The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (47 page)

Chapter Seventy Three

  Billy Liar slammed the phone doon oan tae the cradle and looked across at the chief inspector.

  “Ye better no be aboot tae tell me whit Ah think ye’re aboot tae tell me,” Daddy Jackson growled.

  “It wisnae them.  It wis some local Tory getting a gobble aff ae some posh floozy in broad daylight…the dirty basturt.”

  “Bit the intel wis spot oan…at least, it wis supposed tae be,” Daddy howled in frustration.

  “Aye, well, that’s no aw, either.”

  “Whit?”

  “Wan ae Shuggie Blaster’s boys, who wis up oan a roof wae binoculars, thought he spotted some Glesga boys sniffing aboot the scene.”

  “Who?”

  “Danny Murphy, Peter The Plant and The Goat.  He says that Paddy McPhee and that Highland chookter ur away aff tae check oot if it wis The Big Man’s crew.”

  “Pat Molloy’s boys?  How the heck did they know McBride wis spotted oot in Stirling?”

  “Yer guess is as good as mine, bit they certainly wurnae there sightseeing up at the castle.”

  “Some crooked basturt in this place his spilt the beans, so they hiv.”

  “Dae ye think so?  Ah mean, we’ve only jist goat the info oorsels.  Who wid know, other than us?  It could’ve come fae The Echo.”

  “This place is like a sieve, so it is.  Ah’m telling ye, if Ah catch the basturts, they’ll wish they’d never put oan a fucking uniform.”

  “Aye, well, Ah’m sure we kin soon work oot who knew whit.  The main thing we need tae worry aboot is, where the fuck is The Duke’s daughter?”

  “Ye don’t think McBride hid anything tae dae wae this wild goose chase, dae ye?”

  “Nah, Ah cannae see it.  Tom Bryce, o’er at The Echo, said it came fae an unimpeachable source.  Nae matter how much he disguised his voice, Ah couldnae see McBride pulling a flanker o’er their eyes…kin you?”

  “Ah suppose no, bit somewan’s pulling oor strings aboot here and Ah’m gonnae bloody find oot who it is.  In the meantime, ye’d better get the spotter cars tae get back oot oan tae the roads.  Who dae we hiv oan the inside ae The Echo that’s reliable?”

  “The Rat wid be yer man, bit Ah heard that Molloy warned him tae get oot ae toon pronto, jist efter the corruption investigation wis launched.  Ah heard he’s somewhere in Australia.” 

  “That wee fucking rodent?  Ah widnae trust that wee shitehoose tae wipe ma arse, never mind trust anything that came oot ae that mooth ae his?”

  “Mary Marigold’s yer man, Daddy.”

  “Right, see if ye kin rustle up any dirt oan her.  If ye get anything, tell her we’ll make it worth her while, bit be careful…these journos ur no tae be trusted.”

  “Right, Daddy, Ah’ll see whit Ah kin dae.”

Chapter Seventy Four

  There wis nae other way tae deal wae the situation.  The Big Man wis the only wan in the toon that he could affload the Landy tae quickly.  Paul sat drumming his fingers oan the steering wheel.  Any dealings Paul and his mates hid ever hid wae The Big Man wur usually done through Tony.  Paul wisnae sure if Pat wid entertain him.  He wid need tae be very careful aboot how he played his haun.  He thought ae the likely scenario as he watched Wan-eye in his wing mirror, daeing a shite in the middle ae the bowling green, across the street
fae the Landy.  A likely option wis that The Big Man wid snatch him and haul him aff somewhere quiet and torture him tae get the information oan where The Gardener’s Daughter wis.  In fact, the mair he thought aboot it, this wis likely tae be exactly whit wid happen. He watched Wan-eye finish his business and troop happily back tae the Landy and jump in across his lap, as he held open the door.  Another option wid be jist tae heid straight back up tae the strath and tell Innes and Whitey the truth…that Innes’s so-called genuine gentleman wis none other than a rip-aff merchant.  Mind you, that wid be admitting defeat and letting that greedy basturt ae a boat builder aff the hook.  He thought aboot trying tae track doon Tony and Joe, bit that wis too risky.  He thought that they’d either be somewhere up in Roystonhill or there in Springburn.  The priority hid tae be in getting shot ae the Landy first, whether he sold it or no.  If he dumped it and the bizzies found it, they’d know he wis back in the toon.

