think Ah’m bonkers fur even gaun alang wae whit she’s offering, bit if she’s happy, Ah’m happy.  It’s how Ah conduct masel in the future that’s important.  As long as Ah kin see ma way tae no getting involved, or even wanting tae get involved in skulduggery, then Ah don’t see why it widnae work,” he said defensively, as he heard the first cut ae the scissors at the side ae his heid.

  “Dae ye know who that is?” Silent suddenly asked, stoapping whit he wis daeing, as he cocked they ears ae his tae the tune emanating fae Radio Carlisle.

  “Oh, ye’re here, ur ye?  Hiv ye been listening tae anything Ah’ve been prattling oan aboot the last wee while or hiv Ah jist been talking tae masel like some gibbering idiot?” Johnboy demanded.

  “Python Lee Jackson,” Silent said smiling, leaning o’er and turning up the volume, as Rod Stewart sang aboot drinking wine and feeling fine.

  “Aye, right…very good, Silent,” Johnboy said dismissively.  “Did ye hear whit Ah jist asked ye?”

  “Five,” Silent said.

  “Five?  Okay, Ah gie in.  Put me oot ae ma misery, fur fuck’s sake.”

  “Peter Manual.”

  “Who the fuck’s Peter Manual?”

  “Ah knew there wis another wan,” Silent said, smiling, clearly chuffed wae himsel,  as he returned tae making a dug’s dinner oot ae whit wis left ae Johnboy’s heid ae hair.

  “Silent, hiv ye been taking in whit Ah’ve been trying tae say tae ye the past wee while?”

  “Mind and don’t tell Tony and especially that Snappy wan,” Silent reminded him, applying the electric trimmer.

  “Mind and square aff the back at the bottom,” Johnboy instructed him. “Don’t tell Tony whit?”

  “Aboot Senga…and you…how ye’re feeling…whit yer plans ur…they won’t understaun.”

  “Dae ye think Ah’m making a mistake then?”

  Silence.

  Johnboy wisnae sure if Silent hid lapsed back intae ‘Silent’s World,’ as Snappy called it, or no.  He wis a bit hesitant aboot pushing Silent.  Silent hidnae uttered a sound in o’er a month tae anywan.  Christ knew when he’d get another chance tae hiv another chat wae him again.  And who the fuck wis this Peter Manual?

  “Who’s this Peter Manual then, Silent?”

  Silence.

  “Ur ye still in here, Taylor?” The Tormentor barked, efter popping that heid ae his through the door.

  “Naw, Ah’m a figment,” Johnboy retorted, before he could contain himsel.

  “Don’t get bloody lippy wae me, Sunny Jim.  Ah’m the wan that’s daeing you the favour by fetching ye o’er here.  A wee bit mair appreciation widnae go amiss.  And you, Smith, make sure ye’re aw packed up and ready tae go first thing.  Ye’ve goat two minutes, Taylor, and Ah’ll be back, ready or no,” he growled, slamming the door.

  “Prick!” Johnboy snarled, as Silent hung up the shaver oan the hook beside the mirror and started brushing the hair fae the back ae Johnboy’s neck.  “So, whit wis he oan aboot then?” Johnboy asked, staunin up, as Silent unwrapped him, flicking the sheet so the cut hair landed oan the lino.

  “Right, Taylor, let’s be hivving ye,” The Tormentor growled, staunin, haudin the door open.

  “Ah’m aff up tae Saughton in Edinburgh tae get qualified as a barber, so Ah am.  Ah’m gaun fur ma City and Guilds,” Silent announced wae a big grin spread across that coupon ae his.

  “Ye’re whit?  When?” Johnboy demanded, shocked.

  “He’s aff the morra.  Noo, get yer arse in gear, Taylor,” The Tormentor snarled impatiently.

  “Naw, hing oan a minute, Ah need tae find oot whit’s happening,” Johnboy squealed, panicking.

  “Ye kin talk tae him later.  Get a move oan…now!” The Tormentor shouted, attracting another two screws tae join him efter being alerted tae the commotion.

  “When wur ye telt this, Silent?” Johnboy asked him.

  Silence.

  “Right, if Ah don’t see they feet move right now, ye’re oan report, Taylor!”

  “Nice wan, Silent.  Thanks fur letting us know,” Johnboy spat at him, disappearing oot the door.

  His brain hid been in turmoil as he heided back tae the workshoap.  How the fuck hid he no picked up that this wis happening?  He wis fucked.  They wur aw fucked.  None ae them wid get a chance tae speak tae Silent before he wis shipped oot.  Everywan getting released or shipped oot wis put in a solitary cell o’er beside D Hall and the civvy clothes store the day before there wis any movement oot ae the place.  It wis supposed tae allow a smooth process wae the paperwork.  Johnboy couldnae believe whit hid jist transpired as he entered the sewing machine shoap and the howls ae laughter and cat-calling started up fae Tony and Snappy.

  “Fucking hell,” Snappy exclaimed, as Johnboy passed him tae get tae his machine.

  “Aye, ye’re right, Johnboy.  It isnae funny,” Tony agreed smiling, nodding at that heid ae his.

  “If ye think ma heid’s bad, wait until Ah tell ye whit’s happening tae Silent.”