  “Fuck it,” he said oot loud, starting up the engine.

  It wis nearly two o’clock.  He’d thought aboot offering Jimmy, his brother-in-law, a lift doon tae Queen Street fur his shift starting at two o’clock, bit hid decided against it.  They’d jist end up arguing o’er The Gardener’s Daughter again and Kathleen wid find oot aboot it.  There wisnae any mileage in it fur him if she fell oot wae him as well.  He heided back doon towards the toon centre via Pinkston Road.  He noticed the bustle ae people coming and gaun fae the Sighthill multi-storeys oan his left, as the smell ae the Stinky Ocean went fur his nostrils.  When he reached Glebe Street, he spotted a couple ae wee boys aboot ten years auld pushing an auld sedan pram, full ae folded up sheets ae lead, across the road towards Kennedy Street.  He smiled when he saw the colour ae them.  They wur as black as two in the morning, covered wae the soot oot ae the lofts that they’d been using fur getting oan tae the roofs, tae get the lead aff the gutters.  Wance he crossed Parly Road and looked doon in tae McAslin Street and Parson Street, he could see big patches ae waste ground, where familiar tenement buildings hid wance stood.  He heided straight oan till he reached the tap ae Castle Street and then turned right, doon intae the High Street.  He knew he hid tae be careful. He noticed a couple ae squad cars sitting in the casualty drap-aff point ae The Royal, beside an ambulance that still hid its blue lights flashing.  His arse goat the better ae him and he turned right alang Ingram Street, tae cut through oan tae the Broomielaw, doon by the Clyde, insteid ae carrying oan doon intae the Saltmarket, as he’d planned.  The thought ae driving the Landy past Central wis jist too much fur him tae risk, and anyway, there wis mair lassies wandering aboot in their mini-skirts, walking back and forward fae George’s Square. 

  He’d made up his mind and there wis nae turning back wance he tooted the horn ootside the big shuttered doors ae The Big Man’s illegal car stripping depot in Elliot
Street.  Wance the doors wur up, he drove in.  He recognised a couple ae the faces, bit they wur aw busy taking parts aff ae a couple ae wee fancy Mercedes-Benz Roadsters
and whit looked like a hauf stripped doon Bentley.

  “Fucking hell, it Scotland’s maist wanted,” Chic Shand said, walking towards him, haudin a clipboard.

  “Awright Chic, how’s it gaun?”

  “Dis Pat know ye’re here?”

  “Ah’m jist oan ma way across tae speak tae Greasy Jake jist noo and then Ah’m heiding up tae The Carlton Club tae see him efter that.”

  “And whit ur we supposed tae dae wae this piece ae shite meantime?”

  “That piece ae shite is a nineteen sixty eight Series Two Landy.  Whit the fuck dae ye think ye’re supposed tae dae wae it?  It’s practically brand new.”

  “Ah know whit it is.  Who says ye kin bring it in here, eh?  Jake never mentioned a Landy tae me.”

  “Aye, well, as Ah said, Ah’m oan ma way across tae see him jist noo.  The keys ur in it and Ah want they number plates back because they don’t belong tae me,” Paul said, grabbing a piece ae rope that wis hinging oot ae an auld oil drum that wis being used fur rubbish and tying a loop roond Wan-eye’s neck.

  “That dug’s only goat wan eye.”

  “Aye, Ah know.”

  “He looks like a fucking pirate.  Hoi, Hector, sure that dug looks like a pirate?” Chic shouted across tae Spotty Hector, wan ae The Big Man’s gunmen, who’d the worst case ae acne oan a forty year auld that Paul hid ever clapped eyes oan in his life.

  “Fuck, aye…a pirate…so it dis,” The Talking Scab agreed, as Paul, wae Wan-eye in tow, exited through the wee door in the shutters and heided tae the scrap yard across the road.

  The scrap yard wis the supposed legal end ae The Big Man’s car business.  As Paul waited tae get across the Broomielaw, withoot getting run o’er, he looked at the tall monumental towers ae multi-stacked scrap cars, piled up behind the wall wae the barbed wire across the tap. The stacks looked like they wur squaring up tae take oan the big shipyard cranes that wur dotted alang the Clyde in the distance, aw the way tae Partick.  There wur two big Alsatian guard dugs, tethered oan chains, jist inside the double gates at the front ae the yard.  They started gaun ape-shit when they clocked Wan-eye heiding in their direction.  Paul took a deep breath and stepped into the hut that served as an office.  Greasy Jake awready knew he wis oan his way efter being buzzed by Chic.

  “Funny ye should hiv asked that, Pat, because he’s jist walked intae the office as we speak.  He’s goat a mongrel dug wae him that looks like a pirate.  A pirate!  Aye, Ah think it’s because ae its dud eye.  Whit’s wrang wae its eye, Pat’s asking?” Greasy Jake growled fae the desk where he wis sitting wae a phone up tae his ear.

  “A big chookter farmer booted it oot.”

  “A big chookter farmer booted it oot.  Aye, that’s whit he said.  Aye, okay, Ah’ll tell him.  See ye, Pat.”

  “Awright, Jake?” Paul asked Greasy Jake Munro, heid bummer in The Big Man’s legal and no-so-legal scrap metal business.

    “Well, Ah am, bit Ah’m no so sure aboot yersel.  The Big Man says ye’ve tae get yer hee-haws up tae the club, as in pronto.”

  “Kin Ah leave ma bag and ma dug here until Ah get back, Jake?”

  “Whit’s its name?”

  “Wan-eye.”

  “Wan-eye?  Whit kind ae name is that fur a dug? Whit the fuck’s wrang wae Genghis or Rebel like the rest ae the dugs in the toon?  How come ye hiv tae be different tae everywan else?” Jake asked, staunin there, wearing a string vest that looked as if it hidnae been washed since the Second World War.

  “They’ve aw goat two eyes, so they hiv,” Paul replied, tying the rope oan tae the back ae Jake’s chair.

  “His he been fed?”

  “Naw.”

  “Right, well, first things first,” Jake said, ignoring Paul as he heided towards the filing cabinet and pulled oot a tin ae Kennomeat.

  Paul hid known Jake aw his life.  Jake’s boy, Sammy, wis wan ae Paul’s pals.  Paul’s ma went tae the bingo wae Sammy’s ma and they shared their winnings wae each other if wan ae them won.  Jake separated fae Sammy’s ma when he wis younger, bit Jake wis still always aboot the hoose.  Sammy hid been in St Ninian’s fur a while bit hid goat shipped up tae the closed block in Rossie Farm.  He wis the spitting image ae his da in size and stature.
Nae fucker messed Sammy aboot.  He wis quite gentle-natured bit when he let rip, everywan wae any sense did a disappearing act.  He’d knocked a couple ae the brothers oot wan night, efter wan ae them hid refused tae gie him an aspirin tae ease the pain ae the toothache that he’d hid.  The stupid priest hid telt him tae stoap whining and that he’d get something in the morning when the early shift came oan, as he wanted tae get hame tae watch Take Yer Pick.  Bad move.  This hid resulted in a deathly silence in the place as aw they boys, hinging aboot, waited fur Sammy’s response.

“Is that right?” Sammy hid asked, knocking the pair ae them oot, before turning and walking away. 

  Because none ae the other brothers in the place
hid heard whit wis gaun oan, they’d lain, moaning oan the flair, fur aboot five minutes before wan ae them hid managed tae stagger up oan tae his feet and press the alarm bell.  The other wan hid jist lain there, dribbling bloody spit oot the side ae his gub.  Sammy’s da, Jake, always seemed tae be aboot when Paul wis growing up.  Everywan always referred tae him as Greasy Jake, although no tae that face ae his.  He must’ve been aboot six feet four tall and wis as broad as a brick shitehoose.  His heid wis shaped like a bullet and unless ye knew him personally, he wid scare the shite oot ae Dracula.  As well as hivving a mass ae dark greasy hair and skin, he looked like a mountain gorilla, wae hauns always black wae car grease and oil and as big as shovels.  Tony said that they hauns and erms ae his came in handy fur crushing the life oot ae people before slinging their bodies intae the boots ae empty cars and turning them intae steel cubes in the crusher.  Paul wisnae too sure whether that wis true or no, but anywan wae any sense didnae mess wae Greasy Jake.  He’d heard that even The Big Man wis a bit wary ae him.

  “Right, Jake, Ah’m aff up tae see Pat.  Ah’ll see ye later.  Mind and get Chic tae gie me ma number plates back.”

  “Ah’ll no bother haudin ma breath,” the greasy gorilla replied ominously. 

  “Well, well, in the name ae the wee man.  If it isnae the big shot Paul McBride himsel.  We’ve been looking aw o’er the place fur that arse ae yours,” Shaun Murphy said, as Paul strolled intae the club, trying tae look calm, though feart that he wis jist aboot tae shite in they pants ae his.

  “Awright, Shaun?  Awright, Pat?”

  “Ye know, Ah wis jist saying tae a couple ae the boys the other day there that Ah’ve always been a right admirer ae Tony and his wee manky crew.  Come closer and let me see ye, Paul.  Aye, nothing’s changed, eh?  Still stoatingly healthy and handsome in an ugly sort ae way and as slippery as a greasy conger eel, eh?” The Big Man said tae Shaun.

  “Aye, bit as thick as mince.  Who the fuck wid’ve thought this bunch ae manky shitehooses wid’ve ended up wae a Duke’s daughter oan their hauns, eh?  It’ll be a long time supping porridge noo fur the lot ae youse wankers,” Shaun sniggered, aiming his wisdom in Paul’s direction.

  “Ach, well, Ah’m no sure aboot that,” Paul replied, looking at The Big Man.

  “Y’know, Shaun his goat a point there.  Whit the fuck possessed youse tae think ye wid get away wae something as big as this, eh?”

  “Who?” Paul asked, wearing his best innocent look oan that coupon ae his.

  “Aye, well, it’s lucky fur youse that yer Uncle Pat here is in a position tae help youse oot, bit ye’ll need tae play the game or youse ur fucked,” The Big Man warned him, ignoring his innocence line.

  “Ah think we’ve goat everything under control at oor end, Pat.”

  “Right, here’s ma offer, and it’s non-negotiable.  Ah’ll take care ae the floozy this end.  We’ll deal directly wae the family and wance they settle, we’ll split it seventy thirty.  Take it or leave it.”

  Paul’s brain wis scrambling tae take in whit The Big Man hid said and tae come up wae the right response.  He felt a wee surge ae hope and a chink ae light streaming intae the room. The main thing wis no tae upset The Big Man.

  “Ah’m sorry Pat, but Ah’m no here tae negotiate.  Ah’m here oan another matter.  Tony never mentioned anything tae me aboot passing her oan tae yersel or anywan else.  If ye want a stake, ye’ll need tae speak tae him, bit offering us thirty per cent ae something we awready own, wid probably no even be considered, Ah widnae think.”

  “Listen, ya fuck-wit, ye.  That Gucci wan disnae hiv a say in whit happens next.  Ye heard Pat…this is non-negotiable,” Scarface growled.

  “Aye, well, as Ah’ve said, if ye’re no happy, ye’ll need tae talk tae Tony.”

  The Big Man stared silently across at Paul.  Paul felt the sweat dribble doon between the cheeks ae his arse.

  “Sixty forty and no a penny mair…and Ah mean it.”

  “That sounds a bit mair generous, Pat, bit Ah think Tony wis talking aboot us daeing oor ain negotiations wae The Duke.  Ye’d need tae speak tae him.”

  “Well, where the fuck is he then?” The Big Man screamed at him, brushing a wisp ae hair away fae they mad eyes ae his, before resuming his baleful stare.

  “Aye, well, ye see, Ah hivnae goat a clue.  Ah’m jist the message boy aboot here.  They’re working oot how tae get the lassie intae the toon.  The last time Ah saw them wis earlier the day, oot in Stirling, when we transferred her intae another set ae wheels.  Ah wis the wan that snatched her.  Ma job wis done by that point, so it wis.  Ah’m here tae affload the Landy that Ah used tae get her away fae her ma and da’s fancy castle.”

  “Dae ye expect us tae believe that wan?  Listen, Pat, Ah say we take this eejit away and take a blowtorch tae they baws ae his.  He’ll soon tell us where the bitch is,” Shaun snarled.